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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 189I BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
 j^. ^. Stevenson. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 
 DA 670.S89G56 
 
 New Suffolk qarland: 
 
 3 1924 028 061 509 
 
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The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028061509 
 
THE 
 
 NEW SUFFOLK GARLAND: 
 
 MISCELLANY OF ANECDOTES, ROMANTIC BALLADS, 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE POEMS AND SONGS, HISTORICAL 
 
 AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, AND STATISTICAL RETURNS 
 
 EELATING TO 
 
 THE COUNTY OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 CONTAINING THE 
 
 HISTORY OF THE BEFORM STRUGGLE IN IPSWICH IN 1820; OR THE 
 CELEBRATED ELECTION OP LENNABD AND HALDIMAND. 
 
 OOLLEOTBD, COMPILED, AND EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN GLYDE, JUN., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SUFFOLK IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY," 
 "SOCIAL AND MORAL CONDITION OF IPSWICH." 
 
 IPSWICH: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, ST. MATTHEWS STREET. 
 
 LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. 
 
 AND SOLD BT ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1866. 
 
/\U^xs^ 
 
 \ / 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 The " Garland " which we here offer to public notice 
 scarcely needs a Preface. It may be as well, however, to 
 remark, that all the persons noticed in the volume have 
 been either natives of, or residents in the County of Suffolk ; 
 and that as we have dealt with hundreds of dates, events, 
 and persons, it has been almost impossible to avoid trilling 
 errors ; but we can honestly say that we have laboured to be 
 truthful in statement and exact in detail. 
 
 To enumerate the many volumes to which we are indebted 
 for this miscellaneous collection would occupy more space 
 than we have at our disposal. Several of the old Ballads 
 have been selected from the old " Suffolk Grarland " ; the 
 "East AngHan"; "Notes and Queries"; the Fitch MSS. 
 in the British Museum ; the twenty-eight volumes of Fitch 
 MSS. in the Ipswich Museum, as well as the files of the 
 " Ipswich Journal " and " Suffolk Chronicle," have been 
 freely used ; and the unrivalled collection of Suffolk books 
 and MSS. in the possession of "W. P. Himt, Esq., of 
 Ipswich, has been kindly placed at our disposal. Our 
 thanks are especially due to the Eev. Hugh Pigot for the 
 loan of materials, and also to those authors and pubHshers 
 who have granted us the freedom to select from their 
 publications whatever seemed most suitable for our purpose. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The gathering of the materials for the present voliime has 
 been the work of several years, and since the announcement 
 of its intended publication, no amount of research has been 
 considered unprofitable or irksome. 
 
 "We had intended to give a return of the gross estimated 
 rental, the rateable value, and the amoimt expended for the 
 relief of the poor during the year ending Lady day, 1864, 
 for every parish in the county of Suffolk, and the clerks of 
 twelve Unions in this county had kindly furnished us with 
 returns for that purpose ; but as we could not obtain such 
 returns from the Unions of Bosmere, Hartismere, Mutford, 
 Thingoe, and Woodbridge, we were at last reluctantly 
 compelled to abandon this part of our plan. 
 
 "We hope that this volume of miscellanies will be 
 welcomed as an addition to Suffolk Literature, and by 
 local readers become numbered with that pleasant class of 
 books which Horace Walpole describes as " lounging books, 
 which one takes up in the gout, low spirits, ennui, or when 
 one is waiting for company." 
 
 To those Ladies and Gentlemen who have kindly given 
 their names as subscribers to prevent our risking a loss by 
 publication, we tender our hearty thanks. Had not our 
 materials extended to fifty pages more than we promised 
 in the Prospectus, we should have had great pleasure in 
 giving a Hst of our Patrons. 
 
 JOHN GLTDE, Jun. 
 Ipswich, 
 
 December 1st, 1865. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Anecdotes and Biographical Eeminisoencbs . 1 
 
 Superstitions, Old Ballads, Historical Notices, Curious 
 
 Customs, Scarce Documents, &c. . . .163 
 
 Selections from Suffolk Poets, Bards, and Ehymers 319 
 Statistical Keturns . . . . 417 
 
 Lennard and Haldimand's Election . . . 435 
 
I. 
 
 $iucMtn mxb §i00ra^I;iraI §mmmmm. 
 
S'Wi^ckbs mxim §w^xn^lfiml §,mmumm. 
 
 ODD WAYS OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. 
 
 Dr. Whately was Eector of Halesworth at the time he 
 was appointed Archbishop of Dublin. Directly after his 
 consecration he was sworn in of the Irish Privy Council, 
 where his ■ " odd ways " excited much comment. The 
 weather was cold, and the Archbishop's manner seemed 
 quite as cool as the atmosphere in which he was placed. 
 At the Privy Council he used to stand the whole time before 
 the fire, with his coat tail separated and pulled forward, 
 whereby he received a considerable share of heat, to the 
 exclusion of many right honourable gentlemen, who felt 
 rather chilly. It was in reference to this act, and to the 
 circumstance of a noble lord, afflicted with baldness, who 
 put on his hat for warmth, that Master Gould wittily ob- 
 served : "A bishop keeps uncovered that which ought to be 
 covered, and a peer keeps covered what ought to be uncovered." 
 Having accepted an invitation to dine with Lord Anglesey, 
 at the vice-regal lodge, it is almost incredibly told of him 
 that having arrived before the bulk of the guests, he drew 
 over an arm chair to the fire and stretched to the uttermost 
 his legs, until their heels seemed to repose upon some object 
 of rirtu on the mantel-piece. The Archbishop was pleased 
 with the inmates of the vice-regal lodge, and often repaired 
 
4 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 there of a morning to enjoy himself in converse with those 
 that belonged to the privileged circle. It was diamond cut 
 diamond between the parties, but "Whately in strength of 
 wealth was like the mine of Grolconda. In working the 
 mine, his Grace would give way to his accustomed eccentric 
 vigom- of movement, and no less than four or five chairs 
 were sometimes dislocated in succession by the energy with 
 which, during animated talk, the Archbishop was in the habit 
 of making his chair spin round on one leg. A council of 
 ladies was held, under the presidency of the Marchioness, to 
 consider what steps should be adopted to arrest the wholesale 
 destruction of her papier mach^ and other fragile furniture, 
 and Lady Anglesey took credit to herself for the fii-mness 
 with which when the Archbishop appeared on the following 
 day, she pointed out for his use a powerfully built chair, with 
 legs like the balustrades of Dublin Castle. The Marchioness 
 remarked that the uniform frankness of Dr. Whately invited 
 a corresponding frankness. 
 
 At a dinner of the late Provost Lloyd's, his Grace was the 
 lion of the party, and he exhibited many of the attributes of 
 that formidable animal. The companj^ were however surprised 
 at a strange way he had of raising his right leg and foot, 
 and doubling it back over the thigh of the left one, and 
 grasping its instep with both hands, as though he were 
 strangling some ugly animal. He did this repeatedly dming 
 the evening, especially while telling some good stories, to 
 which he did ample justice ; and during the process, the foot 
 thus raised, or rather strangled, was always in the lap of 
 Provost Lloyd, on whose right-hand side the Archbishop, as 
 the guest of the evening, sat. The Chesterfield suavity of 
 the Provost's face, whUe his fine black small-clothes were 
 subjected to such treatment, was not quickly forgotten. 
 
 Even at the Board of Education the presence of the Duke 
 of Leinster, Lord Plunkett, the Lord Chancellor, Mr. Baron 
 Greene, and other great guns, was often not sufiioient to pre- 
 vent Dr. Whately indulging the odd habit of placing his legs 
 
THE SUl'FOLK GARLAND. 5 
 
 on the very table round which they sat. Throwing his chair 
 backwards and making it rest entirely on the two hind legs, 
 he used to counterbalance the sedentary occupation of a dili- 
 gent attendance by creating the exercise incidental to making 
 his body oscUlate like a pendulum. For many years after his 
 Grace's retirement from the Board, a breach in the carpet 
 used to be pointed out as the result of this extraordinary 
 chair exercise. 
 
 At Oxford, he would lecture his pupils lying on a sofa, " with 
 his legs over the end." 
 
 BISHOP BLOOMFIELD AND THE QUAKER. 
 
 Dr. Bloomfield, whilst rector of Bishopsgate, made himself 
 very popular, and managed the vestry meetings of this im- 
 mense parish, which contained more than 10,000 inhabitants, 
 with great tact and good nature. On one occasion a Quaker 
 who attended refused to take off his hat at a vestry meeting 
 held in the church. Dr. Bloomfield, finding that the disciple 
 of George Fox would not comply with his desire to uncover, 
 proposed to the meeting a resolution — " That the beadle be 
 
 directed to take off Mr. 's hat," which was accordingly 
 
 done, and the Quaker thus quietly submitted. 
 
 IMPULSIVENESS OF GAINSBOROUGH. 
 
 Gainsborough's nature was generous, impulsive, enthusiastic. 
 When Thicknesse stopped him on his way to the theatre, and 
 told him the story of the friendless and forsaken woman, the 
 tear started to his eye, he " could not " go tni he had contri- 
 buted to her necessities. Like Honeywood, in Goldsmith's 
 play, his bounty not unfrequently partook of weakness. 
 Money and pictures were bestowed inconsiderately. He 
 presented twenty drawings to one lady, who was so ignorant 
 of their value that she pasted them on the wall of her 
 dressing-room, and gave Colonel Hamilton the " Boy at the 
 Stile," for playing a solo on the violin. His impulsiveness 
 was occasionally attended with impleasant results. Being 
 very much struck with Velasquez's portrait of the yoimg 
 
6 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 Duke of Asturius, now in tile Dulwich. Gallery, he said to 
 the servcant of its possessor, Mr. Agar, " Tell your master I 
 will give him a thousand pounds for that picture." The 
 message was delivered, and Mr. Agar, thinking the offer 
 advantageous, sent Grainsborough word that he might have 
 the painting on those terms. Grainsborough, very much 
 confused, was compelled to acknowledge that however he 
 might admire it, he could not afford to give so large a simi. 
 
 JEMMY CHAMBEKS AND THE LADIES. 
 
 Mr. Gr. W. Fulcher, having mentioned to Bernard Barton 
 that he thought of giving a portrait of Jemmy Chambers, 
 the poet, as a frontispiece to his Ladies' Pocket Book, Bernard 
 Barton thus wrote in reply : — " Ladies are somewhat fond of 
 pet oddities. An old, tattered, weather-beaten object like old 
 Chambers, is the very thing to take their fancies. Why, 
 when the poor wretch was living, and had located himself 
 hereabouts, his best friends were the ladies. When they 
 stopped to speak to the old man, to be sure they would get 
 to windward of him as a matter of taste, for he was a walking 
 dunghill, poor fellow, most of his wardrobe looking as if it 
 had been picked off some such repositories ; and his hands 
 and face bearing evident marks of his antipathy to soap and 
 water. Yet, though he was the very opposite of a lady's 
 lap dog, curled, combed, washed and perfumed, he had his 
 interest — and it was pretty effective too — with the sex. His 
 wretched appearance was sm'e to appeal to their compassion : 
 the solitary, wandering Kfe he led, his reputed minstrel talent, 
 some httle smattering of book learning, which he would now 
 and then display — in short, I might write a regidar treatise, 
 giving very philosophical reasons why Chambers was quite a 
 lady's man." 
 
 BERNARD BARTON AND POLITICS. 
 
 " Politics of any sort, or of aU sorts, are not to my taste ; 
 but those connected with electioneering tactics are the most 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 7 
 
 loathsome. I wovild as soon turn in three in a bed with two 
 like Jemmy Chambers, as go through the endurance of an 
 election at Ipswich or Sudbmy. Believe me this is no '^fagoii 
 de parlor," for I shoidd be truly sorry a dog of mine, for 
 whose respectability I felt the least regard, should be put in 
 nomination for either place." 
 
 THE HANDSOME MILLER. 
 
 When Constable, the artist, was about sixteen years of age, 
 he was employed in his father's mills, where he performed 
 the duties required of him carefully and well. He was 
 remarkable among the young men of the village for muscular 
 strength ; and being tall and well formed, with good features, 
 a fresh complexion, and fine dark eyes, his white hat and coat 
 were not unbecoming to him; and he was called in the 
 neighbourhood the " handsome miller." 
 
 constable's GENEROSITY. 
 
 It may be doubted whether, under any circumstances, he 
 would have become a rich man by his own exertions ; for 
 although he was an early riser, frugal in his habits of living, 
 and not addicted to any vicious extravagance, either of time or 
 money, yet of neither was he an economist. Both were always 
 too readily at the disposal of others. It was as difficult for 
 him to say no to a borrower, as to shut his door against a 
 lounger ; still less could he ever resist an appeal to his charity ; 
 and if a book or print he wanted came in his way, the chances 
 were that he would buy it, though with the money that should 
 pay for his next day's dinner. He was well aware of this 
 want of resolution, and often formed plans of economy, but 
 failing in a constant and steady adherence to them, they 
 seldom proved of much real advantage to him. 
 
 THE BISHOP OF CLOYNE. 
 
 The Honorable Frederick Augustus Hervey, son of the Earl 
 of Bristol, was in January, 1768, Bishop of Cloyne; but a 
 
8 THE STil-FOLK GARLAND. 
 
 vacancy occm-ring in tlie see of Derry, the most valuable 
 bishopric in Ireland, he was promoted to that see. The 
 Bishop was amusing himself in feats of activity, with some 
 of the young men attached to the castle, trying which could 
 jump the furthest, when a note was put into his hands, 
 announcing his promotion. On reading this, he exclaimed, 
 " he would jump no more ; he had beaten them all, for he 
 had jumped from Cloyne to Derry." ' 
 
 Gainsborough's " girl and pigs." 
 
 Grainsborough's picture of " Grirl and Pigs " attracted great 
 attention at the Academy exhibition. " The expression 
 and truth of nature," says Northcote, "were never sur- 
 passed. Sir Joshua was struck with it, though he thought 
 Grainsborough ought to have made her a beauty." Reynolds, 
 indeed, became the purchaser of the painting, at one hundred 
 guineas ; Grainsborough asked but sixty. During its ex- 
 hibition it is said to have attracted the attention of a 
 countryman, who remarked, " They be deadly like pigs, 
 but nobody ever saw pigs feeding together but one on 'em 
 had a foot in the trough." 
 
 CRABBE AS A YOUTH. 
 
 Crabbe delighted in verse from the earliest time that he 
 could read. He was of a very mild and obliging disposition, 
 and being the most patient of listeners, he was a great 
 favourite with the old dames of the place. Like his own 
 " "Richard," many a friendly 
 
 " Matron woo'd him, quickly won 
 To iill the station of an absent son." 
 
 He admired the rude prints on their walls, rummaged their 
 shelves for books or ballads, and read aloud to those whose 
 eyes had failed them, by the winter evening's fire-side. 
 Walking one day in the street, he chanced to displease a 
 stout lad who doubled his fist to beat him, but another boy 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. \) 
 
 interfered to claim benefit of clergy for the studious Gleorge. 
 " You must not meddle witli /liiii," he said; " let him alone, for 
 he ha' got laming." At an early age — in his tenth year — 
 Crabhe was placed by iiis father at a boarding-school at 
 Bungay, hoping that the activity of his mind would thus be 
 disciplined into orderly diligence. The first night he spent 
 at Bungay he retired to bed, he said, with a heavy heart, 
 thinking of his fond, indulgent mother. But the morning 
 brought a new misery. The slender and delicate child had 
 hitherto been dressed by his mother. Seeing the other boys 
 begin to dress themselves, poor George, in great confusion, 
 
 whispered to his bed-fellow, " Master Gr , can you 
 
 put on your shirt ? for — for I'm afraid I cannot." 
 
 Whilst at this school he had a very narrow escape for his 
 life. He and several of his school-fellows were punished for 
 playing at soldiers by being but into a large dog-kennel, 
 known by the terrible name of the " black hole." George 
 was the first that entered, and the place being crammed full 
 with offenders, the atmosphere soon became pestilentially 
 close. The poor boy in vain shrieked that he should be 
 suffocated. At last, in despair he bit the lad next to him 
 violently in the hand. " Crabhe is dying ! Crabhe is dying ! " 
 roared the sufferer, and the sentinel at length opened the door 
 and allowed the boys to rush out into the air. After he 
 arrived at manhood, Crabhe remarked on this affair, " A 
 minute more, and I must have died." 
 
 CLARKSON AND POETKY. 
 
 Bernard Barton had addressed some appropriate verses 
 to Thomas Clarkson, on his labours in the cause of phil- 
 anthropy, and he writes, "I had a note from Catherine 
 Clarkson, thanking me for the hnes, which she says she shall 
 treasure up for herself ; but her good man is so httle of a 
 poetical amateur that when he had a similar tribute once 
 forwarded to him in the form of an ode, the poet was forced 
 to promise him a prose translation.'" 
 
10 THE SUFFOLK GAULAND. 
 
 LOKD THURLOW AND LORD LOUGHBOROUGH. 
 
 Lord Thm-low dislilied and made light of Lord Lough- 
 borougli, as attested in some good stories. Once, when the 
 latter Lord was making a considerable impression in the 
 House of Lords, on a subject which Lord Thurlow had not 
 studied in detail, the latter was heard to mutter, " If I was 
 not as lazy as a toad at the bottom of a well, I could kick 
 that fellow Loughborough over, heels over head, any day in 
 the week." It was this ceaseless antagonism between Thurlow 
 and Loughborough which led George III to say in a letter 
 to Lord Eldon, just after he had been raised to the woolsack, 
 " The Idng felt some pleasui-e at hearing that the Lord 
 Chancellor sat the other day on the woolsack between 
 Eosslyn (formerly Loughborough) and Thm-low, who ever 
 used to require an intermediate j)ower to keep them from 
 quarrelhng." 
 
 Lord Thm-Iow told Greorge lY (who repeated it to Lord 
 Eldon) that " the fellow (Lord L.) had ihc gift of the gab in a 
 marvellous degree, but that he was no lawyer," adding, " In 
 the House of Lords I get Kenyon or somebody to start some 
 law doctrine, in such a manner as that fellow must get up to 
 answer it, and then I leave the woolsack, and give him such 
 a thump in his bread-basket that he cannot recover himself." 
 Dr. Johnson, in comparing the two, says : — " I never heard 
 anytliing from Loughborough that was at all striking ; and 
 depend upon it, sir, it is when you come close to a man in 
 conversation tliat you discover what his I'eal abihties are. To 
 make a speech in a public assembly is a knack. Now I 
 honom- Thurlow, sir. Thmiow is a fine fellow ; he fairly puts 
 his mind to yoiu's." 
 
 THOMAS TUSSER. 
 
 Tusser at one time lived at "Brames Hall," Brantham. 
 The common opinion relating to him is that he impoverished 
 himself by experiments, and died poor. Fuller, in his 
 "Worthies" says, that "He traded in oxen, sheep, dairies, 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 11 
 
 grain of all kinds, to no profit. Whether he bought or sold, 
 he lost, and. when a renter, impoverished himself and never 
 em-iched his landlord. He spread his bread with all sorts of 
 butter, yet none would stick thereon. That his stone which 
 gathered no moss was the stone of Sisyphus." In Peachern's 
 "Minerva," a book of emblems, printed in 1612, there is a 
 device of a whetstone and scythe, with these lines : — 
 
 They tell me, Tusser, when thou were alive, 
 
 And hadst for profit turned every stone, 
 Whene'er thou earnest thou could never thrive, 
 
 Though hereto best could counsel every one. 
 As it may in thy husbandry appear, 
 Wherein afresh thou liv'st among us here. 
 
 So like thj'self a number more are wont 
 To sharpen others with advice of wit, 
 
 When they themselves are like the whetstone blunt. 
 
 BISHOP BEDEI.L. 
 
 At the time the Rev. W. Bedell (afterwards Bishop of 
 KJilmore) was lecturer at St. Mary's Church, Bury St. 
 Edmund's, he had as his colleague the Rev. Samuel Southeby, 
 a man of very opposite pulpit abihties. Of Mr. Bedell it 
 was said, " that he made the most obscure passages of Scripture 
 very plain ; " and of Mr. Southeby, " that he made the plainest 
 portions of Scripture obscure." 
 
 PROFESSOR HENSLOW. 
 
 When Professor Henslow was presented to the rectory of 
 Hitcham, he found himself pastor over a large, scattered, and 
 neglected population. His predecessor in the pulpit was a 
 man of a very different stanip to the Professor. He was an 
 easy going clergjonan, whom the farmers and labourers 
 deemed " a jolly good fellow." At his annual tithe feast, he 
 took great delight in seeing the farmers indulge themselves 
 beyond the bounds of temperance. He always sang the first 
 song, the burden of which was — 
 
 " He that drinks stong beer, and goes to bed mellow. 
 Lives as he ought to live, and dies a hearty fellow." 
 
12 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXD. 
 
 The sentiments thus endorsed by the parson, were loudly 
 cheered by his parishioners ; and as may be supposed, under 
 such a shepherd, the moral and spiritual condition of the flock 
 was at a low ebb. Although Professor Henslow introduced 
 some excellent plans for social improvement, he had to labour 
 for several years amid much opposition before he saw among 
 his parishioners that amoimt of industry and self-respect 
 which he could look upon as a reward for his labours. 
 
 REV. JOHN CAETER. 
 
 This puritan divine had a fair share of humour. He said 
 a traveller should have swine's belly, an ass's back, and a 
 merchant's purse. His meaning was that he must put vip 
 with all sorts of diet, bear aU kinds of injuries, and be 
 prepared for heavy expenses. 
 
 He died calmly, and without a struggle, on the sabbath 
 morning of the 22nd February, 1634, having the day pre- 
 "\aously expressed his intention to preach twice on that day. 
 He would have no funeral sermon, and left orders to be buried, 
 not in the church, but in the churchyard, under a common 
 tombstone, on which the following inscription was placed :— 
 
 HERE 
 
 TTNDBE THIS STOHE LYETH 
 
 HID A MOH TKEASUllE, 
 
 THE PRECIOUS DUST OF THAT 
 
 HOLY MAN, THAT BURNING 
 
 AND SHINING LIGHT, 
 
 MR. JOHN CARTER, FIRST 
 
 PASTOR OF BRAMFOED, 
 
 AND AFIEEWARDS OF 
 
 BELSTEAD, IN SUFFOLK, 
 
 WITH ESTHER, HIS FAITHFUL COMFORT, 
 
 BOTH OF THEM 
 
 WAITING FOR A BLESSED 
 
 BESUREECTION. 
 
 ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Soon after the publication of " The Farmer's Boy," Bloom- 
 field's fame was so great that his company was courted, and 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 13 
 
 himself " lionised," in London society. Blue-stocking ladies 
 invited him to their soirees, and aristocratic men enveloped 
 him in a patronising atmosphere. The humhle shoemaker 
 was often drawn from his garret in Coleman's Alley, to the 
 gilded saloons in Belgravia — he left the awl and the lapstone 
 to dine off plate and porcelain. He was caressed, flattered, 
 and, in some instances, extravagantly praised. The Duke of 
 Grafton invited him to his mansion. The Earl of Buchan 
 desired a pair of shoes made by Bloomfield's own hands. 
 Many other titled men applauded and rewarded, but most of 
 them treated Bloomfield as a prodigy, or a toy which would 
 yield amusement. Sir Charles Bunbury, however, with all 
 his sporting predilections, remained a true friend of the poet. 
 Bloomfield's financial position having greatly improved, he 
 removed to better lodgings, and eventually took a house in 
 the City E,oad, where, in addition to his regular trade as a 
 shoemaker, he manufactured and sold ^olian harps, many of 
 which were purchased by persons desirous of helping the poet, 
 and who thus delicately diminished the obligation which a 
 pecuniary gift might have been supposed to create. 
 
 BISHOP ATLMER. 
 
 Aylmer, Bishop of London, was well known for his oddity 
 of speech ; and on some occasions he was equally odd in his 
 conduct. Whilst he was at court, in 1578, he found her 
 Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, suffering very severely from tooth- 
 ache. Extraction had been advised by the medical attendant 
 as the only remedy, but the Queen was very averse to the 
 operation. To encourage her to submit, Aylmer sat down in 
 her presence, and had one of his own teeth drawn, though, 
 being an old man, he had not a tooth to spare. 
 
 LADY SARAH BUNBURY. 
 
 Lady Sarah, the youngest daughter of the second Duke of 
 Richmond, was bom in 1745, and it is said that when sixteen 
 she refused an offer of marriage made her by George III., 
 
14 THE SUFFOLK GARLAKD. 
 
 but that slae ultimately accepted Mm. Kensington traditions 
 describe Lady Sarali as making hay in the fields, then border- 
 ing the road, and exchanging a word or two with the young 
 prince, as he rode by. But the royal lover deceived her, and 
 she, instead of being bride at his wedding, was only a brides- 
 maid. Lady Sarah was speedily consoled, for the year after 
 the imion of King George and Charlotte, she married, at the 
 age of eighteen, the sporting baronet. Sir Thomas Charles 
 Bunbury. Subseqiiently, at the mature age of thirty-six, 
 Lady Sarah married, in 1781, the Hon. George Napier, 
 son of Francis, fifth Lord Napier ; and the first chUd 
 of which she was the mother, was the " Sir Charles Napier," 
 the hero of Scinde. 
 
 DR. BLOMFIELD AND NEWMARKET RACES. 
 
 While Dr. Blomfield was rector of Chesterford, it was the 
 jDermanent annoyance of every Easter day, that a stream of 
 carriages was passing through the village, giving it the 
 appearance and too much the reahty of a noisy fair, while 
 conveying the racing men of the day to Newmarket. The 
 aristocratic sporting men would drive up to the inn in open 
 carriages, playing at whist, and throwing out their cards, 
 would call to the waiter for fresh packs. To remove the 
 scandal, the Jockey Club were induced, after great pressure, 
 to alter the first day of the meeting to Easter Tuesday. 
 Bishop Howley, at the desire of Dr. Blomfield, apphed to 
 the Duke of York, but the duke declined to alter his practice 
 of going on a Sunday, saying, " Though it was true he 
 travelled to the races on Sunday, he always had a Bible and 
 Praijcr Book in the carriage ! " 
 
 THAT " FELLOW " GAINSBOROUGH. 
 
 George III. had marked at the Academy's annual exhibitions 
 the beauty of Gainsborough's works, and before the painter 
 had been many months in London, he received a summons to 
 the palace. It was soon known that the King and Queen 
 
THE SUFFOLK GART-AND. 15 
 
 had sat to Grainsborough. Peers and Conimoners were not 
 slow to follow tlie royal example. Commissions for portraits 
 now flowed in so fast, that with all his rapidity of execution 
 and xmtiring industry, he was unable to satisfy the impatience 
 of some of his sitters. One gentleman lost his temper, and 
 inquired of the artist's porter, in a voice loud enough to be 
 overheard, " Has that fellow Grainsborough finished my por- 
 trait ? " Ushered into the painting room he beheld his picture- 
 After expressing his approbation, he requested it might be 
 sent home at once, adding, " I may as weU. give you a cheque 
 for the other fifty guineas." " Stay a minute," says Grains- 
 borough, " it just wants the finishing stroke ; " and snatch- 
 ing up a back-ground brush, he dashed it across the smiling 
 features, indignantly exclaiming, " Sir, where is my fellow 
 now ? " 
 
 SIK THOMAS HANMEE. 
 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer was one of the most independent men 
 that ever sat as a representative for the county of Suflblk. 
 He was the Grladstone of his age. Like him, he was one of 
 the most graceful and accomplished speakers of his day ; like 
 him, he was imphcitly trusted by the High Church party ; 
 like him, the ascendancy of the Church of England out- 
 weighed in his mind the divine right of kings, and the 
 legitimate succession to the Crown. As a pohtician, he was 
 exceedingly cautious and reserved. Pope appears to stigma- 
 tise him as a Trimmer, in the lines — 
 
 ' ' Courtiers and patriots iu two ranks divide : 
 Through both he passed, and bowed from side to side." 
 
 But there does not appear to be good ground for the censure. 
 He cared not for office, but he evidently liked to be the head 
 of an independent party ; and patriotism with him consisted 
 mainly in upholding the landed interest, and the ascendancy 
 of the English Church. 
 
 After he retired from Parliamentary duties and political 
 
16 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 struggles, he resided chiefly in the country, occupying his 
 time hy hterary pui-suits, and amusing himself by gardening. 
 His garden at Mildenhall was celehrated for the quahty of 
 its grapes, and Sir Thomas used to send every year, hampers 
 filled with these grapes, and carried on men's shoulders, to 
 London (nearly seventy miles), as his offering to the queen. 
 
 In private life Sir Thomas Hanmer was much respected, 
 and he would have gone to the grave happy as well as 
 honoured, if it had not been for his unfortunate second 
 marriage. It was said of him that he married an old woman 
 for love and a young woman for money, and was not very 
 fortunate in either of them. The elopement of his second 
 wife, the vexatious claims of her child, and the book which 
 Mr. Hervey published, tended to embitter the last years of 
 the baronet's life. He is said to have been strict but just 
 towards his tenants, and they respected him ; kind and liberal 
 towards the poor, and they loved him. Traditional infor- 
 mation as to the personal appearance and manners of Sir 
 Thomas, exhibits very forcibly the minutely true touch in 
 that hne of Pope — 
 
 " There moved Montalto with superior air.'' 
 
 The Baronet in his latter days is described as a portly old 
 gentleman, of a very stately carriage, accustomed to waUt 
 solemnly to chiu'ch twice on every Sunday, followed by all 
 his servants, and moving from his iron gates to the porch of 
 the church between two ranks of his tenants and adherents, 
 who stood hat in hand, bowing reverently low, while the 
 great man acknowledged their salutations by a few words and 
 dignified condescension. 
 
 HONEST TOM MARTIN. 
 
 Honest Tom Martin, the antiquary of Palgrave, lost his 
 wife in 1731, ten days after she had been delivered of twins, 
 leaving him, who was domestically a helpless man, sur- 
 rounded by a family of six children. The antiquary, however. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAKD. 17 
 
 soon repaired this loss, as well as he was able, by marrying- 
 Frances, widow of Peter Le Neve, Norry king-at-arms, then 
 living at Great Witchingham. There is a well authenticated 
 anecdote which proves this courtship to have been a very 
 curious affair. Mr. Martin was acting as executor to the late 
 Peter Le Neve, when one morning, having been intently oc- 
 cupied in looking over the MSS. of his deceased friend, he 
 was summoned by the widow to dinner. He raised himself 
 suddenly, and throwing himself back in his chair, stretched 
 out his arms, and as it were yawned out, " yes, yes, 
 who'll have me and my sis children ? " " That will I, Mr. 
 Martin, if I like those which I have not seen, as weU as those 
 which I have seen ; " and they were married so shortly after 
 that event that Sir James Burrough, Master of Caius, had 
 not had time to have his mourning completed for the lost wife, 
 before he heard of the approaching nuptials with the second. 
 By this marriage, Mr. Martin came into the possession of a 
 very valuable collection of English antiquities and pictures. 
 
 LORD CHEDWOETH. 
 
 Lord Chedworth was in the habit of wearing top-boots, 
 and he wore them so bare that almost any person would have 
 been ashamed of them. When neio boots were sent home, 
 he was accustomed to set them on one side, and get his man- 
 servant to wear them a short time, to prepare them for his 
 own feet. Sometimes the man would tell his Lordship that 
 he thought the boots were ready, but his Lordship would 
 generally reply, " Never mind, William, wear them another 
 week." 
 
 His Lordship's legal attainments and well-known generous 
 disposition caused him, whilst he resided in Ipswich, to be 
 frequently consulted by tradesmen and others in indigent 
 circumstances, for legal advice. The applicants were ushered 
 into the library, where, surrounded by books, they found 
 him seated at a table. The chairs and furniture of the room, 
 like his Lordship's clothes, had not merely seen their best 
 
18 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 clays, but were comparatively wortliless, and the old red cloak 
 which invariably enveloped his shoulders, made him look 
 more like a gipsy hag than a peer of the realm. 
 
 THE LAST EARL OF DYSART. 
 
 Wilbraham ToUemache, the last Earl of Dysart, was most 
 devotedly attached to his Countess, who died September 14th, 
 1804. The Earl continued to wear mourning for her untH the 
 day of his death, and for many years her place at table was 
 arranged as if she was expected to occupy it. One day there 
 was more company than he had anticipated, and he quietly 
 took the place himself, and ever afterwards made use of it. 
 
 The Earl chiefly divided his time between the mansion at 
 Helmingham, and the beautiful Mariae Villa at Steephill, in 
 the Isle of Wight. Ham House, in Surrey, he only 
 occasionally visited, as he seemed to have a dishke to that 
 charming spot, and sometimes called it the death house, as all 
 the family died there, and singularly enough he died there 
 himself. He usually came to Helmingham in March, and 
 stayed until the end of August, exercising all the bounty of 
 an old EngHsh gentleman. A yeomanry volunteer corps 
 was raised about 1799 at the expense of the Earl, and when- 
 ever they met for exercise there was always " open house at 
 the hall." Upon one grand field day the Dowager Countess 
 presented the corps with a pair of colours. The Earl was 
 Colonel ; but although he had his tmiform made he invariably 
 attended in mourning. One day he complimented one of the 
 men, named Noble, who beat the great drum, by saying, 
 " Noble, you played well." The man answered, " I know it, 
 my Lord;" and this became a bye-word in the district for 
 3^ears afterwards. 
 
 MRS. ELIZABETH COBBOLD. 
 
 Miss Elizabeth Cobbold, a lady well known as one of the 
 leaders of the literary, artistic, and fashionable circles in 
 Ipswich, during the first quarter of the present century, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELAND. 13 
 
 married in her twenty- third year, William Clarke, Esq., of 
 Ipswich, a gentleman twice her own age, by whose death she 
 became a widow within six months of her marriage. Her 
 sentiments towards Mr. Clarke, and her indifference to the 
 remarks which the disparity of years had occasioned, may be 
 collected from the following hvely verses, which she addressed 
 to him on St. Valentine's day, soon after their marriage : — 
 
 " Eliza to William this valentine send, 
 While every good wish on the present attend ; 
 And freely she writes, tmdisturb'd by a fear, 
 Tho' prudes may look scornful, and libertines sneer. 
 Tho' talkers and tale-bearers smiling may say, 
 ' Tour geniuses always are out of the way ; 
 Sure none but herself would such levities mix 
 With the seriousness suited to grave twenty-six. 
 A wife send a valentine ! Lord, what a whim ! 
 And then, of all people, to send it to him — 
 Make love to her husband ! my stars, how romantic ! 
 The girl must be certainly foolish or frantic ! 
 But I always thought so, else what could engage 
 Her to marry a man who is twice her own age ? ' 
 While the tabbies are thus on my motives enlarging, 
 My sentiments, William, may read in the margin. 
 On the wings of old time have three months past away. 
 Since I promis'd ' to honour, to love, and obey,' 
 And surely my William's own heart will allow 
 That my conduct has ne'er disagreed with my vow. 
 Would health spread her wings round my husband and lord, 
 To his cheeks could the smile of delight be restor'd. 
 The blessing with gratitude I should receive. 
 As the greatest that mercy benignant should give. 
 And heedless of all that conjecture may say, 
 With praise would remember St. Valentine's day." 
 
 OLIVER CKOMWELl's GRANDDAUGHTER. 
 
 Mrs. Bridget Bendish, the daughter of Bridget Cromwell, 
 the Protector's eldest daughter, and Commissary General 
 Ireton, resided for many years at South Town, near 
 Yarmouth. During her childhood she lived for a long time 
 
20 TH.B SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 at her grandfatlier's home, and became a special favourite of 
 his. When she was only six years of age she has sat between 
 his knees when he has held a cabinet council even on very 
 important affairs. Some of the council objected to her being 
 present, when he said, " There was no secret he would trust 
 with any of them which he would not trust with that infant ; " 
 and to prove that he was not mistaken, he has told her some- 
 thing as in confidence, and under the charge of secresy, and 
 then asked her mother and grandmother to try and obtain it 
 from her. All their efforts to extort it proved useless. She 
 held steady against promises, bribes, and threats, and became 
 at a very tender age a proficient in the art of keeping secrets. 
 During her whole life she was an eccentric and enthusiastic 
 woman, and thoroiighly idolised the memory of her grand- 
 father. During a violent fever, and at a time when it was 
 thought she was not sensible of what was passing around her, 
 her aunt, Lady Fauconburg, and other persons, were one day 
 in her bed-room, and her Ladyship, though Ohver's daughter 
 did not resent things said by some present in dishonour to 
 Cromwell's memory. Mrs. Bendish, to the astonishment of 
 all, raised herself up, and with great spirit, said, " If I did 
 not believe my grandmother to have been the most virtuous 
 woman in the world, I should conclude your Ladyship to be a 
 bastard ; for I wonder how the daughter of the greatest man 
 that ever lived can not only sit with patience, and hear his 
 memory ill-treated, but seem herself to assent to it." 
 
 KEV. WILLIAM LAYTON. 
 
 Anecdotes are said to be the best illustration of character, 
 and there are a number afloat relating to the bachelor life, 
 the artless disposition, and the inclination to eccentricity of 
 the Eev. William Layton, who was for many years rector of 
 St. Matthew's, Ipswich. He had all the simplicity of charac- 
 ter which usually accompany gifted minds, and was often 
 sadly annoyed at little things. He could not bear the 
 creaking of a door, and when such a noise grated on his ear. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 21 
 
 he was sure to ask for oil and feather, which he instantly' 
 applied to remove the nuisance ; and the sight of a book 
 " dog's eared," irritated him very much. Though by no 
 means a rigid Sabbatarian, he had a great dislike to seeing 
 things exposed for sale on a Sunday. One morning, before 
 service, whilst walkrag at the end of the Butter Market, he 
 saw a sheep's head hanging out for sale. With his stick he 
 lifted the sheep's head off the hook, laid it on the pavement, 
 and walked on without further notice. A stall for the sale of 
 vegetables and fruit, near the King's Head Inn, was a terrible 
 eyesore to the reverend gentleman. It was simply a shutter in 
 the old-fashioned style, hinged on at the bottom of the window, 
 and transformed into a stall by a leg, which, resting on the 
 ground, kept it at the height of a table. One Sunday morn- 
 ing, the parson with his foot knocked away the support of the 
 shutter, and down went the apples and vegetables, seriously 
 inconveniencing and annoying the greengrocer. Mr. Layton's 
 scruples of conscience did not prevent his employing a baker 
 to provide him with a hot dinner on Simdays. The green- 
 grocer knowing this, resolved on giving a " Eoland for an 
 Ohver." He watched for the parson's dinner that day, and 
 just before it reached home he thrust some fine ribs of beef off 
 the board on to the pavement, and marched off, chuckling 
 with glee at having thus balanced accounts with his clerical 
 neighbour. 
 
 SIR HARVEY ELWES, THE MISER. 
 
 Sir Harvey Elwes lived at Stoke, near Clare, the most 
 perfect picture of human misery that ever existed. He 
 succeeded Sir Jervaise Elwes, a generous and well-disposed 
 gentleman, who had " lived beyond his means," and had in 
 consequence so burthened the estates, that when Sir Harvey 
 inherited the property he found himself nominally possessed 
 of some thousands a year, but really with an income of one 
 hundred pounds per annum. On his arrival at the family seat, 
 at Stoke, Sir Harvey declared that he would never " leave it 
 
22 THE SUFFOLK GAllLAIS'D. 
 
 till he had entirely cleared the paternal estate," and he lived 
 to do it, and to reahze above one hundred thousand pounds in 
 addition. 
 
 The miserly disposition was constitutional in Sir Harvey. 
 In his youth he was considered likely to become a victim to 
 that great English malady, consumption, and was even given 
 over as lost. He did not, however, lose his life, but he lost 
 his constitution and power of enjoyment. Yet, strange to say, 
 his penuriotis mode of living and regular habits sustained 
 him to a patriarchal age. His passions were as dormant as 
 his constitution. He was timid, shy, and diffident in the 
 extreme ; of a thin, spare habit of body, and without a friend 
 on earth. Pie had no acquaintances, possessed no books, had 
 no desire for reading, and, in fact, for more than sixty years, 
 lived almost alone. With the true avaricious spirit, he loved 
 to see and handle his gold ; the hoarding up and the counting 
 of his money was his delight — the ringing of his guineas his 
 greatest joy. The next to that was partridge setting, at which 
 he was so great an adept, that he and his man have been known 
 to take five hundred brace of birds in one season ! Sir Harvey's 
 household consisted of one man and two maids, and they, as 
 well as himself, nearly hved upon partridges and fish from 
 his own. ponds. What they could not eat he turned out 
 agaia, as he never gave anything away. 
 
 FUXEEAL OF A CLERICAL KATIONALIST. 
 
 The arrangements for the funeral of the Eev. James Ford, 
 which were made according to his own directions, exhibited, 
 to a certain degree, that tinge of eccentricity which pervaded 
 his character, and that freedom from conventional habits, 
 which throughout life distinguished his career. But they are 
 more worthy of notice for their strong protest against the 
 pompous and extravagant funeral trappings, which charac- 
 terise the present age. Mr. Ford was buried three days after 
 his decease, in a plain oaken cofiin, without inscription, which 
 was borne by twelve labourers of his parish, each in a new 
 
THE SIFFOLK GARLAND. 23 
 
 suit of clothes left for the purpose. No pall was used, but in 
 place of it a very handsome table cloth, which, after the 
 service, was presented to the officiating minister. According 
 to strict orders left under his own hand, the mourners followed 
 in coloured clothes ; and his own servant, who was also his 
 clerk, was presented with a new suit, not of black, but of 
 livery. No hat-bands or scarfs were given away, but in lieu 
 of these funeral trappings the sum of £50 was distributed, in 
 amounts of ten shillings each, to one hundred of the poor of 
 the parish. 
 
 CONSTABLE AND THE FIELD MOUSE. 
 
 LesHe, in writing of Constable's conversation, remarks, 
 " I remember to have heard him say, 'When I sit down to 
 make a sketch from nature, the first thing I try to do is to 
 forget that I have ever seen a picture ; ' " and it is related as a 
 curious proof of the stHlness "nith which he used to sit whilst 
 painting in the open air, that one day a field mouse was 
 lound in his pocket. 
 
 SIR JOHN SUCKLING, THE POET. 
 
 Sir John Suckling, the poet, whose gay and easy ballads 
 are familiar to every lover of poetry, and whose " Sessions 
 of the Poets " has been imitated by numberless writers, was 
 one of those wealthy cavaliers in the reign of the first 
 Charles, who risked their fortunes and their lives in the royal 
 cause. Bis frankness of manner, gracefulness of person, 
 and elegance -of address, soon rendered him famous at the 
 luxurious court of Charles. His love of amusement and 
 taste for display were so great that one of the entertainments 
 which he gave at his house is said to have cost him several 
 thousand pounds. With this love for amusements Sir John 
 unhappily combined pursuits of a more odious character. 
 He became enamoured of play, and was soon known as one 
 of the best bowlers and card players in the kingdom. It is 
 said that he was so enraptured by the fascination of play 
 
24 THE ISUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 that he would, frequently lie in bed the greater part of the 
 day with a pack of cards before him, to obtain by practice 
 the most perfect knowledge and management of their pow- 
 ers. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT FGK A WIFE. 
 
 A man named Thomas Sadler, who resided for many years 
 in the parish of St. Peter, Ipswich, was after the decease of 
 his mother advised by some of his boon companions to ad- 
 vertise for a wife. He in consequence sat down and penned 
 the following poetical epistle, which was inserted in. one of 
 the Ipswich newspapers : — 
 
 " ADDKESS TO TEE SUEPOLK EEMALES. 
 
 " Wanted immediately as a wife 
 And a partner througliout life, 
 One that is in temper mild — 
 A s meek and gentle as a child ; 
 One that's healthy, young, and strong, 
 And will not vex me with her tongue ; 
 One that's not o'er nice in dress, 
 No more than humble cleanliness ; 
 One that's not o'erwhelmed with care, 
 Nor e'er will drive me to despair; 
 One that won't abroad be straying, 
 Nor know no bed but what we lay in ; 
 One that's not o'erwhelmed with riches, 
 Nor e'er will want to wear the bi'eeches, 
 But with me, in my humble state. 
 Strive to be happy, in whatever fate 
 May on us fall in this short life, 
 Meanwhile that we are man and wife ; 
 For swift the hours of pleasure fly 
 When love's entwined with constancy ; 
 But when once sullied by a jealous strife. 
 Slow moves the hours of a bitter life. 
 A virtuous wife is an honor to her birth ; 
 A discontented wife is a hell on earth. 
 Now any lass whose will incline. 
 And wish to know where she may find 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 25 
 
 The man who is so much inclined 
 
 To enter in this happy state, 
 
 I my abode will now relate. 
 
 I a native am of Ipswich town, 
 My name in here I won't put down. 
 But if to find me out you are inclined, 
 Come over Stoke, and there you will me find. 
 In a house where I was horn and bred, 
 Well nigh unto the Boar's Head. 
 
 In the columns of the same journal, a week after the in- 
 sertion of the above, the following reply appeared : — 
 
 " abbkess to the sttpfolk bacheloe. 
 " Sir,— 
 
 " A young lady from Norfolk has read your petition, 
 And is highly concerned at your woful condition, 
 But the reason for that you yourself have betrayed, 
 Your head is too nigh a Boar's Head, I'm afraid ; 
 And so, if from Suffolk you look for a wife. 
 Get away from that hog for the rest of your life, 
 For what Suffolk female, though ever so poor. 
 Would look for a husband so nigh to a Boar ? " 
 
 " THE SEXSE OF THE PARISH." 
 
 In 1822 Dr. Whately, the future Archbishop, accepted the 
 pastoral charge of Halesworth, in Suffolk. Whilst residing 
 there he seems to have known more of the plagues than of 
 the "recreations" of a country parson. Eector Whately 
 wanted on one occasion to divert a footpath. Probably he 
 did not know what a violation of all public notions of right 
 he was contemplating. His churchwardens came to him 
 half in alarm, half in triumph, to tell him that " the sense 
 of the parish was dead against him." Whately was a little 
 amazed, but having made up his mind to his discomfiture, 
 went to his vestry plainly to say so, talked the matter over 
 with a good deal of geniality, and just a little " chaff" ; and 
 it appeared the " sense " of the parish consisted after all of 
 a bumpkin sort of landowner, a gossiping apothecary, and 
 three patriots fresh from the public-house. 
 
26 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXD. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP WHATELY AND THE AIDE-DE-CAMP. 
 
 The caustio way in wlaicli Archbisliop "Whately snutbed a 
 young aide-de-camp who at one of the castle levees asked, 
 apropos of Dr. Murray, who wore a cross: "What was the 
 difference between a Eoman bishop and a jackass ? " was 
 very characteristic. " One wears the cross upon his back and 
 the other upon his breast," explained the aide-de-camp. " Do 
 you know the difference between an aide-de-camp and a 
 donkey?" ask Dr. Whately. "No?" said the other, interro- 
 gatively. " Nor I either," was the reply. 
 
 LORD THXJELOW'S START IN LIFE. 
 
 Thurlow had travelled the circuit for some years with little 
 notice, and with no opportvmity to put forth his abilities, 
 
 when the housekeeper of the Duke of N was prosecuted 
 
 for stealing a quantity of linen with which she had been 
 entrusted. An attorney of little note and practice conducted 
 the woman's case. He knew full well that he could not expect 
 hearty co-operation by employing any of the leading counsel. 
 It was a poor ease, and a low case, and it could not be antici- 
 pated that they, " the foremost men of all the Bar," would 
 set themselves tooth and naQ against the Duke, who in 
 himself, his agents, and his friends, made the greatest part of 
 every high, legal, and political assemblage in the county. 
 The attorney looked round, therefore, for some young barrister 
 who had nothing to lose, and might have something to win, 
 and he fixed upon Thurlow, who read over the brief with the 
 highest glee, and had an interview with the prisoner. As he 
 entered the Court, he jogged the briefless one, and said, in Ms 
 favourite slang language — " Neck or nothing, my boy, to-day- 
 I'll soar or tumble." The opening speech of the eminent 
 counsel for the Diike, and the evidence, completely convicted 
 the woman ; but Thurlow, by his withering cross-examination 
 of the witnesses, his sneers at the Duke and Duchess, and his 
 powerful address to the jury upon the "grovelhngprosecution," 
 triumphed. The woman was acquitted, and from that day 
 
THE Sn-'FOLK GARLAND. 27 
 
 the powers of Thurlow in voice, sarcasm, gesture, and all tlio 
 superior intonations of brow-beating, which raised him to the 
 most dangerous pinnacle of legal greatness, became known, 
 and rapidly advanced him to fame, and caused the grand- 
 childi'en of his father to be enrolled among the estabhshed 
 peers of the realm. 
 
 ckabbe's simplicitv or character. 
 
 Whilst Crabbe was on a \'isit, during the autumn of his days, 
 to itrs. Hoare, of Hampstead, Mrs. Joannie Baillie, for whom 
 he had a high esteem, sent him one day the present of a black 
 cock, and a message with it, that Mr. Crabbe should look at 
 the bird before it was dehvered to the cook, or somethiag to 
 that purpose. He looked at the bird, as desired, and 
 then went to Mrs. Hoare in some perplexity, to ask 
 whether he ought not to have it stuffed instead of eating it. 
 She could not in her own house tell him that it was 
 simply intended for the larder, and he was at the trouble 
 and expense of having it stuffed, lest Mrs. Joannie Baillie 
 should think that sufficient respect had not been paid to her 
 present. 
 
 In June, 1819, the " Tales of the HaU " were published 
 by Mr. Murraj', who for them and the remainiag copyrigjit 
 of all Crabbe's poems, gave the munificent sum of £3000. 
 IMien Crabbe, who was sta}-ing in London, received the bills 
 for this amount, Moore and Rogers earnestly ad^s'ised him to 
 deposit them without delay ia some safe hands — but no ; he 
 must " take them with him to Trowbridge, and show them to 
 his son John. They would hardly believe in his good luck 
 at home, if they did not see the bills." On his way down to 
 Trowbridge, a friend at Salisbiuy, at whose house he rested 
 (Mr. Everett, the banker) , seeing that he carried these bills 
 loosely in his waistcoat pocket, requested to be allowed to 
 take charge of them ; but vnth equal ill success. " There 
 was no fear," he said, "of his losing them; and he must 
 show them to his son John." 
 
28 THE surroLK garland. 
 
 COMPLIMENTS TO JOHN CONSTABLE'S ART. 
 
 When Fuseli was looking at Constable's picture of " Salis- 
 bury Cathedral," at the Academy exhibition, in 1823, he . 
 said, " I like de landscapes of Constable : he is always pic- 
 turesque — of a fine colour, and de lights always in de right 
 places ; but he makes me call for my great coat and umbrella." 
 And the inimitable Jack Bannister, who sat as a model to 
 Leshe for " Uncle Toby," called upon Constable in 1825, to 
 request a landscape, as he said he had long desired one from 
 which " he could feel the wind blowing on his face." 
 
 LYING GOES BY DISTRICTS. 
 
 Bishop Blomfield used to tell a story of one clergyman 
 whom he had reproved for certain irregularities of conduct, 
 which had been brought under his notice by his parishioners, 
 and who had repHed — " Tour Lordship, as a classical scholar, 
 knows that lying goes by districts : the Cretans were liars — 
 the Capadooians were liars ; and I can assure your Lordship 
 that the inhabitants of are liars also." 
 
 CLERGYMEN ON DITTY. 
 
 Whilst Dr. Blomfield was Bishop, he said that intoxication 
 w^s the most frequent charge against the clergy. One was 
 so drunk whilst waiting for a funeral, that he fell into the 
 grave ; another was conveyed away from a visitation dinner in 
 a helpless state by the Bishop's own servants. A third, 
 when rebuked for di'unkenness, replied — "But, my Lord, I 
 never was drunk on duty." "On duty!" exclaimed the 
 Bishop; "when is a clergyman not on duty?" "True," 
 said the other ; " I never thought of that." 
 
 BERNARD BARTON AND THE PLAYERS. 
 
 In 1822, there was a party of Enghsh actors performing 
 plays at Paris. One evening, an actor of the name of 
 "Barton" was announced, and some of the audience imme- 
 diately called out, inquiring if it was the Quaker poet. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLANt). 29 
 
 GAI>'SBOKOUGH AXD BEYNOLDS. 
 
 "When Gainsborougli was lying on his death bed, he felt that 
 there was one whom he had not treated with courtesy — it was 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. The president's unfinished portrait 
 seemed to look reproachfully upon him ; and the feeUng that 
 there was between them, the relationship of genius, induced 
 him to write to Sir Joshua, expressing a desire to see him 
 once more before he died. " If any little jealousies had 
 subsisted between us," says Eeynolds, " they were forgotten 
 in these moments of sincerity ; and he turned towards me as 
 one who was engrossed by the same pursuits, and who deserved 
 his good opinion, by being sensible of his excellence." It is 
 a solemn scene, that death chamber — the two great painters 
 side by side, forgetful of the past, but not unmindful of the 
 future. Gainsborough says that he fears not death ; that his 
 regret at losing hfe is principally the regret of leaving his art, 
 more especially as he now began to see what his deficiencies 
 were, which he thought in his last works were in some measure 
 supplied. The wave of life heaves to and fro. Eeynolds 
 bends his dull ear to catch Grainsborough's failing words — 
 ' ' We are all going to heaven ; and Vandyke is of the company . ' ' 
 
 Gainsborough's " blue boy." 
 
 Sir Joshua Eeynolds had maintained in one of his discourses, 
 " that the masses of light in a picture should be always of a 
 warm, mellow colour : yellow, red, or a yellowish- white ; and 
 that the blue, the grey, or the green colours should be kept 
 almost entirely out of these masses, and be used only to 
 support and set off these warm colours." To refute the 
 President's objection to blue in the mass, Gainsborough, in 
 1779, clothed a full length portrait of Master Buttall in a 
 dress approaching to cerulean splendour. The propriety of 
 this has been the subject of much debate. Dr. Waagen 
 remarks : — " In spite of the blue dress, Gainsborough has 
 succeeded in producing a hannonious and pleasing eff'eot ; 
 nor can it be doubted that in the cool scale of colours, in 
 
30 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 which blue acts the chief part, there are very tender and 
 pleasing harmonies, which Sir Joshua, with his way of seeing, 
 could not appreciate." The author of "A Handbook for 
 Young Painters," however, says — " I agree with the opinion 
 of Sii' Thomas Lawrence, that in this picture the difSculty is 
 rather ably combated than vanquished. Indeed it is not even 
 fairly combated, for Grainsborough has so mellowed and broken 
 the blue with other tints, that it is no longer that pure bleak 
 colour Sir Joshua meant ; and after all, though the picture is 
 a very fine one, it cannot be doubted that a warmer tint for 
 the dress would have made itstlU more agreeable to the eye." 
 
 QUEEN CAKOLINE AND THE REV. WILLIAM WHISTON. 
 
 The Rev. William Whiston was much esteemed by Queen 
 Caroline, consort of George II., who generously made him a 
 present of £50 every year from the time she became Queen ; 
 and she usually sent for him every summer to spend a day or 
 two with her. Once, whilst at Richmond, she asked him 
 what people in general said of her. He rephed that they 
 justly esteemed her as a lady of great abilities, as a patron of 
 learned men, and a kind friend to the poor. "But," says she, 
 "no one is without faults — pray what are mine ? " He begged 
 to be excused speaking on that subject, but she insisting, he 
 said, " Her Majesty did not behave with proper reverence at 
 church." She replied, " That the king would talk to her." 
 He said, " A greater than kings was there to be regarded 
 only." She acknowledged and confessed her fault. " Pray," 
 said she, "tell me what is my next." He rephed, "When 
 I hear that your Majesty has amended that fault, I will tell 
 you of your next." 
 
 LORD KEEPER BACON. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon lived at Redgrave Hall, and at this 
 seat Queen Eli^iabeth visited him in September, 1569, in 
 August, 1560, and in July and August, 1561. On one of 
 these occasions her Majesty remarked, " My Lord, what a 
 
THE SUP'FOLK GARLAND. 31 
 
 little house you have got here." He answered, " Madam, 
 my house is well enough, but your Highness has made me 
 too great for my house." 
 
 Lord Campbell, in enumerating some anecdotes to show 
 that Lord Keeper Bacon was no contemptible jester, says of 
 him, " Once, going the northern circuit as Judge, before he 
 had the Great Seal, he was about to pass sentence on a thief 
 convicted before him, when the prisoner, after various pleas 
 had been overruled, asked for mercy on account of kindred. 
 " Prithee," said my Lord, Judge, " how comes this about? " 
 " Why, if it please you, my Lord, your name is Bacon, and 
 mine is Hog, and in all ages Hog and Bacon have been so 
 near kindred that they are not to be separated." " Ay, but," 
 replied the Judge, " you and I cannot be kindred except you 
 be hanged, for Hog is not Bacon until it be well hanged." 
 Unfortunately for the truth of Lord Campbell's anecdote. 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon never officiated as Judge of Assize. 
 
 CHIEF JUSTICE HOLT AND A PRISONER. 
 
 It is related of Chief Justice Holt, that being once on the 
 Bench at the Old Bailey, a fellow was tried and convicted of 
 a robbery on the highway whom the Judge remembered to 
 have been one of his old companions, at the time he was a 
 wild youth. He was moved by that curiosity which is natural 
 on the retrospection of past hfe, to know the fortune of those 
 with whom he was once associated, and of whom he had 
 known nothing for many years ; he therefore asked the feUow 
 what was become of Tom such a one, and Will such a one, 
 and the rest of the knot to which they belonged. The fellow, 
 fetching a deep sigh, and making a low bow, said, " Ah ! 
 my Lord, they are all hanged but your Lordship and I." 
 
 BOYHOOD OF LIEUTENANT SHIPP. 
 
 Lieutenant Shipp, of the 76th regiment, was bom at 
 Saxmundham, and left an orphan at an early age. As he 
 grew up to boyhood, he became known as a wild dog of 
 
32 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXD. 
 
 unconquerable spirit — always ready to plan or to execute 
 mischief. One morning, whilst playing marbles in " Love 
 Lane," martial music from fife and di'um struck on hig 
 ear. Instantly bagging his marbles, he scampered off to 
 see the soldiers, whom he found to be a " recruiting party " 
 of the royal artillery, who, decked out with flaunting ribbons, 
 were trying to induce the Johnny Raws of the district to 
 "enter the service of King George." The finery and the 
 music were such attractions to his youthful fancy, that he, 
 after due consideration, strutted up to the sergeant, and 
 asked him if he would " take I for a sodger," to the great 
 amusement of the company. It was not long after this 
 adventure, that he went to live as cow-boy to a farmer in 
 Saxmundham, whose heart was as cold as the hoar-frost, 
 which sometimes blighted his prospects. The boy was so 
 mischievous in his propensities, and the master so tyrannical 
 in his inclinations, that the youngster tasted the lash almost 
 as frequently as his supper. The recruiting party had upset 
 the poor boy's brains, and the desire to wear his Majesty's 
 livery was uppermost in his mind. The hoes and rakes 
 were transformed into muskets, and the geese and turkeys 
 into soldiers, to gratify the cow-boy's propensity for military 
 exercises. He was always whistling " God save the King," 
 or " The British Grenadiers," and was once caught riding 
 the old sow, pitchfork in hand, singing at the same time, 
 " See the Conquering Hero comes." 
 
 ONE QUAKEK COOK. 
 
 The Eev. Charles B. Tayler, having applied to Bernard 
 Barton for a cook, the poet writes in reply : — " I am requested 
 to say that we are quite unable to recommend thee a cook of 
 any kind ; as to Quaker cooks, they are so scarce that we 
 Quaker folk are compelled to call in the aid of the daughters 
 of the land, to dress our own viands, or cook them ourselves 
 as well as we can. But what, my dear friend, could put it 
 into thy head to think of a Quaker cook, of all nondescripts ? 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLA^Ji). 33 
 
 Charles Lamb would liave told thee better : he says he never 
 could have relished even the salads Eve di-essed for the angels 
 in Eden — his appetite is too highly excited ' to sit a guest 
 with Daniel at his pulse.' Go to ! thou art a wag, Charles; 
 and this is only a sly way of hinting that we are fond of 
 good living. But, perhaps, after all, more of compHment 
 than of inuendo is implied in the proposition. Thou thoughtest 
 we were civU, cleanly, quiet, etc., all excellent qualities, 
 doubtless, in women of all kinds, cooks not excluded. But, 
 my dear friend, I should be sorry the reputation of our sect, 
 for the possession of these quahties, should be exposed to the 
 contingent vexations which cuhnary mortals are especially 
 exposed to. 'A cook whilst cooking is a sort of fury,' saj^s 
 the old poet. Ay ! but not a Quaker cook, at least in the 
 favourable and friendly opinion of Adine and thyself; we 
 are proud of that good opinion, and I would not risk its 
 forfeiture by sending one of our sisterhood to thee as a cook. 
 Suppose an avalanche of soot to plump down the chimney 
 the first gala day — 'twould be Cookship versus Quakership 
 whether the poor body kept her sectarian serenity unruffled ; 
 and suppose the beam kicked the wrong way, what would 
 become of all our reputation in the temporary good opinion 
 of Adine and thee ? But all badinage apart ; even in our 
 own Society there are comparatively few who are in the 
 situation of domestic servants, and I necer rememhe)' hut 
 one in the peculiar office referred to. 
 
 DEESS AND FURNITURE OF SIR HARVEY ELWES. 
 
 Sir Harvey Elwes's predecessor had been so lavish in 
 dress that the new Baronet found lots of clothes, which he 
 undertook to wear up ; and it is behoved that Sir Jervaise's 
 garments were used by Sir Harvey until the day of his death. 
 He was generally seen with a black velvet cap pulled over 
 his face, so as to form a good shade to the eyes ; a worn-out, 
 full-dressed suit, and an old great coat, with worsted stockings 
 drawn up over his knees. He rode a thin, thorough-bred 
 
•j4 the SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 horse, and " the horse and its rider " hoth looked as if a gust 
 of wind wotdd have blown them away together. 
 
 The furniture in the mansion at Stoke was most sacredly 
 unique. Not a room was painted, not a window repaired. 
 The beds were all in canopy and state, but the miserable 
 Baronet let the worms and moths have undisturbed sway, 
 and the roof of the house was more adapted to the climate of 
 Italy than that of England. The fuel consumed in the house 
 was supplied by his woods ; and if a farmer in the neighbour- 
 hood called. Sir Harvey would strike a light in a tinder-box, 
 that he kept by him, and putting one single stick in the 
 grate, would not add another until the first was nearly burnt 
 out. When the day was not fine enough to tempt him 
 abroad, he would walk backwards and forwards in his old 
 hall, to save the expense of a fire ; and after taking a basin 
 of water gruel in the evening, he went to bed, to save the 
 tmnecessary extravagance of a candle. 
 
 ADA^ANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF TRAVELLING. 
 
 In a letter from Marseilles, Mrs. Barbauld, in 1785, thus 
 amusingly sums up the advantages and disadvantages of 
 travelling : — 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF TKATELLING. 
 
 A July sun and a southern breeze. 
 
 Figs, almonds, etc., etc. 
 
 Sweet scents in the fields. 
 Grapes and raisins. 
 Coffee as cheap as milk- 
 Wine a demi sous the bottle. 
 
 Provenyal songs and laughter. 
 
 Soup, salad, and oil. 
 
 Arches of triumph, fine churches, 
 
 stately palaces. 
 A pleasant and varied country. 
 
 PEB CONTEA. 
 
 Flies, fleas, and all Pharoah's 
 plague of vermin. 
 
 No tea, and the very name of tea- 
 kettle unknown. 
 
 Bad scents within doors. 
 
 No plum pudding. 
 
 Milk as dear as coffee. 
 
 Bread three sous the halfpenny 
 roll. 
 
 Proven9al roughness and scolding. 
 
 No beef, no butter. 
 
 Dirty inns, heavy roads, uneasy 
 carriages. 
 
 But many, many a league from 
 those we love. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 35 
 
 PERSEVERAXCE OF BISHOP BLOMFIELD WHEN A YOUTH. 
 
 The father of Bishop Blomfield was a schoolmaster at 
 Bury St. Edmimd's. Under his tuition, the future Bishop 
 acquired the rudiments of latia ; and at the age of eight, he 
 was transferred to the Grammar School in the same town. 
 He was at this time a very delicate boy, and subject to 
 affections of the chest, for which the air of Bury was too 
 keen. He used to climb up the stairs by the help of the 
 banisters, and on account of his diminutive size, was nick- 
 named by his sohoolfeUows Tit Blomfield. But he gave 
 early promise of the ability and industry which marked his 
 whole subsequent life ; and during the ten years which he 
 spent at the grammar school, he would often rise at four or 
 five in the morning, in order to study modern languages, 
 botany, and chemistry, in addition to his regular school- 
 work. At the age of eighteen, he commenced his residence 
 at Cambridge, as a pensioner of Triaity College, where he 
 gained a scholarship in the following year. He soon found 
 that the boys of Charterhouse and Eton were more than a 
 match for him, and that if he were to retain the reputation 
 which he had gained at school, he must work even harder 
 than before. Accordingly, he began a system of reading, 
 which overtasked his bodily, though not his mental powers, 
 and the bad effects of which lasted, perhaps, throughout his 
 life. He sometimes spent sixteen, and even eighteen hours out 
 of the twenty-four over his books. He wrote every day a piece 
 of Greek or Latin composition, and a translation from a Greek 
 or Latin author, which latter he translated back again some 
 days after, and then compared his version with the original. 
 
 At the end of his academical year, he was fortunately 
 
 introduced to Mr. , afterwards Bishop Maltby, who 
 
 gave him some good advice as to the method of reading 
 which he should pursue. He, in consequence, re-commenced 
 reading on the plan recommended by Mr. Maltby. At this 
 period, his day was generally thus divided : rising in time 
 
36 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 for the early chapel service, which he never missed during his 
 undergraduate life, except when prevented by illness, he 
 began reading at nine, at twelve allowed himself two hours' 
 recreation, walking or rowing, or occasionally a game of 
 billiards ; dined at two, the college dinner-hour, and returning 
 to his books at three, read without interruption till twelve at 
 night, and occasionally till three in the morning. Sometimes 
 he alternated his work, one week sitting up till three, and the 
 next rising at four. The remonstrances of friends or phy- 
 sicians, who warned him that he read too hard, were in vain ; 
 the objects which he had set before him he determined to 
 gain, at whatever cost of ease, time, and health. A Bury 
 friend, meeting him in the streets of Cambridge, during a 
 long vacation, exclaimed, " Why, Charles Blomfield, I beheve 
 if you were to drop from the sky, you would be found with 
 a book in your hand." 
 
 NOBLE CONDUCT OF LOUD ROCHFOED. 
 
 A gentleman, whom Lord Rochford had made Consul at 
 Messina, died in 1771, and gave his whole fortime, between 
 £3,000 and £4,000, to his patron. But few gentlemen 
 wanted money more than the Earl, yet he immediately gave 
 the whole legacy to the testator's family. 
 
 DR. WHATELy's CURE FOR A HEAD-ACHE. 
 
 Archbishop Whately, from his earhest youth, battled and 
 balked all temptation to sloth. He knew that indolence 
 begins in cobwebs and ends in iron chains, and he never 
 spared either the sinews of his strong mind or the muscles of 
 his strong arm ; and when, as sometimes happened, a head- 
 ache overtook him after some unusally severe intellectual 
 effort, he used to refresh himself by manual labour. A friend 
 of Dr. Field's says, " The first occasion on which I ever saw 
 Dr. "Whately was under peculiar circumstances. I accom- 
 panied Dr. Field to visit professionally some members of the 
 Archbishop's household, at Eedesdale. The ground was 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 37 
 
 covered by two feet of snow, and the thermometer was down 
 almost to zero. Knowing the Archbishop's character for 
 humanity, I expressed much surprise to see an old labouring 
 man in his shirt sleeves felling a tree ' after hours ' in the 
 demesne, while a heavy shower of sleet drifted pitilessly on 
 his face. ' That labourer,' replied Dr. Field, ' whom you 
 think the victim of prelatical despotism, is no other than the 
 Archbishop, curing himself of a headache. When his Grace 
 has been reading or writing more than ordinarily, and finds 
 any pain or confusion about the central organization, he puts 
 both to flight by rushing out with an axe, and slashing away 
 at some ponderous trunk. As soon as he finds himself in a 
 profuse perspiration, he gets into bed and wraps himself in 
 Limerick blankets, falls into a sound slumber, and gets up 
 buoyant.' " 
 
 Dr. Whately avowed a scepticism as regards drugs, and 
 was very much of opinion with Dryden, that — 
 
 " Better to seek the fields for health unbought, 
 Than fee the doctor for a nauseoiis draught." 
 
 The physio from the fields, and draughts of vital air, of 
 which the Archbishop partook copiously, carried on his own 
 face an advertisement of their potency, quite as effective and 
 perhaps more truthful than the ubiquitous credentials of the 
 Methuselah pill. 
 
 W. J. FOX AS AN OEATOE. 
 
 Though ungainly in figure, William Johnson Fox was 
 very graceful in attitude ; he stood with great ease, his folded 
 arms crossed upon his breast, and the fore-finger of the right 
 hand extended as an index ; the upper part of the figure was 
 thrown back, and the head slightly inclined forward. The 
 most profound silence greeted his opening sentences, which 
 were short, epigrammatic, and poured forth in a rich, mellow 
 tone of voice. Perfect in articulation, and clear in voice, the 
 words came vibrating on the ear with the sweet clang of a 
 
38 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 distant bell. Mr. Fox affected no quaintness, no singularity 
 of idiom; he adhered to pure English, seldom used words for 
 mere effect, and shrunk with fastidious delicacy from 
 unnecessary display. His inflections were really musical. 
 As he proceeded he warmed with his subject, for though he 
 used httle gesture, his figure dilated, his features worked, his 
 eyes seemed ready to burst with intellectual fire, and his 
 voice broke out like a trumpet call as he denounced some 
 social grievance, some iniquity wrought by the few at the 
 expense of the many. Towards the conclusion of his dis- 
 course, he made use of long sentences ; but he was an artist 
 in words. While constructing the first steps of his sentence, 
 his thoughts were moulding the remote conclusion. His 
 eloquence was like an ionic temple — chaste and beautiful) 
 massive at the base, and having no useless ornament to 
 distract the gaze of the beholder. In picturesqueness of lan- 
 guage, in power of description, and in brilliancy of diction, 
 this self-taught man was equal to any orator of his day, 
 and his perorations were seldom paralleled. As you read 
 the orations of this champion of English freedom and 
 instructor of mankind, you are enchanted ; but as ^chines 
 said of Demosthenes, "What would you have thought 
 had you heard him dclirer them ? " 
 
 ROYAL INGRATITUDE. 
 
 Edward Eookwood, of Euston, a younger branch of the 
 Eookwoods of Stanningfield, and who with other Catholic 
 gentlemen of Suffolk, signed a protestation of loyaltj' and 
 a declaration against the Pope's deposing power, entertained 
 Queen Elizabeth in her progress through the county, in 
 1578. Of this event a singular account is given by Richard 
 Topoliffe, to Greorge Earl of Shrewsbury, in a letter pubhshed 
 in Lodge's Illustrations of British History. In return for 
 Eookwood's hospitality, her Majesty, for no other reason 
 than because he was a Papist, not only joined in insulting 
 him in the grossest manner, but had him hurried off to 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 39 
 
 Norwich gaol, and fined him afterwards in a large sum for 
 presuming " to attempt her real presence." The poor man 
 ultimately died in the gaol of St. Edmund's, Bury, and his 
 house and estate at Euston were sold to relieve the distress 
 of the family. 
 
 DESTITUTE CONDITION OF MR. AND MRS. INCHBALD. 
 
 Soon after marriage, Mrs. Inchbald went with her husband 
 to France, the wife that she might acquire a complete know- 
 ledge of the French language, the husband to prosecute 
 portrait painting, in which he had made some proiioiency. 
 Their slender funds, however, were soon exhausted, and in 
 the course of a few months they returned to Brighton 
 almost penniless. So destitute was their condition, that on 
 several occasions they went without either dinner or tea, and 
 once they ate turnips in a field for a meal. They got to 
 London by some means or other, and obtained an engagement 
 for Liverpool. Here she made the acquaintance of Mrs. 
 Siddons, who at that time washed and ironed for her hus- 
 band and child, and lightened her domestic duties by singing 
 away the hours. The future Countess of Derby was also 
 there, taking a half benefit, neither of these ladies dreaming 
 of the great honours that awaited them. 
 
 JOHN constable's HABITS. 
 
 Whilst Constable was staying at Petworth, in 1834, Leslie 
 was an inmate of the same house, and it was the only occasion, 
 he says, in which he had an opportunity of witnessing his 
 habits. " Constable rose early, and had often made some 
 beautifal sketch in the park before breakfast. On going 
 into his room one morning, not aware that he had yet been 
 out of it, I found him setting some of those sketches with 
 isinglass. His dressing table was covered with fiowers, 
 feathers of birds, and pieces of bark with lichens and mosses 
 adhering to them, which he had brought home for the sake 
 of their beautiful tints. Mr. Greorge Constable told me that 
 
40 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 while on a visit to him, Constable brought from Fittleworth 
 Common at least a dozen different specimens of sand and 
 earth, of colom-s from pale to deep yellow, and of ligh reddish 
 hues to tints almost crimson. The richness of these colours, 
 contrasting mtli the deep greens of the furze and other 
 vegetation on this picturesque heath, delighted him exceed- 
 ingly, and he carried these earths home, carefully preserved 
 in bottles, and also many fragments of the variously coloured 
 stone. In passing with Mr. Gr. Constable some slimy posts 
 near an old mill, he said, " I wish you could cut off and send 
 their tops to me." 
 
 Leslie says, " His very amusements consisted of study ; I 
 do not think he ever read a novel in his life. It was on no 
 narrow principle that he objected to works of fiction, but 
 they did not interest him. I remember soon after the death 
 of Mrs. Constable, when books were proposed to him as a 
 relief to his mind, he said, " I should be delighted to read 
 ' Tom Thumb,' if it could amuse me." 
 
 Again : "I have seen him admire a fine tree with an 
 ecstaey of delight like that with which he would catch up 
 a beautiful child in his arms. The ash was his favourite, and 
 all who are acquainted with his pictures cannot fail to have 
 observed how frequently it is introduced as a near object, 
 and how beautifully its distinguishing peculiarities are marked. 
 
 In the winter seasons, after he could afford it. Constable 
 frequently sent clothes and blankets to be distributed among 
 the poor of his native village ; indeed, no feature of his 
 character was more amiable than his sympathy with the 
 sufferings of the humbler classes, and bis consideration for 
 their feelings in all respects. He possessed that innate and 
 only real gentility of Avhich the test is, conduct towards 
 inferiors and strangers ; he was a gentleman to the poorest 
 of his species — a gentleman in a stage coach, nay more — 
 a gentleman at a stage coach inn dinner. 
 
 Writing to Mr. Purton, in 1836, Constable says, "We 
 gladly avail ourselves of your and Mrs. Pm-ton's kind 
 
THE Sia-'FOLK OAKLAND. 41 
 
 invitation to dinner, and will be vntli you at four o'clock 
 that day, John, myself, and the sailor, though for myself 
 there is always an uncertainty. I like to be poking about 
 my limiber, and loathe to go from home." 
 
 DR. WHATELY ON GAMING. 
 
 "When the British Association for the Advancement of 
 Science met at Belfast, in 1852, Archbishop Whately pre- 
 sided over one of the lectures, and was entertained at dinner 
 
 by Mr. B , with several of the northern great gims. 
 
 The conversation turned on the subject of gaming, and the 
 Archbishop asked any member of the company to state in 
 what its moral offence consisted. One reverend gentleman 
 maintained that gaming involved no moral transgression 
 A\'hatever, and ought to be regarded chiefly as a healthful 
 
 relaxation for the over-tasked mind. Dr. H , who had 
 
 filled the Whately chair of political economy, advanced it 
 as his opinion that the moral offence implied by the Arch- 
 bishop consisted in prostituting to bad purposes the talents 
 given by Grod for successful commercial speculation, in the 
 same way as the commerce of prostitution degrades and checks 
 marriage. " That is a very good answer for a political 
 economist," replied Dr. Whately ; " but my view is simply, 
 that inasmuch as all gaming implies a desire of profiting at 
 the expense of your neighbour, it involves a breach of the 
 tenth commandment." 
 
 On another occasion, he said, " The best throio uitli the dice 
 is to throw them aicai/." 
 
 KEEPING A PROMISE. 
 
 Hengrave Hall, and the Suffolk property acquired by Sir 
 Thomas Kytson, was in the reign of Charles II. settled by 
 the Coimtess Elvers upon Penelope, her third daughter. It 
 is said that Sir George Trenchard, Sir John Gage, and Sir 
 William Harvey each solicited Lady Penelope in marriage at 
 the same time, and that, to keep peace between the rivals, 
 
4.2 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 she thi-eatened the first aggressor with her perpetual dis- 
 pleasure, humorously telling them that if they could "wait 
 she would have them all in their turns — a promise which 
 was actually performed. The gentleman first favoured was 
 Sir Greorge Trenohard, of Wolverton, in Dorsetshire, who, 
 dying shortly after without issue, she married Sir John Gage, 
 Bart., of Firle, in Sussex; by him, who died in 1633, she 
 had nine children. Lady Penelope remained a widow till 
 1G42, when she married Sir William Harvey, of Ickworth, 
 grandfather, by a former wife, of John, first Earl of Bristol. 
 The lady survived all her husbands, and by her will, proved 
 in 1661, settled Hengrave upon her third son, Edward Grage, 
 who was created a Baronet by King Charles II., in 1662. 
 
 A NAVAL DUEL. CAPTAIN BROKe's COURAGE AND 
 
 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 In the spring of 1812, Captain Philip Broke, of the 
 Shannon, was the senior oflicer of a squadron cruising off the 
 North American coast. The British ships had for some time 
 previous to this period been unfortunate in their encounters 
 with the Americans, and Captain Broke, indignant at the 
 defeat of his countrymen, burnt with a desire to prove, as he 
 was confident he and his ship's crew could prove, that the 
 victories gained by the Americans were the result of a 
 preponderance of force, in itself absolutely irresistible ; and 
 that a British ship was as superior as ever to any antagonist 
 of equal size. The Shannon was a fine frigate of fifty-two 
 guns, though some were only nine-pounders, and some even 
 smaller; and from the time that Captain Broke took the 
 command of her, he had carefully trained her crew in 
 gunnery, and in every exercise calculated to make them really 
 efiicient in the day of trial. It happened that in May, 1813, 
 the American frigate, Chesapeake, came into Boston, while 
 he was lying off that port, with another frigate, the Tenedos, 
 watching the American frigates President and Congress, 
 which, as lie knew, were on the point of putting to sea. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 4-3 
 
 They eluded him in a fog ; and as, after their departure, the 
 Chesapeake was the only vessel fit for service in the harbour, 
 Captain Broke sent away the Tenedos, lest her presence 
 should give the commander of the Chesapeake, Captain 
 Laurence, an excuse for remaining in port, and then sent a 
 formal challenge to that officer to meet the Shannon, " to try 
 the fortune of their respective flags." No ships more nearly 
 equal to one another could have been found in the navies of 
 the two coimtries. What advantage existed on either side, 
 was iu favoiu" of the Chesapeake. Her broadside weighed 
 fifty-two pounds more than that of the Bnghsh ship ; her 
 tonnage exceeded that of her antagonist by nearly seventy 
 tons ; her crew was the more numerous by a hundred and ten 
 men — a superiority of no small importance in a conflict 
 eventually decided by boarding. Captain Laurence did not 
 decHne the challenge. In the afternoon of the first of Jrme, 
 the Chesapeake was seen coming out of the harbour ; and 
 tho whole populace of Boston had assembled on the pier to 
 witness the combat, and to greet their countrjmian on his 
 triirmphant return. Captara Broke at once brought his ship 
 into a favom-able position, and then hove-to to receive his 
 assailant. At half-past five the Chesapeake reached him. 
 Neither ship had fixed a gun tdl she came within hail ; but 
 then, as she hauled upon the starboard side of the British 
 frigate, both ships steering full under their topsails, at the 
 same moment opened their fire. Not more than two or three 
 broadsides had been exchanged when the superior training of 
 the British gunners began to show itself. The damage they 
 had inflicted on the Chesapeake was already seen in its 
 residts. She was no longer steered with the necessary 
 accuracy, but fell on board the Shannon, her mizen channels 
 locking in with the main rigging of our ship. Captain 
 Broke went forward to ascertain her position and condition, 
 and observing that many of her crew were deserting her guns, 
 gave the word to prepare to board. It was eagerly received. 
 As the boarders swarmed up, the Shannon's boatswain 
 
44 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Mr. Stevens, a veteran wlio had fought in Eodney's 
 great victory at Port Royal, lashed the two ships together, 
 disregarding the sword cuts which the Americans showered 
 upon him whilst thus engaged, and which cost hitn an arm, 
 and in a moment Captain Broke himself led his men on to 
 the enemy's deck. The ammunition of the Chesapeake, like 
 that of all the other American frigates, had been curiously 
 made up of novel missiles, such as long bars linked together, 
 to cut the shrouds of an antagonist; and with a view to 
 this particular conflict, in which they expected the British 
 sailors to board them, they had recourse to a contrivance 
 which the Enghsh had practised, though in a somewhat 
 different manner, in the time of Henry III., but which had 
 probably never since been seen on board a ship. They had 
 prepared a quantity of unslaked lime, to oast in the eyes of 
 their assailants ; but they had worse luck with this device 
 than we had on the former occasion, for a shot from the 
 Shannon had struck the cask which contained it, and had 
 scattered its contents over its owners. So that when the 
 Shannon's boarders reached their deck, the Americans found 
 themselves deprived of one resource on which they had 
 reckoned, ancl had nothing to rely upon but their own 
 strength and corn-age. A brief but terrible struggle ensued. 
 Broke himself was desperately wounded by a sword-cut on 
 the head, and a still more dangerous blow from the stock of 
 a musket. His clerk fell dead by his side ; his purser too, 
 v»fho, fked by the same enthusiasm that animated his ship- 
 mates, had volunteered to take the command of a party, was 
 slain by a musket shot. In less than five minutes, fifty of 
 our men fell ; but the loss of the Americans was far greater. 
 The Chesapeake's main-top was filled with riflemen, but a 
 gallant young midshipman, of the name of W. Smith, with 
 a small party, stormed theu' post, and drove them down, 
 and then the Shannon's first heutenant hauled down the 
 Stars and Stripes, and hoisted the British Union Jack in its 
 place. It was the last act of the gallant officer ; he had 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 45 
 
 already been severely wounded, and now ■wliile thus engaged 
 he fell, shot through the head, it is believed, by a gun from 
 his own ship, where the men who had been left behind were 
 not aware that the conflict was over. Indeed, some of the 
 American crew that had fled down the hold, still kept up a 
 fire up the hatchways, till Captain Broke, who, in spite of 
 his wounds, still remained on deck directing the operations, 
 ordered some of his men to fire down below, on which they 
 surrendered, and the Chesapeake was ours in fifteen minutes 
 from the commencement of the contest. Her loss had been 
 very heavy, and fully attested the gallantry of the crew, and 
 the pre-eminent skill of Captain Broke's arrangements, both 
 during and before the action. Seventy of her men were 
 killed : her captain, her master, and two lieutenants being 
 included in the number; a hundred were wounded. The 
 hulls of both ships were severely damaged, the Chesapeake, 
 in spite of the superior thickness of her timbers, being in tliis 
 respect also the greatest sufferer; but so entirely had both 
 ships agreed in keeping their fire low, that the rigging was 
 almost untouched ; and according to Captain Broke's report, 
 "Both ships came out of action in the most beautiful manner, 
 their rigging appearing as perfect as if they had only been 
 exchanging a salute." 
 
 MES. INCHBALd's POLITICS. 
 
 The political principles of Mrs. Inchbald may be seen in 
 her works, but her radicalism might be inferred from her 
 intimacy with Godwin, Holcroft, and their friends. She 
 rejoiced in the first triumphs of liberty in France, but was 
 repelled by the horrors which subsequently attended the 
 revolution. She visited Holcroft in gaol, and thought the 
 Burdett riots combined the sublime and the beautiful. Even 
 the Peninsula triumphs she did not enjoy ; she doubted the 
 possibility of Wellington beating Massina, and entered in 
 her journal, " Glad to find the Tower guns fired yesterday 
 for little boast." The howl of sedition and Jacobinism raised 
 
4(3 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 against one of her plays, in a treasury journal, tlie True 
 Briton, slie dexterously turned to account by replying in 
 WoodfalVs Biari/, and in consequence of the attack the sale 
 was immense. 
 
 constable's love of humouk. 
 
 When Constable, the artist, had occasion to reprove a 
 servant, or a tradesman, it was generally accompanied with 
 a pleasantry. To the man who served his family with milk, 
 he said, " In future, we shall feel obliged if you will send us 
 the milk and the water in separate cans." 
 
 DR. WHATELY and HIS DOGS. 
 
 Dr. Whately in his daily " constitutional " rambles was 
 generally attended by three uncompromising looking dogs, 
 the heads of which, if it were possible to di'aw together in a 
 Shamrock form would forcibly suggest Cerberus. Richard 
 "Whately found, or thought he found in the society of these 
 dogs far brighter intelligence, and infinitely more fidelity than 
 in many of the Oxford men, who had been fulsomely praised 
 for both. In devotion to his dogs Dr. Whately proved true 
 to the end of his life, and during the winter season might be 
 daily seen in St. Stephen's Grreen, Dubhn, playing at "tig," 
 or " hide and seek " with his canine attendants. Sometimes 
 the archbishop might be seen clambering up a tree, secreting 
 his hankerchief or pocket-knife in some cunning nook, then 
 resuming his walk, and after a while suddenly affecting to 
 have lost these articles, which the dogs never failed im- 
 mediately to regain. 
 
 DR. WHATELY IN THE PULPIT. 
 
 Dr. Whately completely disregarded the graces of gesture 
 in the pulpit. In his work on Ehetoric he lays it down as 
 a very important principle that the orator should, in speak- 
 ing, by concentrating his attention exclusively on the 
 creation of the mind, entirely forget the outward man and 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 47 
 
 manner; and he depreciated in tlie strongest manner all 
 studied effect. Of this fallacious principle Dr. Whately 
 was in his own person the intrepid illustrator, and the 
 penalties attending its indulgence more than once over- 
 took him. All Oxford was on one occasion convulsed with 
 laughter, by the way in which Dr. Whately unconsciously 
 permitted his outward man to run riot in the pulpit, during 
 an extempore address. His thoughts had never before 
 rolled forth in such vigorous volume. During the delivery 
 of the sermon he worked his leg about to such an extent 
 that it absolutely glided over the edge of the pulpit, and 
 hung there till the conclusion of his homily. Time tamed 
 this restlessness, and later in Hfe Dr. Whately became almost 
 impassive in his preaching. 
 
 KOBBIXG A MISER. 
 
 The most remarkable circumstance that occurred during 
 the residence of Sir Harvey Elwes at Stoke, by Clare, was 
 the quantity of money which some fellows who lived in the 
 neighbourhood managed to transfer irom the miser's custody 
 to their own. As might be expected, such a notorious miser 
 as Sir Harvey had but little faith in bankers, and having 
 scarcely any connection with London, he always had three 
 or four thousand pounds in cash in his house at a time ; for 
 even the loss of interest could not induce him to part with 
 his gold. The " Thaxtead Gang " hearing of this fine 
 chance, formed a plan to rob him. They ascertained the 
 hour at which the old Baronet's servant went to the stable in 
 the evening, and hiding themselves in the church porch, they 
 fell upon him, and after some little struggle, bound and 
 gagged him. They then ran up towards the house, tied the 
 two maids together, and going up to Sir Harvey, presented 
 their pistols and demanded his money. The Baronet, with 
 all his love of money, behaved remarkably well in this 
 transaction, and showed that if his passions were dormant, 
 and his constitution shrivelled, his love for his man-servant 
 
48 THE SUFFOLK GARLA^^D. 
 
 was strong. When ttie fellows demanded hie, money, he 
 refused them any clue to his valuables until they had assured 
 him that his servant was safe. He then delivered to them 
 the key of a drawer in which were fifty guineas . But they 
 felt com-inced that he had a much larger quantity by him, 
 and again threatened his life unless he discovered where it 
 was deposited. At length he showed them the place, and 
 they tiu'ned out of a large drawer seven and tioenty hundred 
 guineas. These they packed up in two large baskets and 
 actually carried off, thus effecting a robbery which for 
 quantity of specie was never equalled. On quitting him, 
 they said they should leave a man behind who would murder 
 him if he moved for assistance. On which, having coolly 
 taken out his watch (which they had not asked for), and said, 
 " Grentlemen, I do not want to take any of you, and, there- 
 fore, upon my honour, I will give you twenty minutes for 
 your escape. After that time nothing shall prevent me from 
 seeing how my servant does." He was as good as his word. 
 When the time expired, he went and untied the man ; but 
 though some search was made by the villagers, the robbers 
 were not discovered. When they were taken up some years 
 afterwards for other offences, and were known to be the men 
 who robbed Sir Harvey, he would not appear against them. 
 His lawyer, Mr. Harrington, of Clare, earnestly joersuaded 
 him to do so. "No, no," said he, " I have lost my money, and 
 now you nrmt me to lose my time also." 
 
 TEYIXG TO BKIBE A JUDGE. 
 
 On one occasion, when Baron Alderson went the Welsh 
 circuit as judge, the defendant in an action which stood for 
 trial in Cardigan, sent to him on his arrival in that town a 
 statement of his case, with a ten pound note enclosed ! 
 
 ACTING AND WRITING ; OR, THE STAGE AND THE PRESS. 
 
 It was in the autumn of 1780, that Mrs. Inchbald first 
 trod the London boards ; she was, however, discouraged by 
 
THii SUFFOLK GAKLANU. 49 
 
 secondary parts being assigned to her, and a low salary paid. 
 Only £1 6s. 8(/. was paid to her, and out of that sum she 
 had to pay nine shillings a week for lodging. After a time 
 her salary was raised to £2, and in April, 1781, the time of 
 her highest salary, she received £3 a week ; hut this was 
 only for a short time, and the amount afterwards Avas 
 frequently low. She remained on the stage till 1789, but 
 owed her fa^'our with the public more to the beauty of her 
 person, and her blameless reputation, than to her merits as 
 an actress. Fortunately, she had the power to icrifc for the 
 stage, and she soon found this immensely more profitable 
 than acting on the stage. She had begun to write dramatic 
 pieces before her retirement, and the rejection of some dozen 
 short pieces did not deter her from trying again. Ultimately, 
 she became very successful. Her farce of the " Mogul Tale " 
 brought her £105. For the comedy, " I'll tell you What," 
 Colman paid her £300. For "Every one has his Fault," 
 she received £700 ; and for many other pieces very handsome 
 sums were paid. 
 
 GROG. 
 
 Until the time of Admiral Vernon, the British sailors had 
 their allowance of brandy or rum served out to them unmixed 
 with water. This plan was found to be attended with incon- 
 venience on some occasions, and the Admiral therefore ordered 
 that in the fleet he commanded, the spirit should be mixed 
 with water before it was given to the men. This innovation 
 at first gave great offence to the sailors, and rendered the 
 commander very unpopular among them. The Admiral, at 
 that time, wore a grogram coat, and was nick-named " Old 
 Grog." This name was afterwards given to the mixed 
 liquor he compelled them to take, and it has since universally 
 obtained the name of grog. 
 
 QUEEN Elizabeth's visits to sir Nicholas bacon. 
 
 Queen EKzabeth visited the Lord Keeper Bacon at Eed- 
 grave Hall, Suffolk, on several occasions. At one of these 
 
 E 
 
.50 THE SUFFOLK GAELA^D. 
 
 visits her Majesty remarked, " My Lord, wliat a little house 
 you have got here." He answered, " Madam, my house is 
 well enough, but your Highness has made me too great for 
 my house." The Queen also visited him at his house at 
 Gorhambury, and in consequence of her frequent visits 
 there, he added to that mansion a gallery of 120 feet in 
 length, and 18 ft. in breadth, with a piazza underneath, in the 
 centre whereof was a statue of Henry YIII., in gilt armour. 
 Her Majesty visited Gorhambury, May 18th, 1577, and 
 remained there until the 22nd. The cost of her entertainment 
 was about £577, besides the value of twenty-five bucks and 
 two stags. With the refined flattery characteristic of the age. 
 Sir Nicholas caused the door by which the Queen had entered 
 the gallery to be fastened up, so that no other step might 
 ever pass the threshold. 
 
 BISHOP AYLMEe's BLUXTNESS. 
 
 Bishop Aylmer was bold in speech, hasty in temper, and 
 blunt in words. Speaking of Queen Mary's Parliament, 
 that took the Pope's absolution from Cardinal Pole on their 
 knees, he said that they stooped upon their marrow bones to 
 receive the devil's blessing, brought them by Satan's apostle, 
 the Cardinal. The Popish clergy he called " spiritual 
 spiders," and Bishop Bonner he called " My Lord Lubber, 
 of London." Once, when addressing the judges, he said, 
 " Some in sport call you drudges, and not judges ; but I think 
 in good earnest it is contrary that you make yourselves lords, 
 and all others drudges." The under Sheriff he would call 
 the under thief, and the jury costermongers. He said, 
 between the high thief and the under thief, my lord (the lord 
 of the manor), and the costermongers (the choice of whom 
 was influenced by my lord), poor men got outweighed. 
 
 JOHN MOLE, THE ALGEBEAIST. 
 
 John Mole, the self-taught algebraist, was bom at Old 
 Newton, near Stowmarket. His father was a farming bailiff, 
 
THE Sn-'FOLK GAKLAXD. hi 
 
 but having a numerous famil}' of children, was unable to 
 give them the benefit of an education at school. John learnt 
 the alphabet and a few easy lessons from his mother, and at 
 the age of thirteen went as a servant to a farmer in his 
 native village. Subsequently he removed to Mr. Harper's, 
 of Downham Heach Farm, near Ipswich. He had now 
 passed the age of manhood, and began to evince a predilection 
 for his favourite pursuit. Ha^ang been sent one day with a 
 waggon to the shop of a neighbouring carpenter for a load 
 of timber to repair his master's premises, one of the work- 
 men, who had heard something of Mole's being a calculator, 
 asked him if he could tell how many cubical quarters of 
 inches could be cut out of a solid foot of timber. Mole 
 instantly replied that he could inform him how many cubical 
 quarters of inches could be cut out of ten thousand solid 
 feet. The carpenter betted him a trifling wager that he 
 could not ; but Mole soon satisfied him of liis mistake, and 
 won the wager. Some other questions were then started, one 
 of which was, how many farthings there were in a million 
 of moidores, of the vahie of twenty-seven shilhngs each ; 
 these Mole readily answered, and in lieu of the wager he 
 had won, asked the carpenter to teach him the method of 
 multiplication. The carpenter asked him if he was 
 acquainted vsath that of addition, which Mole told him he 
 was not; he then showed him how to multiply a small 
 number by twelve, and making two lines of the product, and 
 the manner of adding them up. 
 
 This young arithmetician had previously made himself 
 acquainted with numeration by setting down figures with 
 chalk, and then asking some of his fellow- servants to read 
 and decipher them to him. Having quickly mastered the 
 rules of multiplication, and made a rapid progress in solving 
 such questions as it would reach, he resolved to follow the 
 bent of his inclination, and accordingly applied himself with 
 diligence to figures. He soon acquired by his own exertion 
 a thorough knowledge of the rule of three, and his residence 
 
O'i THE SUFFOLK GAULAJs'D. 
 
 being situated witliin a short distance of Ipswich, he applied 
 to a Mr. Carter, who kept a school in that to^^Ti, to teach him 
 dm'ing the summer evenings vulgar and decimal fractions, 
 and the extraction of the cube root. In the science of 
 algebra he was not indebted to any person for instruction, 
 but acquired his intimate knowledge of this difficult branch 
 of arithmetic solely by himself. Ultimately he commenced 
 keeping a school on his o^mi account, was engaged by other 
 schoolmasters to teach algebra in theirs, published a treatise 
 on his favom-ite studies, and furnished essays to the magazine 
 literature of the day. 
 
 JIR. CAPEL LOFFT STRUCK OFF THE LIST OF MAGISTRATES. 
 
 As a Magistrate, the ■ well-known Mr. Capel Lofft was 
 indefatigable in the performance of his duties. When the 
 erection of a new gaol was decided upon for the Ipswich 
 division of the county, he interested himself very much in 
 its construction, and he obtained infonnation and plans 
 which tended greatly to improve its salubrity. The year 
 1800 was destined, however, to put an end to his magisterial 
 career. A poor deluded girl from Hadleigh, was condemned 
 to death for stealing from a dwelling house to the value of 
 forty shillings ! The facts of the case were peculiar, and 
 excited great interest in her behalf Mr. Ijoflt and others 
 signed a memorial to the Sheriff' for a delay of execution, in 
 order that the case might be laid before his Majesty, and 
 pardon solicited. William Pearson, Esq., of Ipswich, 
 happened to be under Sheriff that year, and he at Mr. Lofft's 
 m-gent request consented to delay the execution for fourteen 
 days. A petition for remission of the sentence, numerously 
 and influentially signed, headed by the Duke of Grafton, and 
 supported by his Eoyal Highness the Duke of Grloucester, 
 was of no avail. That Mr. Lofft and his friends should 
 humanely interest themselves in trying to save the life of this 
 poor girl, caused the judge, Sir Nash Grose, Knt., to be 
 angry, and the Duke of Portland, who was Secretary of 
 
THE SVFFOLK GAllLANl). 53 
 
 State, to be indignant. The Duke ordered the sentence to 
 be carried out, and questioned the right even of the Sheriff 
 to delay the execution. On the 23rd April, 1800, this poor, 
 ignorant, misguided girl was executed at Bury St. Edmund's. 
 Mr. Lofft had exerted himself to the utmost; but there is 
 reason to believe that his Whig principles prevented his 
 himiane efforts from receiving that attention which they 
 deserved, and grave doubts were entertained as to whether 
 the petition to his Majesty was ever introduced to his- notice. 
 In this way was justice meted out to the people in the boasted 
 clays of good King George ! The affair was one of great 
 anxiety to Mr. Lofft, and although he had never attended an 
 execution, although he dreaded the approaching day almost 
 as much as if he himself were to be the victim, he never- 
 theless resolved to attend, and address a few words to the 
 assembled multitude. He obtained permission from the 
 under Sheriff, and at the place of execution he ascended the 
 cart and stood up to address the great black mass of human 
 beings that had been drawn together to see their fellow 
 creature strangled. The object of his sympathy, a short, 
 squaddy-looking young woman, about nineteen or twenty 
 years of age, of dark complexion, and innocent looking 
 countenance, was by his side. She was dressed in Avhite, 
 Vidth the exception of crape on her bonnet and arms. Mr. 
 Lofft spoke for about fifteen minutes in a most impressive 
 strain. Every one was eager to hear his explanations, and 
 there was a silence as if a thunderbolt had fallen among the 
 multitude. He commended the petitioners for interceding 
 in behalf of Sarah Lloyd, and considered the imhappy 
 woman as only an instrviment made use of by a designing 
 villain to perpetrate the crime for which she suffered. His 
 heart was full of his subject, and his poetic temperament, 
 fired with indignation at the treatment he had received from 
 a Tory Grovemment, caused him to excel himself on this 
 solemn occasion. His speech flashed with the lightning of 
 genius, thrilled the multitude, and the poor victim by his 
 
54 THE SUFFOLK GAELANl). 
 
 side, thougli mucli agitated, gave evident signs of approving 
 of wliat lie said. A short prayer intervened, she was 
 launched into eternity amidst the tears of the people, and 
 Mr. Lofft, for his exertions, was, without intimation from the 
 Government, struck off the list of magistrates. 
 
 WILLIAM HYDE WOLLASTON. 
 
 The eccentric but well-known natural philosopher, William 
 Hyde WoUaston, resided at one time at Bury St. Edmund's. 
 He was a man of singular habits, and was accustomed to 
 carry on his experiments with very few instruments, and in 
 the strictest seclusion. Even his most intimate friends were 
 never permitted to enter his place of study. Dr. Paris 
 relates that a foreign philosopher once called on WoUaston 
 with a letter of introduction, and unaware of the philoso- 
 pher's peculiarity, expressed an anjdous desire to see his 
 laboratory. " Certainly," was the reply, and the doctor 
 immediately produced a small tray containing some glass 
 tubes, a simple blow pipe or bent metal tube, worth a few 
 pence only, two or three common watch glasses, a shp of 
 platinimi, and a few similar things. 
 
 It is also related that, shortly after Wollaston had inspected 
 a grand galvanic battery, constructed by Mr. Children, he 
 met a brother philosopher in the street. Seizing his button 
 (which was, it appears, his constant habit when speaking of 
 any subject of interest), he led the friend into a secluded 
 corner, where, after looking carefully about him as if engaged 
 in some strange mystery, he took from his pocket a tailor's 
 thimble, which contained a galvanic arrangement, and 
 pouring into it the contents of a small phial, he instantly 
 heated a platinum wire to a white heat. 
 
 Wollaston had a great objection to his portrait being 
 taken, though there is one fine portrait, by Jackson, of the 
 eccentric philosopher in the meeting room of the Eoyal 
 Society, the history of which is interesting. His family and 
 friends knew his reluctance on this point ; nevertheless, Mrs^ 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 55 
 
 Somerville, the -well-known authoress, who earnestly wished 
 to possess a portrait of her friend Dr. WoUaston, many- 
 times asked when he would sit for his picture, to which he 
 had invariably answered, " Never." 
 
 One day, however, when he was greeted Avith the same 
 question, he said, "It is e-vident that I must either forego 
 the pleasure of coming to this house, or submit ; so I "will 
 submit." He added, " Let us separately write the name of 
 the artist to be employed." This was agreed, and it turned 
 out that both parties had named the same artist. 
 
 LORD THURLOW'S HABIT OF SWEARING. 
 
 In Lord Thurlow's time the habit of profane swearing was 
 unhappily so common that Bishop Horsley and other right 
 reverend prelates are said not to have been entirely exempt 
 from it. But Thurlow indulged in it to a degree that admits 
 of no excuse. "Walking -with the Prince of "Wales on the 
 Steyne at Brighton, they met Horsely, and entering into 
 conversation -with him, the Bishop said he was to preach 
 a charity sermon next Sunday, and hoped he might have the 
 honour of seeing his Royal Highness among the congre- 
 gation. The Prince graciously intimated his intention to 
 be present. Then, turning to the Ex-Chancellor, the Bishop 
 said, " I hope I shall also see yom- Lordship there." The 
 
 answer was : " I'll be d d if you do. I hear you talk 
 
 nonsense enough in the House of Lords; but there I can 
 
 and do contradict you, and I'll be d d if I go to hear 
 
 you where I can't." 
 
 Sir Hay Campbell, when Lord Advocate, was arguing a 
 Scotch appeal at the bar of the House of Lords in a very 
 tedious manner, and said, " I will noo, my Lord, proceed to 
 
 my seventh po-wnt." "I'll be d d if you do! " cried 
 
 Thurlow, so as to be heard by all present. " This House is 
 adjourned till Monday next ; " and off he scampered. 
 
 Sir James Mansfield used to relate that whilst he and 
 several other legal characters were dining with Lord 
 
OG THE SUFFOLK GARI.AX]). 
 
 Thurlow, his Lordship happening to swear at his Swiss valet 
 when retiring from the room, the man returned, just put his 
 
 head in, and exclaimed, " I wont be d d for you, Milor," 
 
 which caused the noble host and all his guests to burst out 
 into a roar of laughter. From another valet he received a 
 still more cutting retort. Having scolded this meek man for 
 some time without receiving any answer, he concluded by 
 saying, " I wish you were in hell." The terrified valet at 
 last exclaimed, " I wish I was, my Lord ; I wish I was ! " 
 But the happiest retort he ever received, conveyed to him a 
 salutary hint of the ultimate consequences of his habit of 
 swearing. He was one morning put into a great rage by 
 finding that a cart-load of paving stones had been shot 
 before his door, for the purpose of repairing the street. 
 Observing an Irish pavior near the heap, he addressed him 
 in a furious strain as the cidprit, and ordered him to remove 
 them. Irish parlour : '' Where shall I take them to, please, 
 
 your honour ? " Lord Thurlow : " To h — ^11, and be d d 
 
 to you." Irish pa riour : " If I were to take them to t'other 
 place, your honour, don't you think they might be more out 
 of your honour's way?" 
 
 A SUFFOLK FEMALE ARTIST. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Beale, who distinguished herself as an artist 
 during the reign of Charles, of licentious memory, is said to 
 have been born at Woodbridge. She is acknowledged to 
 have been a woman of cultivated taste, refined mind, and 
 good morals ; and her portrait painting, at a time when 
 lordly rakes and courtly wantons were likely to be the best 
 customers to a professional artist, doubtless placed her at 
 times in a difficulty. Sir Peter Lely was the ladies' painter. 
 Grascar, a French artist, was patronized by the Duchess of 
 Portsmouth, and in compliment to her had many sitters. In 
 the midst of such competition it was fortunate for Mrs. 
 Beale that her moral worth attracted the attention of 
 Archbishop Tennison, and he became her patron. The 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLAXl). ij t 
 
 Archbishop's portrait is the first instance of an ecclesiastic who, 
 qiiitting the coif of silk, is delineated in a brown wig. The 
 attention of Tillotson induced many of the clergy to sit to 
 her. She painted a portrait of Ray, the natm-alist, a very 
 interestiag one of Otway the poet, and another of Cowley. 
 Lady Falconberg, Dr. Stillingfleet, Lady Ehzabeth Ploward, 
 Sir Stephen Fox, Countess of Derby, Earl of Clarendon, 
 Lord Halifax, Earl of Athol, Lady Northumberland, Earl 
 of Clare, and Lady Stafford, were also among her sitters. 
 She had £5 for a head, and £10 for a half-length in oil, 
 which was her most common method of painting. Her 
 income for pictures amounted in 1672 to £202, in 1674 to 
 £216 ; in 1676 it rose to £429, but in 1681 it was down 
 again to £209. Five of her portraits are at the Earl of 
 Ilchester's, and five of her pictures are at Belvoir Castle. 
 Each head is enclosed in a frame of stone colour, a mark 
 that very generally distinguishes her works. Mrs. Beale's 
 portrait, by herself, was in 1828 in the collection at 
 Luton. 
 
 THE WAY TO CURE DROWSY CO^TGREGATI0^rS. 
 
 Aylmer, Bishop of London, in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, who could preach not only rhetorically but pa- 
 thetically, Avhenever he observed the thoughts of his 
 congregation to wander while he was preaching, used to take 
 a Hebrew Bible out of his breast, and read a chapter from 
 it. When the people naturally gaped and looked astonished 
 he put it up again, and expatiated upon the folly of Kstening 
 greedily to new and strange things, and giving small 
 attention to matters regarding themselves, and of the 
 utmost importance. 
 
 CALAMy's reproof TO GENERAL MONK. 
 
 The Eev. Edmund Calamy was once preaching before 
 General Monk, and having occasion to speak of filfhij lucre, 
 he said, " And why is it called filthy, but because it makes 
 
5M THE SUFFOLK GAULAXD. 
 
 men do base and filthy things ? Some men," said lie, 
 " will betray three kingdoms for filthy lucre's sake." Saying 
 which he tlu-ew his handkerchief, which he usually waved in 
 his hand, at the pew in which Greneral Monk sat. 
 
 AX IXDEPEXDEXT M.P. 
 
 Whilst resident in Berkshire, Mr. Elwes, the miser, was 
 known as an impartial magistrate, and the prospect of a 
 contested election between two of the leading famihes of the 
 county suggested the idea of a third person, who might be 
 imobjectionable to both parties. The person thus proposed 
 was Mr. Elwes, and he was elected, being, perhaps, the only 
 person in modern times who obtained a seat in Parliament 
 for nothing, or for eighteen-pence, which is the sum he said it 
 cost him to get returned for the county — the expenses of the 
 election being defrayed by those who desired to avoid a 
 contest. At this period he was sixty years of age, and he 
 sat as member of the House of Commons in three successive 
 Parliaments, extending over a period of twelve years, and 
 gained the character of an independent member. During 
 the whole period he never asked or received a favour ; and 
 thus, wishing for no post, and desirous of no emoluments, he 
 held aloof from temptations which have led many a good 
 man astray. Mr. Elwes was never of that decided cast of 
 men that a minister would best approve. Though he, on 
 entering Parliament, joined the party of Lord North, he 
 woidd fi'equently dissent from the minister's measures, and 
 vote as his conscience led him. Hence many members of the 
 opposition looked upon him as a man "off and on," or as 
 they styled him, " a parliamentary coquette." It is remark- 
 able that both parties were equally fond of having him as 
 a nominee on their election committees, and frequently he 
 was the chairman. The honours of Parliament made no 
 alteration in his dress ; but for the Speaker's dinner he had 
 an extra suit, with which the Speaker ultimately became 
 very familiar. Mr. Elwes always stayed out the debates. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 59 
 
 and immediately after he u-alked off, without a great coat, 
 to the Moimt Coffee House, to save the expense of a hackney 
 coach. Mr. Joseph Morley, and Mr. Wood, of Littleton, 
 who went the same way as Mr. Elwes, often proposed a 
 hackney coach to him, but the invariable reply was, that 
 "he liked nothing so much as walking." But when their 
 hackney coach used to overtake him, he had no objection to 
 ride, knowing that they must pay the fare. 
 
 GKEY HORSES FOR THE JUDGE. 
 
 Baron Alderson, on one occasion, was met at Lancaster 
 by the Sheriff, on horseback, with a cortege of eighty persons, 
 all mounted on grey horses. The Judge was placed in a 
 coach drawn by six greys, and seven outriders were mounted 
 on greys also. 
 
 DAVID HARTLEY. 
 
 Mr. Burke was not the only tiresome speaker in his day, 
 as will be seen from the followiag anecdote, which Lord 
 North used to relate, as containing the best specimen of Avit 
 he ever heard in the House of Commons. 
 
 One afternoon the opposition had come down to the House 
 to give the members battle on a very important point. The 
 business was opened by one of the ministerial party. Mr. 
 Burke was ready to rise the moment his antagonist sat down, 
 but on looking round he saw that Mr. David Hartley, who 
 sat a few benches behind Mr. Bm-ke, was on his legs. Mr. 
 Hartley received the usual nod from the Speaker, and began 
 his oration. Mr. Hartley's eloquence was very wild in its 
 character, and as he kept pouring forth for three hom-s, 
 nearly every member that could get away left the House. 
 Mr. Burke sat writhing on the tenter hooks of impatience, 
 till at length ]\Ir. Hartley stumbled on some idea wliich 
 made him call for the reading of the Eiot Act. " The Eiot 
 Act ! " said Burke, starting up ; " what does the gentleman 
 mean ? Whj', they are aU dispersed already ! " 
 
(>0 THE SrirOLK G \.RLAND. 
 
 THE ORIGINATOB, OF " SAVINGS' BANKS." 
 
 For the " Sa^'m2;s' Bank " sclieme, one of the best that 
 was ever broaehed for the promotion of prudence and the 
 encouragement of industry, we are indebted to Mrs. Priscilla 
 Wakefield. She tried to establish a bank of this kind in 
 Tottenham, in the year 1799, but it was 1803 before the 
 plan came really into full operation. The express object 
 was to provide a safe and profitable place of deposit for the 
 savings of laboiu-ers, servants, etc., and the payments were 
 made monthly. Mrs. Wakefield kept the books for some 
 time herself, and six wealthy persons were appointed to act 
 as trustees, each of whom agreed to receive an equal part 
 of the sums deposited, and be responsible to the amount of 
 £100 for the repayment of the principal, with interest. Any 
 sum above one shilling was received, and, to encourage 
 perseverance, interest at the rate of five per cent, was allowed 
 for every twenty shillings which should remain a year with 
 the trustees. There was no restriction as to the residence of 
 the depositors, but the benefits of the institution were to be 
 exclusively confined to the labouring classes, and she styled 
 her banks, ^^ Frugality Banks." After her settlement at 
 Ipswich, she had an interview with Henry Alexander, Esq., 
 respecting the formation of a public bank in that town ; 
 and she wrote the rules for a bank that was founded at 
 Witliam. 
 
 PIIAISE OF SIR NICHOLAS BACON. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon, the father of Lord Bacon, was a 
 generous patron of learning ; and amidst all the drudgery 
 of business and the cares of state, kept up his knowledge 
 of classical literature. Almost all writers have sounded his 
 praise. Pattenham says, that he was a " man of rare 
 learning and wisdom." Su- Robert Naunton, who terms 
 him "an arch wit," says that "he was abundantly facetious, 
 which took much with the Queen, when it was suited with 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLANU. 61 
 
 the season, which he was well able to judge." Fuller speaks 
 of him as " a good man, a grave statesman, and a father 
 to his country." Bishop Burnet calls him " one of the wisest 
 ministers this nation ever bred." Macauley states that " Sir 
 Nicholas Bacon was generally considered as ranking nest 
 to Bmdeigh;" and Lord Campbell remarks, "As a Judge 
 the Lord Keeper gave the highest satisfaction ; and it was 
 universally acknowledged that since the time of Sir Thomas 
 Moore, justice had never been so well administered in the 
 Coiirt of Chancery." 
 
 JOHN DAYE, THE PRIJNTER. 
 
 John Daye, the leading member of the typographic art in 
 the sixteenth century, the printer and pubhsher of the works 
 of Latimer, Archbishop Parker, and Fox, the Martyrologist, 
 was born at Drmwioh. He was on several occasions made 
 "Warden- of the Stationers' Company, and in 1572 he 
 obtained a lease, with power to erect a shop, in St. Paul's 
 Churchyard ; but some of his brother booksellers, apparently 
 envious of his great success, interfered, and the Lord Mayor 
 issued an order that the shop should not be erected. In 
 consequence of this order. Archbishop Parker, on behalf of 
 John Daye, appKed to Lord Burleigh for his assistance, 
 and the power of the great minister being joined with that 
 of the Archbishop, the printer commenced the erection of 
 his shop without interference. 
 
 The imprint of one of Daye's books, dated 1578, is — 
 " Printed at London, by John Daye, dwelling over Alders- 
 gate, beneath St. Martin's, and are to be sold at his long 
 shop, at the north-west dore of Panic's." 
 
 Even at this period Daye appears to have been a wealthy 
 man, as Archbishop Parker, in his letter to Lord Burleigh, 
 says, that the envy of the booksellers, and the out-of-the-way 
 situation of Daye's shop, prevented him from disposing of 
 his stock, and that he had in consequence between two and 
 three thousand pounds' worth on his hands. Permission to 
 
62 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 set up his shop was sohcited, that he might the more readily, 
 from his central situation, dispose of the books he published. 
 At this period, and for some years after this date, English 
 books were printed in the type now called black letter. The 
 Roman type was only occasionally used for quotations, etc., 
 and the italic was still more rarely employed. Daye cast a 
 new Italian letter for the Archbishop, and in 1574, he was 
 the first as well as the only printer who had cut Saxon 
 characters. In addition to his Saxon and Italian types, 
 Herbert states that Daye brought the Greek to great 
 perfection. Indeed, it is evident, from his position and his 
 publications, that he was the most practical typographer of 
 his time. 
 
 PRIESTLY AT NEEDHAM MARKET. 
 
 When Joseph Priestly was in his twenty- second year, he 
 received a unanimous invitation from the congregation 
 assembling at the Independent chapel in Needham-Market 
 to be assistant minister, with a view of succeeding their aged 
 pastor Mr. Meadows, in the event of his decease. The con- 
 gregation, we may suppose, were not in very flourishing 
 circumstances, for although they promised him an annual 
 salary of forty pounds, they were not able to raise him more 
 than thii-ty pounds a year. Things went on pretty comfort- 
 ably during the early part of his ministry, but the absence of 
 sermons on the great question of the triune Grodhead, caused 
 several of his congregation to suspect the soundness of his 
 faith on the doctrine of the Trinity ; and as Priestly was too 
 sincere and candid a man to disguise his opinions, they 
 soon discovered that he was an Arian. From this time his 
 congregation decreased, and the salary fell so much short 
 of the thirty pounds, that, had it not been for the aid which 
 Dr. Kippis and Dr. Benson procured for Mm, he could not 
 have lived upon his income. But he had learnt how to bear 
 poverty without murmuring, and disappointments without 
 fretfulness ; and though his income only provided the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAM). 63 
 
 necessities of life, he was far from unhappy at Needham 
 Market. He was too poor to have many books of his o^vn, 
 but he had free access to the library of the Idnd-hearted 
 Samuel Alexander; and he formed an acquaintance with 
 the Rector of Stowmarket, and also with the Eev. Mr. Scott, 
 of Ipswich. 
 
 Anxious to improve his pecuniary position, he proposed to 
 open an academy and teach the classics, mathematics, etc., 
 for half-a-guinea a quarter, and to board the pupils for twelve 
 gioineas a year. The people of Needham, however, seemed 
 to consider that orthodoxy was as essential in a schoolmaster 
 as it was in a preacher, and Priestly's project was a failure. 
 He then oifered to give scientific lectures to adults, and 
 commenced with twelve lectures on the use of the globes, for 
 half-a-guinea. His class consisted of only ten persons, and 
 their payments amounted to little more than the price of his 
 globes. His friends, knowing his pecuniary difiiculties, 
 recommended him to a congregation at Nantwich, in 
 Cheshire, and to that place he removed in 1758, and left 
 Sufi'olk for the remainder of his life. 
 
 The globes purchased as above mentioned, stiU exist. 
 When Dr. Priestly left Needham Market, he went "to 
 London by sea, to save expense," on his way to Nantwich, 
 and it appears that he took the globes with him. He used 
 them in his school, and on his removal to "Warrington, in 
 1671, sold them to the Eev. John Houghton, who succeeded 
 Priestly at Nantwich. Mr. Henry Dowson married the 
 granddaughter of Mr. Houghton, and the globes are in his 
 possession. 
 
 PORTRAIT OF PRIESTLY. 
 
 A carefully and well-finished portrait of Priestly, with 
 fuU-bottomed wig and costume of a diArinity student, was 
 once placed in a window of a carver and gilder's shop, at 
 Leeds, during the time that Priestly lived in that town. As 
 he was passing one day, he stopped to look at it. A woman 
 
C4 THE SUFFOLK GAHL.VXD. 
 
 happened to be doing the same, and on seeing him, exclaimed, 
 " Why, here's the feUow himself ! " 
 
 LORD THUELOW AND THE BISHOP. 
 
 Lord Thurlow once got into a dispute with a Bishop 
 respecting a living, of which the Great Seal had the alternate 
 presentation. The Bishop's secretary called upon him, and 
 
 said, "My Lord of sends his compliments to your 
 
 Lordship, and believes that the next turn to present to 
 
 belongs to his Lordship." Chancellor : " Grive my compli- 
 ments to his Lordship, and tell him that I will see him 
 d— — -d first before he shall present." Sccrctanj : "This, my 
 Lord, is a very unpleasant message to deliver to a Bishop." 
 Chmwellor : " You are right ; it is so ; therefore, tell the 
 Bishop that I will be d d first before he shall present." 
 
 BEEXARD BAKTOX'S DEE AM. 
 
 Writing to a dear friend, Bernard Barton said, " I have 
 not yet copied that trifle into thy book, but it shall be done 
 the first ten minutes I get. In the meantime I wiU. put in 
 a curiosity — two stanzas composed in a ckeam the other night, 
 a thing I never did in my hfe before ; but I dreamt I was 
 dining with the Queen, who insisted on my writing in her 
 albmn out of hand, without study ; and on the dread emer- 
 gency, the muse put two stanzas into my head which I never 
 could have hammered out of it under such circumstances ; 
 so that on the whole I got off with flying colours. I woke 
 with the verses in my head, and wrote them down as a sort 
 of psycological curiosity. In themselves, of course, they are 
 not very striking ; but as made by a sleeping rhymer, they 
 are very tolerable. 1 do not care, however, to give many 
 copies, lest I should be saluted with the old taunt, " Behold 
 this dreamer cometh.' " 
 
 Some years later, the Poet writing to the same friend, says, 
 " Lord Northampton strongly urges me to print the dream 
 verses. Though he gave them years ago to his friend Lord 
 
THE SlFFOr.K GARLAND. 65 
 
 Monteagle, to present to the Queen, I should not wonder, if 
 like me, he entertains doubts whether she ever really saw 
 them. At any rate he considers them quite a literary 
 cur.osity, and as such worth preserving, and \\'ishes me with a 
 suitable note, not going into all the details of the dream, 
 now to iiriiit them. They cannot, he says, be out of place in 
 a book inscribed to the Queen ; but the wording of a suitable 
 note is a ticklish affair. It must not be done with levity, or 
 familiarity, and it wo aid be as absurd to be over grave or 
 solemn about a trifle. Sometliing bordering on the playful, 
 mock heroic is the happy medium, could one do it. * * * 
 Of course, neither he nor I dream of this dream ditty being 
 of any worldly benefit to me ; that would be dreaming wide 
 awake ; but we agree in thinking it worth preserving as a 
 cm'iosity, and the object is to do this without taking im- 
 proper liberties with ' La petite Eeine ' on the one hand, or 
 compromising one's proper self-respect on the other." 
 
 HOW " SCOGAN " BECAME A COURT FOOL. 
 
 Scogan, the Jester or Fool attached to the court of 
 Edward lY., was a native of Bury St. Edmund's. His 
 buffoonery has rendered his name famous among the "fools " 
 of the English courts. His reputation as a Jester is so great 
 that he is stated to have made half England merry with his 
 jests. He was a student of Oriel College, Oxford, and is said 
 to have been of good family, and one feels surprised that an 
 educated man should have accepted an office which compelled 
 him to wear motley, which certainly gave him wages and the 
 freedom of the pantry, but it also provided an occasional 
 whipping, and a bed with the spaniels. That Scogan was a 
 learned, pleasant, witted gentleman at Oxford, is evident by 
 Ben Johnson's notice of him in " The Fotunate Isles," as a 
 JIasfer of Arts, a fine gentleman, and a writer of ballads ; 
 but he appears to have associated with dissipated and 
 facetious companions. Although he took honours at Oxford, 
 he held the graduates in great contempt. His maxim was. 
 
(it) THE SUFFOLK (iAKT.ANn. 
 
 that a merry heart doeth good like a medicine. As might 
 be expected, he was not a very scrupulous tutor, and his 
 irregularities were serious, for avarice induced him to help an 
 unworthy candidate into the priesthood, for the bribe of a 
 horse from the candidate's father. Even Oxford grew at 
 last weary of -Scogan's want of decorum, and the merry 
 Suffolk punch was compelled to withdraw from the 
 University. With no employment, and no funds, he applied 
 to Sir William Neville to be employed as his " household 
 fool." Whether Scogan desired to be a household fool 
 because he was already laughed at for being one, and 
 thought he might as well be paid, fed, and lodged, for being 
 thus the object of sensibility, does not appear ; but he was 
 engaged, and shortly afterwards Sir Wilham introduced him to 
 Edward IV. The Knight took his jester to court, probably 
 out of vanity, for it was not every wearer of " motley " that 
 had the talent, wit, and education of this gentleman buffoon. 
 He was not a mere low-comedy fool, but one of those jesters 
 who grows dull in the country, brightens up town associ- 
 ations, loves good living, dislikes morning prayers, and has 
 a turn for clever similes and smart sayings. Such fools as 
 Scogan frequently quoted Latin, were apt at old ]Droverbs, 
 and verbose with old classical stories and tales. Scogan's 
 fun, readiness of repartee, and love of coarse buffoonerj^, 
 made him a favourite with the King, and the loyal Knight 
 felt compelled to make him over as a retainer to his royal 
 patron. Henceforward Scogan became the court buffoon of 
 Edward, and a story is told of his standing a long time 
 beneath a water-spout for a wager of twenty pounds — a 
 large sum in those days, but not too large for the " Fool," 
 who risked his life. 
 
 LORD THURLOW AND CEABBE. 
 
 Crabbe, the poet, soon after he made his first visit to 
 London, became almost destitute. In his misery he wrote 
 to Lord Chancellor Thurlow, enclosing him a short metrical 
 
THE SUFFCIJ.K GAltLAMi. 67 
 
 effusion, hoping by that means to gain some pecuniary aid ; 
 but he received for answer a note, in which his Lordship 
 " regretted that his avocations did not leave him leisure to 
 read verses." The indignant bard wrote to the professed 
 contemner of poetry some strong, but not - disrespectful Hnes, 
 intimating that in former days the encom'agement of litera- 
 ture had been considered as a duty appertaining to the 
 illustrious station which his Lordship held. Of this remon- 
 strance no notice whatever was taken for a long tinle. But 
 Burke and Sir Joshua Eeynolds having mentioned in 
 Thmiow's presence the genius and the destitution of the 
 new aspirant, and that he was about to enter the Church, 
 Crabbe, to his great amazement, received a note from the 
 Lord Chancellor, politely inviting him to breakfast the next 
 morning. The reception was more than courteous, the 
 Chancellor exclaiming, in a frank and hearty tone, " The 
 first poem you sent me, sir, I ought to have noticed ; and 
 I heartily forgive the second." They breakfasted together, 
 and at parting, his Lordship put a sealed paper into the 
 poet's hand, saying, "Accept this trifle, sir, in the mean- 
 time, and rely on my embracing an early opportunity to 
 serve you more substantially, when I hear that you are in 
 orders." Instead of a present of ten or twenty poimds, as 
 the donee expected, the paper contained a bank note 
 for £100, a supply which reheved him from all present 
 difficulties. 
 
 LORD BACON A MARTYR TO EXPERIMENTS. 
 
 During the last year of his life. Lord Bacon's love of scien- 
 tific experiments was stronger than ever. In contemplation 
 of a new edition of his " Natural History," he desired keenly 
 to examine the subject of anti-septics, or the best means of 
 preventing putrefaction in animal substances. " The great 
 apostle of experimental philosophy was destined to become 
 its martyr." It struck him suddenly that flesh might as 
 well be preserved by snow as by salt. From the length and 
 
ti8 TKF. srFFOI.K GVRI.ANI). 
 
 severity of the winter, he expected that snow might still, 
 in shaded situations, be discovered on the ground. Dr. 
 Wetherborne, the King's physician, agreed to accompany 
 and assist him in a little experimental excursion. At 
 Highgate they found snow lying behind a hedge in great 
 abundance ; and entering a cottage, they purchased a fowl, 
 lately killed, which was to be the subject of the experiment. 
 The philosopher insisted on cramming the snow into the 
 body of the fowl with his own hands. Soon after this 
 operation, the cold and the damp struck him with a chill, 
 and he began to shi'^'er. He was carried to his coach, but 
 was so seriously indisposed that he could not travel back to 
 Grray's Inn, and he was conveyed to the house of his friend, 
 the Earl of Arundel, at Highgate. There he was kindly 
 received, and, out of ceremony, placed in the state bed. 
 But it was damp, not having been slept in for a year 
 before, and he became worse. A messenger was despatched 
 for his old friend and connexion. Sir Julius Caesar, 
 who immediately came to him. Next day he was rather 
 better, and was able to dictate a letter to the Earl of 
 Arundel, which proved his dying effort. A violent attack 
 of fever followed, and early on the morning of Easter 
 Sunday, 1626, he expired in the arms of his friend, Sir 
 Julius Csesar. 
 
 A JUVENILE COURTIEE. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was a frequent visitor of Sir Nicholas 
 Bacon's, both at Eedgrave Hall, in Suffolk, and at Glorham- 
 bury ; and on these occasions was much attracted by the 
 intelligence and gravity of his youngest son, Francis, 
 afterwards Lord Chancellor Bacon. She used to amuse 
 herself in conversation with him, and called him her 
 " young Lord Keeper." One instance of his ready wit is 
 remarkable. Being asked by the Queen the common 
 question, Jioio old he teas, he replied, " Exactly two years 
 younger than your Majesty's happy reign." 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 60 
 
 ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 
 
 In 1685, Archbishop Tillotson avowed himself a warm 
 advocate for affording charitable relief to the French refugees. 
 On the repeal of the edict of Nantes, Dr. Beveridge, the 
 Prebendary of Canterbury, having objected to reading a 
 brief for this purpose, as contrary to the rubric, the 
 Archbishop observed to him roughly, " Doctor, Doctor, 
 charity is above all rubrics." 
 
 TITHE RECKONING. 
 
 The Eev. Mr. Lathbury, who was rector of Livermere, 
 received a visit from a farmer who came to pay some arrears 
 for tithes, and of whom he inquired concerning his family. 
 The farmer's wife had just given birth to her tenth child, 
 which he told the rector, adding jocosely, " As you have a 
 tenth part of my other produce, sir, I suppose I must bring 
 you my tenth child ? " " No," replied the good pastor, " I 
 am a bachelor, and cannot undertake the charge of an 
 infant ; but I can do what will, perhaps, be much more 
 agreeable to you." He then returned the farmer the whole 
 of his tithes, amounting to nearly one hundred pounds, 
 towards the support of the child. 
 
 GENEROSITY OF LORD BROME. 
 
 Lord Brome, son of the Earl of Cornwallis, was aide- 
 de-camp to King Ferdinand, in the German wars, at the 
 beginning of George III.'s reign. He was then only ensign, 
 but his father bought him a lieutenant-colonel's commission 
 in General Napier's regiment, on condition of his allowing 
 the last lieutenant-colonel, who was very old, and had a large 
 family, an annuity of £300 a year during his life. This 
 his Lordship continued to pay, and when he resigned his 
 commission, he solicited the post for the Major of the 
 regiment, who had been many years in the service, and had 
 a large family. When the request was granted, he declared 
 
70 THE SL'1''F()I,K CIAIILAND. 
 
 that he would still pay the annuity to the old lieutenant- 
 colonel out of his own private fortune. 
 
 MRS. TRIiniEK AN EARLY RISER. 
 
 Early rising was a distinguishing featui'e in Mrs. Triminei''s 
 charaettT. It was began in her j'outh, and neither the habit 
 nor the love of it ever left her. When she resided at Kew, 
 before her marriage, there was a rivalship between her and 
 a friend who Hved on the opposite side of the river, respecting 
 early rising. The one who was up first Avould hang a 
 handkerchief out of the window as a sort of triumph. 
 
 "When Mrs. Trimmer became an author, the habit of early 
 rising was particularly useful to her, as it gave her hours of 
 quiet and retii-ement, which, with her niunerous family, 
 could not have been otherwise attained. While writing the 
 Annotations on the Scriptures, she used frequently to rise 
 at five, and sometimes at fom' o'clock, and that during a 
 severe winter, to pursue her labours while the rest of the 
 family were in bed. The fii-e in her study was prejoared 
 over night, and she put the candle to it herself in the morning, 
 neither liking to disturb a servant at so early an houi', nor 
 to be dependent on any one for her hour of rising. 
 
 In her youth these early hours were chiefly spent in 
 committing poetry to memory, and in reading. She had a 
 favourite closet, in which these studies were carried on, and 
 she used to read aloud even when alone, especially poetry. 
 Milton, Thomson, and Young, were amongst her favourite 
 poets. She could repeat a great part of the " Paradise Lost," 
 and of the "Seasons," and "Young's Satires" almost from 
 the beginning to the end. She used to say that his Satire 
 upon Women had been extremely useful to her, and had 
 taught her to avoid many failings. 
 
 LITERARY HANDKERCHIEFS. 
 
 Bernard Barton, in one of his letters, dated 1845, wrote — , 
 " Are all those pocket-handkerchiefs gone imprinted with- 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. ( i 
 
 Doddridge's mother teaching her boy Bible history, and a 
 few of my verses appended? Methinks I should like a couple, 
 if procurable. Tom Churchyard affects to speak disparag- 
 ingly of this little incident, calls it a degradation, and says, 
 if he caught a grub of a boy blowing his nose on one of his 
 sketches, he would hide him. But this is all sheer envy : 
 I am not sure that this is not ominous of my fame as a poet, 
 as good, in a small way, as having a ship named after me. 
 Anyhow, it may serve as a patent for my title to write 
 household verses, when my lays are so appropriated to 
 household uses." 
 
 SIR EDV\fARD COKE AS A JUDGE. 
 
 The conduct of Sir Edward Coke, whilst Attorney-Greneral, 
 was frequently open to the severest censure. The arrogance 
 of his demeanour, and his oppression of individuals placed 
 before bim at the Bar, is said to be unparalleled. But, 
 strange to say, whilst his conduct as Attorney-Greneral was 
 so reprehensible, his conduct as a Judge was in the highest 
 degree meritorious. Although holding his judicial office at 
 the pleasure of a king, and of ministers disposed to render 
 courts of justice the instruments of their tyranny, he 
 conducted himseK with as much lofty independence as any 
 who have ornamented the Bench. He opposed the Court of 
 High Commission ; he resisted the claim of the King to sit 
 and try causes ; he checked the arbitrary proceedings of the 
 Courts of the Lord President of "Wales, and of the Lord 
 President of the North ; and incurred the deepest displeasure 
 of his Majesty, by denying the power of the Crown to alter 
 the law by "proclamation." The King was in the habit of 
 summoning the twelve Judges before him, occasionally, to 
 school them a little, and increase their subserviency. At one 
 of these "summonses," after steps had been taken to humble 
 the twelve, the question was put to them, " In a case where 
 the King believes his prerogative or interest concerned, and 
 requires the Judges to attend him for their advice, ought 
 
I- THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 they uot to stay proceedings until his Majesty has consulted 
 them?" All the Judges, except Coke, answered, "Yes! 
 yes ! j-es ! " Eut Chief Justice Coke said, " When the case 
 happens, I sJiall do thai which shall he fit J'or a Judge to do." 
 This suhlime answer made the recreant Judges ashamed of 
 their servility, and commanded the respect of the King 
 himself. His independence led to his fall ; and after he was 
 deprived of his office of Chief Justice, he was one of the 
 most useful members of the House of Commons, as his moral 
 courage did not desert him ; and in his profound knowledge 
 of the Common Law of England, he stood unrivalled. To 
 his exertions as a parliamentary leader we are in no small 
 degree indebted for the free constitution under which it 
 is our happiness to hve. He appeared opportunely at the 
 commencement of the grand struggle between the Stuarts 
 and the people of England. It was then very doubtful 
 whether taxes were to be raised without the authority of the 
 House of Commons, and whether. Parliaments being disused, 
 the edicts of the King were to have the force of law. There 
 were other public-siDirited men who were ready to stand up 
 in defence of freedom, but Coke alone, from his energy of 
 character, and from his constitutional learning, was able to 
 frame and carry the Petition of Pight ; and upon his 
 model were formed Pym, and the Patriots who vindicated 
 that noble law on the meeting of the Long Parliament. 
 
 SIR EDWARD COKE AS A STUD".XT. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke began his legal studies at Clifford's Inn, 
 an " Inn of Chancery," in 1571, and in the foPowing year 
 he was entered a student of the Inner Temjale. Then it 
 was that he commenced and persevered in a laborious com'se 
 of study, of which, in our degenerate age, we can scarcely 
 form a conception. Every morning he rose at three — in 
 the winter season lighting his o^m fire. He read Bracton, 
 Littleton, the Year Books, and the folio abridgement of the 
 Law, tUl the com-ts met at eight. He then went by water 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAULAM). 73 
 
 to ^Yestminster, and heard cases argued till twelve, when 
 pleas ceased for dinner. After a short repast in the Inner 
 Temple Hall, he atttnded "readings" or lectures in the 
 afternoon, and then resumed his private studies till five, or 
 supper time. This meal being ended, the moots took place, 
 when difficult c[uestions of law were proposed and discussed, 
 if the weather was fine, in the garden by the river side ; if 
 it rained, in the covered walks near the Temple Church. 
 Finally he shut himself up in his chamber, and worked at 
 his common-place books, in which he inserted, under the 
 proper head, all the legal information he had collected 
 during the day. "When nine o'clock struck, he went to bed, 
 that he might have an equal portion of sleep before and 
 after midnight. The Globe and other theatres were rising 
 into repute ; but he never would appear at any of them, nor 
 would he indulge in such unprofitable readings as the poems of 
 Lord Surrey or Spencer. When Shakspeare and Ben John- 
 son came into such fashion that even " sad apprentices of the 
 law " occasionally assisted in masques and wrote prologues, 
 he most steadily eschewed all such amusements, and it is 
 supposed that in the whole course of his life, he never saw a 
 play acted, or read a play, or was in company with a plaj^er. 
 
 "VVHATELV AND THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 The tioket-of-leave system found httle favour in the 
 Archbishop's sight, and he lost no opportunity to make a cut 
 at it ; and if he coidd contrive to make the sarcasm cut two 
 ways, the joke was all the pleasanter. The Eev. Mr. 
 M'Naught and others, having forsaken the Anglican church, 
 joined the Dissenters, and finally came back to the Anglican 
 church again. Dr. Whately quietly remarked, " I hope they 
 are not going to send us ticket-of-leave clergymen." 
 
 ■VVHATELY AND THEOLOGY. 
 
 At a dinner party at Dr. B 's, Archbishop Whately 
 
 mentioned that he had on that day received a long letter 
 
THK SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 from a " Religious Inquirer " in America, wlio requested that 
 Dr. Whately, as one of tlie highest theological authorities, 
 would recommend him a good theological system. " My 
 reply was laconic," remarked the Archbishop; "I told him 
 that I knew no good system of theology." 
 
 " EXCUSE MY PKEACHING." 
 
 " I hope yoiu' Grace will excuse my preaching next 
 Sunday," said a parson, who was fonder of the cushions of 
 his easy chair than of the cushions of the pulpit. 
 " Certainly," said Dr. Whately, indulgently. Sunday 
 
 came, and the Archbishop said to him, " Well, Mr. , 
 
 what became of you ? we expected you to preach to-day." 
 " Oh, your Grace said you would excuse my preaching- 
 to-day." " Exactly ; but I did not say I would excuse 
 you from preaching." 
 
 "your ^VIFE " AN'D "YOUR LADY." 
 
 On one occasion, when drawing the distinction between 
 " your wife " and " your lady," Archbishop Whately told a 
 good story in illustration. " Mrs. Whately," said he, 
 "attracted by some goods in a haberdasher's window, went in 
 and ordered them to be sent home. The trader, who was a 
 more smiy customer than the most petulant of his patrons, 
 declined to do so. ' Sir, I am the Archbishop's lady,' 
 said Mrs. Whately, much hurt and surprised. 'I didn't 
 care if you were his wife,' retorted the hero of counter irrita- 
 tion." 
 
 MORAL COURAGE OF PHILIP, DUKE OF NORFOLK. 
 
 Philip, the eldest son of Thomas the fourth Duke of 
 Norfolk, shone in the eyes of Queen Elizabeth for a short 
 season, as a bright, particular star of her fancy, and then 
 suffered the usual declination of favourite planets. He was 
 charged before the High Commissioned Court of Star 
 Chamber with concpiring to restore the religion of his 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLAXl). i O 
 
 ancestors in the land, and suffered a money commutation 
 of £10,000 for the offence, seasoned, however, with the usual 
 punishment of confinement. He passed four years of soli- 
 tude within the cheerless ^YallB of his prison-house, and was 
 then brought into Westminster Hall for trial. " Hold up 
 thy traitor hand ! " cried out one of the spotless judges of 
 the coui't. Norfolk raised it high in the air, and cried, 
 " Here is as true a hand as ever drew sword for the Queen's 
 mightiness, or ever came into this goodly hall." Condemned, 
 of course, without sufficient evidence, he was again sent back 
 to his imprisonment. During this second incarceration the 
 iron entered his soul, and in the last stage of a desperate 
 illness, lU'ged by his own yearnings for liberty and a strong 
 desire to see the friend of his bosom, he begged of his 
 queenly prosecutor that his beloved wife might be allowed to 
 come to him. " Ome attend the Protestant worship," was 
 the inhuman reply, " and not only shall thy prayer be 
 granted, but thou shalt be free." He refused the boon, and 
 died in prison, where he had rotted and chafed for more than 
 six long years. It has been said that neither his grief which 
 was intense, nor the ailments of liis body which were many, 
 brought him to his end, but the common remedy used against 
 obnoxious subjects by their monarch — poison. 
 
 THUKLOW^ AND THE CURATE. 
 
 A poor curate with some difficulty (it was supposed that 
 he gave the porter a fee) obtained admission into Lord 
 Thurlow's, and waited for him until he returned from the 
 Court of Chancery. When Lord Thuiiow saw him he broke 
 out in his usual manner by abruptly and loudly asking him 
 questions : " Who are you ? What do you want ? How 
 came you here ? T^Tiat interest have you ? Who sent you 
 here ? What Lord's name do you come in ? What Lord's 
 name, I say, do you come in ? " " Indeed, my Lord," was the 
 
 answer, " I came to apply for the living of , but J have 
 
 no interest. I come in no Lord's name but the Lord of 
 
76 THE SUFFOLK GAK1,A>'D. 
 
 Hosts." " The Lord of Hosts ! " said the Chancellor ; " the 
 Lord of Hosts ! Well, jou are the very first parson that 
 
 ever applied to nie in that Lord's name, and I'll be if 
 
 3'ou shan't have the living ! " 
 
 THE SHIP "BERNARD BARTON." 
 
 Some of the Woodhridge shipowners, resolving upon 
 paying a tribute of respect to the memory of their poet, 
 named a new schooner, in 1840, the " Bernard Barton." 
 When voyaging up the Mersey, or the Humber, the captain 
 had repeated inquiries as to what place or person his ship was 
 named after ; and the quaker poet was highly amused one 
 evening at finding among the shipping list of some distant 
 port, the arrival of the " Barney Barton." 
 
 CRABBe's love of PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 The poet Crabbe was a very punctual man in all his 
 engagements, and felt much annoyed in being detained 
 at the church, waiting for funerals. He once waited for a 
 corpse a whole hour beyond the time appointed, and then 
 went home to dinner ; but just as he sat down the funeral 
 train appeared. He rose in no pleasant mood, on which his 
 son John said, " Father, allow me to bury the corpse." 
 " Well, do so, John," he answered ; " you are a milder man 
 than your father." 
 
 JOHN constable's HUMOUR. 
 
 One year, when John Constable, the artist, was on the 
 hanging Committee of the Royal Academy, he remonstrated 
 with an exhibitor on the size of his frames. The artist 
 defended himself by stating that they were precisely the 
 same pattern as Sir Thomas Lawrence's. Constable replied, 
 with his sly humour, " It is easy to imitate Lawrence in his 
 frames." 
 
THE sriTOLlv C; VRT.AXl). 
 
 MRS. INCHBALD S GENEROSITY. 
 
 Mrs. Inclibald, even wlien her pecuniary resources were 
 good, was noted for a shabby style of living. She invariably 
 lived cheaply, lodged generally in poor neighbourhoods, and 
 spared herself expenses in every possible way. She at one 
 time, although in affluent circumstances, scrubbed her own 
 stairs, sifted her own cinders, and was sometimes actually 
 short of coal. But this penuriousness arose neither from 
 avarice or sordidness. She grudged herself everything, yet 
 was bountiful to her poor relatives and improvident friends. 
 Her purse was ever open to the necessities of her parent, and 
 the wants of every member of her own family. Whilst 
 shivering at her own fire, she was giving large sums of 
 money to keep others easy and warm ; and she esteemed it her 
 duty to support two sisters, instead of keeping one servant. 
 
 LORD CHEDWORTh's APPEARAKCE. 
 
 Lord Chedworth was one of those persons that make an 
 indelible impression upon most minds. Not because he was 
 one of nature's aristocracy, but in consequence of his singular 
 physiognomy ; strangers when passing him were sure to turn 
 roimd to look more distinctly at " that queer little man." He 
 was small and slight in stature, mean and insignificant in 
 appearance, awkward in manner, careless in costume, and 
 eccentric by habit. His coimtenance at times betokened 
 imbecility, and although he had plenty of moral courage, 
 he never exhibited a spark of physical courage. Timidity 
 seemed interwoven into his very frame, and became the 
 ruling principle of most of his actions. This feehng, joined 
 with his mean-looking appearance, sometimes subjected him 
 to very odd indignities. An occurrence of this kind happened 
 to him in 1780. He paid a visit to the camp at Tiptree 
 for the purpose of calling upon a relation, an officer 
 in the Oxfordshire Militia. The soldiers on guard had 
 orders not to admit mean-looking persons within the 
 
7S IHE SUFFOLK (^\RLAXD. 
 
 lines, and in consequence, he refused to let Lord Chedworth 
 
 pnss ! 
 
 SUFFOLK LINKS AND GEORGE IT. 
 
 In Suffolk, sausages are frequently called links. Once, when 
 King Greorge II. landed at Lowestoft, it was so dart by the 
 time he reached Copdock that lights were thought necessary ; 
 the officer in advance inquired of the landlady at the White 
 Elm if she had any flambeaux, or coidd procure any. Being 
 answered in the negative, he ask her if she had any links. 
 " Aye, that I have," said she, " and some as good as his 
 Majesty, God bless him, ever eat in all his life ! " 
 
 ADJIIEAL VERNON, OF NACTON. 
 
 The fate of this gallant man was a peculiarly hard one, 
 and such as would now be deemed as unjust as it was crael. 
 He fell a sacrifice to the writing of two foolish squibs, in the 
 shape of pamphlets, against liis employers ; but they were 
 smothered in their own smoke, went off without fire and 
 without notice, scorching nobody but himself. He was 
 nevertheless summoned to attend the Board of Admiralty, 
 the pamphlets were shown to him, and he was desired by the 
 Duke of Bedford to give a categorical answer. Aye or No, 
 whether he was the author or publisher. Pie said he fully 
 admitted the authority of Lord High Admiral, and as a 
 naval officer owed all obedience to his orders, but that he 
 looked upon the question now asked as one of a private 
 nature, which he apprehended their Lordships had no right to 
 ask him, and that he was not bound to answer it. The Duke 
 said if that was the only reply he meant to give he might 
 withdraw. The next day he received a letter from the 
 Secretary to say the Duke of Bedford, having laid the 
 pamphlet before the Xing, his Majesty had been pleased to 
 direct their Lordships to strike his name out of the list of 
 flag officers. There could be no excuse for this rash and 
 tyrannical proceeding, as the wished for end might legally 
 
■rriE sTTrFOLK garland. 79 
 
 have been accomplished by a court-martial. Horace 
 Walpole calls Vernon a silly, noisy Admiral, so popular 
 that he was chosen into Parliament for several places, had 
 his head painted on every sign, and his birth-day kept twice 
 in one year. His fall, however, is not a singular instance of 
 the fate that sometimes awaits vulgar popularity ; but this is 
 the last exercise on record of so harsh and summary a pro- 
 ceeding against a gallant flag officer. " To say he was a 
 brave, a gallant man," says Chanock, "would be a needless 
 repetition of what no person has ever presiuned to deny him. 
 His judgment, his abilities as a statesman, are unquestioned ; 
 and his character as a man of strict integrity and honour, 
 perfectly unsullied." — Barrow's Life of Earl Hon-e. 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON. 
 
 Maria and Elizabeth Gunning, who appeared at the court 
 of Greorge II., one at the age of eighteen and the other nine- 
 teen, were two portionless girls of surpassing loveliness. 
 " They are declared," writes "Walpole, " to be the handsomest 
 women aHve ; they can't walk in the park, or go to Vauxhall, 
 but such crowds follow them, that they are generally driven 
 away." They made more noise than any of their beautiful 
 predecessors since the days of Helen. One day they went 
 to see Hampton Court ; as they were going into the beauty 
 room, another company arrived ; the housekeeper said, " This 
 way, ladies, here are the beauties." The Gunnings flew into 
 a passion, and asked her what she meant — they went to see 
 the palace, not to be shown as sights themselves. 
 
 Elizabeth, the youngest of these fair sisters, became the 
 wife of James Duke of Hamilton ; he fell in love with her 
 at a masquerade, and in a fortnight met her at an assembly 
 made to show Lord Chesterfield's new house in May Fair. 
 Duke Hamilton made violent love to her at one end of the 
 room, while he was playing faro at the other end ; that is, he 
 saw neither the bank nor his own cards, which were of three 
 hundred pounds each, and he soon lost a thousand. Two 
 
80 
 
 TIIK ST FFOT.K C IlULAXD. 
 
 uights after, being left alone witli her while her mother and 
 sister were at Bedford House, the Duke grew so impatient 
 that he sent for a parson. Doctor Keith refused to perform 
 the ceremony without a license or ring — the Duke swore that 
 he would send for the Archbishop ; at last they were married 
 with the ring of a bed curtain, at half-an-hour after twelve 
 at night, at May Fair Chapel. In less than three weeks, 
 Maria Gunning followed her sister's example, and married 
 Lord Coventry. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the curiosity excited by the beauty 
 of the sisters, which interest was considerably increased by 
 their splendid alliances. When the Duchess of Hamilton 
 was presented at court, the crowd at the drawing-room was 
 so great, that even noble persons clambered upon chairs and 
 tables to look at her. "When she went to her castle, it is 
 said that seven hundred persons sat up all night, in and 
 about an inn, in Yorkshire, to see her get into her post- 
 chaise the next morning. Lady Coventry was equally run 
 after. At Worcester, a shoemaker got two guineas and a 
 half by showing, at a penny a head, a shoe that he was 
 making for the Countess. 
 
 THE LATE MAKQUIS OF HEUTFORD. 
 
 One day, when the noble Marquis was going alone from 
 Aldborough to Sudbourne, on the road he met a cart with 
 one horse, deeply laden with coals, which, from the badness 
 of the road, and the deepness of the ruts, was in great 
 danger of being overturned. The Marquis endeavoured to 
 pass it, when the carter, not knowing who the stranger was, 
 said to his Lordship, " Come, ya might tie your horse to 
 a tree, and come and help me." At this request the Marquis 
 instantly stopped and dismounted, asking the carter what he 
 should do to help him. " Why, lay hold here, and shove 
 hard," was the ready reply, which being complied with, they 
 together soon got the cart out of the difhculty. The Marquis 
 then asked if there was anything more to do. " Why, no," 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. SI 
 
 said the carter, feeling his pocket. " If I had sixpence, I 
 would give it thee ; but if you icool go down to the Crown 
 with me, you shall take part of a pot of beer." The 
 Marquis declined the offer, and mounted. The countryman, 
 however, observed, " Why, you ride a very good horse ; 
 perhaps we shall see one another again." " That may be," 
 was the reply ; " but it is not very likely ; and here is half- 
 a-crown for you to drink the Marquis of Hertford's health," 
 and then rode on, leaving the poor fellow in fear and 
 astonishment. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP SANCROFT. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Betterton," asked the good Archbishop 
 Bancroft of the celebrated actor, " can you inform me what 
 is the reason you actors on the stage, speaking of things 
 imaginary, affect your audience as if they were real ; while 
 we VOL the Church speak of things real, which our congrega- 
 tions receive only as if they were imaginary ? " " Why, 
 really, my Lord, " answered Betterton, " I don't know, 
 unless it be that we actors speak of things imaginary as if 
 they were real ; while you in the pulpit speak of things real 
 as if they were imaginary." This clever answer is as applic- 
 able now as when the Archbishop put the question. 
 
 ROYALTY V. CONSCIENCE. 
 
 John Hervey, Esq., eldest son of Sir William Hervey, of 
 Ickworth, was highly esteemed for his agreeable manners 
 and polite accomplishments. He was M.P. for Bury St. 
 Edmund's. The King loved him personally, and yet upon a 
 great occasion he voted against the King's wishes, who 
 reproached him severely. Next day, another important 
 question faUiag in, he voted as the King would have him. 
 The latter, taking notice of it at night, said " You were not 
 against me to-day." He answered, " No, sir, I was against 
 my conscience to-day." This was so gravely delivered that 
 the King seemed pleased with it, and it was much talked of. 
 
82 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAM). 
 
 SCOGA^', THE COURT FOOL. 
 
 Scogan, the Com-t Fool in tlie time of Edward IV., was a 
 native of Bmy St. Edmund's, and tlie monarch was so well 
 pleased with the jester that he fm-nished a mansion for his 
 residence at Bury, as a mark of his royal consideration. 
 Scogan's wife was a fine lady, who was desirous of having 
 a page, who might precede her as she went in state to the 
 church of St. Mary's. In fact, she intimated that it would 
 be impossible to find her way to church without a page. 
 " Poor lass ! " said the jester, one Saturday night, " you 
 shall have a guide to chm-ch before the bells ring to-morrow 
 morning." Accordingly, on the Simday morning Scogan 
 arose early, and had the road chalked which lay between 
 his house and the church door. When church time came 
 he led his wife to the threshold of their dwelling to see her 
 new page, but the fastidious lady waxed so wrath at the 
 practical trick played by her husband, that all his wit could 
 hardly pacify her. 
 
 Scogan was fond of taking liberties with royalty. He 
 had borrowed a large simi of money from the Xing, and 
 when the time of payment arrived was not prepared to cancel 
 the debt. After much thought upon the matter, he fell sick 
 and pretended to die, and requested his friends to bury him 
 in such a way as the King should encounter the funeral. 
 They entered into the joke with great alacrity, put on the 
 trappings of unmitigated affection, and in due time carried 
 Scogan forth on a comfortably arranged bier. They contrived 
 as directed to cross King Edward's path. The King, when 
 he met the funeral procession, expressed his regret at the loss 
 of his merry follower, and among other things remarked that 
 he freely forgave Scogan and his representatives the sum for 
 which the jester was indebted to him. The Buffoon, who 
 had expected this act of release, immediately jumped up, 
 thanked his illustrious creditor, and prudently called all 
 present to bear witness to this royal act of grace. " It is 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXI). 83 
 
 SO reviviljdng," said Scogan, "that it has called me to life 
 again." 
 
 BISHOP STANLEY AND HIS ROOKS. 
 
 Bishop Stanley, wliilst residing at Norwich, was sometimes 
 spoken of as " Jackdaw Stanley," by those rev. gentlemen 
 whose ease he incommoded. This unepiscopal epithet was 
 thiis derived. The Bishop was very anxious to establish a 
 rookery in the palace grounds, and for this purpose he had 
 conveyed from the Cathedral close a quantity of nests. He 
 thus established a cawing colony in his own trees by depopu- 
 lating those of others. Soon after, and while some of the 
 citizens were yet annoyed at losing their favomite rooks, a 
 few mischeivous boys broke into the Bishop's grounds and 
 robbed the nests. One of the culprits was taken before the 
 magistrates and charged with the theft, his Lordship being- 
 present in the court to urge the suit. When the J'oung 
 urchiu was asked what reason he could assign why he should 
 not be sent to gaol for the robbery, he boldly confronted the 
 Bishop, and said that he did not take Itin rooks. " They 
 warn't yom-s," said he ; " you stole them from the Dean and 
 Chapter; I took them from you." A peal of laughter 
 followed this defence, and the duty- enforcing Bishop was 
 after this often spoken of in^ the diocese as " Jackdaw 
 Stanley." 
 
 Gainsborough's love of music. 
 
 Grainsborough had an enthusiastic attachment to music. It 
 was the favourite amusement of his leisure hours, and his love 
 for this, the most fascinating of the arts, induced him to give 
 one or two concerts to his most intimate acquaintances whilst 
 living in Ipswich. He was a member of a musical club, and 
 painted some of the portraits of his brother members in his 
 pietm-e of a choir. His love of music often seduced him from 
 the easel, and caused him to lavish away his money and his 
 pictures. He gave Colonel Hamilton, one of the first 
 
84 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 amateur violinists in England, the celebrated inctm-e of the 
 " Boy at the Stile," for plajdng a solo on the violin. 
 
 Gainsborough lived at Bath when Giardini first exhibited 
 his then unrivalled powers on the violin. His excellent 
 performances made the painter enamoured of that instrument, 
 and he was not satisfied until he possessed it. He next heard 
 Abel on the viol de gamba — the violin was hung on the 
 willow, Abel's voil de gamba was purchased, and the house 
 resounded with melodious thirds and fifths. Soon after this 
 his passion had a fresh object — Fischer's hautboy ; but 
 though he procured a hautboy he was never heard to play 
 on it. A year or two later, Gainsborough appeared in the 
 character of King David. He had heard a harper at Bath — 
 the performer was soon left harpless ; and now Fischer, 
 Abel, and Giardini were all forgotten — there was nothing 
 like chords and arpeggios. Happening on one occasion to 
 see a " theorbo " in a picture of Vandyke's, Gainsborough 
 concluded, because, perhaps, it was finely painted, that the 
 " theorbo " must be a fine instrument. He recollected to 
 have heard of a German professor, and ascending to his 
 garret found him dining on roasted apples and smoking his 
 pipe, with his theorbo beside him. " I am come to buy your 
 lute ; name your price, and here's your money." " I cannot 
 sell my lute." " No, not for a guinea or two ; but you must 
 sell it, I tell you." " My lute is worth much money — it is 
 worth ten guineas." " Aye, that it is ; here's the money.'' 
 So saying he took up the instriunent, laid down the price, 
 went half way down the stairs, and retui'ned : "I have done 
 but half my errand ; what is your lute worth, if 1 have not 
 your book ? " " What book, Master Gainsborough ? " "Why, 
 the book of airs you have composed for your lute." " Ah, 
 sir, I can never part with my book." " Pooh, you can make 
 another at any time. This is the book I mean ; there are ten 
 guineas for it, so once more, good day." He went down a 
 few steps, and returned again : " What use is your book to 
 me if I don't understand it ? and your lute — you may take it 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 85 
 
 again, if j^ou don't teach me to play on it ; come liome with 
 me, and give me the first lesson." " I will come to-morrow." 
 "You must come now." "I must dress myself." "For 
 what? you are the best figm-e I have seen to-day." " I 
 must shave, sir." "I honour yom- beard." "I must, how- 
 ever, put on my wig." " D n your wig ! yom- cap and 
 
 beard become you ! Do you think if Vandyke was to paint 
 you, he'd let you be shaved ? " 
 
 ARCHBISHOP WHATELY AND BEGGARS. 
 
 Archbishop Whately, formerly Eector of Halesworth, was 
 noted for his hospitable and generous disposition ; but he was 
 an inveterate foe to indiscriminate charity. He said, " I 
 have given a great deal away, and I have no doubt often 
 made mistakes ; but there is one thing with which I cannot 
 reproach myself : I never relieved a beggar ia the streets." 
 
 ckabbe's generosity. 
 
 His income at Trowbridge amounted to about £800 a 
 year, but he was a mild man in the matter of tithes. When 
 told of many defaulters, his usual reply was, " Let it be, 
 probably they cannot afford to pay so well as I can afford to 
 want it ; let it be." His charitable nature caused him to be 
 frequently imposed upon by fictitious tales of woe, which 
 when he discovered, he merely said, " God forgive them ; 
 I do. 
 
 bishop blomfield's rise. 
 
 Blomfield when a boy, on being asked as to his views of a 
 profession, rephed, "I mean to be a Bishop," and he kept to 
 his word. The Bishop's fortunes were built up by the munifi- 
 cence of various patrons. He boasted once, though rather 
 mal a jpropos, to a poor clergyman who was grumbling, that 
 he never had got a single thing he asked for, " And I never 
 asked for a single thing I got." " But (says a writer in 
 the Saturday Review) he might have added that he never 
 
86 THE SUFFOLK OARLAXn. 
 
 refused anything that was offered him, when, perhaps, a little 
 more severe sense of duty would have counselled some self 
 abnegation. Quarrington, in Lincolnshire, was held with the 
 curacy of Chesterford, in Cambridgeshire, then with the 
 rectory of Dunton, a queer little place in Bucks, with seventy- 
 two inhabitants, where the parish clerk was a female between 
 seventy and eighty, who being unable to read when she stole 
 the church communion plate, took it to the nearest pawn- 
 broker, in ignorance that the name of the parish was 
 engraved upon it. Then he held Great and Little Chester- 
 ford, with Tuddenham, in Suffolk. When promoted to the 
 rich living at Bishopsgate, in 1820, and shortly after to 
 the Archdeaconry of Colchester, he still retained Great 
 Chesterford, and when elevated to the see of Chester, he 
 still retained Bishopsgate. When a rather cross-looking 
 picture of him was painted on his accession to the mitre, he 
 said it might.be supposed to be "inscribed without permis- 
 sion to the non-resident clergy of the diocese of Chester." 
 
 DE. BLOMFIELd's EXTEMPORE SERMON. 
 
 Whilst rector of Great Chesterford, Dr. Blonifield preached 
 fi.rtcmpore for the first and only time in his Hfe, having for- 
 gotten his -mritten sermon. His text was, " The fool hath 
 said in his heart. There is no God." Anxious to know how he 
 had succeeded, he asked one of his congregation on his way 
 home, how he liked the discoui'se. " Well, Mr. Blomiield," 
 replied the man, " I liked the sermon well enough, but I 
 can't say I agree with you ; I tlrink there be a God ! " 
 
 CRABBE's DISTRESS. 
 
 When Crabbe wi'ote his pathetic letter to Edmund Burke, 
 entreating aid from that great and gifted man, the poet was 
 in the greatest misery. The pangs of hunger gnawed his 
 physical frame, and the gloomy walls of a prison haunted his 
 mental vision. So harassed was he by the miseries which he 
 had endured, and the existing suspense, that after his delivery 
 
THE SUFFOLIC GARLAND. 87 
 
 of tlie letter at Bm-ke's door in the evening, he in the most 
 agitated manner walked backwards and forwards on West- 
 minster Bridge im.tn daylight. 
 
 MAJOR MOORE ON POPULAR ERRORS. 
 
 The worthy Major Moore gave some entertaining lectures 
 on " Popular errors " to the members of the Mechanics' 
 Institutes of Ipswich and "Woodbridge. These lectures held 
 a sort of middle place between the solidity of studied dis- 
 courses and the freedom of colloquial conversation, and were 
 thus described in an unpubhshed letter of Bernard Barton's : 
 " Major Moore gave us a fourth lecture on ' Popular errors ' 
 the other night ; and worn out and thread-bare as the subject 
 one would think must be, he gave far the best lecture he has 
 3-et given to a crowded and -applauding audience. None but 
 he could have done it, and to no one but such a general 
 favourite would the same auditory have gone for a fourth 
 time to hsten to the same subject. But the good Major, as 
 Cuddie Hedi'igge said of his old master, Henry Morton, has 
 a face like a fiddle, and can make men dance to his tune. 
 The simple fact is, that though he calls his subject 'Popular 
 Errors,' he often ' travels out of the record,' as lawyers say, 
 and brings in a variety of extraneous matter, and sometimes 
 'unpopular truths,' which makes his conversaziones very 
 amusing, and at times instructive." 
 
 MRS. SHAWE, OF KESGRAVE. 
 
 The following extracts from letters of hers to Bernard 
 Barton will convey a just impression of the strength of mind, 
 homely freshness, as weU as cathohoity of judgment of this 
 kind-hearted and truly benevolent woman. 
 
 " THE AKKTJALS. 
 
 " I thank you for sending me your Annual, for whioli we can settle 
 when we meet. But you could not have sent it to a worse person. I 
 am an avowed enemy to the clahs. They are the coxcombs of 
 literature, in their silken vesta, pandering to our besetting sin of love of 
 excitement and desultory reading." 
 
88 
 
 THE SUFFOI.K GAULANl). 
 
 THOMAS CAELYLE. 
 
 " I agree in much that you say respecting Carlyle, and am often in a 
 fever of irritation whilst I unravel his sentences : they are worse than a 
 tangled skein of silk. But he is a suggestive writer. I like ' books of 
 fact,' and ' books of suggestion,' and to do my own reasoning [that is, 
 ichen I can)." 
 
 " PUSETISM. 
 
 "What strange scenes at Oxford! I am convinced that there are 
 thousands in the Church of England, who, though they would start at 
 the word, ' transubstantiation,' attach a certain mystery and awfulness 
 to the elements at the table of the Lord which they cannot fairly 
 translate into any other phrase. But they have never thought upon the 
 matter ; the same haziness of perception exists in the masses on the 
 subject of baptsimal regeneration and apostolic succession. The 
 Tractarians are turning all this into English, and we start to find 
 ourselves on the threshold of Kome, instead of being, as we supposed, 
 Protestants, living in hatred of the so-called Scarlet Lady." 
 
 The autlior of the above paragraphs died at Kesgrave, on 
 the last day of September, 1856, her husband having pre- 
 ceded her to the world of spirits a bare twelve months. We 
 have the best authority for the statement that Mr. and Mrs. 
 Shawe paid away constantly fifteen hundred pounds per 
 annum in charities, subscriptions, and annuities, before any 
 portion of their income was appropriated to their own use. 
 
 IIKV. WILLIAM W^HISTON. 
 
 The Rev. William Whiston, the celebrated mathematician, 
 was at one time vicar of Lowestoft. In his memoranda, he 
 says, " The parish officers came once to me to desh^e me to 
 set my hand to a license for setting up a new ale-house in 
 Lowestoft ; the justices, it seems, paying that compliment 
 to the town, as not to set it up without the consent of the 
 minister, and, I suppose, of the churchwardens also. My 
 answer was short : ' If they would bring me a paper to sign 
 to pull down an ale-house, I would certainly do it ; but I 
 would never sign one to set up an ale-house.' At another 
 time there came to me an order from Mr. Bachelor, who then 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 8? 
 
 acted in the Ecclesiastical Court as deputy to Dr. Pepper, 
 Chancellor of Norwich, for reading an excommunication 
 against a woman of my parish, who it seems had called 
 another woman 'whore,' those com-ts not being able to proceed 
 till such an excommunication was read in the parish church. 
 Upon this I went and inquired of the sober people in the 
 neighbourhood whether this imputation was beheved to be 
 true or false ? The answer was, " that the accuser might 
 have kept her tongue between her teeth, yet they doubted 
 the thing was too true.' I then wrote to Mr. Bachelor that 
 I was surprised to have an order for reading an excommuni- 
 cation against a poor woman for speaking what the sober 
 people in the neighbourhood thought to be true." 
 
 MARGARET GAINSBOROUGH AND QUEEN CHARLOTTE. 
 
 Margaret Grainsborough, daughter of the celebrated artist, 
 manifested many peculiarities, and was said at times to be 
 subject to occasional aberrations of mind. She inherited all 
 her father's fondness for music, and played exquisitely on 
 the harpsichord. Queen Charlotte on one occasion expressed 
 a wish to hear Miss Gainsborough's performance ; but the 
 young lady was out of temper, and refused to gratify royalty. 
 
 CLARKSON AND HAYDON. 
 
 "Whilst preparing for his great picture of the Anti- 
 slavery Society Convention, Haydon had in London several 
 interviews with Clarkson, and one morning, whUst breakfast- 
 ing with him, he said, " Mr. Clarkson, those who have a 
 great national object should be virtuous and see God daily, 
 enduring, as seeing one who is invisible." " They should 
 indeed," said Clarkson ; " it supported me. I have worked 
 day and night, and I have awoke in convulsions after reading 
 the evidence of the horrors of the slave trade." " Christi- 
 anity," said Haydon, " is the power of God unto salvation. 
 It is of heart and internal conviction, not of evidence and 
 external proof." "Ah," said Clarkson, " what a blessing is 
 
no THE SUFFOLK GARLAXB. 
 
 the religious feeling ! The natural man sees flowers, and hears 
 birds, and is pleased; the religious man attributes it all to God." 
 
 In April, 1841, Ilaydon left London for Clarkson's resi- 
 dence, to paint his portrait, and in his journal we find the 
 following notes of the visit : "I arrived at Ipswich at seven, 
 and found Clarkson's carriage waiting. Grot to Plaj^ford 
 Hall about eight. Found the dear old man at tea with his 
 niece and wife. Clarkson has a head like a patriarch, and in 
 his prime must have been a noble figure. He was very 
 happy to see me, but there is a nervous irritabiLity which is 
 peculiar. He lives too much with adorers, especially women. 
 As he seemed impatient at my staying beyond a certain 
 time, I went to bed and wished him good-night. I slept 
 well, and the next morning walked in the garden and fields. 
 He breakfasted on milk and bread (alone), and I breakfasted 
 with Mrs. T. Clai-kson upstairs. I promised to sketch him at 
 ten, and at ten I was ready. He seemed much pleased 
 by a letter from Gaizot, wherein he had said that Soult 
 and he meant to bring in abolition next year. Dear old 
 man ! no praise seemed lost on him. 
 
 " "When all was ready, the wiadows fiUed, he said, ' Call 
 in the maids.' In came six servant gu-ls and washerwomen 
 (it being washing day) . ' I am determined they shall see the 
 fixst stroke.' In they all crowded, timidly wondering. 
 Clarkson said, ' There now, that is the first stroke ; come 
 again in an hour and you shall see the last.' We now began 
 to talk. Clarkson showed no envy. He spoke of Granvdle, 
 Sharp, and Wilberforce with afi'ection and respect. ' But,' 
 said the patriarch, ' they thought of the slare, I of the slave- 
 trade.' I admired this distinction. 
 
 " I think Clarkson's intellects are unimpaired and shine 
 through his infirmities. He told the whole story of his 
 vision. He said he was sleeping when a voice awoke him, 
 and he heard distinctly the words, ' You have not done aU 
 your work. There is America.' Clarkson said it was vivid. 
 He sat upright m his bed ; he listened, and heard no more. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 91 
 
 Then the whole subject of his last pamphlet came to his 
 mind. Tests without end crowded in, and he got up in the 
 morning and began it, and worked eight hours a day till it 
 was done — ^till he hoped he had not left the Americans a leg 
 to stand on. 
 
 " "Why was I not so impressed by my visit to Clarkson as I 
 was by my visit to Wellington ? Here was a man who in 
 his Christian and peaceful object had shown equal persever- 
 ance, equal skill, equal courage, and yet I was not so aileoted. 
 Clarkson has more weaknesses than the Duke. He is not so 
 high bred. He makes a pride of his debilities ; he boasts of 
 his swollen legs and his pills, as if they were so many claims 
 to distinction. The Duke did not let you see him in his 
 infirmities. He was deaf, but he would not have let you see it 
 if possible ; he dined like others, ate hke others, and did every- 
 thing like others. Clarkson has the infirmity of asking 
 questions about himself, as if he had forgot the answers, that 
 he may elicit again the answers for the pleasure of hearing 
 the repetition. The Duke — ^never. He is too much a man. 
 Though Clarkson is a gentleman by birth, and was educated 
 Hke one, he is too natural for any artifice. He saj's what he 
 thinks, does what he feels incHned, is impatient, childish, 
 simple ; himgry, and will eat ; restless, and will let you see 
 it ; punctual, and will hurry ; nervous, and won't be hurried ; 
 charitable, speaks affectionately of all, even of Wilberforce's 
 sons, whose conduct he lamented, more as if it cast a shadow 
 over the father's tomb, than as if he felt wounded from what 
 they had said of himself." 
 
 JAMES THE FIEST IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 " King Jamie once in Suifolk went 
 A hunting of ye deere, 
 And there he met a Burie blade, 
 All clad in finest gear." 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 This monarch preferred the amusement of hunting to 
 hawking or shooting. It is said of him that he divided his 
 
92 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 hunting, his standish, and his bottle. The first had his fau- 
 weather, the two last his dull and cloudy. One time, when 
 he was on a hunting party near Bury St. Edmund's, he saw 
 an opulent townsman who had joined the chase, " very brave 
 in his apparel, and so ghttering and radiant that he eclipsed 
 all the Court." The king was desirous of knowing the name 
 of this gay gentleman, and being informed by one of his 
 followers that it was " Lamme," he facetiously replied, 
 " Lamb, call you him ? I know not what kind of lainh he is, 
 but I am sure he has got a goo^ fleece upon his back." 
 
 THE DUKE OF GRAFTON AND THE CURATE. 
 
 The late Duke of Grafton, in hunting, was one day thrown 
 into a ditch ; at the same instant a horseman, calling out, 
 " Lie still, my Lord ! " leaped over his Grace and 
 pui'sued his sport. When the Duke's attendants came up, 
 he iaquired of them who that person was, and beiag told it 
 was a young curate in the neighbourhood, his Grace replied, 
 " He shall have the first good living that falls ; had he 
 stopped to take care of me, I would never have given him 
 anything as long as he had lived." Of so much consequence 
 is it to hit the particular turn of a patron. 
 
 A WITCH AND A WIZARD. 
 
 Lord Chief Justice Holt resided at Redgrave Hall, Suffolk. 
 Once when he presided in the Court of King's Bench, a 
 ijoor, decrepit old creature, equally bowed down by age, 
 poverty, and infirmity, was brought before him, charged as a 
 criminal on whom the full severity of the law might be 
 visited with exemplary effect. The terrors of impartiality 
 never sat on any Judge's brow with more impressive 
 dignity ©r threatening aspect than that of Judge Holt. The 
 trembhno- culprit was overwhelmed with her fears. The 
 charge was opened. " What is her crime ? " asked his Lord- 
 ship. " Witchcraft." " And how is it proved ? " " She uses 
 a powerful spell." " Let me see it." The spell was handed 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 93 
 
 to the BeiU'li. It appeared a small ball of variously coloured 
 rags or silli, bound with threads of as many different hues ; 
 these were unwound and imfolded until there appeared a 
 scrap of parchment, on which were written certain characters 
 now nearly illegible from much use. " Is this the spell ? " 
 The prosecutor averred it was. The Judge, after looking at 
 this potent charm a few minutes, addressed himself to the 
 terrified prisoner : " Prisoner, how came you by this ? " "A 
 young gentleman, my Lord, gave it me to cure my child's 
 ague." "How long siace?" "Thirty years, my Lord." 
 " And did it ouxe her ? " " Oh, yes, and many others." " I 
 am glad of it." 
 
 The Judge paused a few moments, and addressed himself 
 to the Jury. " Grentlemen of the Jury, thirty years ago, I 
 and some companions as thoughtless as myself went to this 
 woman's dwelling, then a public-house, and after enjoying 
 ourselves, found we had no means to discharge the reckoning. 
 I had recourse to a stratagem : observing a child ill of an 
 ague, I pretended I had a spell to cure her. I wrote the 
 classic line you see on a scrap of parchment, and was dis- 
 charged of the demand on me by the gratitude of the poor 
 woman before us for the supposed benefit. Nature doubtless 
 did much for the patient, the force of imagination the rest. 
 This incident but ill suits my present character and the 
 station in which I sit, but to conceal it would be to aggravate 
 the folly for which it becomes me to atone, to endanger 
 innocence and encoiu'age superstition." The verdict may be 
 imagined, and Judge Holt's address at this trial was 
 one of the death blows which he gave to trials for witch- 
 craft. 
 
 REV. JAMES FORD. 
 
 The Eev. James Ford, well known as the editor of the 
 " Suffolk Grarland," was for many years incumbent of St. 
 Lawrence, Ipswich, and afterwards rector of Navestock, in 
 Essex. He coidd not bear to see persons come into church 
 
94 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 when service had commenced. After he married, and whilst 
 at Navestock, Mrs. Ford had frequently displeased him by 
 inattention to this particular, and on one occasion, when she 
 entered the chm-eh unusually late, he leaned over the desk, 
 and said, " I wonder where you will be, madam, when the 
 last trumpet sounds." 
 
 LORD THURLOw's THUNDER. 
 
 The celebrated reply of Lord Thurlow to the Duke of 
 Grafton, who had reproached him with his plebeian extraction 
 and his recent elevation to the peerage, is described as super- 
 latively great. He rose from the woolsack and advanced 
 slowly to the place from which the Chancellor usually ad- 
 dressed the House, then, fixing on the Duke the look of 
 Jove when he grasped the thunder — " I am amazed," he 
 said, in a civil voice, " at the attack which the noble Duke 
 has made upon me. Yes, my Lord " — considerably raising 
 his voice — " I am amazed at his Grace's speech. The noble 
 Duke cannot look before him, behind him, or on either side 
 of him, vrithout seeing some noble peer who owes his seat in 
 this House to his successful exertions in the profession to 
 which I belong. Does he not feel it as honourable to owe it 
 to these, as to being the accident of an accident ? To all these 
 noble Lords, the language of the noble Duke is as apphcable 
 and as insulting as it is to myself. But I don't fear to 
 meet it singly and alone. No one venerates the peerage 
 more than I do ; but, my Lord, I must say that the peerage 
 solicited me, not I the peerage. Nay more, I can say, and I 
 will say, that as a peer of Parliament, as Speaker of this 
 right honourable House, as Keeper of the Great Seal, as 
 guardian of Her Majesty's conscience, as Lord High Chan- 
 cellor of England — nay, even in that character alone in which 
 the noble Duke would think it an af&ont to be considered, 
 but which character none can deny me — as a man, I am at 
 this moment as respectable — I beg leave to add, I am at 
 this time as much respected, as the proudest peer I now look 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. IJO 
 
 down upon." The effect of this speech, both -within the walls 
 of Parliament and out of them, was prodigious. It gave 
 Lord Thurlow an ascendancy in the House which no Chan- 
 cellor had ever possessed ; it invested him in public opinion 
 with a character for independence and honour, and this, al- 
 though he was ever on the unpopular side of politics, made 
 him always a favovaite with the people. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP WHATELy's HOSPITALITY AST) WIT. 
 
 Sheridan, when asked what sort of wine he preferred, replied, 
 " Other people's." It was not a joke which could come with 
 truth from Dr. Whately, who seldom if ever dined abroad, 
 and was never so happy as when presiding at the head of 
 his hospitable table, round which every sort of good wine 
 sped and flowed. No strait-laced whims ever penetrated 
 these festive meetings. Conundrums and canons, logic 
 and laughter, puns and parables, feU from the Aj'chbishop 
 in profusion. The fullest unreserve and the heartiest enjoy- 
 ment reigned around. They were characterized by as much 
 wit as wisdom. Fun, almost juvenile in its exuberance, was 
 as often the order of the evening as logical puzzles or meta- 
 physical speculations, and trying who should make the worst 
 pun quite as frequently occurred as higher tests and tourna- 
 ments of wit. At a farewell dinner to Dr. ■ , Bishop 
 
 elect of Cork, a bottle of rich old "Waterloo port, instead of 
 
 making a rapid circuit, rested before him : " Come ," 
 
 cried the Archbishop, from the head of the table, " though 
 you are John Cork, you mustn't stop the bottle." 
 
 The reply attributed to the Bishop was quite in the 
 Whatelian vein : " I see your Grace is disposed to draw me 
 out. But though charged with Cork, I'm not going to be 
 screioed." 
 
 " We are all most anxious to see you elevated," exclaimed 
 the host. 
 
 "I leave to your Grace, as a disciple of Peel, the 
 privilege of opcniurj the ports," was the reply. 
 
06 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAKD. 
 
 The Aiclibishop's points at dinner were often of a broadly 
 humourous character, especially if he thought his presence 
 imposed any feeling of awe or restraint. When a pause 
 occurred, he would sometimes rouse the drooping embers by 
 a touch of what he called " his hot poker." On one occasion, 
 he cried out, " What is the female of a mail coach ? " Several 
 guesses were advanced, but not the right nail, until his 
 Grace, amid convulsions of laughter, answered — " A mis- 
 carriage." 
 
 After he was attacked with paralysis, the Archbishop, 
 wliilst out for fresh air, leaning on the arm of his chaplain, 
 was met by an old friend whose powers of pedestrianism had 
 often been envied. " I hope your Grrace is very much better 
 to-day," said the friend. " Oh, I am very well indeed, if I 
 could only persuade some strong fellow like you to lend me 
 a pair of legs," was the reply. 
 
 " I should be only too happy to give you my legs, if your 
 Grrace has no objection to give me your head in exchange." 
 
 The Archbishop brightened up at this touch of wit and 
 delicately conveyed compliment, and, laughing heartily, 
 
 exclaimed, "What, Mr. , you don't mean to say that 
 
 you are willing to exchange two understandings for one ! " 
 
 Touching the word "either," Dr. Whately was asked 
 whether e-ther or i-tlier was the correct pronunciation. 
 " Ni-ther," replied his Grrace. 
 
 One of his last retorts conveyed a telling stroke of delicate 
 irony : " They will begin to pelt me, now," said a freshly 
 fledged Bishop, who sought consolation under the weight of 
 a mitre, laden with some suspicion of a temporizing com- 
 pliance on the education question. 
 
 " They have nearly given over that practice upon me," 
 observed the Archbishop. 
 
 " Well, no one can say that I ever threw a stone at you," 
 retorted the other. 
 
 " Certainly not," was the reply ; " you only kept the 
 clothes of those who did." 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAIILAXJ). 97 
 
 The Archbishop was very fond of making conundrums, 
 and on the occasion of a meeting at the Famine Board, he 
 asked his next neighbour, "Why Ireland was the richest 
 country in the world ? Because its capital is always Dublin " 
 (doubling). And in reference to the Wicklow Eailway, he 
 asked, " Why it was the most unmusical line in the world ? " 
 Answer — " Because it has a bray, a dundi'um, and a still- 
 organ upon it." To a person who, when asked a puzzling 
 qxiestion, invariably closed his eyes in the intensity of his 
 effort to solve it, the Archbishop said, "Sir, you resemble an 
 ignorant pedagogue, who keeps his pupils in darkness." 
 
 " Why does the operation of hanging kill a man ? " in- 
 quired Dr. Whately. A physiologist replied, " Because 
 inspiration is checked, circulation stopped, and blood suffuses 
 and congests the brain." " Bosh ! " repKed his Grrace, " it is 
 because the rope is not long enough to let his feet touch the 
 ground." 
 
 Among the " Evangelical " adherents of the Church of 
 England, Dr. Whately was unpopular ; his manners and 
 habits tended to increase his unpopularity. They did 
 not like to see their Archbishop sitting on the chains in front 
 of his house in Dublin, smoking a long pipe, or (provided 
 Vidth a similar attribute), sauntering along the Donnybrook 
 road, chewing the cud, not of tobacco, but " of sweet and 
 bitter fancy." Dr. Parr was regarded as the greatest smoker 
 of his day, but Dr. Whately boasted of being "above Parr ! " 
 
 A man directed the Archbishop's attention to a valuable 
 draught horse, as sagacious as he was powerful. " There is 
 nothing," said the horse dealer, " that he cannot draw." 
 " Can he draw an inference ? " inquired Dr. Whately. 
 
 In hastening with a young clergyman to officiate at some 
 rehgious ceremony in a neighbouring diocese, the chaplain, 
 glancing at his watch, fell into a state of nervous agitation at 
 their being so late. "My good young friend," said the 
 
98 THE SUFFOLK GAKLANU. 
 
 Axchbishop, " I can only say to you what the criminal going 
 to be hanged said to those around, who were hurrying him 
 — " Let us take our time ; they can't begin without us." 
 
 He was never so strong as when making a pun. In allu- 
 sion to Lord Macaulay, who observed that " there was but 
 one country in the world that presented the spectacle of a 
 population of 8,000,000, with a church richly endowed for 
 only 800,000 of that population," Dr. Whately said that 
 the Irish Protestant Episcopacy was the poorest body of men, 
 because they had only oiie hob daihj amongst them." Dr. 
 Robert Daly, Bishop of Cashel, one of the most prominent 
 polemics of his day, suggested tliis play upon his name. 
 
 A lady had the very bad taste to enter the Castle drawing- 
 room in such ultra full dress, or rather undress, that more 
 bust than barege was visible. " Did you ever see anything 
 so unblushing ? " whispered a custodian of the Great Seal, 
 whose sense of decorum was outraged by the exhibition. 
 "Never, since I was weaned," replied Dr. Whately. 
 
 In the course of a conversation or disquisition on Satan, 
 he once startled his listeners by asking — " If the devil lost 
 his tail, where should he go to find a new one ? " and with- 
 out giving much time for reflection, replied, "To a gin 
 palace, for bad spirits are re-tailed there." 
 
 " Pray, sir," he said to a loquacious prebendary who had 
 made himself active in talking at the Archbishop's expense 
 when his back was turned — " Pray, sir, why are you lite the 
 bell of your own church steeple ? " " Because," repKed the 
 other, " I am always ready to sound the alarm when the 
 church is in danger." "By no means," said the Arch- 
 bishop ; "it is because you have an empty head and a long 
 tongue." 
 
 When Archbishop Whately was one day engaged in his 
 gardening operations, a companion referred among other 
 matters to the great revolution in the medical treatment of 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 99 
 
 limatics introduced by Pinel, who, instead of tlie straight 
 waistcoat and other maddening goads, awarded to each 
 patient healthful and agreeable occupation, including gar- 
 dening and agriculture. " I think gardening would be a 
 dangerous indulgence for lunatics," observed Dr. "Whately. 
 " How so ? " said his friend, siupprised. " Because they 
 might grow madder," was the witty rejoinder. 
 
 Soon after the introduction of the convict system into 
 Ireland, a gentleman known and respected as an ardent 
 advocate of reformatories, boasted to a friend who occupied 
 a responsible office in the Irish government, that he held the 
 system ia such high estimation that he employed no servants 
 in his house biit those who had passed some time in a 
 reformatory. The party so addressed was much struck by 
 the information and its significance, and with suitable 
 impressiveness he communicated both to the Archbishop. 
 His Grace listened attentively to the recital, and at length 
 quietly observed, " Tour friend will waken some fine morn- 
 ing and find himseK the only sjMon left in the house." 
 
 Turning to a junior clergyman, he once asked, " "What 
 is the difference between a form and a ceremony ? The 
 meaning seems nearly the same, yet there is a very nice 
 distinction." Various answers were given. " Well," he 
 said, "it lies in this: you sit upon a form, but you stand 
 upon a ceremony." 
 
 A remarkable conundrum of his was, " "Why can a man 
 never starve in the Great Desert ? Because he can eat the 
 sand which is (sandwiches) there. But what brought the 
 sandwiches there ? Noah sent Ham, and his descendents 
 mustered and bred (mustard and bread.) " 
 
 A VEKY PAKTICULAE PERSON. 
 
 "When Mr. Vernon, in 1835, called at Constable's studio 
 to see his pictures, he saw " "Willy Lett's House," which 
 was nearly completed, was very pleased with it, and became 
 
100 THE SUl'TOLK GARLAMJ. 
 
 the purchaser. Prior to doing so, however, he asked Constable 
 if the picture was painted for any particular person ; to which 
 Constable replied, "Yes, sir, it is painted for a very particular 
 person — the person for whom I have all my life painted." 
 
 COWING A DOG. 
 
 When Greorge Borrow was in Portugal, trying to circulate 
 the Scriptures, his curiosity led him into some extraordinary 
 places. " One day," he says, " whilst stumbKng amongst 
 ruined walls, he heard a tremendous bark, and presently an 
 immense dog, such as those which guard the flocks in the 
 neighbourhood against the wolves, came bounding to attack 
 me, ' with eyes that glowed, and fangs that grinned.' Had 
 I retreated, or had recourse to any other mode of defence 
 than that which I invariably practise under such circum- 
 stances, he would probably have worried me ; but I stooped 
 till my chin nearly touched my knee, and looked at him 
 full in the eyes ; and as John Leyden says, in the noblest 
 ballad which the Land of Heather has produced — 
 
 ' The hound he growled, and back he fled, 
 As struck with fairy charm ! ' " 
 
 CKABBE AND HIS MASTER. 
 
 When Crabbe returned from London to Aldborough, he 
 engaged himself as an assistant in the shop of a Mr. Maskill, 
 who had lately commenced business there as surgeon and 
 apothecary — a stern and powerful man. Mr. Crabbe, the 
 first time he had occasion to write his name, chanced to 
 misspell it Mad-well ; and this gave great offence. " D — n 
 you, sir," he exclaimed, " do you take me for a proficient 
 in deception? Mask-ill — Mask-ill; and so you shall find 
 me." 
 
 LET us BE INDEPENDENT OF FOEEIGNEBS. 
 
 The vdt and sarcasm which shone conspicuously in the 
 orations of William Johnson Fox, when agitating for the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 101 
 
 repeal of the Corn Law, were of great service to the cause. 
 One of his best hits of this class was his reply to the 
 Protectionist cry, that " we must not depend upon foreigners." 
 Pie took a niemher of the aristocracy, and thus analysed his 
 appearance, tastes, and modes of hfe, in order to show how 
 much of all is of the true home growth. "A French cook 
 dresses /»'n dinner for him, and a Swiss valet dresses liim for 
 dinner. He hands down his lady, decked with pearls that 
 never grew in the shell of a British oyster ; and her waving 
 plume of ostrich feathers certainly never formed the tail of 
 a barn-door fowl. The viands of his table are from all the 
 countries in the world ; his wines are from the banks of the 
 Phine and the Phone. In his conservatory he regales his 
 sight with the blossoms of Sotith American flowers. In his 
 smoking, he gratifies his scent with the weeds of North 
 America. His favourite horse is of Aircbian blood, and his 
 pet dog of the St. Bernard breed. His gallery is rich with 
 pictures of the Flemish school, and statues from Greece. For 
 his amusement, he goes to hear Italian singers warble 
 German music, followed by a French ballet. If he rise to 
 judicial honours, the ermine which decorates his shoulders 
 is a production that was never on the back of a British beast. 
 His very mind is not Enghsh in its attainments. It is a 
 mere jjic-nic of foreign contributions. His poetry and 
 philosophy are from Greece and Rome ; his geometry is from 
 Alexandria ; his arithmetic from Arabia ; and his religion 
 from Palestine. In his cradle, in his infancy, he rubbed his 
 gums with coral from oriental oceans; and when he dies, 
 his monument will be sculptured in marble from the quarries 
 of Carrara. And yet this is the man who says, ' Oh, let 
 us be independent of foreigners ! ' " 
 
 SIR CHARLES BUNF.URY A^^D THE JEWELS. 
 
 In the Ipswich Journal, May 16th, 1778, the foUovsdng 
 anecdote is given : — 
 
 " Bon Ton Anecdote. — ^At the time when the black-legged 
 
102 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 gentry of the turf were most importunate in their demands 
 
 on Sir Charles B , he recollected that he might find a 
 
 temporary resource in his lady's jewels ; and therefore, getting 
 the key of her cabinet, sent for a jeweller, unknown to her, 
 and told him he had a job for him, which he must execute 
 with the utmost expedition; and producing the baubles, 
 ordered him to go immediately and take out all the jewels, 
 and re-set them with' paste. The man hesitated to comply 
 
 with his commands. Sir Charles d d him for a fool, and 
 
 asked him why he did not go about it ? " For a very good 
 reason (replied the jeweller), if your honour must know it: 
 because I have done the very same job for her Ladyship 
 already." 
 
 AN END TO TRIALS FOR WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 Among the many merits won by Chief Justice Holt, we 
 must not forget that of eifectuaUy repealing the acts against 
 witchcraft, although they nominally continued on the statute 
 book to a succeeding reign. Eleven poor creatures were 
 successively tried before him for this supposed crime, and the 
 prosecutions were supported by the accustomed evidence of 
 long fasting, vomiting pins and ten-penny nails, secret 
 teats sucked by imps, devil's marks, and cures by the sign of 
 the cross, or drawing blood from the sorceress — which had 
 misled Sir Matthew Hale ; but by Holt's good sense and 
 tact in every instance, the imposture was detected to the 
 satisfaction of the jury, and there was an acquittal. One 
 of the strongest prima facie cases made out before him, was 
 said to have been that against the woman to whom many 
 years before he had given the cabalistic charm, which was 
 adduced as the chief proof of her guilt. At last, the Chief 
 Justice effectually accomplished his object, by directing that 
 a prosecutor who pretended that he had been bewitched 
 should himself be indicted as an impostor and a cheat. This 
 feUow had sworn that a spell cast upon him had taken away 
 li-om him the power of swallowing, and that he had fasted for 
 
T7IE SUl'l'OI.K GARLAXl). 103 
 
 ten weeks ; but the manner in which he had secretly received 
 nourishment was clearly proved. He nevertheless made a 
 stout defence, and numerous witnesses deposed to his expec- 
 toration of pins, and his abhorence of victuals; aU which 
 they ascribed to the malignant influence of the witch. The 
 Judge, having extracted from a pretended believer in him the 
 answer, that " All the devils in hell could not have helped 
 him to fast so long," and having proved by cross-examining 
 another witness, that he had a large stock of pins in his 
 pocket, from which those siipposed to be vomited were taken, 
 summed up with great acuteness, and left it to the jury to 
 say, not whether the defendant was bewitched, but whether he 
 was non compos mentis, or was fully aware of the knavery 
 he was committing, and knowingly wished to impose on 
 mankind. The jury found a verdict of (juiUij ; and the 
 impostor standing in the pillory, to the satisfaction of the 
 whole coimtry, no female was ever after in danger of being 
 hanged or burned for being old, wiinkled, and paralytic. 
 
 CHIEF JUSTICE HOLT AND FALSE PROPHETS. 
 
 Chief Justice Holt seemed to have had a high reputation 
 among his cotemporaries for detecting false pretences of all 
 sorts, and exposing those who put on an aspect of extra- 
 ordinary sanctity. To a band of fanatics called the 
 "Prophets," Holt had a particular antipathj^. One of these, 
 named Lacy, being beaten in a trial before him, complained 
 of injustice. Calamy, the famous Presbyterian divine, 
 relates that, he having repeated these complaints to Holt, 
 " My Lord by this time was moved, and setting his hand to 
 his side, cried out, 'An honest cause did he call it ? I teU you, 
 sir, and you have full liberty to tell him, or any else you 
 think fit, from me, that it was one of the foulest causes I 
 ever had the hearing of, and that none but an arrant knave 
 would have had the concern in it that Lacy had ; for it was 
 a plain design, in concert with a notorious jilt, to have 
 cheated the right heir of a good estate upon his supplying 
 
104 
 
 THE SUFFOLK OARI-AND. 
 
 her with money. If one that could do this may be allowed 
 to set up for a prophet, the world is come to a fine' pass.' " 
 
 Holt having some time after committed another of the 
 brotherhood, called John Athins, to take his trial for seditious 
 language, the same Lacy called at the Chief Justice's house 
 in Bedford Eow, and desired to see him. Servant : " My 
 Lord is unwell to-day, and cannot see company." Lacy (in 
 a very solemn tone) : "Acquaint your master that I must 
 see him, for I bring a message to him from the Lord God." 
 The Chief Justice, having ordered Lacy in, and demanded 
 his business, was thus addressed : " I come to you a prophet 
 from the Lord God, who has sent me to thee, and would 
 have thee grant a nolle jjroseqtii for John Atkins, his 
 servant, whom thou hast sent to prison." Holt, C. J. . " Thou 
 art a false prophet, and a lying knave ! If the Lord God 
 had sent thee it would have been to the Attorney- General, 
 for he knows that it belongeth not to the Chief Justice to 
 grant a nolle prosequi ; but I, as Chief Justice, can grant a 
 warrant to commit thee to bear him company." This was 
 immediately done, and both prophets were convicted and 
 punished. 
 
 whately's opinion of wo:\ien. 
 
 Archbishop Whately, when referring to women, whether in 
 his writings or his conversation, was rarely complimentary. 
 " Women," he said, '." reason wrongly from right premises, 
 sometimes rightly from wrong ]Dremises, and always poke the 
 fire from the top." Wlien disposed to be unusually gracious, 
 he would sometimes pay them such dubious compliments as, 
 " Woman is hke the reed, which bends to every breeze, but 
 breaks not in the tempest." With such provocation it is no 
 wonder that Dr. Whately should have been no favourite with 
 women, to whom, as Byron says, " revenge is sweet." In 
 his sermons he never preached to the nerves — he appealed to 
 the understanding ; and his congregations, therefore, contained 
 more cloth than crinoline. A few years before his retirement 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 10") 
 
 from the Board of National Education, lie was requested by 
 a literary lady, who, however, wore petticoats long enough to 
 conceal her " blue stockings," to meet her by appointment at 
 the Model School in Marlborough street, and act as her 
 cicerone in exploring it. The invitation was accepted, and 
 two hotirs full of interest passed. When the Ai-ohbishop 
 and the lady, face to face, were going home in a cab, his 
 Grace suddenly broke through a brown study, by exclaiming, 
 as he fixed his eyes stedfastly at Miss , " I'm begin- 
 ning to think that you are a man ! " The lady was 
 embarrassed. The Archbishop repeated the remark, adding, 
 " I never in the whole course of my life knew a woman keep 
 an appointment before." 
 
 It is evident that, notwithstanding his avowed admiration 
 of the gifted woman who was his wife. Dr. "Whately held 
 no very high opinion of ladies, intellectually considered ; and 
 such jokes as " the difference between a looking glass and a 
 lady consists in one reflecting without speaking, and the 
 other speaking without reflecting," were always welcome at 
 his fireside. 
 
 SIE EDWARD rOKE A RIOTER. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke felt very acutely the loss of the Lord 
 Chief Justiceship, and after his deprivation he tried to 
 regain the favour of Buckingham, the King's favourite, by 
 marrying his daughter. Lady Frances, only fourteen years 
 old, who was a very rich heiress, to Buckingham's elder 
 brother. Sir John YiUiers, who was nearly thrice her age, 
 and exceedingly poor. Sir Edward's wife, however. Lady 
 Hatton, became frantic with rage, when she heard of the 
 proposed match, not so much at her disapproval of Sir John 
 Yilliers, as on account of such an important family arrange- 
 ent having been made without consulting her. When the 
 first burst of her resentment had passed over, she appeared 
 more calm, but this arose from her having secretly formed a 
 resolution to carry off her daughter, and marry her to 
 
10() THii SUFFOLK fiARl. VXD. 
 
 another. The same night, Su' Edward still keeping up 
 his habit of going to bed at nine o'clock, soon after ten 
 o'clock she sallied forth with the Lady Frances from Hattou 
 Plouse, Holborn. They entered a coach which was waiting 
 for them at a little distance, and traveUing by unfrequented 
 roads, they arrived next morning at a house of the Earl of 
 Argyle's, at Oatlands, then rented by Su- Edward Withipole, 
 their cousin. There they were shut up in the hope that there 
 could be no trace of the place of their concealment. While 
 they laid hid Lady Hatton not only did everything possible 
 to prejudice her daughter against Sir John Yilliers, but 
 offered her in marriage to the young Earl of Oxford, and 
 actually showed her a forged letter purporting to come from 
 that nobleman, which asserted that he was deeply attached 
 to her, and that he aspired to her hand. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sir Edward Coke, having aceertained the 
 retreat of the fugitives, applied to the Privy Council for a 
 warrant to search for his daughter ; and as there was some 
 difficulty in obtaining it, he resolved to take the law into his 
 own hands. Accordingly, the Ex-Chief Justice of England 
 mustered a band of armed men, consisting of his sons, his 
 dependents, and his servants, and himself putting on a breast- 
 plate with a sword at his side, and pistols at his saddle bow, 
 he marched at their head upon Oatlands. When they arrived 
 there they found the gate leading to the house bolted and 
 barricaded. This they forced open without difficulty, but 
 the outer door of the house was so secured as long to defy all 
 their efforts to gain admission. The Ex-Chief Justice 
 repeatedly demanded his child in the King's name, and laid 
 down for law, that, " if death should ensue it would be 
 justifiable homicide in him, but mm'der in those who 
 opposed him." One of the party, gaining entrance by a 
 window, let in all the rest ; but still there were several 
 doors to be broken open. At last Sir Edward found the 
 object of his pm'suit secreted in a small closet, and without 
 stopping to parley, lest there should be a rescue, he seized 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 107 
 
 his daughter, tore her from her mother, and placing her 
 hehind her brother, rode off with her to his house at Stoke 
 Pogis, in Buckinghamshire. There he secured her in an 
 upper chamber, of which he himself kept the key. 
 
 COKE AS ATTORNEY-GEXERAL. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke filled the office of Attorney-Greneral for 
 twelve years, and unscrupulously stretched the prerogative of 
 the Crown, showing himself for the time utterly regardless 
 of public liberty. He perverted the criminal law to the 
 oppression of many individuals ; and the arrogance of his 
 demeanour was unparalleled. His brutal behaviour on the 
 trial of the Earl of Essex, and his insulting language at the 
 trial of Sir Walter Ealeigh, are disgraceful to him as an 
 advocate. He on all occasions exhibited a desire to obtain 
 convictions for any offences, and against any individuals, at 
 the pleasure of his employers ; and he became hardened 
 against all the dictates of justice, of pity, of remorse, and 
 of decency. He gave the greatest satisfaction to Lord 
 Burleigh, and to his son and successor, Robert Cecil, so that 
 legal dignities which fell were within his reach ; but fond of 
 riches rather than ease, he despised being made a judge, and 
 thus was unwilling to be "forked up to the bench," which 
 with a sad defalcation of income, offered him very little 
 increase of dignity; for till the elevation of Jeffreys, in the 
 reign of James II., no common-law judge had been made a 
 peer. Coke's salary as Attorney-Greneral was only £81 
 6s. 8d. ; but his official emoluments amounted to £7,000 a 
 year ; and Lord Campbell says, that " his private practice 
 besides must have been very considerable." 
 
 DR. MESSENGER MONSEY. 
 
 The eccentric Dr. Messenger Monsey commenced the 
 practice of medicine at Bury St. Edmund's. He was the 
 son of a Norfolk clergyman, received his education at St. 
 Mary's Hall, Oxford, and studied physic under Sir Benjamin 
 
^^^^ THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 Wrinch, at Norwich. A "fortunate accident" was the 
 occasion of his leaving Bury. Lord Grodolphin, grandson of 
 the Duke of Marlborough, being on a journey to his seat at 
 Gogmagog, near Newmarket, was taken exceedingly ill. 
 The only medical aid next at hand was at the town of Bury. 
 Dr. Monsey was called in, and found so successful in his 
 applications, as not only to reinstate his Lordship in a 
 comfortable degree of health, but to engage also throughout 
 life the warmest gratitude of his noble patient. Lord 
 Grodolphin found with sui-prise his rural physician to be a 
 man of candour, of cheerfulness, of literary talents, and of 
 convivial wit, and felt strongly disposed to patronise one so 
 very superior in all respects to the situation in which he 
 found him. Upon his Lordship's recovery, his offers were 
 so very liberal and kind, that Dr. Monsey could not hesitate 
 to accompany his patron to town. A vacancy occurring in 
 Chelsea Hospital, by his Lordship's interest he was 
 appointed, in 1742, Physician to the Eoyal Hospital ; but so 
 necessary had the doctor's company become to his patron, 
 that he was to be allowed to reside as usual at St. James's, 
 which he did till his Lordship's decease, when he removed 
 to Chelsea, where he died, December 26th, 1788, at the ad- 
 vanced age of ninty-fom-. Monsey was also the companion 
 of Sir Eobert Walpole, who used to call him his " Norfolk 
 Doctor." He was a great billiard player. Sir Hobert said 
 one day to him, " I don't know how it is, Monsey, but you 
 are the only one I can't beat." " They get places," replied 
 the Doctor; "I get a dinner and praise." As a physician he 
 was skillful and benevolent, and much respected by all the 
 pensioners, particularly for his marked attention to them. 
 But his reputation rests principally upon his wit, in which 
 he bore a great resemblance to Dean Swift. " The ex- 
 uberance of his wit (says Boswell), which like the web of 
 life, was of mingled yam, often rendered his conversation 
 exceedingly entertaining, sometimes indeed alarmingly of- 
 fensive, and at other times pointedly pathetic and instructive. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 109 
 
 The follo-nang anecdote is said to be well attested. "He 
 lived so long in his office of Physician to Chelsea Hospital, 
 that the reversion of his place had been successively promised 
 to medical friends of the various Paymasters-Greneral of the 
 forces. Looking out of his window one day, and observing 
 a gentleman below examining the cottage and gardens, who 
 he knew had secured the reversion of his place, the Doctor 
 came down stairs and accosted him with, " Well, sir, I see 
 j'ou are examining yoiu: house and gardens that are to be, 
 and I will assure you that they are both very pleasant and 
 very convenient. But I must tell you one circumstance — you 
 are the fifth man that has had the reversion of the place, 
 and I have buried them all; and what is more," continued 
 he, looking very scientifically at him, " there is something 
 in your face that tells me I shall bury you too." The event 
 justified the prediction ; and what is more extraordinary, 
 at the time of the doctor's death there was not a 
 person who seems to have even solicited the promise of a 
 reversion. 
 
 On the morning of the day of his death, being at break- 
 fast, he said to his attendant, "I shall entirely lose the 
 game ; " and upon her asking him what game, he replied, 
 " The game of a hundred, which I have played for very 
 earnestly many years ; but I shall lose it now, for I expect 
 to die in a few hours." 
 
 A WARM ANXIETY. 
 
 One evening, whilst Nelson was waiting before Copenhagen, 
 in 1801, he received a letter from Sir Hyde Parker informiag 
 him that a Swedish squadron was at sea. Sir Hyde was off 
 Bomholm, about twenty-four miles from Copenhagen. The 
 wind was foul ; but the moment Nelson received the letter 
 he ordered a boat to be manned, and though it was nearly 
 dark, set out to row to his Commander-in-chief, to be in 
 time for the battle which the news seemed to announce. He 
 was suffering from severe indisposition ; the night was 
 
110 
 
 THE SLTFULK GARLAXl). 
 
 bitterly cold ; yet so eager was kLs hurry that he -would not 
 even stop to get a great-coat. Wlien in the boat they 
 offered him a cloak, he refused it, saying, " his anxiety for 
 his country kept him warm." 
 
 AN exa:\iple for widows. 
 
 In the year 1799, a tenant of Mr. Way's, at Hasketon, near 
 Woodbridge, died, leaving a widow with fourteen children, the 
 oldest of whom was a girl under fourteen years of age. He 
 had rented fourteen acres of pasture land, on which he kept 
 two cows. These cows, with his little furniture and clothing, 
 were all the property he left. The parish of Hasketon was 
 within the district of the Nacton House of Industry, and 
 the Directors of that establishment offered to relieve the 
 widow, by taking her seven youngest children into the House. 
 When this was proposed to her, she replied, in great agitation, 
 that she would rather die in working to maintain her 
 children, than part with any of them ; or she would go vnth 
 all of them into the House, and work for them there ; bat if 
 her landlord would continue her in the farm (as she called it), 
 she would undertake to bring up the whole fourteen without 
 any help from the parish. She was a strong woman, about 
 forty-five years old, and of a noble spirit ; happily, too, she 
 had to deal with a benevolent man. He told her she should 
 continue as his tenant, and hold the land for the first year 
 rent free; and at the same time, unknown to her, he 
 directed his receiver not to call upon her afterwards, thinking 
 with even that indulgence it would be a great thing if she 
 could maintain so large a family. But this further liberality 
 was not needed. She brought her rent regularly every year 
 after the first, held the land till she had placed twelve of 
 her children in service, and then resigned it to take the 
 employment of a nurse, which would enable her to provide 
 for the remaining two for the little time longer that they 
 needed support, and which was more suited to her declining 
 years. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLA>'i). Ill 
 
 PUXCTUALITY. 
 
 The most industrious disposition often proves of little 
 avail for the want of a habit of very easy acquirement — ■ 
 punctuality, the jewel on which the whole maohiaery of 
 successfid industry may be said to tm'n. 
 
 ^Tien Lord Nelson was leaving London on his last 
 expedition against the enemy, a quantity of cabin fm-niture 
 was ordered to be sent on board his ship. He had a farewell 
 dinner-party at his house, and the upholsterer, having waited 
 upon his Lordship with an accormt of the completion of 
 the goods, was brought into the eating room, in a corner of 
 which his Lordship spoke with him. The upholsterer stated 
 to his noble employer that everything was finished and 
 packed, and would go in the waggon from a certain inn at 
 
 six o'clock. " And you go to the inn, Mr. A , and see 
 
 them off." "I shall, my Lord. I shall he there 2n(i>cfiia!li/ 
 
 at sir." " A quarter before si.r, Mr. A ," returned Lord 
 
 Nelson; "be there a quarter before six. To that quarter 
 of an hour I owe everything in life." 
 
 HABITS AND MANNERS OF BISHOP BLOMFIELD. 
 
 The diligence displayed by Bishop Blomfield in his 
 public busiaess was observable also in all the work which he 
 did in private. He rose in summer at sis, in winter at half- 
 past, and the time before breakfast was occupied by the study 
 of Scripture, or with ■writing sermons and letters. The 
 hours for prayers, for meals, and for everything in the house- 
 hold with which he had to do were regulated with the same 
 punctuahty as his business. The brief interval between 
 prayers and breakfast would be seized for work. His letters 
 accompanied -him to the table, except when guests were in 
 the house ; for to them, in spite of his unceasing occupations, 
 he never failed to show the attention of a kind and courteous 
 host. His sermons, of which he wrote more than many 
 parochial clergymen, were often commenced on the previous 
 
112 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Sunday, taken up again in the middle of unfinished 
 sentences, during any spare minutes he could command, 
 and completed long before the time of their delivery. A 
 diligent student, his knowledge seemed to be arranged in his 
 mind much as his letters were arranged on his shelves ; in a 
 moment he could lay his hand on a particular letter, though 
 received years before ; and in the same way he could in an 
 instant draw from the store-house of his memory the know- 
 ledge which the occasion required, even though he might not 
 have read anything on the subject for many years. 
 
 The society of literary men gave the Bishop peculiar 
 pleasure, and this privilege he had enjoyed to some extent 
 from the time when he won his university honours. On his 
 promotion to the See of London he had greater opportunities 
 of meeting the best men of the time. During his days of 
 health and strength, the house at Fulham was flUed with 
 agreeable society ; and such men as Sir James Mackintosh, 
 Wordsworth, Rogers, the Bishop of Oxford, Sir David 
 Dundas, Sir Henry Holland, and many others who might 
 be named, gave no little charm to his table. At these times 
 the Bishop entered with a keen relish into the delights of 
 social intercourse, and contributed more than his share to the 
 general enjoyment, by the animation, the humour, and the 
 learning of his conversation. It was in the company of men 
 such as the ChevaKer Bunsen, Dr. WheweU, Maoaulay, 
 HaUam, and others of the same cahbre, that the variety and 
 exactness of Bishop Blomfield's knowledge were more fully 
 shown. It was only in the intercourse of such men that he 
 sustained a continuous conversation, the contact of equal 
 minds seeming necessary to draw forth his latent powers and 
 hidden stores. In his social intercourse with other minds he 
 seemed to find relaxation in talk, which, while it did not tax 
 his mind, was always instructive and agreeable, and often 
 entertaining, for Bishop Blomfield was gifted with no ordinary 
 flow of genuine humom\ This gift, so dangerous when un- 
 checked, was tempered in him as became a bishop, by charity 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 113 
 
 and sobriety. His wit, as was natiiral in one wliose early- 
 studies had been philological, was often verbal, and he was a 
 great lover of puns. He excelled in relating anecdotes, and 
 was second to none in the way in which he would teir a good 
 story — so pointed and epigrammatic, the very look and tono 
 contributing to the effect, and aU natural and without an 
 effort, the outpourings of a genial nature, when, without 
 offence, reserve could be laid aside. 
 
 While the Bishop's genial temperament found pleasure in 
 innocent mirth, in his views of what was innocent he was 
 guided by a high, and what some might think an over strict 
 standard. He wrote to Lord Lowther, then Lord Chamber- 
 lain, requesting that the new pleasure grounds in St. James' 
 Park might be closed during the hours of morning service, on 
 Sundays. When invited to dinner on a Sunday by 
 William IV., soon after his accession, he dechned, stating 
 that he never dined out on that day ; and later in life he 
 always opposed the opening of the Chrystal Palace, or any 
 places of amusement on Sundays. He regarded with great 
 caution the pleasures of the world ; so that, without a tinge 
 of Puritanism in his temperament, he was careful in the 
 amusements which he allowed in his own household. A 
 playing card was never, with his knowledge, allowed in his 
 house ; he had an objection to public theatres, without any 
 prejudice against the drama itself; and whilst he thought 
 dancing an innocent and healthy pastime for the young, he 
 disliked balls on account of the unwholesome excitement too 
 often inseparable from them. He considered shooting un- 
 suitable to the profession of a clergyman, and hunting as 
 utterly inconsistent with that seriousness and quietness of 
 demeanour and conduct, the want of which must weaken, if 
 it does, not destroy the effect of a clergyman's preaching. 
 
 There was in Bishop Blomfield's disposition a natural 
 fondness for the young, which formed a link between him- 
 self and them. During his holidays, or when he had more 
 leisure than usual, he would take part in his children's 
 
ll-i THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 recreations, and sometimes entertain tliem by composing- 
 amusing or descriptive verses. He had a gift of versification 
 and even a poetic vein, which, however, he had scarcely any 
 time to indulge. 
 
 But the Bishop's chief recreations were music and garden- 
 ing. In both he took especial delight. His knowledge of 
 music had been acquired in early years ; and even in later 
 life he would occasionally accompany his children. He had 
 a cultivated and refined taste, and an ear so sensitive that the 
 slightest discord, which would escape general observation, 
 seemed to cause him acute pain. His acquaintance with the 
 works of the best musicians was extensive, and he took every 
 opportunity which did not interfere with more important 
 engagements, of hearing the best performers, especially 
 instrumentahsts. 
 
 Gardening, however, was the Bishop's chief amusement. 
 Early in life he had acquired a knowledge of botany, and he 
 found in the palace gardens a soil in which he could employ 
 and enlarge that knowledge. He introduced the latest 
 improvements into the gardens, and planted it with new and 
 choice trees. He seemed to know each tree and shrub, and to 
 regard them with a kind affection ; and when guests were 
 with him it was his amusement to introduce them to the 
 names and qualities of the rarer specimens. He took a lively 
 interest in the Horticultm-al Society, and often attended the 
 meetings at Chiswick Gardens, where he was seen examining 
 each fruit and flower with close and delighted attention. 
 
 HUMAKITY OF NELSON. 
 
 As soon as the Danish captains had hauled down their 
 coloiirs at the battle of Copenhagen, boats were sent from the 
 EngKsh fleet to get possession of the prizes, but in deflance of 
 all the rules of war, these boats were fired on by the batteries 
 on shore, and even by the ships themselves that had struck, 
 though the island batteries could only reach our boats by 
 firing through those ships, 'thus, of coui-se, adding to the loss 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 115 
 
 wliich they had abeady sustained. Nelson was angry at this 
 breach of the usual laws of battle, and shocked at the needless 
 havoc which was being thus caused by it. In his view, the 
 moment that the Danes on board the captured ships had 
 become his prisoners, he had become their protector ; and 
 acting on this idea, and feeling that he had now attained so 
 decisive a superiority in the battle that he could afford to be 
 the jBrst to propose its suspension, he retired to the stern 
 gallery, and, while the enemy's bullets were still deaHng 
 death around him, wrote a letter to the Crown Prince. " He 
 was authorized," it said, "to spare Denmark when she 
 ceased to resist ; but if the firing on his boats was continued, 
 he must burn his prizes, vnthout having the power of saving 
 the brave men who defended them. The brave Danes," he 
 added, " were his brothers, and should never be the enemies 
 of the EngHsh." When the letter was finished, he sent to 
 his cabin for wax with which to seal it. He was offered a 
 wafer. " No," said he, " this is not a time to appear hurried 
 or informal." The man who had been sent for the wax was 
 killed on his way to the cabin ; he ordered another messenger 
 to be sent on the same errand, and having carefully sealed 
 the letter, he sent Captain Sir Frederick Thesiger, a young 
 officer who was serving on this occasion as a volunteer, to 
 convey it, under a flag of truce, to the Crown Prince. 
 
 HONOTJES PAID TO ARTHUR YOUNG. 
 
 In no country were the merits of Arthur Young better es- 
 timated than in France ; but there was scarcely a city on the 
 continents either of Europe or America that did not pay some 
 tribute to his talents. The Economical and Agricultural 
 Societies estabhshed at Berne, Zurich, Manheim, Celle, 
 Florence, Milan, Copenhagen, Brussels, New York, Phila- 
 delphia, and Yienna all sent him their diplomas. The Society 
 of Arts adjudged him the honorary gold medal ; the Salford 
 Agricultural Society presented him with a medal, inscribed, 
 " For his services to the public," and he was compHmented 
 
116 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 by the Board of Agriculture, -nith a gold medal for " long 
 and faitMul services in agriculture." Greorge III. made him 
 a present of a Spanish Merino ram ; Count Rostopohin, the 
 celebrated governor of Moscow, presented him with a snuff- 
 box, turned by himself out of a block of oak, richly studded 
 with diamonds, and bearing a motto in the Eussian language 
 which signifies, "Erom a pupil to his master;" and the 
 Empress Catherine presented him, through the hands of her 
 ambassador, with a magnificent gold snuff-box, together with 
 two rich ermine cloaks, designed as gifts to his wife and 
 daughter. In addition to these honours, his agricultural 
 writings have appeared in almost every language in Europe. 
 In France they were translated and published in 20 vols, by 
 express order of the French Directory, and in Russia by 
 command of the Empress Catherine. 
 
 crabbe's courage. 
 
 Although so gentle and amiable iu disposition, Crabbe 
 seemed on all occasions to be insensible to physical danger. 
 
 Soon after he came into possession of the property at 
 Parham, he detected his baUiff in some connection with 
 smugglers, and charged him with the fact. The man flew 
 into a violent passion, grasped a knife, and exclaimed, with 
 an inflamed countenance, " No man shall call me a rogue ! " 
 Crabbe smiled at his rage, and said in a quiet tone, " Now, 
 Robert, you are too much for me ; put down your knife, 
 and then we can talk on equal terms." The man hesitating, 
 Crabbe, lifting his voice, added, " Gret out of the house, you 
 scoundrel ! " and he was obeyed. 
 
 He was invariably bold and uncompromising in the midst 
 of opposition and reproach. During the violence of a 
 contested election at Trowbridge, he was twice assailed by a 
 mob of his parishioners, with hisses and the most virulent 
 abuse. He replied to their formidable menaces, by " rating 
 them roundly." When the chaise drove up to his door on 
 the day of election, to take him to the poll, a riotous and 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXn. 117 
 
 tumultuous assemblage besieged his house to deter him from 
 going. The mob threatened to destroy the chaise, and tear 
 him to pieces, if he attempted to set out. In the face of 
 them he came out calmly, told them they might kill him if 
 they chose ; but whilst alive, nothing should prevent his 
 giving a vote at the election according to his promise and 
 principles ; and he set off, undisturbed and unhurt, to vote. 
 
 POPULARITY OF CHIEF JUSTICE HOLT. 
 
 Of all the Judges in the annals of English' History, Sir 
 John Holt has gained the highest reputation, merely by the 
 exercise of judicial functions. He vs^as not a statesman, lite 
 Clarendon ; he was not a philosopher, like Bacon ; he was 
 not an orator, like Mansfield ; yet he fills nearly as great a 
 space in the eye of posterity ; and some enthusiastic lovers 
 of jurisprudence regard him with higher veneration than 
 any English judge who preceded or has followed him. The 
 respect in which his conduct and abilities were held during 
 his life, was on one occasion very strongly manifested. When 
 WUliam III. ascended the throne, both himself and his 
 ministers were laudably anxious to elevate to the Bench the 
 most learned and upright men that could be found in the 
 profession of the law, the corruption and incompetency of 
 the judges having been one of the chief grounds on which 
 the nation had resolved upon a change of dynasty. Great 
 dehberation was necessary for this purpose. After many 
 consultations, to avoid all favouritism, the following plan was 
 adopted, that every privy councillor should bring a list of the 
 twelve persons whom he deemed the fittest to be the twelve 
 judges, and that the individuals who had the greatest num- 
 ber of suflrages should be appointed. It is a curious fact that 
 howsoever the lists of the different privy councillors varied, 
 they all agreed in first presenting the name of Sir John Holt, 
 such was his reputation for law — such satisfaction had he 
 given in dispensing justice when Eecorder of London, and 
 in such respect was he held for his consistent career in public 
 
118 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 life. Sir John was made Chief Justice of the King's Bench. 
 The King willingly ratified this choice, and when the ap- 
 pointment was announced in the London Gazette, it was 
 hailed with joy by the whole nation. 
 
 WISDOM AND HUMANITY OF JUDGE HOLT. 
 
 Chief Justice Holt was the first to lay down the doctrine 
 that the fstatus of slavery cannot exist in England, and that 
 as soon as a slave breathes the air of England he is free. 
 The subject was brought before him on two occasions, and 
 on both occasions he contended boldly for the rights of man. 
 He said, at the second trial, " By the common-law, no man 
 could have property in another man, except in special cases, 
 as in a villain, or a captive taken in war ; but in England 
 there is no such thing as a slave, and a human being was 
 never a chattel, to be sold for a price, and when wrongfully 
 seized, to have a value put upon him in damages by a jury, 
 like an ox or an ass." 
 
 He showed considerable boldness in construing the statute 
 requiring persons to attend their parish churches. "Parishes," 
 he said, " were instituted for the ease and benefit of the 
 people, and not of the parson ; that they might have a place 
 certain to repair to when they thought convenient, and a 
 parson from whom they had a right to receive instructions ;" 
 and he held that a person was not subject to a penalty 
 if he attended any other church than that of his own 
 parish. 
 
 He put an end to the practice which had hitherto prevailed 
 of giving evidence against a prisoner of prior misconduct. 
 Thus, on the trial before him, of Harrison, for the murder of 
 Dr. Clench, the counsel for the prosecution calling a witness 
 to prove some felonious design of the prisoner three years 
 before, the Judge indignantly exclaimed, " Hold, hold ! what 
 are you doing now ? Are you going to arraign his whole 
 life? How can he defend himself from charges of which 
 he has no notice ? And how many issues are to be raised to 
 
THE SUFFOLIC GARLAND. 119 
 
 perplex me and the jury ? Away ! away ! that ought not to 
 be ; that is nothing to this matter." 
 
 He likewise put an end to the revolting practice of trying 
 prisoners in fetters. Hearing a clanking when Cranburne, 
 charged with being implicated in the " Assasination plot," 
 was brought to the bar to be arraigned, he said, without any 
 complaint being made to him, " I should like to know why 
 the prisoner is brought in ironed. If fetters were necessary 
 for his safe custody before, there is no danger of escape or 
 rescue here. Let them be instantly knocked off; when 
 prisoners are tried, they should stand at their ease." 
 
 A stUl more important improvement in criminal trials on 
 his suggestion was introduced, by Parliament passing an 
 Act which for the first time allowed witnesses called for the 
 prisoner to be examined upon oath. 
 
 THE " GKEAT SEAL " REFUSED. 
 
 When William III. took the Great Seal from Lord 
 Somers, who refused voluntarily to resign it, the King, con- 
 sidering that Chief Justice Holt was by far the fittest man to 
 take possession of it, sent for him to Hampton Court, and 
 showing him the " bauble," offered immediately to deliver it 
 into his hand, with the title of Lord Chancellor, a peerage 
 beiag to follow. The royal astonishment no doubt was 
 great, when Holt pronounced these memorable words : "I 
 feel highly honoured by your Majesty's gracious offer, but 
 all the time I was at the bar, I never had more than one 
 cause in chancery, and that I lost, so that I cannot thiak 
 myself qualified for so great a trust." The King ia vain 
 attempted to shake his resolution ; all that Holt could be 
 induced to promise at this interview was that, if there should 
 be a necessity for putting the Great Seal into commission for 
 a short time, he would act as one of the Lords Commissioners. 
 
 CHIEF JUSTICE HOLt's BATTLE WITH THE CROWN. 
 
 While Chief Justice, Sir John Holt gained great popularity 
 
120 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 by his contests with the two Houses of ParKament, for 
 in each case he nobly asserted and vindicated his own 
 independence. But in addition to his contests with these 
 two branches of the legislature, he had also singularly enough 
 to fight a battle with the Crown. The great sinecure office 
 of Chief Clerk of the court of King's Bench, now compen- 
 sated by a pension of £9,000 a year, falling vacant. Sir 
 John Holt granted it to his brother Roland, and the question 
 arose whether the patronage of it belonged to the Chief 
 Justice or to the King ? This came on to be decided at a 
 trial at the bar before the three puisne judges and a jury. 
 A chair was placed on the floor of the court for Lord Chief 
 Justice Holt, on which he sat uncovered near his counsel. 
 It was proved that the Chief Justices of the King's Bench 
 had appointed to the ofiice from the earliest times, till a 
 patent was granted irregularly by Charles II. to his natural 
 son, the Duke of Grrafton, and there was a verdict against 
 the King, which was confirmed on appeal to the House of 
 Lords. 
 
 JOHN CONSTABLE AND SIR W^ILLIAM BEECHEY. 
 
 Sir William Beeohey called upon Constable, and looking 
 at one of his unfinished paintings, said, " Why, d — - — n it, 
 
 Constable, what a d n fine picture you are making ; but 
 
 you look d n ill, and you have got a d n bad cold." 
 
 constable's notions of the reform bill. 
 
 Writing to Leslie in 1831, Constable says, " What makes 
 me dread this tremendous attack on the constitution of the 
 coimtry is, that the wisest and best of the Lords are seriously 
 and firmly objecting to it, and it goes to give the Groverment 
 into hands of the rabble and dregs of the people, and the 
 devil's agents on earth, the agitators. Do you think that 
 the Duke of WelHngton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
 Copley, and Eldon, and Abbot, and all the wisest and best 
 men we have would oppose it, if it were to do good to the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 121 
 
 country? I do not. No Whig Government ever can 
 do good to this pecvdiar country." 
 
 LORD THURLOW AND THE DUCHESS. 
 
 The widowed Duchess of Rutland did not forget the poet 
 Crahhe, the protege of her lamented husband, and being 
 kindly desirous of retaining bi'm ia her neighbourhood, she 
 gave him a letter to Lord Chancellor Thurlow, earnestly 
 requesting him to exchange the two small livings Mr. Crabbe 
 held in Dorsetshire, for two of superior value in the vale of 
 Belvoir. Crabbe proceeded to London, but was not very 
 courteously received by Lord Thurlow. " No," he growled, 
 "by Gr — d I will not do this for any man in England." 
 But he did it, nevertheless, for a woman in England. The 
 good Duchess, on arriving in town, waited on him personally 
 to renew her request, and he yielded. Crabbe, having passed 
 the necessary examination at Lambeth, received a dispensa- 
 tion from the Archbishop, and became rector of Muston, in 
 Leicestershire, and the neighbouring parish of Allington, in 
 Lincolnshire. 
 
 MUSIC AND ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 
 
 Although full of poetic appreciation and power, Dr. 
 Whately, like Samuel Johnson, had no ear for music, and 
 his biographer expresses a doubt whether the Archbishop 
 could at once distinguish the " Dead March in Saul " from 
 " St. Patrick's Day." He once sent for a popular composer, 
 who was a citizen of Dublin, and expressed a desire that he 
 shoidd furnish a chant within a given time. The task was 
 executed to the almost enthusiastic satisfaction of the com- 
 poser, whose equanimity was much disturbed by the Arch- 
 bishop insisting that some sacred poetry, in the authorship of 
 which he had an interest, should be set to the identical 
 music supplied. In vain the composer endeavoured to 
 explain that the Archbishop's lines fell short by several feet 
 of the measure of the melody ; but Dr. Whately pushed the 
 
122 THE SUFFOLK f; AKLAM). 
 
 objections aside and peremptorily desired that they should go 
 in unaltered. The chant, with all its imjierfections on its 
 head, was subsequently often sung throughout the churches 
 of the city, thus illustrating the virtue of canonical obedience, 
 and at the same time showing that the Archbishop knew 
 more about his mitre than his metre. Dr. Wliately, how- 
 ever, although innocent of music, respected it as a great 
 science, just as he respected trigonometry, of which he knew 
 almost nothing ; and when, in 1848, Jenny Lind, with her 
 red coat and drum, took Dublin by storm, the Archbishop 
 showed the daughter of the regiment considerable attention, 
 and invited her to his house. 
 
 CONSTABLE AND ITALIAN MUSIC. 
 
 A mind like Constable's, united to a nervous temperament 
 so sensitive, could not be indifferent to music. In his youth 
 he was a good flute player, but he laid the instrument aside, 
 as he found that painting required his whole attention. He 
 preferred simplicity and expression to an ostentatious display 
 of art, and once at a musical party, during a trio in Itahan 
 with which his ears were stunned, and which was only fit for 
 the vast area of the opera house, he whispered to Leslie, " I 
 dare say it is very fine, for it is very disagreeable ; but if 
 those people were to make such a noise before your door or 
 mine we should send for the police to take them away." 
 
 CRABBe's WKETCHED CONDITION IN LONDON. 
 
 In his "Journal," May 16th, 1780, the poet thus writes : 
 " Oh, my dear Mira, how you distress me ; you inquire into 
 my affairs, and love not to be denied — yet you must. To 
 what purpose should I teU you the particulars of my gloomy 
 situation : that I have parted with my money, sold my 
 wardrobe, pawned my watch, am in debt to my landlord, and 
 finally at some loss how to eat a week longer ? Yet you say, 
 ' Tell me all.' Ah, my dear Sally, do not desire it ; you must 
 not yet be told these things. Appearance is what distresses 
 
THE SUFFOLK G VRI,AND. l'2-i 
 
 me — I mn-'it have dress, and therefore am horribly fearful I 
 shall accompany fashion with fasting ; but a fortnight more 
 will tell me of a certainty." 
 
 FUNERAL OF CHIEF JUSTICE HOLT. 
 
 Lord Chief Justice Holt died at his house in Bedford Eow, 
 London, on the 5th of March, 1710. The interment was 
 ordered to take place at Redgrave, in Suffolk, and not only 
 all the heads of the law, with the barristers and students, but 
 the principal nobility and gentry in London, of all shades of 
 political opinions, attended the funeral procession several 
 miles from the metropolis. When the hearse approached the 
 neighbourhood of Redgrave, it was met by an immense as- 
 semblage from the surrounding country. Redgrave Hall, 
 formerly the residence of Lord Keeper Bacon, and where he 
 had entertained Queen Elizabeth, had been purchased from 
 the family of the Bacons by Chief Justice Holt, and there he 
 spent his vacations as a private gentleman, mixing familiarly 
 with all ranks, and particularly with the more humble. In 
 consequence, all the inhabitants of Redgrave and its ad- 
 joining parishes now congregated to do honour to him whose 
 face they were to see no more, but whose virtues they were 
 to talk of to their children's children. They cared little about 
 his political conduct, but they had heard and they believed 
 that he was the greatest judge that had appeared on the 
 earth since the time of Daniel ; and they knew that he was 
 condescending, kind-hearted, and charitable. It is said that 
 as the body was lowered into the grave prepared for it in the 
 chancel of the church at Redgrave, not a dry eye was to be 
 seen, and the rustic lamentations there uttered eloquently 
 bespoke his praise. 
 
 There is now to be admired a magnificent monument of 
 white marble, which his brother erected over his grave at a 
 cost of £1,500, representing him in his judicial robes under a 
 canopy of state, seated between emblematical figures of 
 Justice and Mercy. 
 
124 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 ■COKE UPON LITTLETON. 
 
 The great work of Sir Edward Coke is his commentary on 
 Littleton, which in itself may he said to contain the whole 
 common law of England as it then existed. Notwithstanding 
 its want of method and its quaintness, the author writes from 
 such a full mind, and with such a mastery over his subject, 
 and with such unbroken spirit, that Lord Campbell says every 
 law student who has made or who is ever likely to make 
 any proficiency, must peruse him with delight. This work 
 was the valuable fruit of his leisure, after he had been 
 tyrannically turned out of oifice, and the result of many 
 years' labour. 
 
 CHIEF JUSTICE HOLt's DOMESTIC BLISS. 
 
 Sir John Holt married Anne, the daughter of Sir John 
 Crossley, a lady of strict virtue, but a shrew, and they lived 
 together on the worst possible terms. She fell into HI health 
 and he was in high hopes of getting rid of her. To plague 
 her husband, she insisted on consulting a physician with 
 whom he had a personal quarrel, and who for this reason is 
 said to have taken peculiar pains in curing her. She 
 certaialy survived him sev-eral years, and Dr. Arbuthnot, 
 afterwards writing to Swift an account of his attendance on 
 Gay the poet, said, " I took the same pleasure in saving him 
 as Radcliffe did in saving my Lord Chief Justice Holt's wife, 
 whom he attended out of spite to her husband, who wished 
 her dead." Holt established against the Crown his right to 
 appoint the chief clerk of his court, but the nomination of 
 footmen in his family rested entirely with his wife. Never- 
 theless he left her by his will a jointure of £700 a year. 
 
 ST. DUNSTAn's CLOCK. 
 
 The old chm-ch of St. Dunstan, in the "West Fleet Street, 
 had a large gUt dial overhanging the street, and above it 
 two figures of savages, life size, carved in wood, and standing 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLANl). ' 125 
 
 beneatli a pediment, each having in his right hand a club, 
 with which he struck the quarters upon a suspended hell, 
 moving his head at the same time. To see the men strike was 
 to a certain class of persons, very attractive, and opposite St. 
 Dimstan's was considered a famous field for pickpockets, who 
 took advantage of the gaping crowd. Among those who were 
 struck by the oddity of the figures was the Marquis of 
 Hertford, who, when a child, and a good child, was taken 
 by his nurse to see the giants of St. Dunstan as a reward ; 
 and he used to say when he grew up to be a man he would 
 buy those giants. Many a child of rich parents may have 
 said the same, but in the present case the Marquis kept his 
 word. When the old church of St. Dunstan was taken down, 
 in 1830, Lord Hertford attended the second sale of the 
 materials, and purchased the clock, bells, and figures for 
 £300, and he had them placed at the entrance to the 
 grounds of his villa in the Eegent's Park, thence called St. 
 Dimstan's Villa, and there the figures do duty to the present 
 day. 
 
 A painter's eye. 
 
 Gainsborough was once examined as a witness on a trial 
 respecting ' the originahty of a picture, and a counsellor 
 endeavoured to puzzle him by saying, " I observe you lay 
 great stress on a ' painter's eye,' what do you mean by that 
 expression?" "A painter's eye," answered Grainsborough, 
 "is to him what a lawyer's tongue is to you." 
 
 ckabbe's dreams. 
 
 Lockhart, speaking of Crabbe, when he was visiting Sir 
 Walter Scott, says, " I recollect that he used to have a lamp 
 and writing materials placed by his bedside every night, and 
 when Lady Scott told him she wondered the day was not 
 enough for authorship, he answered, 'Dear lady, I should 
 have lost many a good hit had I not set down at once things 
 that occurred to me in my dreams.' " 
 
126 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 YOUTHFUL EXPLOIT OF THE YOXFORD POET. 
 
 Poets are proverbially of a romantic disposition, and a wild 
 freak of James Bird, the Yoxford poet, in his boyish days, 
 attests his impetuosity of temperament, his ardent love of 
 adventure, his unconquerable desire for knowledge, and the 
 rainbow hue in which his young imagination loved to dwell. 
 He had heard the merits of Kemble, the great London actor, 
 described in the village, and his curiosity and fancy were 
 powerfully excited. Closely treasuring in his own mind all 
 that he had heard, in the course of a short time he collected 
 a few shillings, and without apprising his parents of his 
 intention, he started for the metropolis. His purpose was to 
 witness and judge for himself one of those glorious exhibitions 
 which had been sketched in all their vivid hues on his 
 imagination. He achieved his object : he beheld the greatest 
 of the great " strut his hour upon the stage," and was 
 gratified, dehghted, enchanted. Throughout his life recol- 
 lections of that night never failed. But the pageant o'er, he 
 had to retm-n. And how stood his pm'se ? Empty — all but 
 empty; one solitary sixpence alone remaining. He started 
 for home — had journeyed far, was hungry, thirsty, weary, 
 and footsore, and was yet many miles from his father's happy 
 hearth. A wretched roadside ale-house met his eye. The 
 temptation was not to be withstood. He entered, called for 
 a penny roll and cheese, and half-a-pint of ale, to recruit his 
 wasted energies. After demolishing his frugal fare he 
 tendered his sixpence, which, on receiving, the hostess pro- 
 nounced a bad one, and in the spirit of another Zantippe 
 commenced a strain of fierce and voluble abuse. At length, 
 the poor boy, after a long endurance of the lady's vituperative 
 display, entered into a compromise by leaving in pledge 
 some portion of his wearing apparel ! In his graphic 
 relation of this anecdote in after life, it would be difficult to 
 say whether humour or pathos predominated. 
 
 James Bird was extremely witty, and would delight a 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 127 
 
 company witli liis clever improvisations. His play upon 
 words and merry puns brought Sydney Smith or Douglas 
 Jerrold to memory. In the last letter that he ever wrote we 
 find the following : — 
 
 ■^o 
 
 Have pity, dearest friends, on me, 
 
 And be not cross and scqffy, 
 Though I've a good supply of Tea, 
 
 Alas I I've much more Cough 1 (coffee.) 
 
 BISHOP BLO.MFIELD AND THE DUKE OF CLARENCE. 
 
 Bishop Blomfleld's acquaintance with the Duke of 
 Clarence, afterwards WiUiam IV., had the following 
 singular commencement. The Bishop addressed a letter to 
 the Coimtess of Dysart, at Ham House, requesting permission 
 to see that ancient mansion. The Coimtess, hospitable as 
 she generally was, at first declined, saying, " I never saw any 
 Bishop here in my brother's time." Afterwards, however, 
 she relented, and as the most agreeable arrangement to all 
 parties, desired Sir Greorge Sinclair, who had married her 
 granddaughter, to fix a day for the Bishop to dine there, 
 adding "that he might invite the Duke of Clarence and a 
 large party to meet him. Sir Greorge was not aware that the 
 Duke had taken great offence at the Bishop for his recent 
 speech and vote on Catholic emancipation. Observing 
 that they took no notice of each other, he presented the 
 Bishop to the Duke, who immediately addressed him in a 
 voice loud enough to be heard by aU the company : " I had 
 
 lately the pleasure of seeing the Bishop of along witli 
 
 me in the lobby of the House of Lords, but I had not the 
 pleasure of seeing the Bishop of London." The Bishop 
 courteously replied, " It is with regret that I ever vote on a 
 different side from your Eoyal Highness." The Duke re- 
 sumed, " I was the more surprised, and I consider you the 
 more in the wrong, because I thought I had reason to expect 
 the reverse." "Whether I was actually in the wrong or 
 not," repHed the Bishop, " my conscience told me that I was 
 
128 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 in tHe right." The Duke was about to continue, when dinner 
 was fortunately announced. At table the Bishop drew him 
 into conversation, and so completely conciliated his good 
 opinion that some days after he said to Sir George Sinclair, 
 " I like the Bishop far better than I expected, and I do not 
 care how soon I have him to meet me again." He felt that 
 he had gone too far, and asked, " How did the Bishop look 
 when I told him my mind ? " "I did not see," replied Sir 
 George, "for my eyes were fixed on the ground." "Did 
 any one else observe how he looked ? " " No, I believe their 
 eyes were turned in the same direction." 
 
 clarkson's peesbverance. 
 
 A curious instance of Clarkson's sleuth-hound perseverance 
 may be mentioned. The abettors of slavery, in the course 
 of their defence of the system, maintained that only such 
 negroes as were captured in battle were sold as slaves, and if 
 not so sold then they were reserved for a still more fi-ightful 
 doom in their own country. Clarkson knew of the slave 
 hunts conducted by the slave traders, but had no witnesses to 
 prove it. Where was one to be found ? Accidentally a 
 gentleman whom he met on one of his journeys informed 
 him of a young sailor in whose company he had been in 
 about a year before, who had been actually engaged in one 
 of such slave hunting expeditions. The gentleman did not 
 know his name, and could but indefinitely describe his 
 person. He did not know where he was, further than that 
 he belonged to a ship of war in ordinary, but at what port 
 he could not tell. With this mere ghmmering of information 
 Clarkson determined to produce this man as a witness. He 
 visited, personally, all the sea-port towns where ships in 
 ordinary lay, boarded and examined every ship without 
 success, until he came to the very last port, and found the 
 young man, his prize, in the very Ictst ship that remained to 
 be visited. The young man proved to be one of his most 
 valuable and effective witnesses. 
 
THE SUFL'Ol.K GARI, VXD. 129 
 
 GAI>JSBOROITGH S FORGERY. 
 
 Grainsborougli, when a lad, was never so well pleased as 
 when lie oould obtain a holiday, and set off with his pencil 
 and sketch book on a long stumner day's ramble through the 
 rich hanging woods which skirted his native town. An 
 expected treat of the kind having been refused him, Thomas, 
 determined not to be disappointed, presented to his uncle, 
 who was master of the Grammar School, the usual strip of 
 paper, " Grive Tom a holiday," in which his father's hand- 
 writing was so closely imitated, that not the slightest 
 suspicion of the forgery ever entered the mind of the 
 master. Grainsborough accordingly set off on his rustic 
 excursion, animated by that feeling of trembling hope which 
 makes playing the truant, like other forbidden pleasures, 
 such an exciting treat. He returned in the evening, his 
 paper filled with woodland scenery : there were sketches of 
 oaks and elms of majestic growth, clumps of trees and 
 winding glades, sunny nooks and running water, that plainly 
 indicated his love of the art. But alas ! something had 
 occurred during his absence which caused an inquiry to be 
 instituted, and " Tom " was returned " absent without 
 leave." Although he had copied his father's autograph so 
 cleverly, the trick was found out, and the old gentleman, 
 having a most mercantile dread of the fatal facility of 
 imitating a signature, involuntarily exclaimed, " Tom will 
 one day be hanged." When, however, he was informed how 
 the truant school-boy had employed his stolen hours, and his 
 son's multifarious sketches were laid before him, he* changed 
 his mind, and with a father's pride declared, " Tom will be a 
 genius." 
 
 MAJOR MOOR AND HIS PET SNAKE. 
 
 Major Moor went out to India very young, and he says in 
 his " Oriental Fragments : " "When I was an idle boy I caught 
 a very young snake, not longer than my pen, and kept it some 
 
130 THE SUFFOLK fiARI.AXI). 
 
 time in a bottle, feeding it on flies and crumbs of bread. It 
 tlirived, and I removed him into a larger bottle, as more 
 suited to his size. I was accustomed to take him out occasionally, 
 and seeing what the Sampuris did, I amused my snake and 
 myself, and sometimes a neighbour, by whistling or fluting to 
 the dancing of my pet, as the erect, gracefid, stately attitude 
 and motion of this species of snake is usually called. I am 
 all along sjieaking of the cohra capella, or hooded snake. I 
 know of no other species apparently moved by music. I had 
 deemed it expedient pretty early to extract or break his fangs 
 with forceps, and my companion got on so well that he could 
 at last of himself get out of a gallon bottle. He was then 
 placed in a suitable jar, but as he grew he would occasionally 
 get out, and a calling neighbour might, perhaps, find him on 
 the sofa with or without me. I fancied that the creature 
 knew me, and of a cold morning I have found him in my 
 bed ; and I became attached to him. My servant — I then 
 had but one, a Mussulman — also liked him. He was, how- 
 ever, unpopular with my neighbours, and I found that I got 
 laughed at, or worse, for such an apparent affectation of 
 singularity. In consequence of this I resolved to part with 
 my messmate, who had grown to an inconvenient size — perhaps 
 a yard long, or nearly. At length I carried him to a rocky, 
 sunny place, two or three miles off, and for ever quitted my 
 singidar companion." 
 
 CRVBBe's CIIAEITABLE DISPOSITION. 
 
 The charitable nature of the poet Crabbe caused him to be 
 frequently imposed upon by fictitious tales of woe, which 
 when he discovered, he merely said, " God forgive them. 
 I do." 
 
 Whilst living at Trowl^ridge, his income amounted to about 
 £800 per annumn, but he was a mild man in the matter of 
 tithes. Wlien told of many defaulters, his usual reply was : 
 "Let it be; probably they cannot afford to pay so well as 
 I can afford to want it. Let it be." 
 
THE ST'FFOT.K fiAUT.AND. 131 
 
 His Toice failed him dui'ing his latter years, and he waa 
 imperfectly heard in the church. During this period he met 
 a poor old woman in the streets whom he had for some time 
 missed from the church, and asked her if she had heen ill. 
 " Lord bless you, sir, no," was the answer ; "hut it's of no 
 iise going to your chiu'ch, for I cannot hear you." "Very 
 well, my good old friend," said the pastor ; " you do right in 
 going where you can hear ;" and he slipped a half-crown into 
 her hand, and went away. 
 
 Though he was warmly attached to the Established 
 Church, he was very liberal in his conduct to Dissenters, 
 and that at a time when such conduct was not general. 
 He held that 
 
 " A man's opinion was his own, his due 
 And just possession, whether false or true." 
 
 Of charity in the broadest sense of the term he evidently 
 had a just perception, as he thus wrote to a friend : — 
 " Thousands, and tens of thousands of sincere and earnest 
 believers in the gospel of our Lord, and in the general 
 contents of the Scriptures, seeking its meaning with veneration 
 and prayer agree, I cannot doubt, in essential, but differ in 
 many points, and in some which unwise and uncharitable 
 persons deem of much importance, nay, think that there is 
 no salvation without them. Look at the good — good com- 
 paratively speaking, just, pure, pious — the patient and 
 suffering amongst recorded characters ; and were not they of 
 different opinions in many articles of their faith ? and can 
 we suppose their heavenly Father will select from this 
 number a few, a very few, and that for their assent to 
 certain tenets, which causes, independent of any merits 
 of their own, in all probability led them to embrace ? " 
 
 DR. WHATELy's love OF PHRENOLOGY. 
 
 Archbishop Whately devoted a large share of the time 
 spent at the Board meetings of the Irish National Educa- 
 tional Society to scrutinizing, generally with a supercilious 
 
132 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 expression, the phrenological developenient of his colleagues 
 around. In the science of craniology Dr. "Whately was a 
 devout believer. His comments and conclusions, seldom com- 
 plimentary to those whom he examined, were for the most 
 part — happily for their peace of mind — confined to his own 
 cranium ; but Provost Sadlier's head, which was peculiarly 
 flat at the top, happened to be directly under Dr. Whately's 
 eve at one of the meetings ; this afibrded too tempting an 
 opportunity to m.iss making a joke. " Have you heard of the 
 new phrenological test, gentlemen?" inquired the Arch- 
 bishop, glancing significantly at the Provost; "take a hand- 
 ful of peas, drop them on the head of the patient ; the 
 amount of the man's dishonesty will depend on the nxxmber 
 which may remain there. If a large number remain, tell the 
 butler to lock up the plate." 
 
 HABITS OF THE POET CRABBE. 
 
 During the latter years of his hfe, Crabbe worked chiefiy 
 at night, after the family had all retired, and he had 
 generally by his side a glass of very weak spirits and water, 
 or negus. Whilst he stayed with Su- Walter Scott, in 
 Edinburgh, it was observed that he had a lamp and writing 
 materials placed by his bedside every night, and when Lady 
 Scott told him she wondered the day was not enough for 
 authorship, he answered, " Dear lady, I should have lost 
 many a good hit had I not set down at once things that oc- 
 curred to me in my dreams." His note-book T\'as at this 
 period of his hfe ever with him in his walks, and he would 
 every now and then lay down his geological hammer to 
 insert a new or amended couplet. Fossils were to him as 
 attractive in his age as weeds and flowers had been in his 
 youth. Pie would take long rambles among the quarries, 
 and spend hours on hours hammer in hand. 
 
 To children he was ever the emblem of kindness. No 
 word or look of harshness ever drove them from his side, and 
 although he preferred being alone in his geological rambles. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 133 
 
 seldom in'vitmg eitlier of his sons to accompany him, yet 
 many a boy or girl out of a friend's family have been allowed 
 to attend him on an excursion, and mimic his labom-s with a 
 tiny hammer. He was peculiarly fond of the society and 
 correspondence of females ; nearly all his most intimate 
 friends were ladies. Men in general appeared to him too stern, 
 unjTielding, reserved, and worldly ; and he ever found relief 
 in the gentleness, the tenderness, and the unselfishness of 
 woman. The critics of his last publication bestowed some 
 good-natm-ed raUlery on the increased tenderness of his love 
 scenes ; and some incidents in the later period of his OT\-n life 
 afforded his friends fair matter for a little innocent jesting ; 
 but none that knew him ever regarded him with less respect 
 on account of this pardonable weakness. Moore stayed a 
 few days with him in 18'24, at the seat of the Marquis of 
 Bath, and he observes, " Among Crabbe's many amiable at- 
 tributes, a due appreciation of the charms of female society 
 was not the least conspicuous. There was, indeed, in his 
 manner to women a sweetness bordering rather too much 
 upon what the French call doiicercaii.r, and I remember 
 
 hearing Miss , a lady known as the writer of some of 
 
 the happiest feau d'espn'f of our day, say once of him, in 
 allusion to this excessive courtesy, ' The cake is no doubt very 
 good, but there is too much sugar to cut through in getting 
 at it.' " 
 
 To his proper ministerial duties he was zealous, and he 
 would piit oif a meditated journey rather than leave a poor 
 parishioner who required his services. When he visited the 
 metropolis, after his reputation was estabhshed, his society 
 was courted, and he became a guest in the most distingiushed 
 circles; yet, on his return home he resumed, the next morning, 
 his visits among his parisliioners, his cares of parish business, 
 and attended to his books and papers as if nothing extra had 
 occurred. His thorough and genuine simplicity was as 
 conspicuous in the pulpit as elsewhere. "I must have 
 some money, gentlemen," he would say, in stepping from 
 
134 IIIE SUFFULK GARLAND. 
 
 the pulpit. This was his notice of titlie day. Once or twice, 
 finding it grow dark, he abruptly shut his sermon, saying, 
 " Upon my word I cannot see ; I must give you the rest 
 when we meet again." Or he would enter a pew near the 
 Avindow, and standing on the seat, finish his sermon, standing, 
 with the most admii'able indifference to the remarks of his 
 congregation. 
 
 In his young daj^s he was particular as to his appearance 
 and dress ; but he for many years indulged largely in snuff- 
 taking, and this habit somewhat interfered, as he grew old, 
 with the effects of his remarkable attention to personal 
 cleanliness and neatness of dress. The love of order, how- 
 ever, does not seem to have been very strongly developed, 
 for his library was a scene of unparalleled confusion, windows 
 rattling, paint in great request, books in every direction but 
 the right. His granddaughter, whilst she was staying with 
 him at Trowbridge, thought on one occasion she should 
 surprise and please her grandpapa by putting every book in 
 perfect order, making the best bound the most prominent. 
 But on his return, thanking her for her good intention, he 
 replaced every volume in its former state, " For," said he, 
 " my dear, grandpapa understands his own confusion better 
 than your order and neatness." 
 
 ONE OF THE FIRST MEN OF THE AGE. 
 
 Dr. Whately, whilst in Ireland, was very fond of familiarly 
 gossijjing with the head teachers of the model schools; but he 
 was not always very sparing of their feelings, if the oppor- 
 tunity for a joke came in their way. Addressing a talented 
 
 professor one day, he said, quite abruptly, " Mr. , you 
 
 are one of the first men of the age." " Eeally, your Grace," 
 replied the flattered Professor, bowing lowly, " you are too 
 kind, too complimentary. You over estimate the value of 
 my services, and of my httle publications, which owe their 
 chief merit to the liberal use I make in them of your Grace's 
 eminent works — " " I assert, sir, as a fact, that you are," 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 135 
 
 replied the Arohbisliop, "one of the first men of the age; " but 
 while the elated gentleman was bowing his thanks, the 
 heartless primatial punster added : " I understand you were 
 born January, 1801," and turning his back, walked off, un- 
 mindful of the height to which he first raised, and from which 
 he so unceremoniously hurled the professor. 
 
 GAINSBOROUGH AND THE ALDERMAN. 
 
 Amongst the sitters that came to Gainsborough was a 
 gentleman, whom Thicknesse calls an alderman and Allan 
 Cunningham a lord, but whose importance, whether derived 
 from a corporation or a peerage, was very apparent in his 
 erect mien, his richly laced coat, and his well-powdered wig. 
 Placing himself in an advantageous situation as to light, he 
 began to arrange his dress and dictate his attitude in a 
 manner so ludicrously elaborate that Grainsborough muttered, 
 " This will never do." His excellency, having at length 
 satisfactorily adjusted his person, exclaimed, "Now, sir, I 
 desire you not to overlook the dimple in my chin." " Con- 
 found the dimple in your chin," said Grainsborough ; "I 
 shall neither paiat the one nor the other;" and he refused to 
 proceed with the picture. 
 
 THE DUKE OF HAMILTON. 
 
 The late Duke of Hamilton was a keen sportsman, and 
 in all the manly exercises had few equals. His Grace was 
 partial to pugiKsm, and was also one of the best cricketers 
 of his day. There was a mark in Lord's old cricket ground, 
 at Marylebone, which was called "the Duke's stroke;" it 
 was of an unusual length, measuring from the wickot to 
 where the ball fell one huncbed and thirty-two yards, a 
 greater distance than a ball was almost ever struck, except 
 by his Grace. 
 
 Another of the Duke's amusements which he practised 
 to get an appetite for breakfast, was to take a wherry at 
 "Westminster Bridge, and to give a waterman a guinea to 
 
136 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 row against him to Chelsea, where, shoukl the waterman 
 arrive first (wliich was seldom the case), he had an additional 
 reward for his dexterity. 
 
 CHAKITAllLE DISPOSITION OF DR. "VVHATELY. 
 
 The power of Archbishop Whately's intellect is well- 
 known, but the munificence of his charity is comparatively 
 unknown. His generous disbursements are all the more 
 remarkable from the ardour with which he always inculcated 
 principles of economy. One of the copy heads supplied by 
 him to the children of the National Schools is, " A penny 
 saved is a penny gained." Dr. Whately's charity is also the 
 more striking from the pertinacity with which he always 
 laboured to disprove the merit of " good works." 
 
 A clergyman who made a touching appeal to his gene- 
 rosity was unhesitatingly accommodated with a loan of £400. 
 He deserted the Archbishop's lecees, and was not seen at the 
 palace, or heard of for many years after. One day Dr. 
 Whately's study door opened noiselessly, and the borrower 
 stood before him, presenting an aspect half suggestive of 
 Haydon's figure of " Lazarus," and half of the " Prodigal 
 Son's Eeturn."-. " Halloa ! " exclaimed the Archbishop 
 starting up to kill the fatted calf ; " what in the name of 
 wonder became of you so long ? " "I did not like to present 
 myself before your Grace," replied the clergyman, who was 
 a naan of high literary attainments and of higher principle, 
 "until I found myself in a position to return the sum which 
 you so generously lent me ; " saying which, he advanced to 
 the study table and deposited upon it a pile of bank notes. 
 " Tut, tut ! " said the Archbishop, taking the arm of his 
 visitor, "put up your money; and now come down with 
 me to luncheon." 
 
 A ripe scholar and gentleman died in Dublin, leaving his 
 family almost destitute. Dr. Whately having been made 
 acquainted with the circumstance, aided them by the munifi- 
 cent relief of £1000. A classical teacher was threatened by 
 
TUB SUFFOLK GARLAND. 137 
 
 a legal execution. Mr. N , on his behalf, represented 
 
 his painful situation to the Archbishop, who, having been 
 informed that £250 would make him a comparatively free 
 and happy man, tilled a cheque for that amount, and thus 
 averted the catastrophe. 
 
 At a meeting of the Irish Zoological Society, when a 
 
 subscription among the members was on foot, Dr. 
 
 suggested that Archbishop "Whately's name should be put 
 down for at least £50. " He has not got it," interposed 
 Sir Phihp Crampton ; "no one knows him better than I do ; 
 he gives away every farthing of his income, and so privately 
 is it bestowed, that the recipients themselves are the only 
 witnesses of his bounty. 
 
 Dr. Whately's generosity to the needy was not impulsive, 
 but well regulated. 
 
 In the warmth of argument at a dinner party at Dr. 
 Lloyd's, the following remark was drawn from him : "I have 
 
 been Archbishop of Dublin for years. I have given 
 
 away upwards of £50,000 in charity. I have doubtless 
 frequently erred, but there is one thing vsith which I cannot 
 reproach^ myself — I never relieved a beggar in the streets. 
 I take care so to administer relief as not to encourage vice, 
 or its mother, idleness." 
 
 To the poor of the district in which he resided. Dr. 
 Whately and his wife were steady friends. Every poor woman, 
 irrespective of her creed, had her weekly pension and bag of 
 coal. When he gave away considerable sums of money to 
 relieve deserving persons in temporary difficulties, he has 
 sometimes been knovrai to get them to sign a document 
 promising to repay the amount whenever able, not to himself, 
 but to persons circumstanced like those who had benefited 
 by his bounty. 
 
 From the first year of his episcopate to the last, he dis- 
 pensed, for the most part secretly, in charity, almost incredible 
 sums ; and he was thus an example to the rich men in his 
 diocese for plainness of living, and ready distribution of ^vhat 
 God had given. 
 
138 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 " HE.NSLOW A COMMON INFORMER. 
 
 At the election for members of Parliament for the town of 
 Cambridge, in 183j, the candidates were the Eight Hon. 
 Thomas Spring liice, Professor Pryme, Esq., and Sir J. L. 
 Knight Bruce. The contest between Mr. Pryme (Liberal) 
 and Sir J. L. Knight Bruce (Conservative) being very severe, 
 bribery was resorted to, and the Eeformers being made ac- 
 quainted with some glaring cases, resolved to prosecute some 
 of the most unscrupulous of the Tory partisans. A plaintiff 
 was necessary. Tradesmen did not like to occupy so promi- 
 nent a position, and the fear of vituperation made middle- 
 class men shrink from the performance of a public duty. The 
 committee appointed looked around them for a man who had 
 the moral courage to bear odium in a good cause. Professor 
 Henslow was suggested, and he did not hesitate one moment 
 when applied to, and became the nominal prosecutor. The 
 abuse and persecution which he had to sustain in consequence 
 of this proceeding is well known in Cambridge, and has been 
 often spoken of. Not only was the cry raised of " Henslow, 
 common informer," whenever he appeared in the streets, but 
 the same obnoxious words were written on the walls in such 
 large and enduring characters that for a quarter of a century 
 after the transaction they were distinctly visible in some 
 places. They were seen and smilingly pointed out to a 
 friend by the Professor himself, within twelve months of his 
 decease. His services were, however, deeply appreciated at 
 the time, for he received handsome testimonials, one from 
 the town of Cambridge, another from the town committee 
 appointed for the suppression of corruption, and a thii-d from 
 a committee of noblemen and gentlemen. 
 
 SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. 
 
 Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord Chancellor of England, but 
 chiefly famed for his handsome person, his taste in dress, and 
 his skill in dancing, resided at one time in Hatton Court, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLAND. 139 
 
 Ipswicli. He is said to have danced himself into the good 
 graces of Queen Elizabeth. When yotmg, he frequented the 
 theatres, and studied dancing under the best masters. His 
 abilities and agreeable manners caused him to be enrolled 
 among a small company of gentlemen who performed 
 masques at court. He thus had an opportunity of exhibiting 
 his accomplishments before the Queen, and the tender heart 
 of Elizabeth being at once touched by his athletic frame, 
 manly beauty, and graceful air, she openly expressed her 
 high admiration of his dancing. An oifer was instantly 
 made by her to admit him of the band of Gentlemen 
 Pensioners. He expressed great willingness- to renounce 
 his prospects in the profession of the law, but informed her 
 that he had incurred debts which were beginning to be trouble- 
 some to him. She advanced him money to pay them oif, at 
 the same time (more sito) taking a bond and statute merchant 
 to repay her when he should be of abihty. He was at first 
 only a Gentleman Pensioner, or private in the body guard, 
 but being henceforth the reigning favourite, his promotion 
 was rapid. He was successively made a Gentleman of the 
 Queen's Privy Chambers, Captain of the band of Gentlemen 
 Pensioners, Yice-Chamberlain, and a member of the Privy 
 Council ; at last receiving the honour of knighthood, which 
 was then considered as great a distinction as a peerage is 
 now. 
 
 He annually presented the Queen with a New-year's gift, 
 such as " a jewel of pizands of gold, adorned with rubies and 
 diamonds, and flowers set with rubies, with one pearl pen- 
 dant, and another at the top." In retm-n he received a 
 present of sUver guilt plate ; and it was remarked that, while 
 the portion of other courtiers never exceeded two hundred 
 ounces, and was seldom more than fifty, he never fell short of 
 four hundred. 
 
 Such marks of fondness gave rise to malicious whispers 
 about the court, and among the vulgar the Queen was openly 
 charged with lavishing her favours on the Vice-Chamberlain, 
 
1-iO THE SUFFOLK GARLA>-D. 
 
 and liis letters to her Majesty justify the suspicion. Like most 
 royal favourites he ^\'as ultimately neglected, and all con- 
 temporary accounts agree that the Queen's neglect and 
 cruelty had such an effect upon his spirits that he died of a 
 broken heart. In Trinity term, 1591, it was publicly observed 
 that he had lost his gaiety and good looks. He did not rally 
 during the Long Vacation, and when Michaelmas term came 
 round he was confined to his bed. His sad condition being 
 related to Elizabeth, all her former fondness for him revived, 
 and she herself hurried to his house in Ely Place, with 
 cordial broths, in the hope of restoring him. These she 
 warmed and offered him with her own hand, while he lay 
 in bed — adding many soothing expressions, and bidding him 
 live for her sahe. " But," he said, " all will not do ; no 
 pulleys will draw up a heart once cast down, though a 
 Queen herself should set her hand thereunto.'' 
 
 He died on the 21st of November, in the 52nd year of his 
 age, and had a most splendid funeral provided for him. The 
 Queen, to divert her grief, did all that laid in her power to 
 honour his memory. On the 16th of December, his remains 
 were interred in St. Paul's Cathedral, more than three 
 hundred Lords of the Council, nobles and Knights, attending 
 by her order, and her band of Gentlemen Pensioners, which 
 he had commanded, gaarding the procession. A sumptuous 
 monument was raised to him, which perished in the fire of 
 London. 
 
 BERNARD BARTOn's LOVE OF HUMOUR. 
 
 Bernard Barton was very fond of humour, and an innocent 
 joke was ever to him a soru?ce of pleasure. Writing to Miss 
 Emma Knight, who was away from home, staying with her 
 aunt who was " out of sorts," he says, " Would it do her any 
 good to come and keep a stall at the Ipswich Bazaar ? The 
 sight of a drab bonnet presiding at one of the stalls would 
 insure custom, I dare say, and I could write her some verses 
 to sell ; only she must give me timely notice." 
 
Till', srFFOIJv (IAIIT,AM). 141 
 
 On one occasion he addressed a letter as under — 
 
 " JoHM Majok, bookseller and peintkr, 
 Who lives in summer as in winter, 
 In short, the whole year round complete, 
 At Number 50, in Fleet Street, 
 In London's famed and crowded city ; 
 If not found there, the more's the pity." 
 
 In due time a reply came which bore the following — 
 
 " To Birnard Barton, far-famed writer, 
 Poetical and prose inditer, 
 Who makes a noise where'er he true folk. 
 Yet finds repose at Woodbridge, Suffolk ; 
 If not just now about those parts, 
 Inq^uire in all good people's hearts." 
 
 Dlt. EOWLAND TAYLOR AND BISHOP BONNEK. 
 
 Fox, the Martyrologist, says that after Dr. Taylor was 
 condemned, he was bestowed in the Clinke till it was towards 
 night, and then he was removed to the Counter near the 
 Poultry. On the 4th February, Bonner, Bishop of London, 
 came to the Counter to degrade him, first wishing him to 
 return to the Church of Rome, and promising him to sue 
 for his pardon. Whereunto Taylor answered, " I would you 
 and your followers would turn to Christ ; as for me I will not 
 t\irn to Antichrist." " Well," quoth the Bishop, " I am 
 come to degrade you, wherefore put on these vestures." 
 " No," quoth Dr. Taylor, " I will not." " Will thou not ? " 
 said the Bishop, " I shall make thee, ere I go." Quoth Dr. 
 Taylor, " You shall not, by the grace of Grod." Then Bonner 
 caused another to put them on his back, and when thus 
 arrayed, Taylor, walking up and down, said, " How say you, 
 my Lord, am I not a goodly fool ? How say my masters, if 
 I were in Cheap should I not have boys enough to laugh at 
 these apish toys and toying trumpery ? " The Bishop proceeded 
 with certain ceremonies till at the last, when according to the 
 form he should have struck Taylor on the breast with his 
 crosier, the Bishop's chaplain said, " My Lord, strike him 
 not, for he will sure strike thee again," Taylor favoured the 
 
14J THE SrFTOLK GARLAND. 
 
 chaplain's suspicion. " Tlie cause," said he, " is Christ's, and 
 I were no good Christian if I "would not fight in my Master's 
 quarrel." It appears that "the Bishop laid his curse upon 
 him, but struck him not," and after all was over, when he got 
 upstairs, he told Master Bradford (for both lay in one cham- 
 ber) " that he had made the Bishop of London afraid," for 
 saith he, laughingly, " His Chaplain gave him counsel not to 
 strike with his crosier staff, for that I would strike again ; and 
 by my oath," said he, rubbing his hands, " I made him 
 believe I would do so, indeed." 
 
 THE YEOMANRY CAVALRY CORPS. 
 
 To the ever active intelligence of Arthur Young, we believe 
 the credit is due of suggesting the establishment of Yeomanry 
 Cavalry Corps; but Sir Thomas Grooch, Bart., of Benacre Hall, 
 Suffolk, was the first person who proj)osed to Grovernment the 
 raising of Yeomanry Cavalry Corps in each district or hun- 
 dred, which soon after took place pretty generally through- 
 out Great Britain and Ireland. Sir Thomas made this pro- 
 posal in December, 1792, through Sir John Rous, to the 
 Bight Hon. William Pitt, at that time Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer. Sir John Eons took the command of the first 
 troop of Loyal Suffolk Yeomanry Cavalry, in which Sir 
 Thomas was first lieutenant. Sir Thomas also raised a corps 
 of Volunteer Infantry, consisting of three companies. 
 
 SELF-DENIAL OF AN EAST ANGLIAN KING. 
 
 Of the youthful Oswald, an East Anglian King, wlio, 
 during the nine j'ears of his reign, labom-ed to illusti'ate his 
 religion by a Christian life, and to benefit his time by a 
 consistent display of Christian graces, it is related that 
 during an Easter festival, a silver dish was filled with the 
 choicest danties, and presented for his refreshment. The 
 blessing was about to be pronounced, when the attendant "n-lio 
 had the office of relieving the poor informed his royal master 
 that the street was crowded with persons craving alms. The 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. Ho 
 
 sigM of tlie prepared deKoaoies silently reproached the con- 
 science of the sensitive monarch. Nor were the misgivings 
 felt in vain, which suggested that perhaps it was his own 
 seK-indulgence which occasioned the visitation of his people's 
 sufferings. Acting upon the impression that a king should 
 not feed luxuriously whUst his subjects were starving with 
 hunger, he declined, somewhat like David with the water at 
 the well of Bethlehem, the offered refreshment which touched 
 him with self-conviction. So, without tasting the dish, he 
 ordered it to be distributed among the needy supplicants. 
 It can be no matter of wonder that the benignant influence 
 of Christianity should be diffused through East AngHa, under 
 the mild and exemplary sway of a spirit so lowly and self- 
 denying. 
 
 UNEXPECTED BIRTH OF SIR EDWARD COKE. 
 
 Edward Coke, the future Lord Chief Justice, was born on 
 the 1st of February, 1551-2. He came into the world 
 unexpectedly, at the parlour fireside, before his mother 
 could be carried up to her bed; and from the extraordinary 
 energy which he then displayed, high expectations were 
 entertained of bis future greatness. This infantine exploit 
 he was fond of narrating in his old age. 
 
 SIR EDWARD COKe's SECOND JIARRIAGE. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke, dm-ing the life of his first wife, often 
 resided at Hiratingfield Hall, an estate he had acquired with 
 his wife ; but in 1598 he had the misfortune to lose her. 
 She died on the 27th of June, and was buried in Hunting- 
 field church on the 24th of July, "The delay being neces- 
 sary," says Lord Campbell, " for the pomp with which her 
 obsequies were celebrated." 
 
 From ambition and love of wealth, probably, rather than 
 from thrift — 
 
 " The funeral bak'd meats 
 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables," 
 
144 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GAIII,AXD. 
 
 There was then at Court a beautiful young widow, only 
 twenty years of age, left with an immense fortune, and 
 without children, highly connected, and celebrated for wit 
 as well as for birth, riches, and beauty. This was the Lady 
 Hatton ; she had been married to the nephew and heir of 
 Lord Chancellor Hatton, and her first husband died in 1597. 
 Coke immediately cast a longing eye on the widow's great 
 possessions, and resolving to declare himself her suitor, he 
 took the first opportunity to open his scheme to Lady 
 Hatton's father and uncle. They, looking to his great 
 wealth and high position, said they would not oppose it. 
 What means were employed to win the lady's consent is 
 unknown, but as he never appears to have won her affections, 
 the probabihty is that she succumbed to the importunities of 
 ]ier relations. But though she consented to become his wife, 
 she resolutely refused to be paraded in the face of the Chm-ch 
 as the bride of the old wrinkled Attorney-Greneral, who was 
 bordering on fifty — an age that appeared to her like 
 Methuselah; and she would only consent to a clandestine 
 marriage by a priest, in a private house, in the presence of 
 two or three witnesses. But here a great difficulty presented 
 itself, for Ai'chbishop Whitgift laad just thundered from 
 Lambeth an anathema against irregular marriages ; and it 
 was an awkward thing for the first law officer of the crown, 
 celebrated for his judicial knowledge, and alwaj^s professing 
 a profound reverence for ecclesiastical authority, to set at 
 defiance the sjjiritual head of the Church, and to run the 
 risk of being debarred from the sacrament, forfeiting his 
 property, and be liable to perpetual imprisonment. How- 
 ever, Coke determined to run all risks rather than lose the 
 prize within his reach, and on the 24th November, 1598, in 
 the evening, in a private house, without license or banns, he 
 was married to Lady Hatton, in the j)resenco of her father, 
 who gave her away. 
 
 Proceedings were instituted by tlie Ai'clibishop against 
 Coke, the bride, the Lord Burleigh, and tienry Bathwell, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 145 
 
 the rector of Okeover, wlio had performed the ceremony ; but 
 Mr. Attorney- G-eneral made a most humble submission, and 
 in consequence there was passed a dispensation under the 
 Archiepiscopal Seal, absolving all the defendants from the 
 penalties they had incurred. 
 
 SIR EDWARD COKe's DISLIKE OF DOCTORS. 
 
 Till he met with an accident by falling from his horse, Sir 
 Edward Coke refused " all dealings with doctors." When 
 turned of eighty, and his strength decHning rapidly, a 
 vigorous attempt was made to induce him to take medical 
 advice, and a friend of his sent two or three doctors to 
 regulate his health. But he told them that he had never 
 taken physic since he was bom, and would not now begin, 
 and that he had now upon him a disease which all the drugs 
 of Asia, the gold of Africa, and all the doctors of Europe 
 could not cure — old age. He therefore thanked them and 
 dismissed them nobly, with a reward of twenty pieces to each 
 man. 
 
 THE KING OF THE BELGIANS AND ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. 
 
 Archbishop Whately was an odd man in many ways. He 
 did not like people to ask him to dinner for the purpose of 
 making a hon of him during feeding time ; those who 
 ventured to do so often got an ominous dash of his great 
 mane in their face. If he thought that people tried to make 
 him a buffoon, no bust of Socrates could appear more grave. 
 Clumsily try to draw him out, and he at once shut up. And 
 hereby hangs a tale. 
 
 The Eang of the Belgians, having heard an animated 
 description of Dr. Whately's conversational powers, which 
 he was anxious to test, favoured him, when passing through 
 Belgium, with an invitation to dinner at Laeken. The Arch- 
 bishop, to the surprise of every one, and to the special dis- 
 appointment of the King, maintained throughout the evening 
 a complete impagsiveness. Pegs were dropped, but the Prelate 
 
146 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 folded himself in reserve, and refused to Lang- liis usually 
 ready wit upon them. It was time to say something, and 
 Dr. Whately, when ahout to take leave, said, " Yom' Majesty 
 has done infinite mischief to all the kingdoms of the earth ! " 
 Leopold smiled a ghastly smile, while some ofScious listeners 
 with, as they themselves thought, much tact, made an attempt 
 to tm-n the conversation. " My reason," said the Archbishop, 
 ■'"for saying that your Majesty has done infinite mischief to 
 all the kingdoms of the earth is, because you have taught 
 your people the blessings of an elective monarchy." 
 
 GAINSBOROUGH AND REYNOLDS. 
 
 Between Gainsborough and Eeynolds a very jealous feeling 
 existed for many years, but these illustrious rivals, never- 
 theless, fully admitted each other's excellence. " D — n him, 
 how various he is ! " exclaimed Gainsborough, as he passed 
 before the pictiu-es of Eeynolds in one of the exhibitions. 
 " I cannot think how he produces his effects," said Reynolds, 
 while examining a portrait by Gainsborough. These were 
 greater praises, considering from whom they came, than 
 volumes of encomium from ordinary critics. 
 
 BISHOP BLOMFIELD AND THE REFORM BILL. 
 
 In the storm of popular indignation which followed the 
 rejection of the Eeform Bill, when the Whig press declared 
 with one voice that the doom of the episcopal bench was 
 sealed, Bishop Blomfield did not escape entu'ely unnoticed. 
 He had pm-posely absented himself from the House of Lords 
 on that memorable occasion, when at half-past six o'clock, on 
 the morning of the 8th of October, the bill was thrown out 
 by a majority of forty-one, of whom twenty-one were bishops. 
 "The Times" said: " The Bishop of London did not vote 
 against the bill ; but then he did not vote for it, and the 
 nation will not be served by halves." The parishioners of St. 
 Anne's, Soho, seeing it annoimced that Bishop Blomfield was 
 to preach in their church on October 23rd, signified to the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAND. 147 
 
 rector their intention of walking out in a body Avhen the 
 Bishop should appear in the pulpit. " Such a proof," said 
 " The Times," " of public antipathy towards the entire order 
 is without example in modern history, and is worth a whole 
 library of comments." The Bishop, accordingly, thought it 
 priident not to fulfil his engagement. 
 
 LORD THUULOW AT WARREX HASTIXg's TRIAL. 
 
 On one occasion, during the progress of the trial of Warren 
 Hastings, Mr. Fox, struck by the solemnity of Lord 
 Thurlow's appearance, said to the Speaker, "I wonder 
 whether any man ever was so wise as Thurlow looks." Lord 
 Brougham describes Fox's remark with a difference : " It was 
 more solemn and imposing than almost any other person in 
 pubho life, so much that it proved dishonest, since no man 
 could be so wise as he looked." " Nor," says Lord Brougham, 
 " did Thm'low neglect any of the external circumstances, how 
 trifling soever, by which attention and deference could be 
 secured on the part of his audience. Not only were the 
 periods well rounded, and the connecting matter or continu- 
 ing phrases well flung in, but the tongue was so hung as to 
 make the sonorous voice peal through the hall, and appear to 
 convey things which it would be awful to examine, too near 
 and perilous to question. Nay, to the more trivial circum- 
 stances of his place, when addressing the House of Lords, he 
 scrupulously attended. He rose slowly from his seat, he left 
 the woolsack with deliberation ; but he went not to the nearest 
 place, like ordinary Chancellors, the sons of mortal men ; he 
 drew back a pace or two, and standing as it were askance, 
 and partly behind the huge ball he had quitted for a season, 
 he began to pour out, first in a growl, and then in a clearer 
 and louder roll, the matter which he had to deliver, and 
 which for the most part consisted in some positive assertions, 
 some personal vituperations, some sarcasms at classes, some 
 sentences pronounced upon individuals as if they were stand- 
 ing before him for judgment, some vague, mysterious threats 
 
148 
 
 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 of things purposely not expressed, and abundant protestations 
 of conscience and duty in whicli they who keep the con- 
 sciences of kings are apt to indulge." 
 
 BISHOP BLOMFIELD's OPINION OF ROWLAND HILL. 
 
 Dr. Blomfield confessed that he had never heard but one 
 good preacher, and that was Eowland Hill. Dr. Maltby 
 accompanied Dr. Blomfield, and greatly admired the dis- 
 course; but when Mr. Hill floundered in attempting two 
 pieces of Greek criticism, the two future Bishops sat and 
 winked at each other. 
 
 A BISHOP AT BOWLS. 
 
 Strype says of Bishop Aylmer, that he was diligent, con- 
 scientious, and exact in the discharge of his duties, and 
 careful in the ordination of ministers ; yet he ordained his 
 hall porter as a miuister, and justified it on the ground of the 
 small stipend of the place where he was appoLated to preach. 
 Daily service was regularly perfoi-med in the Bishop's palace, 
 and his whole household, consisting of about four score 
 persons, had to attend. Yet the Bishop was so fond of 
 bowling as a recreation, that he not only resorted to it at 
 every leisure opportunity, but regularly amused himself at 
 this practice on Sundays, after evening prayer. His eager- 
 ness to get at his enjoyment, and his occasional vulgarity of 
 expression, exposed him to the censure of many. Martin 
 Marprelate says, " that he would spare him for that time, 
 because it may be he was at his bowls ; and it was a pity to 
 trouble him, lest he swore." 
 
 whately's conversational powers. 
 
 In the unrestrained ease of the social circle. Dr. Whately 
 was a very diflerent character to what he was as a pubho 
 legislator. In the first he was in the morning gown, sKppers, 
 and easy chair ; as the public orator, he was strait-laced by 
 Calviuistic influences around, and pinched by the tight, silver 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 149 
 
 buckled slioes vnth. which he tried to pick his steps among 
 the traps that were set for him. In the pleasant talk of 
 social iatercourse he was a GoHath ; put him on his legs, and 
 his muscles became unstrung, and the contrast between Dr. 
 Whately in homely society and Dr. Whately on the bench of 
 bishops was thus very striking. 
 
 His conversation was as finished as Macaulay's studied 
 sentences, and his marvellous power of impromptu quotation 
 and illustration as ready, rich, and happy. He was never 
 heard, either in abstruse discussion or in casual converse, to 
 correct, or improve, or explain his words : all dropped from 
 him as clear and as rightly placed as in his printed books. 
 His mirth was enlivening, his raillery searching. Startling 
 comparisons were warmed by genial humour, and made 
 more attractive by flashes of keen and sparkling wit. The 
 sharpness of the wit, however, was sometimes painful to 
 bear, but he does not seem to have had a notion of the 
 stinging vigour of his words, and he thus often inflicted pain 
 without the slightest idea that he had done so. He delighted 
 in the oddities of thought, in queer, quaiat distinctions ; and 
 if an object had by any possibility some strange or distorted 
 side, he would be sure to draw it in that hght for the amuse- 
 ment of the company. His fund of anecdotes, alike from 
 ancient lore and " modem instances," was inexhaustible and 
 always ready at command ; and though he could relate them 
 with the raciest piquancy and point, he never told one for the 
 anecdote's sake — always to mark some fallacy, or illustrate a 
 moral truth. 
 
 That he was somewhat of a monopolist in conversation may 
 be thus proved. During the latter years of his Hfe he con- 
 sented to flu the honorary ofiice of Vice-President of the 
 Eoyal Irish Academy, and in that capacity used sometimes 
 to saunter into the Academy during an evening meeting, 
 attended by three or four of his favourite chaplains ; but he 
 always took up a position in a room different from that in 
 which the meeting was being held, and started an opposition 
 
150 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 entertainment in the shape of a conrcrmzoine, if such it could 
 be called, when the Archhishop talked the whole time him- 
 self. This marvellous flow of talk began about seven, and 
 generally lasted until after eleven o'clock. 
 
 CRABBE AND THE CONJUROR. 
 
 Wliilst Crabbe was an apprentice to the surgeon at 
 Wickham-Brook, he was often employed in the drudgery of 
 the farm which his master occupied, was made the bed- 
 fellow and companion of the plough boy, and carried out 
 the medicines on foot to the patients in the neighbouring 
 villages. On day, as he mixed with the herd of lads at the 
 public-house, to see the exhibition of a conjuror, the magician, 
 having worked many wonders, changed a white ball to a 
 black, exelaiming, " Quiqtie oUm alhiis erat nunc est contrarins 
 albo; and I suppose none of you can tell me what that 
 
 means?" "Yes, lean," said Greorge. "The d 1 you 
 
 can," rephed he of the magic wand, eyeing his garb; "I 
 suppose you picked up your Latin in a turnip field ? " Not 
 daunted by the laughter that followed, Crabbe gave the 
 interpretation, and received from the seer a condescending 
 compliment. 
 
 LORD THURLOW AND GEORGE III. 
 
 Lord Thm-low over estimated his personal influence with the 
 King in treating Mr. Pitt with hauteur ; and Lord North 
 foretold that, whenever Pitt said to the Eang, " Sire, the 
 Great Seal must be in other hands," the King would take 
 the Seal from Lord Thurlow, and never think anything more 
 about him. It tiu-ned out exactly as Lord North had said ; 
 the King took the Great Seal from Lord Thurlow, and never 
 . concerned himself about him afterwards. This mortified 
 Thurlow severely, and he is known to have said, " No man 
 has a right to treat another in the way in which the King 
 has treated me ; we cannot meet again in the same room." 
 He now became so incensed with Mr. Pitt and his ministry 
 
THE SUFFOTJv G VRLAND. 1'">1 
 
 as to acouss them of having imposed upon the King in ad- 
 vising a measure for the enoom-agement of the growth of 
 timber in the New Forest. 
 
 After the Cabinet to which Lord Thurlow belonged was 
 broken up, and he was made a Baron and laid on the shelf, 
 in the hope of regaining his ascendancy he took an un- 
 comfortable villa, which had only the recommendation of 
 being in the vicinity of Windsor Castle, and there for three 
 years he was to be seen dancing attendance upon royalty, 
 imnotioed and neglected by the King, who, when he heard ■ 
 of his late Chancellor's death, after an illness of a few hours, 
 having cautiously inquired of the messenger if he were really 
 dead, coldly observed, " Then he has not left a worse man 
 behiad him," "though the phrase which the king actually 
 used was," says Lord Brougham, " less decorous and more 
 unfeeling than the above." 
 
 CHAXTEEY AXD CONSTABLE. 
 
 Leslie, speaking of " Hadleigh Castle," a picture of 
 Constable's that was exhibited in 1829, says, " I witnessed 
 an amusing scene before this picture at the Academy, on 
 one of the varnishing days. Chantrey told Constable its 
 foreground was too cold, and taking his pallette from him he 
 passed a strong glassing of asphaltum all over that part of 
 the picture, and while this was going on, Constable, who 
 stood behind him in some degree of alarm, said to me, 
 " There goes all my dew." He held in great respect 
 Chantrey's judgment in most matters, but this did not 
 prevent his carefully taking from the picture all that the 
 great sculptor had clone for it. 
 
 REVERENCE FOR IMAGES. 
 
 Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester wrote to Bishop 
 Eidley, remonstrating against what he considered the excesses 
 of Ridley's friends. Gardiner humorously remarks, " After 
 all, there is not much real superstition connected with images. 
 
152 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Men knelt before the silver crucifix ; but the churchwarden 
 who took it home from church was not afraid, like a reason- 
 able man, to drink a pot of ale while the precious thing was 
 under his gown." 
 
 SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTOn's LOVE OF DANCING. 
 
 Even while holding the Great Seal, Sir Christopher 
 Hatton's highest delight contiuued to be in dancing, and 
 as often as he had an opportimity he abandoned himself to 
 this amusement. Attending the marriage of his nephew 
 and heir with a judge's daughter, he was decked according 
 to the custom of the age in his official robes, and it is 
 recorded that when the music struck up, he doifed them, 
 threw them down on the floor, and saying, " Lie there, 
 Mr. Chancellor! " danced the measures at the nuptial 
 festivity. 
 
 LYING ON BOTH SIDES. 
 
 When presiding in the Court of Chancery, Sir- Christopher 
 Hatton disarmed his censurers by courtesy and good humour, 
 and he occasionally ventured on a joke. At one time, when 
 there was a ease before him respecting the boundaries of an 
 estate, a plan being produced, the counsel on one part said, 
 " We lie on this side, my Lord ; " and the counsel on the 
 other part said, "And we lie on this side, my Lord." 
 Whereupon the Lord Chancellor Hatton stood up, and 
 said, "If you lie on both sides, whom will you have me 
 believe ? " 
 
 SIR GERARD VANNECk's ELECTION. 
 
 When Sir Gerard Yanneck was on his canvass for Suffolk, 
 in 1790, his sister was very active in endeavouring to secm-e 
 all the interest she could. A freeholder who had long 
 admired Sir Gerard's very fine breed of greyhounds, was 
 much solicited on this occasion, and he is said to have replied 
 to the fair hand who requested his vote, somewhat bluntly 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 153 
 
 but specifically, " That if Miss Vannech would give him a leap 
 of her famous, Bun, he loas her man." His ■wishes to mend the 
 breed of his greyhounds was, of course, complied with, and 
 the vote Was secured. 
 
 constable's opinion of his abt. 
 
 After Constable's death the following scrap was found 
 among his papers, in his own hand- writing : — "My art 
 flatters nobody by imitation ; it courts nobody by smoothness ; 
 it tickles nobody hj petiteness ; it is without /a/ de lal or fiddle 
 de dee. How then can I hope to be popular ? " 
 
 habits of dr. whately. 
 
 Whilst residing at Stillorgan, Archbishop Whately had a 
 complete set of garden untensils, with which he used to Work 
 constantly, and often stripped himself to his shirt sleeves 
 during the operation. He was attached to horticulture — 
 especially fond of grafting, and his demesne at E,edesdale 
 contained a thousand standard specimens of the art, straight 
 from his Grace's own hands. When engaged in the operation 
 of cutting down trees, or grafting, he wore an apron — 
 a veritable Bishop's apron — which had been worn out in 
 episcopal service, or, at least, had become too shabby to wear 
 in ordinary. He was ia the habit of making two daily 
 circuits of his demesne, attended by a ponderous walking- 
 stick with a steel blade at the end, whereby he served 
 both his own health and that of the trees and vegetation 
 around, by looping off decayed branches, pruning unwhole- 
 some redundancies of foliage, or in annihilatuig with the 
 strong sweep of a dragoon, the indomitably propagative 
 weeds which in irregular squares nodded defiance at 
 him. 
 
 The Archbishop's tastes were extremely simple and unosten- 
 tatious, unlike his predecessor. Dr. Magee, who loved display, 
 and united the ambition of a Wolsey with the reHgious 
 intolerance of a Knox. Dr. Whately hated parade or pomp. 
 
1-34 
 
 THE STTFFOLK GAELA>;1). 
 
 The gilded decorations in the palace at Stephen's Green, 
 which cost Dr. Magee so large a sum of naoney, were 
 particularly obnoxious to Dr. Whately, and he had no sooner 
 crossed the threshold of his new dwelling, than he threatened 
 to have them all white-washed, and the walls of the palace 
 dining-room came alm.08t literally under this description. 
 There was no state or elegance in his equipages, or manner 
 of living ; both were plain and much below what was 
 consistent with his rank and position. 
 
 GEORGE IV. AND SIR CHARLES BUNBURY. 
 
 Sir Charles Bunbury, Bart., was one of the Stewards, 
 and for many years one of the most influential members of 
 the Jockey Chib. George lY., whilst Prince of Wales, 
 solicited Sir Charles's help in one of the awkward tiu'f 
 subjects. One of the Prince of Wales' horses (Escape) had 
 lost a race which he was expected to win, and had won when 
 he was expected to lose. The sporting world raised a furious 
 clamour, which was re-echoed in the newsj)apers and the 
 clubs of London. Imputations of foul play were cast very 
 generally on the Prince's jockey (Chifney), and there were 
 even found persons so audaciously disposed as to throw dirt 
 at his Eioyal Highness himself. Hinc illoe lachrymce. The 
 Prince in consequence thus writes : — 
 
 ' ' DeAE BUNBTJET, 
 
 " I found on my arrival in London so many infamous 
 and rascally lies fabricated, relative to the affair that happened at 
 Newmarket, by republican scribblers, and studiously circulated through 
 the country, that I judge it absolutely necessary that these calumnies 
 should be contradicted in the most authentic manner. After having 
 consulted with several of my friends, I leave what is passed, and the mode 
 of contradiction, to be discussed between j'ou and ray friend Sheridan, 
 who has been so good as to undertake the arrangement of this unpleasant 
 business for me, and which is of more consequence than you can 
 imagine. 
 
 "I am, dear Bunbury," etc., etc. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 105 
 
 HABITS AXD MAXNEES OF DR. HYDE 'WOLLASTON. 
 
 "William Hyde "WoUaston, M.D., a name inseparably con- 
 nected mth cliemical science, a man who, it is said, by tbe 
 discoyery of the malleability of platinimi, realized £30,000, 
 resided for some years at Bury St. Edmund's. He was the 
 third son of the E,ev. Francis "Wollaston, F.E..S., rector of 
 Chislehurst, in Kent. He seems to have been nm'sed in the 
 lap of science, for his father's sister was the wife of the 
 celebrated Dr. Heberden; his father was distinguished for 
 astronomical pursuits, and his elder brother became Jacksonian 
 Professor at Cambridge. William was educated at the Charter 
 House, and afterwards went to Caius College, Cambridge, 
 where he became a fellow, and received the degree of M.D. 
 Upon quitting .Alma Mater, he began his career at Hunting- 
 don, but soon removed to Bury St. Edmunds', a town in 
 which an uncle of his, Dr. Charlton WoUaston, had been 
 well known as an eminent physician, and where some con- 
 nections of the same name were still residing. Here his skill 
 and kind manner soon won for him a reputation, and the 
 friendship of some of the best and most intelligent residents 
 of Bury and its neighbourhood. One of these friends, the 
 kind-hearted Rev. Henry Hasted, read a paper before the 
 members of the Bury and West Suffolk Archseological Insti- 
 tute, containing recollections of his friend Dr. WoUaston ; and 
 to- that article we are indebted for the "reminiscences " which 
 we now give. 
 
 Dr. WoUaston was fond of botany, and soon knew the 
 habits of every rare plant in the neighbourhood of Bury St. 
 Edmund's. Nothing escaped his eye. When crossing a 
 heath at a smart trot, he suddenly pulled up, and exclaimed, 
 ''There's the Liiiiim racUoIa" a plant well known, but so 
 minute that his companion, when alighted from his horse and 
 looking close to the ground, could scarcely at first descry it. 
 He told a friend that he had made it a rule when he first 
 took seriously to the study of botany, never to pass a flower 
 
156 THE StrFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 or any particular plant without repeating to himself its 
 trivial and its botanical name. This exact observation was 
 characteristic of the man ; every notable spring, or mineral, 
 or tree in the neighbourhood was known, experiments made 
 on them in his little study, with a few small phials, tests, and 
 watch-glasses ; the time of leafing and flowering of plants, 
 the notes and scales of birds, the habits of animals, the 
 motion and velocity of the clouds and winds, were to him 
 " sermons in stones, and food in everything ; " and when the 
 day was gone, the stars were looked at with an artificial 
 horizon of quicksilver in a saucer. 
 
 Great was the variety of his pursuits. His knowledge was 
 very general, and ready to be communicated ; indeed, it was 
 scarcely possible to be in Dr. WoUaston's company half-an- 
 hoiir without learning something, without hearing some new 
 fact or having some old one put ia a new light, almost inci- 
 dentally, without effort or design. There was a kiadness in 
 the manner of communicating it ; but if any great error was 
 asserted, with a certain look or a single question, he would 
 convince the assertor that he was wrong. His presence was 
 courted by all; even in female society, it was remarked, 
 " "We are always glad to have William Wollaston to join our 
 circle, for he always suggests something or other about om- 
 work, or what happens to be before us, which we were not 
 aware of before;" and amongst the young, those at least who 
 had any mind or any desire to learn, he entered into all their 
 views and cheerfulness, the "playmate, ere the teacher of 
 their miad," or rather, the teacher, while he seemed to be 
 their playmate. 
 
 Intimately acquainted with Sir Henry Bunbury, he used 
 occasionally to visit the worthy Baronet at Barton or at 
 Mildenhall, and he had always some new object of inquiry in 
 his mind or some new discovery to communicate. One year, 
 when a large party had assembled in the library, he pretended 
 to be examining a book in a distant corner, and sounded an 
 extremely acute note on his little pipe, and glanced round to 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 157 
 
 obserye who caught the sound and who were unconscious of 
 it. At another time he entered the room, blowing before 
 him a tissue woven by spiders. One year he set Sir Henry 
 drawing the human face in all directions, and invited argu- 
 ments on his theory as to the principle on which one may 
 account for the eyes of a portrait following the spectator 
 through his changes of position. He was always inquisitive 
 as to the observations made by persons who had happened to 
 see trees struck by lightning. His own conviction appeared 
 to be that the shattering of the bark and wood was occasioned 
 by the sudden conversion of the sap and moisture into ex- 
 plosive gas. Likewise, he was cmious in his inquiries as to 
 what had been observed when meteoric stones had fallen, or 
 particularly whether any one had seen the moving body, and 
 could say whether it was falling obliquely or perpendicularly. 
 He was very fond of playing at bilHards ; but his principal 
 amusement seemed to be in watching the effect of one ball 
 upon another, and the various effects produced by striking 
 with the cue above, or below, or one side of the centre of the 
 ball. He was likewise fond of chess, and he played the game 
 well ; but if he met with an antagonist who was rather 
 superior to him, it was pleasing to see how Wollaston would 
 buckle himself to his work, and sit up half the night con- 
 tending for victory with all the ardour of a young man. He 
 had a singularly piercing eye, and his friends well remember 
 how he seemed to look into one's mind whilst he waited for 
 an answer to an inquiry on an any subject in which he felt 
 an interest, and the brief, expressive " good " with which he 
 greeted the explanation, if it was satisfactory to him. 
 
 His kindness and manner in a sick room were no less 
 proverbial than his skill and judgment. He was reserved, 
 and this was by some mistaken for indifference, not knowing 
 the extreme sensitiveness of his temperament, or that under 
 a coldness of manner there lay hid a great warmth of heart. 
 Soon after he came to Bury he was called in to attend a case 
 that was thought very serious. Immediately after seeing 
 
158 THE SUFl'OLK GAHLAND. 
 
 the patient, he was asked his ojDinion of his condition ; he 
 replied, " You must consider I am a young man. I see 
 nothing to be alarmed at ; but you cannot expect me to 
 speak at once decidedly," and he burst into tears. He was 
 right in the oj)inion which he afterwards gave, as well as 
 m his treatment of the case, but the circumstance showed, 
 even in early clays, what he suffered when having a patient 
 seriously ill under his care. His acute sympathy with suffer- 
 ing led afterwards to his giving up the medical profession. 
 
 As a pJirjsician he stood deservedly high, but his friends 
 felt that he was calculated for a higher meridian than Bury 
 St. Edmund's, that London was the proper place for him ; 
 and thither, more in compliance with their urgency than his 
 own wish, in 1797 he removed. For observing or hearing 
 of anything that was remarkable he was now at the fountain 
 head, but he went on with his profession for a short time 
 only. Trifling cases or imaginary ills he was not inclined to 
 attend to ; serious ones gave him pain, and in the year 1800 
 he gave up practising as a physician. He had previously 
 given his friend Hasted reason to think that the practice of 
 physio " was not calculated to make him happy," and on 
 relinquishing it he said, " IJpon the common calculation my 
 life may last so many years, would you for any compensation 
 submit to be flogged every day during that period ? Then do 
 forgive me if I decline that mental flagellation termed anxiety, 
 compared with which the loss of thousands is a flea bite." 
 
 Released thus from professional ties he was more at 
 leism-e for science, and he accompanied two friends on a 
 tour to the lakes. Geology, as a study, was at that time in 
 its infancy, but with the forms, fashions, and contents of the 
 hills he seemed already well acquainted. He could oidy 
 take the outline of the districts, for neither himself nor his 
 friend could draw well, and they lamented their inability. 
 This led to one of his nice inventions. When one of his 
 friends called on him a few months afterwards, in town, he 
 foimd him with a minute, trimcated, and half-silvered prism. 
 
TUB SUri'OI.K GAKLANU. 159 
 
 fastened ^\•itll Bealing wax to a piece of wire. " Look," 
 said he, " liere is the very thing we wanted at the lakes ; " 
 and very soon came forth that elegant and very useful little 
 instrument, the " Camera Luoida." 
 
 A similar accident produced another most serviceable in- 
 strument in chrystalography, the reflective goniometer, and 
 in later days another still, viz., the synoptic scale, for chemical 
 equivalents and monetary calculations. 
 
 Electricity was, as may he expected, a frequent subject of 
 his investigation, and when that modification of it, galvanism 
 and the voltaic pile, was first announced, he wrote, " I cannot 
 WTite vnthout a few words upon the most curious discovery 
 (as it appears to me), unless we except cow-pox, which has 
 been made in our time (describing the voltaic pile). 
 Nicholson and Carlisle have already made the apparatus, 
 and in one week added some very important facts on the 
 decomposition of water by it." He had a minute tube in 
 his pocket, which, with a wire, connecting through a few drops 
 of muriate acid the zinc and the silver, showed the whole 
 principle, and first set Dr. Currie on the right scent. 
 
 He soon made chemical matters, more particularly pla- 
 tinum, his study, and the union of science with diligence 
 produced a due result — the labours of the philosopher not 
 quite leading to the philosopher's stone, but turning a great 
 deal into gold, not only placing himself at ease, but enabling 
 him to do most hberal acts. It is said that when a near 
 connexion wished for and requested him to obtain by his 
 solicitation some place under Grovernment, he said that he 
 had never applied for himself or any other, and never would 
 sacrifice his independence by so doing ; but as a better mode 
 of assisting he sent him the enclosed (it was a cheque, it is 
 said, for £6000). A short time before his death he gave to 
 the Geological Society £1000, and to the Eoyal Society 
 £2000, three per cent, reduced, the dividends arising there- 
 from to be applied in promoting or rewarding scientific 
 researches ; and when he could no longer live to benefit the 
 
1(50 THE SLFFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 living by such deeds, lie bequeathed to every member of his 
 family a very considerable sum. 
 
 At ease and at liberty now to walk in the paths of science, 
 he was ever pursuing them. His knowledge was universally 
 admitted, his opinion repeatedly asked, and so cautious and 
 sure was his judgment that those who were in the habit of 
 asking it frequently gave him the name of " The Pope." 
 When in the country he was not disinclined to country 
 amusements. He took to fishing and even to shooting 
 during the last twelve years of his hfe, and by watching and 
 following the habits of his prey, and his observations of the 
 difierent modes of rising or moving of birds when on wing, 
 he generally succeeded. Sir Humphrey Davy, speaking of 
 Dr. WoUaston, says "that he became a distinguished fly- 
 fisher, and that the amusement occupied many of his leisure 
 hours during the last few years of his life, and that he ap- 
 plied his pre-eminent acuteness, his science, and his philoso- 
 phy, to aid the resources and exalt the pleasures of this 
 amusement. Whether detecting by certain remains that 
 hyajuas had inhabited the Yorkshire caves, or the manner 
 in which silkworms devoured the leaves of mulberries; 
 whether finding that enamelled glass might be tickled to 
 pieces by a particle of flint, or a web from its tenuity float 
 in a room, there was some observation or reasoning pecu- 
 liarly his own ; and in the street or the study, in town or in 
 the country ; whether angling for trout, or testing for ele- 
 ments ; whether attending to the " crops of partridges, or the 
 outcropping of strata," there was the same readiness and 
 keenness of mind. 
 
 He was fond of music, and attended the ancient concerts, 
 and hked pictures, and could beat the automaton at a game 
 of chess. The latter years of his Hfe were the happiest, as ho 
 could indulge in any taste he wished. At Sir Henry 
 Bunbury's he sometimes met Lyall, Sedgwick, Horner, and 
 Mrs. Somerville, and on such occasions he entered heartily 
 into the enjoyments of social hfe. 
 
THK SUFl-(n,K GARLAXl). 161 
 
 When he found his health failing, he consulted a medical 
 friend, descrihing the symptoms as if they were those of 
 another person. From the reply of his friend, who httle 
 thought they related to himself, it appeared that there was 
 mischief near the brain, affecting the eyesight, producing 
 paralysis, and foreboding what must soon be the termination. 
 Eyen then he ceased not to " labour in his vocation ; " what 
 he considered his work was still uppermost in his mind. 
 For many days previous to his death, experiments were 
 carried on under his direction in the room adjoining that 
 in which he lay, and almost at the last he seemed desirous to 
 show how far disease could proceed without utterly destroying 
 consciousness. When some friends around his bed were 
 doubting whether he still retained his mental faculties, he 
 made signs, as was his custom when unable to speak, for a 
 pencil and paper ; having written a few columns of numbers, 
 he summed them up, and the sum waK correct. He soon after 
 expired, December 28th, 1828. 
 
II. 
 
 fckts €mtm^, ^ma §ocmmk, tic 
 
II. 
 
 
 FOLK LORE OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 We may say witliout any disparagement that the county 
 of Suffolk is a stronghold of superstition, and the inhabitants 
 of many of the villages do their best to preserve the fast 
 fading remnants of the old beliefs and customs of their 
 ancestors. Even belief in ■witchcraft is not altogether 
 vanished, though we do not now oblige the poor, ugly, and 
 elderly dames to sink or swim in the parish duck pond. 
 
 As the inhabitants of our rural districts believe in many 
 things not admitted into the creeds of the more intelligent 
 inhabitants of our towns, we embrace this opportunity to 
 string together some old adages and popular superstitions 
 that prevail among our labouring classes, in order that the 
 more intelligent may be made acquainted with the dense 
 mass of crude ignorance that surrounds them. 
 
 First of all we will glance at the proverbs respecting the 
 "weather." Prognostications of fair or foul weather are 
 very general. The husbandmen in the rural districts believe 
 
166 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 tliat " a red west" is a sign of wind, and " a red east " is a 
 sign of rain, or as some of the peasants give it, in rhyme — 
 
 " Evening red. and morning grey, 
 Send the traveller on his way ; 
 But evening grey, and morning red, 
 Send the traveller wet to bed." 
 
 The appearance of the rainbow is always noted by the 
 shepherd, for — 
 
 " A rainbow at morning 
 Is the shepherd's warning ; 
 But a rainbow at night 
 Is the shepherd's delight." 
 
 "A burr," that is, a halo, "round the moon is a sign of 
 rain," if it is large. The proverb is — 
 
 " Far burr, near rain ; 
 Near burr, far rain." 
 
 In autmnn — 
 
 " A mackerel sky 
 Is either very wet or very dry." 
 
 If the wind veers to the north and continues there in a 
 dry season, there will be no rain while the wind remains 
 northerly ; on the contrary, if the Avind veers to the north in 
 a loet season, it will continue wet so long as the wind remains 
 in the same quarter. In whatever point the wind stands 
 when the sun crosses the line on the 21st of March, it will 
 remain principally in that direction until the 21st of June. 
 
 When a robin sings at the bottom of a bush it betokens 
 bad weather, but if he sings at the top of a bush it %vill be 
 fair. 
 
 The flight of wild fowl in the winter is alwaj^s regarded 
 as the precursor of severe weather. 
 
 Another proverb is thus expressed — 
 
 " March dry, good rye ; 
 April wet, good wheat." 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllL.VNU. 1G7 
 
 WliGii you see the grey " shepherd's flook " before eight 
 o'clock in the morning, it will rain before night. 
 
 "If it rains before seven, 
 'Twill oease before eleven." 
 
 The siui rising clear in the morning and going to bed 
 again (as it is called) immediately, is a sure indication of 
 a foul day. When the small clouds are seen scudding before 
 larger ones, they are called " water carts," and rain is sure to 
 follow. 
 
 " When the wind's in the south, 
 'Tis in the rain's mouth ; 
 When the wind's in the east, 
 'Tis neither good for man nor beast." 
 
 There is also a saying with reference to the new moon, 
 that — 
 
 " When early seen 
 'Tis seldom seen,'' 
 
 on account of the rain-clouds which are said to follow its 
 early appearance. 
 
 The new moon " lying on its back," with the horns of her 
 crescent pointing upward, is believed to indicate a dry moon ; 
 and on the contrary, when the new moon appears with the 
 horns of the crescent pointing downwards, or as it is locally 
 expressed, " when it hangs dripping," it will be a wet moon. 
 
 When the new moon happens on a Saturday it is super- 
 stitiously believed to be a sign of unfavourable weather, 
 thus — 
 
 " A Saturday moon — 
 If it comes once in seven years, comes too soon." 
 
 And if in addition the full moon falls on a Sunday, it is 
 
 said — 
 
 " Saturday new, Sunday full, 
 Never was good, nor never wool." 
 
 There is also a saying that " the sun is always seen on a 
 Saturday," and this is firmly believed by many of the 
 
168 THE SUFFOLK GARI-AND. 
 
 country people, who maintain that the sun always peeps 
 through the clouds on that day, if only for a minute, just 
 (as it were) to show his face. 
 
 Many of the weather proverbs handed down to us from 
 our forefathers, are doubtless the embodiment, in quaint and 
 pithy phrases, of the result of their observation and ex- 
 perience. But it must be confessed that there are some 
 sayings in common use that have neither " rhyme nor 
 reason." Thus — " When a cat wipes her face over her ears, 
 it is a sign of fine weather ; and when a cat sits with her 
 back towards the fire it is a sign of frost." 
 
 And again — 
 
 " A fine Saturday, a fine Sunday ; 
 A fine Sunday, a fine week." 
 
 This is simply absurd, for if true there would be continual 
 sunshine. 
 
 The following are also common weather proverbs — 
 
 " If the rainbow comes at night, 
 The rain is gone, quite." 
 
 " When it rains with the wind in the east. 
 It rains for twenty -four hours at least." 
 
 " May never goes out without a wheat ear." 
 
 " The grass that grows in Janiveer 
 Grows no more all the year." 
 
 " Cut your thistles before St. John, 
 You will have two instead of one." 
 
 St. John's day is June 24tli. 
 
 " First comes David, then comes Chad, 
 Then comes Winnold, as if he were mad." 
 
 This alludes to the stormy weather which is common at 
 the beginning of March. St David's day is the 1st of March, 
 St. Chad's the 2nd, and St. Winnold's the 3rd. 
 
 A sudden and local motion of the air, no otherwise 
 perceptible but by its whirling up the dust on a dry road in 
 perfectly calm weather, somewhat in the manner of a water 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 169 
 
 spout, is reckoued a sign of approaoliing rain, and called by 
 us " Eog-er's blast." 
 
 POPVLAR REMEDIES FOB COMFLAIXTS. 
 
 Many villages in tbe rural districts of the county are able 
 to boast of their professor of the healing art, in the person of 
 an old -woman, who "bless" and "charm" away different 
 maladies, especially wounds from scalding or burning, and 
 who pretends to the power of curing diseases by certain 
 cabahstic signs. And at the present daj', in spite of the 
 " march of intellect," a belief in the efhcacy of charms for the 
 prevention and cure of various kinds of diseases prevails far 
 more extensively than manj^ persons would readily believe. 
 Two preliminaries are given as necessary to be strictly ob- 
 served, in order to ensure a perfect cure. First, that the 
 person to be operated upon comes with a fidl and earnest 
 belief that a cure will be effected ; and secondly, that the 
 phrases " please " and " thank you " do not occm- during 
 the transaction. The established formula consists in the 
 charmer's crossing the part affected, and whispering over it 
 certain mysterious words. There is a very prevalent notion 
 that if once disclosed, these mysterious words immediately 
 lose their virtue, and the air of mystery which is thus thrown 
 over the proceedings of the operators have probably con- 
 tributed in no slight degree to perpetuate the popular belief 
 in them. In consequence of this secrecy, it is difScult to as- 
 certain what words are employed, the possessors generally 
 being proof against persuasion or briberj^ 
 
 It must not be supposed that these ignorant people make a 
 trade of their supposed art ; on the contrary, it is believed 
 that any offer of pecuniary remuneration would at once break 
 the spell, and render the charm of no avail. 
 
 Quaint remedies are frequently associated with superstitious 
 fancies. Here is one that unites great superstition with 
 supposed medicinal properties. A clergyman caUing at a 
 cottage one day, saw a small loaf hanging up oddly in a 
 
170 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 corner of the house. He asked why it was placed there, and 
 was told that it was a Good Friday loaf, a loaf haked on Good 
 Friday ; that it would never get mouldy, and that it was 
 very ser^iceahle against some diseases, the bloody flux being 
 mentioned as an example. Some weeks afterwards, the 
 clergyman called again with a friend at the same house, and 
 drew his attention to the loaf, which was hanging in its ac- 
 customed corner. The owner of the house, full of zeal to do 
 the honours of his estabhshment, endeavoured to take the 
 loaf down gently, but failing in the attempt, he gave a violent 
 pull, and the precious loaf, to his great dismay, was shivered 
 into atoms. The old man collected the fragments and hung 
 them up again in a paper bag, with all the more reverence on 
 account of the good which the loaf, as he alleged, had done 
 his sou. The young man, having been seized with a slight 
 attack of Enghsh cholera, in the summer, secretly "abscinded " 
 and ate a piece of the loaf, and when his family expressed as- 
 tonishment at his rapid recovery, he explained the mystery 
 by declaring that he had eaten of the Good Friday loaf, and 
 had been cured by it. 
 
 This great success induced the family to have another loaf 
 baked on the following Good Friday, and it was ascertained 
 from other persons that such loaves were far from being un- 
 common in the parish. 
 
 Cure for E})ilq)sy or Hysteria. — If a young woman has fits 
 she applies to ten or a dozen unmarried men (if the sufferer 
 be a man, he applies to as many maidens) and obtains from 
 each of them a small piece of silver of any kind, as a piece of 
 broken spoon, or ring, or brooch, or buckle, and even some- 
 times a small coin, and a penny (without telhng them the 
 purpose for which the pieces are wanted) ; the twelve pieces of 
 silver are taken to a silversmith, or other worker in metal, 
 who forms therefrom a ring, which is to be worn by the 
 person afflicted on the fourth finger of the left hand. If any 
 of the silver remains after the ring is made, the workman has 
 it as his perquisite, and the twelve pennies also are 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 171 
 
 intended as the wages for his work, and he must charge 
 no more. 
 
 Cures for ihe Iloqjiiig Cough. — Procure a live flat-fish — a 
 " little dab " will do ; place it whilst alive on the bare chest 
 of the patient, and keep it there till it is dead. 
 
 If several children- are ill, take some of the hair of the 
 eldest child, out it into small pieces, and put them into some 
 milk, and give the compound to the youngest child to drink, 
 and so on throughout the family. 
 
 Or, let the patient eat a roasted mouse ; or, let the patient 
 drink some milk which a ferret has lapped ; or, let the patient 
 be dragged under a gooseberry bush or bramble, both ends of 
 which are growing in the ground. It is also said that to 
 pass the patient through a slit in the stem of a young ash 
 tree is a certain cure. 
 
 Some persons procm'e hair from the cross on the back of a 
 donkey, and having placed it in a bag, hang it round the 
 necks of their invalid children. The presumed efficacy in 
 this hair is connected no doubt with the fact that the ass is 
 the animal which was ridden by Jesus, and with the super- 
 stition that the cross was imprinted on its back as a memorial 
 of that event. 
 
 An instance is known of a woman who obtained a certain 
 mmiber of " hodmidods," or small snails. These were passed 
 through the hands of the invalids and then suspended in the 
 chimney on a string, in the behef that as they died the 
 hooping-cough would leave the children. At Monk's Eleigh 
 a live frog was hung up the chimney, in the belief that its 
 death by such means would effect a cure. 
 
 Cures for the Ague. — The Ague is a disease that was once 
 very prevalent in Suffolk, although it is now, in the majority 
 of the parishes, seldom met with. 
 
 Miss Strickland, in her " Old Friends and New Acquaint- 
 ances," thus mentions a superstition that existed in her own 
 district of the county. " Go to the four cross- ways to-night, 
 aU alone, and just as the clock strikes twelve, turn yourself 
 
17:2 THE SUFFOLK GAULAM). 
 
 about tlii-ee times and di'ive a teiipeimy nail into the ground 
 up to the head, and walk away i'roui the place Laekwards 
 before the clock is done striking, and yuu'U miss the ague; 
 but the next person who jiasses o^'er the nail A\ill take it in 
 yoiu' stead." 
 
 The liev. Hugh Pigot sa,3's that during his residence at 
 Hadleigh a few years ago, he, Avhilst sufi'ering from ague, was 
 strongly urged to go to a stile — one of those that are placed 
 across foot-paths — and to drive a nail into that part over 
 which foot passengers travel in their journej's. 
 
 Miss Strickland thus speaks of another remedy for this 
 disease : " Many of the charms ignorantly used by the East 
 Anghan peasantry, as cures for the ague, are evidently relics 
 of the sacrificial rites offered to the powers of darkness by 
 the jDagan Saxons and Danes. In one district of Suffolk 
 I have heard of the following superstitious practice. A 
 man who had been labouring imder an obstinate ague 
 for several months purchased a new red earthen pan, 
 in which he put the parings of his finger and toe nails, 
 together with a lock of hair, and a small piece of raAv 
 beef, which in order to render the charm effectual, he 
 considered it necessary to steal. He then tied a piece of 
 black silk over the pan and buried it in the centre of a wood, 
 in ground that had never before been broken, in the iirm 
 behef that, as the meat decayed his fever would abate and 
 finally disappear." A grosser oblation to the evil spirit 
 would scarcely have been offered by one of the heathen 
 inhabitants of central Africa. 
 
 To swallow a spider or its web when placed in a small 
 piece of apple, is an acknowledged cure for the ague. Miss 
 Strickland heretically mentions an instance of its being tried 
 in vain ; but its failure excited great astonishment : " As true 
 as I'm alive, he (the ague) neither minded pepper and gin 
 taken fasting on a Friday morning, nor black-bottle spiders 
 made into pills with fresh butter." 
 
 The patient should take a handful of salt and bury it in 
 
THE SlfFl'DLK (;KRT,AM). IT^'i 
 
 the ground, and as the salt dissolves, the patient will recover 
 from the agne. Or the patient should gather some teazles 
 from the hedgerows, and carry them about his person. 
 
 There was formerly a man in Hadleigh who " charmed " 
 away the ague by pronouncing, or rather muttering over 
 each child a verse of Holy Scripture, taken, it was believed, 
 from the Grospel of St. John. 
 
 To prvrput mrclUiig from a thorn : — ■ 
 
 " Christ was of a Virgin born, 
 And crowned was with u. crown of thorns ; 
 H^ did neither swell nor rebel, 
 And I hope this never will." 
 
 At the same time let the middle finger of the right hand 
 keep in motion round the thorn, and at the end of the words, 
 three times repeated, touch it every time with the tip of your 
 finger, and with God's blessing you will find no further 
 trouble. 
 
 To extract a thorn from the fla^li : — - 
 
 " .Jesus of a maid was born, 
 He was pricked with nails and thorn ; 
 Neither blaina nor boils did fetch at the bone, 
 No more shall this, by Christ our Lord. Amer,. 
 Lord bless what I have said. Amen 
 So be it unto thee as I have said," 
 
 To stoj] bleeding from artericn cut or bruised. — Repeat these 
 words thi-ee times, desiring the blessing of Grod — 
 
 " Stand fast ; lie as Christ did 
 
 When he was crucified upon the cross ; 
 Blood, remain up in the veins, 
 As Christ's did in all his pains ! " 
 
 To cure bleeding at the nose. — Wear a skein of scarlet silk 
 round the neck, tied with nine knots down the front. If 
 the patient is a male, the silk should be put on and the 
 knots tied by a female, and vice versa. 
 
174 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXn. 
 
 To cure tooth-ache. — Always dress and undress the left leg 
 and foot before the right one. Mr. Eayson, writing in " The 
 East Anglian," says that he has known this habit adopted 
 and continued through life. 
 
 The Rev. Hugh Pigot, late of Hadleigh, says: " There was 
 one old woman, of very witch-like appearance, who was supposed 
 to have great skill in curing burns. She prepared a kind of 
 ointment, and when a patient applied to her she placed some 
 of it upon the part affected, then made the sign of the cross 
 over it, and muttered certain mysterious words, which she 
 would not disclose to any one." After many inquiries with 
 the view of ascertaining what were the words employed on 
 those occasions, the reverend gentleman heard from a man 
 the following curious formula, the words of which must be 
 repeated three times. 
 
 " There were two angels caiue from the north , 
 One brought Are, the other brought frost ; 
 Come out fire, go in frost, 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 
 
 There are many variations of this charm, but in substance 
 the above is correct. 
 
 There are many persons who profess to be able to cure 
 warts, or " writs," as they are called, by passing the hand 
 over them and muttering at the same time some mysterious 
 word. The operator takes care to ensxire his credit against 
 mishaps, for as a necessary condition of success, he must be 
 told the exact number of warts which are worn by the 
 applicant for a cure. If, therefore, the remedy fails, he 
 attributes the failure to his having been kept in ignorance 
 of the real number of warts. 
 
 If persons have any scruple against consulting such ac- 
 credited professors of the healing art, they may get rid of 
 their warts in other ways. Thus : let the patient steal 
 (it must be stolen, or it will have no efficacy) a piece ,of beef 
 and bury it in the ground, and then as the beef decays, the 
 warts will gradually die away. Or, go to an ash tree, which 
 
THE STTrFOLK fiARLAND. 175 
 
 has its '• keys," that is, husks with seeds upon it, cut the 
 initial letter both of your christian and surname on the bark, 
 count the exact number of your warts, and out as many 
 notches in addition to the letters as you have warts, and then 
 as the bark grows up your warts will go away. Or, take the 
 froth of new beer, apply it to your warts when no one sees 
 you (for secrecy is absolutely necessary), do not wipe it away, 
 but let it work off of itself, for three mornings, and your 
 warts will disappear. Or, gather a green sloe, rub it on 
 j'our warts, then throw it over your left shoiilder, and you 
 will soon be free from them. 
 
 To hang a flint with a hole in it over the head of your 
 bed is a preservative against the night-mare. 
 
 Another remedy is, before you go to bed, place your shoes 
 carefully by the bed side " coming and going," that is, with 
 the heel of one pointing in the direction of the toe of the 
 other, and then you will be sure to sleep quietly and 
 well. 
 
 To cure, or rather to prevent cramp, take the small bone of 
 a leg of mutton, and carry it always about with you in your 
 pocket. Or, wear a ring made out of an old coffin handle on 
 one of the fingers. The parish clerks have been known to 
 preserve the old coffin handles found in churchyards for the 
 purpose of making cramp rings. 
 
 To cure uxm or fleshy excrescences. — Pass the hand of a 
 dead body over the part affected, on three successive days. 
 The Eev. Hugh Pigot has known this to be tried at 
 Hadleigh. 
 
 OMENS AND SUPERSTITIONS CONNECTED VVaXH MARRIAGE 
 AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 The following spell is said to be still used by some country 
 maidens in Suffolk : — 
 
 " A clover of two, if you put in your shoe, 
 The next man you meet in field or lane 
 Will bo your husband, or one of the name.'' 
 
17(1 
 
 THE M-1'FOT.K f.ART,AXl 
 
 To ascertain wlietlier her pretended lovers really love her 
 or not, the maiden takes an apple pip, and naming one of her 
 followers, puts the pip in the fire. If it makes a noise in 
 bursting, from the heat, it is a proof of love ; hut if it is 
 consumed without a crack, she is fully satisfied that there is 
 no real regard towards her in the person named. 
 
 The kitchen maid, when she shells green-peas, never omits, 
 when she finds one having niiw peas, to lay it on the lintel 
 of the kitchen door ; and the first male who enters it is 
 infallibly to be her husband, or at least her sweetheart. 
 
 If two persons wish to marry, they must take the church 
 key and place it over the sixth and seventh verses of the 
 eighth chapter of the Song of Solomon. 
 
 " Set me a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm ; for love 
 is strong as death ; jealousy is cruel as the grave ; the coals thereof are 
 coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot 
 quench love, neither can the floods drown it ; if a man would give all 
 the suhstance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned." 
 
 Over the words they m^^st hold the church key, balancing 
 it by the end ; and if the wards of the key incline towards 
 the verses, which by a skilful manipulation they can easily 
 be made to do, it is a sign that the course of true love will 
 run smooth. 
 
 But if, after all, doubts of the lady's fitness to be his wife 
 take possession of the gentleman's mind, there is another 
 chapter in the Holy Bible which, if consulted, will either 
 confirm or scatter them. That chapter is the last in the 
 Book of Proverbs. It contains thirty-one verses, corres- 
 ponding with the number of days in the longest months. 
 The hesitating lover must ascertain on what day of the 
 month the birthday of the lady falls, and then compare 
 with the verse which agrees with it in number. He will 
 thus find out the kind of life which he will lead with her in 
 the event of marriage ; and if the verdict prove unfavourable, 
 he will have an opportunity of avoiding a match which he 
 has such strong reason to believe will not be a happy one. 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 177 
 
 Do not many on Cliristmas day if two other couples are 
 about to go through, the sacred ceremony at the same time, 
 for rest assiLred that if three couples marry on that day, at 
 the same time, one of the party will certainly die during the 
 ensuing year. 
 
 If a pregnant woman meets a hare, and turns it back, the 
 child will have a hare lip ; but if she allows it to pass her, no 
 harm will happen to her. 
 
 DANCING IN A HOg's TKOUGH. 
 
 The practice of the elder sisters dancing in a hog's trough 
 in consequence of the youngest sister marrying before them, 
 is known in several parts of the coimty. The Rev. Hugh 
 Pigot ascertained that the custom was known at Hadleigh. 
 A lad from Great Whelnetham mentioned such a custom 
 whilst giving eAidence before the Justices at Bury St. 
 Edmund's ; and a correspondent of "The East Anglian" says 
 that he knew of a case in the neighbourhood of Eye, where 
 the hog's trough was danced to pieces. It is considered the 
 most correct thing to dance in green stockings. 
 
 CUSTOM AT THE BIRTH OF A CHILD. 
 
 There is an extraordinary notion in regard to the birth of 
 children. As soon as they are born they ought, it is said, to 
 be carried up stairs, or they will never rise to riches and 
 distinction in their after life ; and accordingly, if there are 
 no attics for the nurse to climb up into, she will sometimes 
 mount upon a chair or stool with the new-born baby in her 
 arms. 
 
 A child's prayek. 
 
 A popular prayer that is taught to children by some 
 parents is clearly a relic of Roman Catholic times, and has 
 been handed down from a period anterior to the Reformation, 
 for it is an appeal to particular saints for their intercession 
 with Almighty God. The words are these — 
 
178 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 " Matthe-w, Mark, Luke, and John, 
 Bless the bed I lie upon ; 
 Four corners to my bed, 
 Four angels at its head, 
 One to watch, two to pray. 
 And one to bear my soul away ; 
 God within and God without, 
 Sweet Jesus Christ all round about ; 
 If I die before I wake, 
 I pray to God my soul to take." 
 
 There is sometimes tliis ludicrous variation of the fourth 
 line — 
 
 " Four angels all aapread." 
 
 It is very singular that in spite of its objectionable tenets 
 this prayer should have survived the great change in religious 
 opinion which took place in the sixteenth century, and stiU 
 remain in popular use. 
 
 VARIOUS OMENS, BELIEFS, AND SUPERSTITIONS. 
 
 There are some persons who will never kill a pig when 
 the moon is " wasting," lest the pork should waste in the 
 pot. On the other hand, the clergyman of a country town 
 says, " I know a respectable old lady who always has her 
 corns cut at that time, supposing that the amputation is 
 both more easy and more effectual." 
 
 Amongst the Eomans sneezing, under some circumstances, 
 at least, was reckoned ominous of evil ; but amongst Suffolk 
 people, to sneeze three times before breakfast is a pledge 
 that you will soon have a present made to you. The sneezing 
 of a cat, however, is considered to be an evil omen ; it is a 
 sign that the family of the owner will all have colds. 
 
 It is usual in this county to communicate family secrets to 
 the bees, such for instance as a birth or death. If neglected 
 on such occasions, the bees are apt, it is said, to take offence, 
 and to remove to other residences where they will be treated 
 with more confidence. They are said to be so sensitive as to 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 179 
 
 leave houses, tlie mmates of whicli indulge habitually iu 
 swearing. 
 
 It is regarded as a bad omen, if when jou leave a house 
 vou replace the chair on which you have been sitting against 
 the wall ; the probability, if not the certainty in that case is 
 that you will never visit that house again. 
 
 That certain daj^s are more lucky and auspicious than 
 others is a very prevalent belief in many nations. Some 
 remains of this notion exist among us, in the rural parishes 
 more especially. Friday is considered an unlucky day. 
 Sunday, on the other hand, is regarded as an auspicious day ; 
 and if persons have been ill and have become convalescent, 
 they almost always get up for the first time on Sundays. 
 
 All mediciae should be taken "next the heart," which 
 means, in the dialect of Suffolk, that the best time for taking 
 medicine is to take it in the morning, fasting. 
 
 A lady who has married, but who has not by marriage 
 changed her maiden name, is the best of all persons to ad- 
 minister medicine, since no remedy given by her will ever 
 fail to cure. 
 
 Persons will take the Bible to bed with them on New 
 Year's eve, and as soon as they awake after twelve o'clock, 
 they open it at random in the dark, mark a verse with their 
 thumb, or stick a pin through a verse, turn down a corner of 
 the page, and replace the book under the pillow. That verse 
 is supposed to be a prophecy of destiuy (good or bad) 
 during the coming year. 
 
 If a corpse is supple after death, it is a sign that there will 
 be another death in that family before very long. 
 
 To break a looking-glass is exceedingly unlucky, and will 
 bring death to yourself or an intimate friend. 
 
 A belief in the existence of " Pharisees," or " Fairies," 
 prevails ; they ride young horses about in the night, so that 
 the grooms on going into the stables iu the morning find the 
 horses aU of a foam. But a hag stone, with a hole through, 
 tied to the key of the stable door, protects the horses. 
 
180 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Belief in death-tokens is very prevalent ; three raps at a 
 bed's head, and the howling of a dog in front of your house 
 diu'ing the night, are warnings that the death of some 
 member of the family is at hand. 
 
 Taking a sprig of blackthorn, when in blossom, into a house, 
 is considered to presage death to some member of the family. 
 
 If you have your clothes mended upon your back, you 
 will be ill spoken of. 
 
 " If you sweep the house with hlossomed broom in May, 
 You're sure to sweep the head of the house away." 
 
 If you break two things, you will break a third. A 
 lady saw one of her servants take up a coarse earthenware 
 basin, and deliberately throw it down upon the brick floor. 
 " What did you do that for ? " asked the mistress. 
 "Because, ma'am, I'd broke tew things," answered the 
 servant ; " so I thout the third 'd better be this here," 
 pointing to the remains of the least valuable piece of pottery 
 in the estabhshment, which had been sacrificed to glut the 
 vengeance of the offended ceramic deities. 
 
 SINGULAR WILLS AND BEQUESTS. 
 
 Eccentricity in one of the most solemn afi'airs of life is 
 not an unfrequent occurrence among Englishmen ; and we 
 have collected a few instances to show that some of the resi- 
 dents in Suffolk have not been free from the singtdarity 
 of curious bequests, nor in charging their wills with a 
 sting or a stab at some relative with whom they were dis- 
 pleased. 
 
 WHIMSICAL VV^ILL OF MR. RUFFELL. 
 
 The following is the whimsical will left in rhyme by Mr. 
 Euffell, of Shimpling, Suffolk, who died on the 28th of 
 December, 182L 
 
THE SrFFOI.K GARLAND. 181 
 
 As this life must soon end, this old frame must decay, 
 
 And this soul to some far distant clime wing her way ; 
 
 Ere that time doth arrive, men of sense must agree. 
 
 Now I'm well, strong, and hearty, my age forty-three, 
 
 I make this my last will, for I think it quite time, 
 
 It conveys all I wish, though it is written in rhyme. 
 
 To employ an attorney I ne'er was inclined. 
 
 They are pests of society — sharks of mankind ; 
 
 To avoid that base tribe, my own will I now draw. 
 
 May I ever escape coming under their paw. 
 
 To Ezra Dalton, my nephew, I give all my land, 
 
 With my old Grothic cottage, that thereon doth stand, 
 
 Is in Shimpling great road, in which I now dwell, 
 
 It appears like a chapel, or hermit's old cell : 
 
 With my furniture, plate, and linen likewise, 
 
 With securities, monies, and what may arise. 
 
 It's my wish and desire he should enjoy these. 
 
 And pray let him take e'en my skin if he please. 
 
 To my loving, kind sister, I give and bequeath 
 
 Eor her tender regard when this world I shall leave. 
 
 If she choose to accept it, my rump bone may take. 
 
 And may tip it with silver, a whistle to make. 
 
 My brother-in-law is a strange-tempered dog. 
 
 Is as fierce as a lion, in manners a hog, 
 
 A petty tyrant at home — his frowns how they dread. 
 
 Two ideas at once never entered his head ; 
 
 So proud and so covetous — nay he's so mean — 
 
 And I hate to look at him, the fellow's so lean ; 
 
 He ne'er behaves well, and tho' I'm unwilling, 
 
 I therefore at once cut him off with a shilling. 
 
 My executors, too, should be men of good fame, 
 
 I appoint Edward Ruffles, of Cockfield, by name, 
 
 With his old easy chair, his short pipe and snufi'. 
 
 What matter his whims, he is honest enough ; 
 
 With Samuel Seelie, of Alpheton Lion, — 
 
 I like his strong beer, and his word can rely on ; 
 
 And when death's iron hand strike that fatal blow. 
 
 And this shattered old frame in the dust shall lie low. 
 
 Without funeral pomp these remains be conveyed 
 
 Unto Brent Eleigh church, near my father be laid. 
 
 This, wrote with my own hand, there can be no appeal, 
 
 I shall therefore at once set my hand and my seal, 
 
 As this my last will, I to this shall agree 
 
 This eighteenth day of March, eighteen hundred and three. 
 
182 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 LORD CHEDWORTH S WILL. 
 
 The following abstract of the celebrated " will " of Lord 
 Chedworth gives an acpuxate account of the legacies left by 
 his Lordship. They are certainly svich as might well excite 
 great curiosity among the inhabitants of this district, and also 
 induce his relatiTes to contest the validity of the document 
 in a court of law. The contest took place in the Court of 
 Chancery, and the validity of the will was established. "W. 
 Pierson, Esq., was solicitor for the executors, and a pair of 
 silver salvers, an inkstand, and an office table were presented 
 to him by Eichard Wilson, Esq., in token of appreciation of 
 his indefatigable exertions. 
 
 Eichard Wilson Esq., of London and Bildes- 
 
 ton, Suifolk . . . £40,000 
 
 This gentlemaa was ia 1806 elected M.P. for 
 Ipswioh. He was a solicitor, and being em- 
 ployed by Lord Chedworth, he discovered that 
 his Lordship's steward had committed fraud to 
 an enormous amount, as, through the negligence 
 of his Lordship, he had not received any regular 
 account of the rents for nearly twenty years. 
 By an injunction of the Court of Chancery, Mr. 
 "Wilson succeeded in detaining upwards of 
 £60,000 that had been invested in the steward's 
 name in various public and private securities. 
 
 Thomas Penrice, Esq., Surgeon, Grreat Tar- 
 mouth . . . £20,000 
 George Penrice, Esq. ' . . £6,000 
 
 A natural son of the above. 
 To that illustrious statesman and true patriot, 
 
 Charles James Eox . £3,000 
 
 To the Eev. Thomas Crompton, in token that 
 
 I am in perfect amity with him £1,000 
 
 This gentleman had been a pupil of Dr. 
 Clubbe, in Ipswich, and became an intimate 
 friend of his Lordship. Subsequently his 
 political principles became Conservative, and his 
 Lordship, in consequence, declined to correspond 
 
THE SUFI-'OLK UARLAXD. 183 
 
 with him, yet left him a handsome legacy ; and 
 Mr. Crompton, in acknowledgment, published 
 in defence of his Lordship, a volume of his 
 letters and criticisms. 
 To his good friend the Eev. "William 
 
 Layton . . . £1,300 
 
 To his sister, Mary Ann Layton £1,300 
 
 To Mr. Barney, merchant, Ipswich £4,000 
 
 A cheesemonger, on the Q,uay ; an intelligent 
 and convivial man, whom his Lordship visited 
 to have a game of whist and a chat with Miss 
 Barney. 
 To Miss Ashpole . £600 
 
 Mr. Barney's sister-in-law. 
 To my friend, WilKam Deane, of Ewarton, 
 
 Grent. . . . £6,000 
 
 This legacy was in the codicil, and with this 
 sum, we believe, the living of Hintlesham was 
 purchased. 
 To the Eev. W. Gierke, of Norton, Clerk £200 
 
 To S. Gierke and C. Gierke, his sisters, each £200 
 
 To W. Smith, Bury St. Edmund's . £200 
 
 To Dr. Thomson . . £200 
 
 To James Sayers, of Great Yarmouth, 
 
 Attorney . . . £600 
 
 To James Pulham, of "VVoodbridge, Attorney £600 
 
 To the Eev. W. Glover, of the city of 
 
 Norwich • . . £200 
 
 To his cousin, Alexander Wright, Esq. £10,000 
 
 To his cousin, Mary Daniel, widow £10,000 
 
 She was the wife of a deceased artist at Bath. 
 To invest in trust for the maintenance of his 
 
 cousin, William Wright, Glerk . £4,000 
 
 To his revered uncle, Thomas Wliite, Esq., 
 
 Tattingstone . . £1,000 
 
 To John Powell, of the Theatre Royal, Drury 
 
 Lane . . . £1,300 
 
 To my servant, Avery Ti-uman . £500 
 
184 THE STiFFOLK GARI.AXn. 
 
 To my servant, Mrs. Rose Cockerill £600 
 
 To my servant, William Lannip ■ £950 
 
 To my late servant, William Clarke £500 
 
 To my servant, Susan Day . £100 
 
 To Lucy Pratt, Ipswich . £200 
 
 He left to all who should be in hia house at 
 the time of his decease, two jears' wages and 
 mourning. 
 To Miss Forsett, Ipswich . . £6,000 
 
 Her brother was a plumber in St. Clement's, 
 Ipswich, a leader among the "Whigs, and a very 
 gentlemanly tradesman, whom Lord Chedworth 
 jocosely called "the Squire." 
 To Charlotte Selby, Ipswich . £500 
 
 Afterwards Mrs. Oliver Iron 
 In trust for the maintenance of an infant 
 daughter of Mrs. Edgar, of London, for- 
 merly Sarah Ann Selby, of Ipswich £13,000 
 To Eiohard Edgar, Esq., the father of the 
 
 infant . . . £500 
 
 To Lucy Mary, the wife of Frederick Edgar, 
 
 Esq., late Lucy Selby . £500 
 
 To Mary Taylor, widow, formerly of the 
 
 Theatre Eoyal, Norwich . £13,000 
 
 To Harriet Taylor, daughter of the said 
 
 Mary Taylor . . . £4,000 
 
 To Fanny Yalentine, spinster, sister of the 
 
 said Mary Taylor . . £3,000 
 
 In ti-ust for the benefit of Mary, the wife of 
 William Howard, of London, to be ajjplied 
 to her use, and not to be subject to her 
 husband's debts . . £13,000 
 
 This lady was the daughter of Mr. Kobert 
 Roper, a respectable farmer at Lacbford, Suffolk, 
 and was apprenticed to Mrs. Clarke, milliner, 
 Ipswich. 
 To William Howard . . £3,000 
 
 Husband of the above. 
 
THE SUFFOLK (JARI.AND. IS.") 
 
 In trust, tlie interest for tlie use of Harriet, 
 
 tlie wife of Walter Bedell, of London, 
 
 formerly Harriet Bannister, spinster £2,500 
 
 A daughter of the late J. Bannister, of the 
 
 Norwich Theatre. She was apprenticed to Mrs. 
 
 Lever, milliner, Ipswich. 
 
 To Elizabetli Edmead, formerly of the Theatre 
 
 Eoyal, Norwich ' . . £1,300 
 
 To Mary Ann Kent, formerly of the Theatre 
 
 Eoyal, Norwich . . £600 
 
 To Lydia Hallum, spinster . £3,200 
 
 A daughter of Admiral Hallum, who resided 
 in Carr street, Ipswich. 
 To Margaret Lyddon, of Middlesex, widow, 
 
 formerly Margaret Eix, of Ipswich, spinster £3,000 
 A great favourite of his Lordship. Her 
 hushand was Clerk to the Collector of Excise. 
 To Dorothy Gooch, Orford, Suffolk, spinster £6,000 
 
 To Matilda Dier, spinster . £300 
 
 To her sister, Mrs. Walford . £300 
 
 To Mrs. WiUett, of Ipswich . £200 
 
 To Edward Seymour, late of the Theatre 
 
 Eoyal, Norwich . . . £1,300 
 
 To "WiUiam Grraves, an annuity of . £60 
 
 He was his Lordship's barber. 
 
 His Lordship's love of female society, and his lax moral 
 principles, may be inferred from the legacies above enumer- 
 ated. His friend Crompton had on several occasions urged 
 him to marry, and had even ventm-ed to recommend to him 
 a lady of their acquaintance as pecuharly worthy of his at- 
 tentions, but his Lordship did not feel disposed to embark in 
 the undertaking. The Misses Selby (and Miss Sarah in 
 particular), whose father kept the GrrifSn inn, Ipswich, were 
 great cronies of his ; and the wife of Eichard "Wilson, Esq., 
 was also a special favourite with his Lordship. Before 
 marriage she carried on business as a milliner, in Ipswich, 
 and it was said that his Lordship proposed to make her his 
 
1S(J THE SUFFOLK GARLANE. 
 
 wife, yet forgave her telling hira that she preferred Mr. 
 Wilson. His green-room entertainments and his love of the 
 drama are also indicated by his legacies. 
 
 Lord Chedworth died October 29th, 1804. Eichard 
 Wilson and Thomas Penrice were executors, the latter 
 gentleman being residuary legatee ; and Samuel Fitch, 
 Postle Jackson, and Charles Batley, all of Ipswich, were 
 witnesses to this extraordinary will, which bec^ueathed in 
 legacies more than one hundred and ninety thousand pounds, 
 and the residuary legatee received nearly an equal amount ! 
 
 THE THELLTJSON WILL. 
 
 Peter Isaac Thelluson, Esq., of Broadsworth, in the county 
 of York, M.P. for Malmesbury, Wilts, was born in France, 
 of a Grenevese family, and as a London merchant, trading 
 in Philpot lane, he acquired an enormoiis fortune. He died 
 at his seat at Plaistow, Kent, July 21st, 1797, and when his 
 will was opened its provisions excited in the public mind 
 mingled wonder, indignation, and alarm. To his dear wife, 
 Ann, and children he left £100,000, and the residue of his 
 fortune, his immense real and personal property, amounting 
 to upwards of £600,000, he committed to trustees to be 
 laid out in the purchase of estates, and the rents and profits 
 to accumulate and again invested, during the lives of his 
 three sons, and the lives of their sons, and when the sons 
 and grandsons were all dead, then the entire property was 
 to be transfen-ed to his eldest great-grandson. Should no 
 heir exist, the accumulated property was to be conveyed to 
 the sinking fund for the reduction of the national debt. 
 Various calculations were made as to the probable result of 
 the accumulation. According to the lowest computation it 
 was reckoned that at the end of seventy years it would 
 amount to £19,000,000. Some estimated the result at far 
 higher figures, and saw in the fulfilment of the bequest 
 nothing short of a national disaster. The will was generally 
 stigmatized as unwise or absurd, and moreover, illegal. The 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 187 
 
 Thelluson family resolved to test its legality in the Couxt of 
 Chancery, on the ground that although the corpus of the 
 property might have been rendered inalienable for a period 
 thus limited, the rents and profits could not thus be disposed 
 of ; and that it was contrary to public policy to allow such 
 an accumulation, which might render the individual in 
 whom the whole might centre dangerous to pubhe Hberty, 
 and too powerful for a subject. Lord Chancellor Lough- 
 borough, in 1799, pronounced the will vahd, and on an 
 appeal to the House of Lords his decision was imanimously 
 affirmed. The will, though within the letter of the law, was 
 certainly adverse to its spirit, and in 1800 an Act introduced 
 by Lord Chancellor Loughborough was passed by Parhament, 
 forbidding such accumulations in futm'e for a longer period 
 than twenty- one years. 
 
 How ridiculous now appears this wonderfrd scheme for the 
 accumulation of millions. The son of Peter Isaac Thelluson, 
 the first Baron Eendlesham, died September, 1808, at the 
 age of 46, as he was taking his diversion of shooting at 
 Eendlesham, where he fell from his horse and instantly 
 expired, having enjoyed his title only two years and a half; 
 and the last grandson of Thelluson died in 1856. A dispute 
 then arose whether Thelluson's eldest great-grandchild, or 
 the grandson of Thelluson's eldest son shoidd inherit. The 
 House of Lords decided on appeal, in 1859, that Charles S. 
 Thelluson, the grandson of Thelluson's eldest son, was the 
 heir. It is said that instead of the property swelling to a 
 magnitude dangerous to public liberty, the Court of Chancery 
 conveniently eat up nearly the whole of the annual rents 
 and profits, and that little more than the original sum of 
 £600,000 fell to the heir. 
 
 THE ECCENTRIC WILLIAM JENNEXS. 
 
 Most persons in this district have heard of the eccentric 
 Mr. William Jennens, of Acton Place, near Long Melford, al- 
 thouo-h few are aware of the singidar facts connected with this 
 
188 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 extraordinary individual. He \vas born in 1702, and died on 
 the lOth of June, 1798. He was the son of Eohert Jennens, 
 aide-de-camp to the great Duke of Marlborough, and was 
 grandson of Humphrey Jennens, an eminent iron master of 
 Birmingham. His godfather was King William III., and 
 amongst other valuables discovered in his house, was a mag- 
 nificent silver ewer, a present from the monarch at his bap- 
 tism. He had been page to George I., and having inherited 
 a large paternal property, and during his long life remained a 
 bachelor of very penurious habits, his accumulations increased 
 even beyond his powers of computation. He was the last 
 annuitant of the exchequer tontine of £100, a share for which 
 he had received £3000 a year for a long period. He had 
 property in almost every public security, and such was his 
 neglect, that the dividends on most of his stocks had not 
 been received since the year 1788, nor the interest due on his 
 mortgages for a length of time. In his iron chest, after his 
 decease, there were found bank notes to the amount of 
 £19,000, and several thousand new guineas. He had always 
 £50,000 in his banker's hands, and had not drawn a draft for 
 the last fourteen years. A will was found in his coat pocket, 
 sealed, but not signed, which was owing, as his favourite 
 servant stated, to his master leaving his spectacles at home 
 when he went to his solicitor's for the purpose of duly 
 executing it, and afterwards neglecting to repair the 
 omission. By this testamentary instrument, in which John 
 Bacon, Esq., of the First Fruits office, was left residuary 
 legatee, the whole of the property was intended to be totally 
 alienated from the channels into which it afterwards fell. 
 The most material sufferers by this infonnality of Mr. Jennens' 
 will are the Hanmer family, of Bettisfield Park, Flintshire, 
 and Holbrook Hall, Suffolk. The heir-at-law to the real 
 estate of Mr. Jennens was William Augustus Curzon, a boy 
 of ten years old, and son of the late Honom-able Penn 
 Asketon Curzon, and grandson to a first cousin of Mr. 
 Jennens'. His personal property devolved on his cousins, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 189 
 
 William Lygon, M.P., and Mary, relict of William, Earl of 
 Andorer, eldest son. of tlie late Earl of Suffolk. Thus his 
 almost incalculable wealth, descended to three individuals, all 
 of -u-hom previously possessed immense fortunes. On the 
 29th of the month in which Mr. Jennens died, his remains 
 were deposited with great pomp in the family vault at Acton. 
 The following is said to be an accurate statement of his 
 property. 
 
 South Sea Stock £30,000 Interest 
 
 on ditto £8,725 
 
 Ditto, new ditto 30,000 
 
 7,650 
 
 Ditto, old ditto 40,000 
 
 9,600 
 
 India Stock 24,000 
 
 18,570 
 
 Consols 3 per cent. 50,000 
 
 17,570 
 
 Ditto, ditto (his mother's) 10,000 
 
 5,450 
 
 Bank Stock 35,000 
 
 19,600 
 
 Five per cent, ditto 20,600 
 
 17,250 
 
 Four per cent, ditto 24,000 
 
 11,520 
 
 Eeduced Annuities 50,000 , 
 
 16.800 
 
 Long Annuities 22,000 
 
 22,000 
 
 £325,600 
 
 £154,735 
 
 Account at the Bank of England 
 
 £57,719 
 
 Ditto, at Childs' 
 
 6,000 
 
 Ditto, at Hoare's 
 
 17,800 
 
 Ditto, at Stephenson's . 
 
 19,300 
 
 Ditto, at Grosling's 
 
 7,000 
 
 Due upon 400 Shares in the London Insura 
 
 ace Office 3,400 
 
 In the New River Concern 
 
 5,000 
 
 Interest due on Mortgage 
 
 200,000 
 
 Stock 
 
 325,600 
 
 Interest on ditto 
 
 154,735 
 
 
 £796,554 
 
 To which add money found in tha house, personality, 
 
100 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 to an immense amount, and a landed estate of £8000 
 per annum. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE WILL OF JOHN CORNWALLTS, ESQ. 
 
 One of the ancestors of the Marquis Cornwallis — John 
 Cornwallis, Esq., of Broome, in the County of Suffolk, who 
 died in the reign of Henry YII., made a will which con- 
 tained some very curious items. 
 
 Thus : "I bequeth to a priest to syng and ]3ray for my 
 soule, my fader's soule, my muder's soule, all my friends' 
 soules, and all chrysten souls for iii yeares, sxiii mare sterhng. 
 . . I bequeth to the high altar in the church at Broom 
 vi s. vii d. for my tithes forgotten and other dutyes neglected. 
 I will bequeth that myn executors shall live at Lyng 
 Hall theiras now I dwell, to him that shall be myn heyre 
 these presis following : — First in the chapell my greate masse 
 booke, a vestment of silke, one challice. In the hall, the 
 table, formys, and all the brewying vessell and standards in 
 the brewhouse and bakehouse; one hole plow, a cart, and v 
 horses to go with all; a gilt goblet with a cover that was my 
 fader's, and a gilt cuppe with a cover standing, a great potte 
 of brasse, and a second pot of brasse, ii spits, a grete and a 
 lesse. . . I bequeth to the church of Eye iiii combe whete, 
 to the chm'ch of Oxen iiii combe whete, to the church of Diss 
 iiii combe whete, to the church of Palgrave one combe whete, 
 to the church at Yaxley one combe whete. . . I bequeth 
 to the Abbot of Buiy myn ambalhng nagge." 
 
 EXTRACT FROM THE WILL OF PHILIP THICKNESSE, 
 GOVERNOR OF LANDGUARD FORT. 
 
 " I, Philip Thicknesse, formerly of London, but now of 
 Bologne, in Erance, leave my right hand, to be cut off after 
 my death, to my son, Lord Audley ; and I desu-e it may be 
 sent to him, in hopes such a sight may remind him of his 
 duty to Grod, after having so long abandoned the duty he 
 owed to a father who once affectionately loved him." 
 
THE SUiroLK GARLAND. 191 
 
 WUXJHCEAFT IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 In the times immediately preceding tlie Grreat Eebellion, 
 and during its early progress, when religious excitement 
 fostered the most extravagant delusions, the Eastern Counties 
 were notorious for the number of their witches ; and in no 
 district of this country did the behef so generally or so 
 strongly prevail, and Suffolk was pecuHarly remarkable for 
 the number of victims. The jealousies engendered, the 
 cruelties practised, and the executions that resulted from 
 the credxility of the people at this era, almost exceed behef. 
 Dr. Zachary Grrey says, "that between three and four 
 thousand persons siiffered for witchcraft in England and 
 Scotland, from the year 1640 to the restoration of Charles 
 II., in 1645." Fifteen were condemned at Chelmsford, and 
 hanged, and in the same and following year about forty were 
 hanged at Bury St. Edmund's, and later still sixteen were 
 executed at Grreat Yarmouth, for this imaginary crime. Men 
 of that day could not endiire misfortune with patience, or 
 believe that the Deity had any connection with their adver- 
 sities. Sickness and death, bhght on corn, mmTain among 
 cattle, were in consequence attributed to certain lame, ugly, 
 old, and cross-grained dames, who in some instances claimed 
 the power their neighbours beheved them to possess. Storms 
 of thunder and lightning, wind and rain, were attributed 
 to witches, and at the sound of thunder the cry was, " Eing 
 the bells, fumigate the air, and bum the witches." Ignorant 
 physicians set down all doubtful diseases to the agency of 
 witches, and that they could fly in the air on a broom-stick, 
 make horses throw their riders, dry up springs, kill with 
 lightning, bring the ague, pass through key holes, go to 
 sea in cockle shells, and plague the farmer's wife by prevent- 
 ing butter from coming, was very generally believed. 
 
 The learned and devout Eiohard Baxter speaks of the 
 judicial proceedings and executions for witchcraft in the 
 eastern counties with great satisfaction. He writes, " The 
 
192 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 hanging of a great number of witclies in 1645 and 1646 is 
 famously known." Among the rest an old reading parson, 
 named Lowes, not far from Framlingham, was one that was 
 hanged, who confessed that he had two imps. 
 
 The following cases, copied from rare tracts and scarce 
 documents, will illustrate this dark phase of the social and 
 religious history of the people of Suffolk. 
 
 A Tryal of Witches at the Assizes held at Bury St. Udmund's, 
 for the County of Suffolk, on the tenth day of March, 
 1664, before Sir Matthew Hale, Et, then Lord Chief 
 Baron of His Majesty's Court of Exchequer. 
 
 The prisoners, Eose Cullender and Amy Duny, 
 widow, belonging to Lowestoft, were severally indicted for 
 bewitching Elizabeth and Ann Durent, Jane Booking, Susan 
 Chandler, William Durent, and Elizabeth and Deborah 
 Pacey. 
 
 The prisoners pleaded " Not Guilty." 
 
 Three of the parties above named, viz.. Ami Durent, Susan 
 Chandler, and Elizabeth Pacey were brought to Bury, to the 
 Assizes ; but when they went to the Court to give instructions 
 for the indictments, they all three fell into strange and violent 
 fits, screaming out in a most sad manner, so that they could 
 not give evidence. After their recovery from their fits, they 
 were struck dumb, " so that none of them could speak, neither 
 at that time, nor during the Assizes, until the conviction of 
 the supposed vntches." 
 
 William Durent, being an infant, his mother, Dorothy 
 Durent, deposed, that having occasion to go from home, she 
 desired Amy Duny, her neighbour, to look to her child 
 during her absence, for which she promised to give her a 
 penny ; that on her return home, she was angry -^th Amy 
 Duny for having given suck to the child, contrary to her 
 command. Thereupon high words ensued, and the same 
 night her son fell into strange fits, and continued so for 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAM). 1(1^ 
 
 several weeks. That the deponent, being exceedingly 
 troubled at her child's distemper, did go to a certain person 
 named Doctor Jacob, who lived at Yarmouth, who had the 
 reputation in the country to help children that were be- 
 witched, who advised her to hang up the child's blanket in 
 the chimney corner all day, and at night, when she put the 
 child to bed, to put it into the said blanket, and if she found 
 anything in it, she should not be afraid, but to throw it into 
 the fire. And this deponent did according to his directions, 
 and at night, when she took down the blanket with an intent 
 to put her child therein, there fell out of the same a great 
 toad which ran up and down the hearth ; and she, having 
 only a youth with her in the house, desired him to catch the 
 toad and throw it into the fire, which the youth did ac- 
 cordingly, and held it there with the tongs ; and as soon as 
 it was in the fire, it made a great and terrible noise, and 
 after a space there was a flashing in the- fire like gun- 
 powder, making a noise like the discharge of a pistol, and 
 thereupon the toad was no more seen nor heard. It was 
 asked by the Court, if that after the noise and flashing there 
 was not the substance of the toad to be seen to consume in 
 the fire ? And it was answered by the said Dorotlnj Durant, 
 that after the flashing and noise, there was no more seen 
 than if there had been none there. The next day there came 
 a young woman, a kinswoman of the said Amy, and a neigh- 
 bour of this deponent, and told this deponent that her aunt 
 (meaning the said Amy) was in a most lamentable condition, 
 having her face all scorched with flre, and that she was 
 sitting alone in her house, in her smock, without any fire. 
 And thereupon this deponent went into the house of the said 
 Amy Buny to see her, and found her in the same condition 
 as was related to her, for her face, her legs, and thighs, which 
 this deponent saw, seemed very much scorched and burnt 
 with fire ; at which this deponent seemed much to wonder, 
 and asked the said Amy how she came into that sad con- 
 dition ? And the said Amy replied, she might thank her for 
 
19-i THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 it, for that she (this deponent) was the cause thereof, but 
 that she should live to see some of her children dead, and 
 she upon crutches. And this deponent further saith, that 
 after the burning of the said toad, her child recovered and 
 was well again, and was living at the time of the Assizes. 
 #*#*». The deponent ftu'ther said, that not long 
 after, she (this deponent) was taken with a lameness in both 
 her leggs, from the knees downward, that she was fain to go 
 upon crutches, and that she had no other use of them, but 
 only to bear a little upon them till she did remove her 
 crutches, and so continued till the time of the Assizes that 
 the witch came to be tried, and was there upon her crutches. 
 
 The writer of the account of the trial says : " There was 
 one thing very remarkable, that after she had gone upon 
 crutches for upwards of three years, and went upon them 
 at the time of the Assizes, in the court, when she gave her 
 evidence, and upon the juries bringing in their verdict, by 
 which the said Ami/ Buny was found guilty, to the great 
 admiration of all persons, the said Dorothy Durent was 
 restored to the use of her limbs, and went home without 
 making use of her crutches." 
 
 Concerning EKzaheth and Deborah Pacey, the first of the age 
 of eleven years, and the other of the age of nine years, or 
 thereabouts, the evidence that was given was to this 
 effect : — 
 
 Samuel Pacey, a merchant of Lowestoft (a man who 
 carried himself with much soberness during the trial, from 
 whom proceeded no words either of passion or malice, 
 though his children were so greatly afilicted), sworn and 
 examined, deposeth : That his younger daughter, Deborah, 
 upon Thursday, the tenth of October last, was suddenly 
 taken with a lameness in her legs, so that she could not 
 stand, neither had she any strength in her limbs to support 
 her, and so she continued until the seventeenth day of the 
 same month, which day being sunshiny, the child desired to 
 be carried on the east part of the house, to be set upon the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 195 
 
 bank wlilch looketh. upon tlie sea, and whilst she was sitting 
 there Am;/ Diiiii/ came to this deponent's house to buy some 
 herrings, but being denyed, she went away discontented, and 
 presently returned again, and was denyed, and likewise the 
 third tiuie, and was denyed as at first, and at her last going 
 away, she went away grumbKng, but what was said was not 
 perfectly understood. But at the very same instant of time, 
 the said child was taken with most violent fits, feeling most 
 estream pains in her stomach like the pricking of pins, and 
 shreeking out in a most dreadful manner hke unto a whelp, 
 and not like unto a sensible creature. 
 
 Amj/ Duny had long had the reputation of being a witch 
 and sorceress ; many of her kindred and relations had been 
 accused for witchcraft, and some of them condemned. The 
 child would sometimes cry out in her fits that Amij Duny was 
 the cause of her malady, and that her apparition frightened 
 her, and sometimes, " There stands Amy Duny, ihere E,ose 
 Cullender." 
 
 The children's fits varied ; sometimes they would be lame 
 on one side of their bodies, sometimes on the other, sometimes 
 a soreness over their whole bodies, so as they could endure 
 none to touch them ; at other times they woidd be restored to 
 the perfect use of their limbs and deprived of their hearing, at 
 other times of their sight, at other times of their speech, 
 sometimes for the space of one day, sometimes for two ; and 
 once they were wholly deprived of their speech for eight 
 days together, and then restored to their speech again. At 
 other times they would fall into swouning, and upon the 
 recovery to their speech they would cough extremely and 
 bring up much flegme, and with the same crooked pins, and 
 one time a two-penny nail with a very broad head, which 
 pins (amoTmting to forty or more) together with the two- 
 penny naU were produced in court, with the affirmation of 
 the said deponent that he was present when the said nail 
 was vomited up, and also most of the pins. 
 
 In this manner the said children continued with this 
 
196 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAM1. 
 
 deponent for the space of two months, during which time, 
 in their intervals, this deponent would cause them to read 
 some chapter in the New Testament. Whereupon this depo- 
 nent several times observed that they would read till they 
 came to the name of Lord, or Jesus, or Christ, and then, 
 before they could pronounce either of the said words, they 
 would suddenly fall into their fits. But when they came to 
 the name of Satan or Devil, they would clap their fingers 
 upon the book, crying out, "This bites, but makes me sjxak right 
 well:' 
 
 Mr. Pacey further said, that finding his children continued 
 to be tormented, and seeing no hopes of amendment, he sent 
 them to his sister, at Yarmouth, to see whether change of air 
 would do any good ; but the aunt's testimony was very 
 similar to that of the father — pins being vomited up by 
 both children, and a two-penny nail, with a broad head, by 
 the younger one. 
 
 Concerning Ann Durent, one of the parties supposed to be 
 bewitched, present in court, Edmund Durent, her father, 
 sworn and examined, said. That the said Rose Cullender, about 
 the latter end of November last, came into his house to buy 
 some herrings of his wife, but being denied by her, the said 
 Rose returned in a discontented manner, and upon the first 
 of December after, his daughter Ann Durent was very sorely 
 affiicted in her stomach, and felt great pain, like the pricking 
 of pins, and then fell into swouning fitts, and after the 
 recovery from her fitts, she declared that she had seen the 
 apparition of the said Rose, icho threatened to torment her. In 
 this manner she continued from the first of December until 
 this present time of tryal, having likewise vomited up divers 
 pins (produced here in court) . This maid was present in 
 court, but could not speak to declare her knowledge, but fell 
 into most violent fits when she was brought before Rose 
 Cullender. 
 
 Concerning Jane Docking, who was so weak she could not 
 be brought to the Assizes, and also of Susan Chandler, present 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 197 
 
 in court, the eYidence was given by the mother of the 
 former, and the father and the mother of the latter. 
 
 The evidence against the prisoners for bewitching these 
 children being closed, Mr. Serjeant Keeling, who was present 
 with Mr. Serjeant Earl, and Mr. Serjeant Barnard, expressed 
 himseK " much unsatisfied with it, and thought it not 
 sufficient to convict the prisoners, for, admitting that the 
 children were in truth bewitched, yet," said he, " it can never 
 be applyed to the prisoners upon the imagination only of the 
 parties afBicted. For if that might be allowed, no person 
 whatever can be in safety, for perhaps they might fancy 
 another person, who might altogether be innocent in such 
 matters." 
 
 There was also Br. Brown, of Norwich, a person of great 
 knowledge, who after this evidence given, and upon view 
 of the three persons in court, was desired to give his opinion, 
 what he did conceive of them ; and he was clearly of opinion 
 that the persons were bewitched, and said that in 
 Demnark there had been lately a great discovery of witches, 
 who using the very same way of afflicting persons by 
 conveying pins into them, and crooked, as these pins were, 
 with needles and nails. And his opinion was "that the 
 devil in such cases did work upon the bodies of men and 
 women, upon a natural foundation (that is) to stir up and 
 excite such humours super-abounding in their bodies to a 
 great excess, whereby he did in an extraordinary manner 
 afflict them with such distempers as their bodies were most 
 subject to, as particularly appeared in these children ; for he 
 conceived that these swouning fits were natural, and nothing 
 else but that they call the mother, but only heightened to a 
 great excess by the subtilty of the devil, co-operating with 
 the mahce of these which we term witches, at whose instance 
 he doth these viUanies." 
 
 Other evidence was offered against the prisoners in 
 proof of their being witches, of which the substance was as 
 follows : — 
 
19'^ THE SUFFOLK G \KI,AXD. 
 
 Ouo John Soam, of Leystoff, yeoman, a sufficient person, 
 deposed, " That not long since, in harvest time, he had three 
 carts which brought home his harvest, and as they were 
 going into the field to load, one of the carts wrenched the 
 window of Rose Ciilknder^s house, whei'enpon she came out 
 in a great rage, and threatened this deponent for doing that 
 ■mrong, and so they passed along into the fields and loaded 
 all three carts. The other two cFiits returned safe home, and 
 back again, twice loaded that day afterwards ; but as to this 
 cart wliich touched Hose Cullender's house, after it was 
 loaded, it was overtiumed twice or thrice that day, and after 
 that they had loaded it again the second or third time, as 
 they brought it through the gate which leadeth out of the 
 field into the town, the cart stuck so fast in the gate's head, 
 that they could not possibly get it through, but were 
 enforced to cut down the post of the gate to make the cart 
 pass through, although they could not perceive that the cart 
 did on either side touch the gate-j)osts." And this deponent 
 further saith, " That after they had got it through the gate- 
 way, they did with much difficulty get it home into the 
 yard ; but for all that they could do they could not get the 
 cart near unto the place where they should unload the corn, 
 but v/ere fain to unload it at a great distance from the place ; 
 and when they began to unload, they found so much 
 difficulty therein, it being so hard a labour, that they were 
 tired that ffi'st came, and when others came to assist them, 
 theu' noses bm-st forth a bleeding ; so they were fain to desist 
 and leave it until the next morning, and then they unloaded 
 it without any difficulty at all." 
 
 Robert Sheryiiujham also deposed against Rose Cullender, 
 " That about two years since, passing along the street with 
 his cart and horses, the asletree of his cart touched her 
 house, and broke down some part of it, at which she was 
 very much displeased, threatening him that his horses should 
 suffer for it ; and so it happened, for all those horses, four in 
 number, died within a short time after. Since that time he 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 199 
 
 hath had great losses by the sudden dying of his other cattle ; 
 so soon as his sows pigged, the pigs would leap and caper, 
 and immediately fall down and die. Also, not long after, he 
 was taken with a lameness in his limbs, that he could neither 
 go nor stand for some days. After all this he was very 
 much vexed with a great number of lice of an extraordinary 
 bigness, and although he many times shifted himself, yet 
 he was not anything the better, but would swarm agaia with 
 them, so that in the conclusion he was forced to burn all hia 
 clothes, being two suits of apparel, and then was clean from 
 them." 
 
 Ann Sandeswel deposed, " That about seven or eight years 
 since, she having bought a certain number of geese, meeting 
 with Ami/ Diiny, she told her, ' If she did not fetch her geese 
 home they would all he destroyed,'' which in a few days after 
 came to pass." 
 
 Afterwards the said Amy became tenant to this deponent's 
 husband for a house, who told her, " That if she looked not 
 well to such a chimney in her house, that the same zcould fall ; " 
 whereupon this deponent replied that it was a new one, but 
 not minding much her words at that time, they parted. But 
 in a short time the chimney fell down, according as the said 
 Amy had said. 
 
 Also this deponent further said that her brother, being a 
 fisherman, and using to go into the Northern seas, she desired 
 him to send her a fixkin of fish, which he did accordingly, 
 and she having notice that the said firkin was brought into 
 Leystoff rOad, she desired a boatman to bring it ashore with 
 the other goods they were to bring, and she, going down to 
 meet the boatman to receive her fish, desired the said Amy 
 to go along with her to help her home with it. Amy replied, 
 " She would go when she had it." And thereupon this depo- 
 nent went to the shore without her, and demanded of the 
 boatmen the fii-kin ; they told her " that they could not keep 
 it in the boat from falling into the sea, and they thought it 
 was gone to the divel, for they never saw the like before." 
 
200 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXn. 
 
 And being demanded by this deponent whether any other 
 goods in the boat were likewise lost as well as hers, they 
 answered, " Not any." 
 
 The prisoners upon being asked what they had to say for 
 themselves, replied, " Nothing material to anything that 
 was proved against them." Whereupon the judge, in giving 
 his directions to the jury, told them that he would not repeat 
 the evidence unto them, lest by so doing he should wrong 
 the evidence on the one side or on the other. Only this, 
 acquainted them that they had two things to inquire after. 
 First, whether or no these children were bewitched ; Secondly, 
 whether the prisoners at the bar were guilty of it. 
 
 That there were such creatures as witches he made no 
 doubt at all ; for — First, the Scriptures had affirmed so much. 
 Secondly, the wisdom of all nations had provided laws against 
 such persons, which is an argument of their confidence of 
 such a crime ; and such hath been the judgment of this 
 kingdom, as appears by that Act of ParKament which hath 
 provided punishments proportionable to the quality of the 
 offence. And desired them strictly to observe their 
 evidence ; and desired the great God of heaven to direct 
 their hearts in this weighty thing they had in hand, for to 
 condemn the innocent, and let the guilty go free, icere hoth an 
 abomination to the Lord. 
 
 With this short direction the jury departed from the 
 bar, and within the space of half an hour, returned and 
 brought them in both " Guilty," upon the several indict- 
 ments, which were thirteen in number, whereupon they stood 
 indicted. 
 
 This was upon Thursday, in the afternoon, March 13th, 
 1662. 
 
 The next morning the three children with their parents 
 came to the Lord Chief Baron Hales' lodging, who all of 
 them spake perfectly, and were as in good health as ever 
 they were ; only Susan Chandler, by reason of her very much 
 affliction, did look very thin and wan. And their friends 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 201 
 
 ■were asked, at wliat time they were restored thus to their 
 speech and health ? And Mr. Pacij did affii-m that within 
 less than half-an-hour after the witc/ies were convicted, they 
 were all of them restored, and slept well that night, feeling- 
 no pain ; only Susan Chandler felt a pain like pricking of 
 pins in her stomach. 
 
 After, they were all of them brought down to the Court, 
 but Ann Durent was so fearful to behold them, that she 
 desired she might not see them. The other two continued 
 in the Court, and they affirmed, in the face of the country 
 and before the witches themselves, what before hath been 
 deposed by their friends and relations, the prisoners not 
 much contradicting them. In conclusion, the Judge and all 
 the Court were fully satisfied with the verdict, and therefore 
 gave judgment against the witches that they should be 
 hanged. 
 
 They were much urged to confess, but would not. 
 
 The next morning the Judges went to Cambi'idge, and 
 no reprieve being granted, the prisoners were executed on 
 the Monday following, the seventeenth of March; but they 
 made no confession. 
 
 [The above is an abridgment of an account of the trial taken by a person 
 attending the Court, and printed for William Shrewsbury, at the Bible, in 
 Duck Lane, 1682.] 
 
 CONFESSION OF A WITCH AT IPSWICH. 
 
 In the year 1645, it appears that the town of Ipswich 
 was the residence of a notorious witch, who practised her 
 sorceries on the unsuspecting or unwary. This beldame 
 rejoiced in the name of Mother Lakeland, and was in process 
 of time duly arraigned and condemned as a dealer in 
 enchantments. Ultimately, however, she made a confession 
 of her sins and iniquities before she departed this life ; and 
 in an old tract entitled, " The Laws against Witches and 
 Conjurations," the following relation of her beheved iniquity 
 is to be found : — 
 
^02 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 " The Confession of Mother Lakeland, of fysirich, who teas 
 arraigned and condemned for a witch, and suffered death 
 lij hurning, at Ipsirich, in Suff'olli, on Tuesdatj, the 9th 
 Septemhcr, 1645. 
 
 " The said Mother Lakeland hath been a Professor of 
 Religion, a constant hearer of the "Word for these many 
 years, and yet a Witch (as she confessed) for the space of 
 near twenty years. The Leril came to her first, between 
 sleeping and waking, and spake to her in a hollow voice, 
 telling her that if she would serve him she would want 
 nothing. After often solicitation, she consented to him ; then 
 he stroke his claw (as she confessed) into her hands, and 
 with her blood wrote the covenants. (Naw the sithtilty of 
 Sathan is to he observed, in that he did not press her to deny God 
 and Christ, as he useth to do to otliers ; because she was a 
 professour, and might have lost all his hold by pressing her 
 too far.) Then he furnished her with three imps, two little 
 dogs, and a mole (as she confessed), which she employed in 
 her services. Her husband she bewitched (as she confessed), 
 whereby he lay in great misery for a time, and at last dyed. 
 Then she sent one of her dogs to Mr. Lawrence, in Ipsicich, 
 to torment him and take away his life ; she sent one of 
 them also to his child, to torment it, and take away the life 
 of it, which was done upon them both ; and all this (as she 
 confessed) was because he asked her for twelve shillings that 
 she owed him, and for no other cause. 
 
 " She further confessed, that she sent her mole to a maid 
 of one Mrs. Jennings, in Ipswich, to torment her and take 
 away her life, which was done accordingly, and this for 
 no other cause but for that the said maid would not lend 
 her a needle that she desired to borrow of her, and was 
 earnest with her for a shilling which she owed the said 
 maid. 
 
 " Then, she further confessed, she sent one of her imps to 
 one Mr. Bealc, in Ipsirich, who had formerly been a suitor 
 
THE SVFFOLK GARI.AXD. 203 
 
 to her grandchild ; and hecause he would not have her, she 
 sent and bm-nt a new ship, that had never been at sea, that 
 he was to go master of; and sent also to torment him and 
 take away his hfe ; but he is jet living, but in very great 
 misery, and it is vainly conceived by the doctors and chir- 
 m-geons that have him in hand that he consumes and rots, 
 and that half of his body is rotten upon him as he is 
 living. 
 
 " Severall other things she did, for all which she was by 
 law condemned to die, and in particular to be burnt to death, 
 because she was the death of her husband (as she confessed), 
 which death she suffered accordingly. 
 
 " But since her death, there is one thing that is very 
 remarkable, and to be taken notice of : That upon the very 
 day that she was burned, a bunch of flesh, something after 
 the form of a dog, that grew upon the thigh of the said 
 Mr. Bealc, ever since the time that she fii'st sent her imp 
 to him, being very hard, but could never be made to break 
 by all the means that could be used, break of itself without 
 any means using. And another sore that at the same time 
 she sent her imp to him rose upon the side of his belly, 
 in the form of a fistula, which ran and could not be braked 
 for all the means that could be used, presently also began 
 to heale, and that there is great hopes that he will suddenly 
 recover again, for his sores heale apace, and he doth recover 
 his strength. He was in this misery for the space of a yeare 
 and a halfe, and was forced to go with his head and his 
 knees together, his misery was so great." 
 
 This " Confession " is the latest, we believe, that is known 
 from the lips of a Suffolk sorceress; but it is lamentable 
 to think that the practice of " testing " for witchcraft, such 
 as swimming harmless persons, under the pretence of deciding 
 whether they were possessed or not, continued down to a 
 much later period. 
 
204 THE SUFFOI.K GARLAND. 
 
 WITCHCRAFT AT BEANDESTO^g'. 
 
 The following extract from the parish Eegister of Bran- 
 deston, near Wickham Market, records a very extraordinary- 
 transaction : — 
 
 " 6, Mail, 1596, John Lowes, Vicar." 
 
 " After he had been vicar here about fifty years, be was 
 executed in the time of the Long Rebellion, at St. Edmund's, 
 Bury, with sixty more, for being a wizard. Hopkins, his 
 chief accuser, having kept the poor old man, then in his 
 eigbtieth year, awake for several nigbts, till be was delirious, 
 and then confessed a familiarity with the Devil, which had 
 sucb weight with the jury and bis judges, viz.. Sergeants 
 Godcold, old Calamy, and FalrdougJi, as to condemn bim, in 
 1645, or the beginning of 1646." 
 
 It appears from a writer in tbe "Suffolk Literary 
 Chronicle," that some years after tbis occurrence, Mr. 
 Eivett, who resided at Brandeston Hall, was applied to for 
 information respecting tbis case, and that gentleman in reply 
 wrote : — " I bave it from tbem wbo watcbed witb him, that 
 they kept bim awake several nigbts together, and ran bim 
 backwards and forward about the room until he was out of 
 breath; then they rested him a little, and then they ran 
 him again; and this they did for several days and nights 
 together, till be was quite weary of bis life, and scarce 
 sensible of what he said or did. They sivam him at 
 Framlingham, but that was no true rule to try him by, for 
 they put in honest people at tbe same time, and they swam 
 as well as he." 
 
 Mr. Loioes, it seems, on his trial maintained bis innocence 
 to the last. The treatment he experienced as above men- 
 tioned was after the trial, and whilst in a state of delirium 
 they extorted from him the following very strange confession : 
 " That two imps attended him ; that the one was always 
 putting him upon doing mischief ; that once, being near the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLANt). 205 
 
 sea, and seeing a ship under sail, this mischievous imp 
 requested to be sent to sink it ; that he consented to the 
 importunity, and saw it without a,ny apparent cause im- 
 mediately sink before him." The following cmiotis ancedote 
 of this divine is Hkewise stated : — That being precluded 
 Christian burial from the nature of his offence, he com- 
 posedly and in an audible voice read the service over 
 himself, on his way to execution. 
 
 In the parish register of Monk's Eleigh, there is the 
 following entry :— 
 
 "Deo. 19th, 1748. Alice, the wife of Thomas Green, 
 labourer, was swam, malicious and evU people having 
 raised an ill report of her being a witch." 
 
 CHAEM AGAINST WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 On one of the bricks which are close to the threshold of 
 the door of Stanningfield church, is a glazed tile on which is 
 a figure of a horse shoe, for the purpose it is said, of prevent- 
 ing witches from entering the church. However, in spite of 
 this celebrated horse shoe, placed where it now is for the 
 protection of the parish, it does not seem to have produced 
 the desired effect, as so late as the year 1795, an unfortunate 
 -ndtch was discovered in Stanningfield, and went through the 
 usual sufferings in a pond close by the church. 
 
 In July, 1792, an old woman applied to the justice of 
 Bury St. Edmund's for redress against the imputation of 
 witchcraft ; but as she was informed that no cognizance 
 could be taken of her case, she returned to her parish with 
 a full determination to pass the common ordeal, and which, 
 as it was sohcited on her part, was inflicted by her husband, 
 his brother, and another man. 
 
 The belief in witchcraft still lingers in our county. 
 The Eev. Hugh Pigot, writing in 1863, says :— " I met 
 in a cottage in Hadleigh a woman from Whatfield, who 
 proved to be a devout believer in witchcraft. She said, 
 with a positive earnestness which convinced me that she was 
 
206 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 sincere in her error, that she knew of several instances of it, 
 and of some families who were in possession of the secret. 
 One case was that of a poor girl who had heen ill for a long 
 time, and whose sickness apparently excited the commisera- 
 tion of an aged female, who came every day to inquire after 
 her. At length it occurred to one of the family that the old 
 lady who seemed to have such a strong sj-mpathy with the 
 sufferer must needs be a witch, and accordingly it was 
 proposed that a horse shoe should be affixed to the sill of 
 the outer door, in order to prevent her from entering the 
 house." 
 
 SOXGS A:^rD BALLADS. 
 
 Songs and ballads are, we fear, the only fonn in which 
 poetry will be for many years popularily recognized by the 
 people. They convey ideas higher that those entertained by 
 the masses, but still within the reach of their understanding. 
 Such rude poetry has been in all countries the earliest record 
 of heroic and tragic acts and oiixious events. In the early 
 stages of civilization the minstrel was a popular character, 
 and in England and Wales the man who sang a tribute to 
 the dead over the corpse of a fallen warrior, who poured 
 forth a song at a time of revehy, or related in striking 
 or pathetic language the marvellous tale, the wild adventnre, 
 love's sentiment and passion, was protected and caressed, 
 his skill thought half divine, and his person held inviolable. 
 For him there was no need of sword or spear. He that sang 
 to every heart was welcomed by every hand, and even amidst 
 a hostile host and in an enemy's country no man was his 
 foe, and his song or his harp was a shield to him. The 
 favourite themes of the ballad writers were love, war, 
 and revelry, and some specimens of each class have been 
 selected for insertion. In modem ballad literature, Eobert 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 207 
 
 Bloomfield is to Suffolk wHat Beranger is to the French, 
 and Burns to the Scotch nation. The recital of his 
 *' Eichard and Kate " and " The Horkej," always delight 
 the Suffolk peasantry. 
 
 We commence with a selection from 
 
 THE SOKG BOOK OF AX IPSWICH MINSTREL. 
 
 At the Congress of the British Archaeological Association, 
 held in Ipswich, August, 186-4, Mr. Thomas Wright, F.S.A., 
 read a paper "On the MS. Song Book of an Ipswich 
 Minstrel of the Fifteenth Century." He said the late Mr. 
 Fitch had some years ago a MS. of songs and carols, 
 apparently of the age of Henry YL, and which probably 
 constituted the stock in trade of a professed minstrel, who 
 sang at festivals and merry-makings. This MS. book was 
 found among the municipal records of the borough of 
 Ipswich, and it being thought that it had no business 
 there, it was taken away. Mr. Fitch gave it to him 
 (Mr. Wright), but being convinced that Mr. Fitch did so 
 in ignorance of its real worth, he insisted on returning 
 it, and it was now in a private collection in the north of 
 England. 
 
 A manuscript collection of songs of so early a date is very 
 rare. The only one known to Mr. Wright of a similar 
 character is a Sloane MS. in the British Museum. On a 
 comparison of the contents of the two manuscripts, it was 
 found that a few of the pieces in the Ipswich song book are 
 also in the Sloane MS., but by much the larger number of 
 the songs contained in the Ipswich song book, including 
 some of the most interesting and curious, appear to be 
 unique, and the others are much better and more complete 
 copies than those previously known. 
 
 The " Song Book " gives a general view of the classes of 
 poetry then popular, and contains good examples of how 
 the minstrels catered for the public taste. Eather a lai'ge 
 
208 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 proportion of its contents consists of carols and religious 
 songs, sucli as were sung at Christmas, or perhaps at some 
 other of the great festivals of the Church. Another class 
 of productions in which this MS. for its date is peculiarly 
 rich, consists of drinking Songs. The collection also contains 
 a number of those satirical songs against the fair sex, which 
 were so common in the middle ages, and in addition the 
 song book contains a few short moral poems. 
 
 We select the following as illustrations of its con- 
 tents :-^ 
 
 Bryng Us in good ale, and bryng us in good ale ; 
 For our blyssyd lady sak, bryng us in good ale. 
 
 Bryng us in no browne bred, for that is mad of brane, 
 Nor bryng us in no whyt bred, for therin is no game ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no befe, for ther ia many bonys (bones) : 
 But bryng us in good ale, for that go'th downe at onys (once) ; 
 
 And bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no bacon, for that is passyng fate, 
 But bryng us in good ale, and gyfe us i-nough of that ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no mutton, for that is often lene. 
 Nor bryng us in no trypes, for thei be syldom olene ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us no eggys, for ther ar many sohelles, 
 But bryng us in good ale, and gyf us no(th)yng ellys ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no butter, for therin ar many herys (hairs), 
 Nor bryng us in no pygge's fleseh, for that wyl mak us borys ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no podynges, for therin is al Gode's good, 
 Nor bryng us in no venesen, for that is not for owr blod ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 Bryng us in no capon's fleseh, for that is ofte der, 
 Nor bryng us no dokes (duck's) fleseh, for thei slober in the mer (mire) ; 
 
 But bryng us in good ale. 
 
 This curious drinking-song was printed by Eitson ("Dis- 
 sertations on Ancient Songs and Music," p. 34), from 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 209 
 
 MS., Harl, 541, fol. 214; but tke above, xmder Mr. 
 "Wright's additional care, is a much better and more perfect 
 copy. 
 
 II. 
 
 How, gossipe myn, gossipe myn, 
 "When wyll ye go to the wyn ? 
 
 I WTLL you teU a fuU good sport, 
 How gossyps gather them on a sort, 
 Theyre syk bodes for to comfort 
 When thei mett in a lane ore stret. 
 
 But I dare not, fore ther displeasaunce, 
 TeU off thes maters half the substaunoe ; 
 But yet sumwhatt off ther governaunoe. 
 As far as I dare, I will declare. 
 
 Good gossipe myn, where have ye be ? 
 It is so long syth I yow see ; 
 Where is the best wyn P tell yow me. 
 Can yow ought tell full wele. 
 
 I know a drawght off mery-go-downe. 
 The best it is in all thys towne ; 
 But yet wold I not, fore my gowne. 
 My husband it wyst, ye may me trust. 
 
 Call forth yowr gossips by-and-by : 
 Elynore, Jone, and Margery, 
 Margaret, Alls, and Ceoelyj 
 
 Fore thai will come both all and sume. 
 
 And ich of them wyll somewhat bryng, 
 Gosse, pygge, ore capon's wyng, 
 Pastes off pigeons, ore sum other thyng. 
 Fore a galon off wyn thei will not wryng. 
 
 Go befoore, be tweyn and tweyn, 
 Wysly, that ye be not seen ; 
 Fore I must home, and come ageyn, 
 To witt i-wys where my husbond is. 
 
210 THE SUFFOLK GARLAIVD. 
 
 A strype ore ij God in3'-ght send me, 
 If my husbond myght her se me ; 
 She that is aferd, lett her fle, 
 Q,uod Alls than, I dred no man. 
 
 Now be we in tavern sett, 
 A drowght off the best lett hyme fett, 
 To bryng owr husbondes out off dett, 
 Fore we will spend tyll God more send. 
 
 Ech of them brought forth ther dysoh, 
 Sume brought flesh, and sume fysh, 
 ftuod Margaret mek, now with a wysh, 
 I wold Ann were here, she wold mak us chore. 
 
 How sey yow, gossips, is this wyne good ? 
 That it is, quod Elenore, by the rood. 
 It oherisheth the hart and comfort the blood ; 
 Such jonckettes among shall mak us lyv long. 
 
 Anne, byd fill a pot of musoadell. 
 Fore off all wynes I love it well ; 
 Swete wynes kepe my body in hele, 
 If I had off it nought I shuld tak gret thought. 
 
 How look ye, gossipe, at the hordes end ? 
 Kot mery, gossip ? God it amend. 
 All shal be well, elles God it defend ; 
 Be mery and glad, and sitt not so sadde. 
 
 Wold God I had don aftur yowr oounsell ! 
 Fore my husbond is so fell, 
 He betyth me lyk the devill off hell ; 
 And the more I cry, the lesse mercy. 
 
 Alys with a lowd voyce spak than ; 
 I-wis, she said, lytyll good he cane 
 That betyth ore stryketh ony woman, 
 
 And specially his wyffl'; God gyve him short lyve ! 
 
 Margaret mek seid, so mot I thryffe, 
 I know no man that is alyffe 
 That gyve me ij strokes, but he shall have fyffe, 
 I am not aferd, though I have no herd. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 211 
 
 On oast down lier shott, and went lier wey ; 
 Gossip, quod Elenore, what Ayi she paye ? 
 Not but a peny ? lo, therefore I saie, 
 She shal be no more off owr lore. 
 
 Such gestes we may have i-nowe, 
 That will not fore ther shott alow ; 
 With whom cum she, gossipe ? with yow ? 
 Nay, quod Jone, I come alone. 
 
 Now rekyn owr shott and go we hence, 
 What Y cost it ioh off us but iij pence ? 
 Parde, thys is but a smale expence. 
 Fore such a. sort, and aU but sport. 
 
 Torn down the street where ye cum owt, 
 And we will compasse rownd abowt ; 
 Gossip, quod Anne, what nedyth that dowt ? 
 Yowr husbondes be plesyd, when ye be reisyd. 
 
 What so ever ony man thynk, 
 Whe cum fore nowght but fore good drynk, 
 Now lett us go whom and wynk ; 
 Fore it may be sen where we have ben. 
 
 Thys is the thought that gossips tak, 
 0ns in the weke mery will thei mak, 
 And all small drynk they will forsak ; 
 But wyne off the best shall ban no rest. 
 
 Sume be at the taverne ons in a weke ; 
 And so be sume every daie eke ; 
 Ore ellis thei will gron and mak them sek, 
 Fore thynges usid will not be refusyd. 
 
 Who sey yow, woman, is it not soo ? 
 Yes, suerly, and that ye wyll know ; 
 And therefore lat us drynk all a row, 
 And off owr syngyng mak a good endyng. 
 
 Now fyll the cupe and drynk to me, 
 And than shal we good felows be, 
 And off thys talkyng leve will we, 
 And speak then good off women. 
 
212 THE SUFFOLK GARLA.N'D. 
 
 An imperfect copy of this very curious ballad was printed 
 by Eitson ("Ancient Songs," p. 77), from a MS. in the 
 Cottonian library. There are considerable variations between 
 his copy and the above, and his begins at the seventh stanza 
 of the ballad in the Ipswich Minstrel's Song Book. 
 
 III. 
 
 Off all creatures women be best, 
 Ejus contrariuin verum. est. 
 
 In every place ye may well se, 
 That women be trew as tyrtyll on tre ; 
 Not liberall in langag, but ever in secrete 
 And gret joy among them is fore to be. 
 
 The stedfastnesse off women wil never be don, 
 So gentyll, so ourtes, thei be everichoa 
 Mek as a lambe, styll as a stone ; 
 Croekyd ne crabbyd fynd ye none. 
 
 Men be more oombres a thowsand fold, 
 And I mervill who thei dare be so bold, 
 Ageynst women fore to hold, 
 Seeing them so paoient, soft, and cold. 
 
 Fore tell a woman all your counsayle. 
 And she cane kepe it wonder weyll. 
 She had lever go qwyok to hell. 
 Than to hire neyboure she wold it tell. 
 
 Fore by women men be reconsyled. 
 Fore by women was never man begiled. 
 Fore by women was never man betraied. 
 Fore by women was never man bewreyed 
 
 Now sey well by women, ore elles be styll. 
 Fore they never displeasid man by ther will ; 
 To be angry ore wroth thei cannot skyll. 
 Fore I dare sey thynk no ill. 
 
 Trow ye that they lyst to smatter. 
 Or ageynst ther husbondes to clatter ? 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 213 
 
 Nay, thei had lever fast bred and water 
 Then fore to presse such a matter. 
 
 Thowe all the pacienoe in the world wer drownd 
 And nonne were left here on the grownd, 
 Ageyn in women it might be fownd, 
 Such vertu in them doth abownd. 
 
 To the taverne thei will not goo, 
 Nore to the ale howse never the moo. 
 Fore, God wott, thei hartes shulbe woo 
 To spend ther husbondes' money soo. 
 
 If here wer a woman ore a mayd. 
 That list for to go freshly arayd. 
 Ore with fyne kerohefs to go displaid, 
 Te wold sale thei be prond, it is evil said. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Doll thi ale, doll, doll thi ale, dole, 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to have a doty poll. 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to styk at a hrere ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to ly in the myere ; 
 And ale mak many a mane to slop by the fyere ; 
 With doU. 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to stombyl at a stone ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to go dronken home; 
 And ale mak many a mane to brek hys tone ; 
 With doll. 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to draw hys knyfe ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to mak gret stryfe ; 
 And ale mak many a mane to bet hys wyf ; 
 With doll. 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to wet hys ohekes ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to ly in the stretes ; 
 And ale make many a mane to wet hya shetes ; 
 With doll. 
 
214 THE SUFFOLK GAELAXD, 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to stomble at the blokkes ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to mak hys bed have knokkes ; 
 And ale mak many a mane to syt in the stokkes ; 
 With doll. 
 
 Ale mak many a mane to ryne over the falows ; 
 Ale mak many a mane to swere by God and alhalows ; 
 And ale mak many a mane to hang upon the galows ; 
 With doll. 
 
 THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF THE KIXG AND LORD BIGOD, 
 OF BUNGAY. 
 
 Txinc — " DuHwick Roses." 
 
 Hugh Bigod was the descendant of Roger Bigod, who, 
 at the time of the Norman Survey, was in possession of 
 one hundred and seventeen manors in this county. The 
 family came over with William the Conqueror ; and for 
 their eminent services at the battle of Hastings, Eoger was 
 thus richly rewarded. His brother, Hugh Bigod, was 
 created by King Stephen Earl of East Anglia, and in 1166 
 was advanced by Henry the Second to the title and dignity 
 of Earl of Norfolk, and died attainted in 1177. He was 
 succeeded by his son, E-oger Bigod, who, though heir to the 
 Earldom of Norfolk, and to the Stewardship of the royal 
 household, was obliged to purchase both by the payment of 
 one thousand marks, in consequence of the attainder of his 
 father. In the time of King John, he joined the refractory 
 barons, and was one of the most active amongst them in 
 procuring for the people that great palladium of English 
 liberty, Magna Charta. He, dying in 12:20, was succeeded 
 by his son Hugh, the subject of the following ballad. 
 
 The Castle of Bungay is conjectured to have been built 
 by this powerful family. During the intestine commotions 
 in the turbulent reign of Stephen, it was so strongly fortified 
 by Hugh Bigod, and stood besides in such an advantageous 
 situation, that he was accustomed to boast of it as impreg- 
 nable ; and is reported by Holinshed to have made use of 
 this expression : 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 21' 
 
 * ' Were I in my Castle of Bungaye, 
 Upon the water of Waveney, 
 I would ne set a button by the King of Cocknaye." 
 
 The King has sent for Bigod bold , 
 
 In Essex, whereat he lay, 
 But Lord Bigod laugh'd at his Pom-suivant, 
 
 And stoutly thus did say : 
 
 " "Were I in my Castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I would ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 Hugh Bigod was Lord of Bungay tower. 
 
 And a merry lord was he ; 
 So away he rode on his berry-black steed. 
 
 And sung with license and glee : 
 
 " Were I in my Castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I would ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 At Ipswich they laugh'd to see how he sped, 
 
 And at UfFord they star'd, I wis ; 
 But at merry Saxmundham they heard hia song, 
 
 And the song he sung was this : 
 
 "Were I ia my Castle of Bungay, 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I would ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 The Baily he rode and the Baily he ran. 
 
 To catch the gallant Lord Hugh, 
 But for every mile the Baily rode. 
 
 The Earl he rode more than two ; 
 
 Says, " Were I in my Castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I would ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 When the Baily had ridden to Bramfield oak, 
 
 Sir Hugh was at Ilksall bower ; 
 When the Baily had ridden to Halesworth cross, 
 
 He was singing in Bungay tower — 
 
 " Now that I am in my Castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I will ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
216 THE SUFFOLK GARLAM). 
 
 When news was brought to London town, 
 
 How Sir Bigod did jest and sing, 
 " Say you to Lord Hew, of Norfolk," 
 
 Said Henry, our English King, 
 
 " Though you be in your castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 I'll make you care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 King Henry he marshal'd his merry men all, 
 
 And through Suffolk they march' d -with speed. 
 And they marched to Lord Bigod's castle wall, 
 
 And knock'd at his gate, I rede ; 
 
 " Sir Hugh of the castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney; 
 Come, doiF your cap to the King of Cockney ! " 
 
 Sir Hughon Bigod, so stout and brave, 
 
 When he heard the King thus say. 
 He trembled and shook like a May-mawther, 
 
 And he wish'd himself away : 
 
 " Were I out of my castle of Bungay, 
 
 And beyond the river of Waveney, 
 I would ne care for the King of Cockney." 
 
 Sir Hugh took three score sacks of gold. 
 
 And flung them over the wall ; 
 Says, " Go your ways, in the Devil's name. 
 
 Yourself and your merry men all ! 
 
 But leave me my castle of Bungay, 
 
 Upon the river of Waveney, 
 And I'll pay my shot to the King of Cockney." 
 
 THE SUFFOLK WONDEE ; 
 
 Or, a Relation of a Young Man, tvho, a month after his death, 
 appeared to his Sweetheart, and carried her on horseback 
 hehind him for forty miles in two hours, and ivas never 
 seen after hut in his grave. 
 
 The following tale is taken from " A collection of Old Bal- 
 lads. Corrected from the best and most antient copies extant. 
 With introductions historical, critical, or humorous. lUus- 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARl.AXD. 217 
 
 trated with copper plates." London, 1723 — 5, 12 mo., 3 vols. 
 It is thought to bear a considerable resemblance to the 
 celebrated German ballad of Leonore, by Burger. 
 
 A wonder stranger ne'er was known, 
 Than what I now shall treat upon ; 
 In Suffolk there did lately dwell 
 A farmer rich, and known fuU well. 
 
 He had a daughter fair and hright, 
 On whom he plao'd his whole delight ; 
 Her beauty was beyond compare. 
 She was both virtuous and fair. 
 
 There was a young man living by, 
 "Who was so charmed with her eye. 
 That he could never be at rest. 
 He was by love so much possest. 
 
 He made address to her, and she 
 Did grant him love immediately ; 
 But when her father came to hear, 
 He parted her and her poor dear. 
 
 Forty miles distant was she sent. 
 Unto his brother's, with intent 
 That she should there so long remain. 
 Till she had chang'd her mind again. 
 
 Hereat this young man sadly griev'd, 
 But knew not how to be reliev'd ; 
 He sigh'd and sobb'd continually, 
 That his true love he could not see. 
 
 She by no means could to him send, 
 "Who was her heart's espoused friend ; 
 He sigh'd, he griev'd, but all in vain, 
 For she coniin'd must still remain. 
 
 He mourn'd so much that doctor's art, 
 Could give no ease unto his heart ; 
 Who was so strangely terrify'd. 
 That in short time for love he dy'd. 
 
218 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 She that from him was sent away, 
 Knew nothing of his dying day, 
 But constant still she did remain, 
 And lov'd the dead, altho' in vain. 
 
 After he had in grave been laid 
 A month or more, unto this maid 
 He came in middle of the night. 
 Who joy'd to see her heart's delight. 
 
 Her father's horse, which well she knew, 
 Her mother's hood and safeguard too. 
 He brought with him, to testify 
 Her parents' order he came by. 
 
 Which when her uncle understood. 
 He hop'd it would be for her good. 
 And gave consent to her straightway. 
 That with him she should come away. 
 
 When she was got her love behind. 
 They pass'd as swift as any wind. 
 That in two hours, or little more, 
 He brought her to her father's door. 
 
 But as they did this great haste make. 
 He did complain his head did ache ; 
 Her handkerchief she then took out. 
 And ty'd the same his head about. 
 
 And unto him she thus did say. 
 Thou art as cold as any clay ; 
 When we oolne home a fire we'll have ; 
 But little dream'd he went to grave. 
 
 Soon were they at her father's door. 
 And after she ne'er saw him more ; 
 I'll set the horse up, then he said. 
 And there he left this harmless maid. 
 
 She knock'd, and straight a man he cry'd, 
 Who's there ? 'Tis I, she then reply'd ; 
 Who wonder'd much her voice to hear, 
 And was possess'd with dread and fear. 
 
TlIF, SUFFOLK GARLVXI). 219 
 
 Her father lie did tell, and then 
 
 He star'd like an affrighted man ; 
 
 Down stairs he ran, and when he see her, 
 
 Cry'd out, my child, how eam'st thou here ? 
 
 Pray sir, did you not send for me 
 By such a messenger ? said she, 
 Which made his hair stare on his head, 
 As knowing well that he was dead. 
 
 Where is he ? then to her he said, 
 He's in the stable, quoth the maid ; 
 Go in, said he, and go to bed, 
 I'll see the horse well littered. 
 
 He star'd about, and there could he 
 No shape of any mankind see ; 
 But found his horse all on a sweat, 
 Which made him in a deadly fret. 
 
 His daughter he said nothing to, 
 Nor none else, tho' full well they knew 
 That he was dead a month before, 
 For fear of grieving her full sore. 
 
 Her father to the father went 
 Of the deceased, with full intent 
 To tell him what his daughter said, 
 So both came back unto this maid. 
 
 They ask'd her, and she still did say, 
 'Twas he that then brought her away ; 
 Which when they heard, they were amaz'd. 
 And on each other strangely gaz'd. 
 
 A handkerchief she said she ty'd 
 About his head ; and that they try'd. 
 The sexton they did speak unto, 
 That he the grave would then undo : 
 
 Affrighted, then they did behold 
 His body turning unto mould ; 
 And though he had a month been dead. 
 This handkerchief was 'bout his head. 
 
220 THE SUFFOLK OARL VXD. 
 
 This thing unto her then they told, 
 And the whole truth they did unfold ; 
 She was thereat so terrify'd, 
 And grieved, that she quickly dy'd. 
 
 Part not true love, you rich men then. 
 But if they be right honest men, 
 Your daughter's love, give them their way. 
 For force oft breeds their lives' decay. 
 
 THE SUFFOLK COMEDY. 
 IN THEEE PAETS. 
 To the tune of " Phillis the Lovely.'' 
 
 The following old legendary ballad is printed from an 
 unique copy tliat was in the possession of the late Mr. John 
 Eaw, of Ipswich. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Ton young men and maidens of beauty most bright, 
 
 Give ear to my story of love and delight ; 
 
 I know that most people will of it approve, 
 
 It shows that some maidens are crafty in love. 
 
 It is an old saying we often do hear, 
 
 That maids go a courting when it is leap-year ; 
 
 A comical courtship this proves in the end, 
 
 Most people will smile ere my song's at an end. 
 
 Young Cupid he ranges about now and then. 
 
 And maidens are woimded as well as the men ; 
 
 For all must submit to his conquering bow, 
 
 As now by experience you soon all shall know. 
 
 A handsome young lady in London did dwell, 
 
 Whose parents were dead, it is known very well ; 
 
 She had the possession, all in her own hands. 
 
 Of great store of riches, and houses, and lands. 
 
 A gentleman out of the country did ride. 
 
 And at a great milliner's shop in Cheapside 
 
 He took up his lodgings, as I do declare, 
 
 When many a beautiful lady came there, 
 
 Fine gloves, and rich ribbons, and fans there to buy, 
 
 And such other niok-naoks as pleased their eye ; 
 
 The gentleman of them did take a full view, 
 
 And often would pass a fine compliment too. 
 
THE SUl'rOLK GARLAND. 221 
 
 This beautiful lady amongst all the rest, 
 
 She came to the milliner's shop, I protest, 
 
 And seeing this gentleman, she, for her part. 
 
 That instant was wounded by Capid's sharp dart. 
 
 This honoured beautiful lady by birth. 
 
 Thought him the handsomest creature on earth ; 
 
 So sweet was his carriage, such eloquent ways. 
 
 In person so graceful, exceeding all praise. 
 
 When business was over, this man to be plain. 
 
 Took coach, and then rode back to Suffolk again ; 
 
 At which the young lady was grieved full sore, 
 
 For he was the person that she did adore. 
 
 The ardoxxr of love was enkindled so great. 
 
 Her fond heart lay panting and fearfully beat ; 
 
 So deep was she wounded, she could no more rest, 
 
 The tortures of love so inflamed her breast. 
 
 Then said the young beautiful lady, I find 
 
 That now I am greatly perplex'd in my mind ; 
 
 In love I am deeply entangled, she cry'd. 
 
 Oh ! that I could be but that gentleman's bride ! 
 
 Methinks how delighted I'd be with the choice, 
 
 I do like his temper, and likewise his voice ; 
 
 His courteous behaviour, in every degree, 
 
 So fine is, so sweet, and so pleasing to me. 
 
 I never shall rest till I find out his name, 
 
 And learn by some method from what place he came ; 
 
 But now if my passion to him I unfold, 
 
 I fear he would slight me, and call me too bold. 
 
 But rather than I will quite languish and die, 
 
 In a very short time I am resolved for to try ; 
 
 Perhaps I by policy then may contrive. 
 
 To gain him I fancy, my heart to revive. 
 
 Soon after, this beautiful young lady gay 
 In man's fine apparel herself did array ; 
 And for this spruce gentleman inquiry made. 
 Because now to love him her heart was betray'd. 
 They told her from St. Edmund's, Bury, he came, 
 Which is in the county of Suffolk by name. 
 Disguised she rode down to Suffolk, we find, 
 In order to ease her poor troubled mind. 
 
222 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 In the fair town of Bur\', then, as it is told, 
 This damsel then sought for this gentleman bold, 
 And in a short time did find out Tvhere he dwelt, 
 But who can express now the passion she felt ! 
 This lady then went to a tavern hard by, 
 But drest like a man that no one might espy 
 That she was a woman, thus in her disguise, 
 She sent for this gentleman, with a design 
 To come and take part in a bottle of wiue ; 
 And soon to the tavern this gentleman came, 
 To visit the stranger of honour and fame. 
 The lady was like a young man to behold, 
 And said. Sir, excuse me for being so bold ; 
 Though I am a stranger no harm do I mean. 
 In fair London city your face I have seen. 
 The gentleman straightway replied in mirth, 
 You're not a person of breeding and birth ; 
 Is not your intention, I ask, me to cheat ? 
 Now what is your business, pray let me intreat. 
 Sir, I came from London (I hope no offence). 
 To you in great business, and ere I go hence, 
 The truth of the matter you too soon shall know ; 
 This set him a sighing, when she talked so. 
 They called for a supper, and when it was o'er, 
 The gentleman said, Sir, I do you implore ' 
 To tell me your business, then in her disguise 
 She acted her part now both cunning and wise. 
 Sir, I have a sister, a lady by birth, 
 She is the most beautiful creature on earth ; 
 And she is worth hundreds and thousands a year, 
 To tell you the truth she does love you most dear. 
 My sister lies languishing now for your sake. 
 And therefore compassion I hope you will take, 
 And slight not a captive, in love so oonfin'd, 
 Your answer, I hope, will be loving and kind. 
 The gentleman answered without more ado, 
 You question me hardly, but now tell me true, 
 If that your faces resemble alike. 
 Then I with your sister a bargain will strike. 
 Dear sir, she is like me in every part : 
 Why then I can love her with all my fond heart ; 
 If there be no bubble nor trick in the case, 
 Your sister's kind proffer I mean to embrace. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELA^'D. 223 
 
 She said, I must ride on to Cambridge witli speed ; 
 But since you have answered so kindly indeed, 
 I will ride to London, before you get there. 
 And, sir, you shall find that all matters are fair. 
 
 The gentleman then, between hope and despair, 
 
 His journey to London forthwith did repair ; 
 
 He found where this beautiful lady did dwell. 
 
 And of her good fame he was pleased right well. 
 
 The lady got home, as before she had said, 
 
 And he was admitted by her waiting-maid 
 
 To the young lady's presencSj approaching the room 
 
 To pay her his visit he then did presume. 
 
 Dear honour'd lady, excuse me nor blame, 
 
 From Bury St. Edmund's, in Suffolk, I came, 
 
 I had the good fortune your brother to see, 
 
 "Who told me you had a great value for me. 
 
 Sir, what do you mean ? I declare on my death, 
 
 I have not a brother alive on the earth ! 
 
 This filled the gentleman with much discontent. 
 
 And he said, on a fool's errand then I am sent. 
 
 So taking his leave, on his going away. 
 
 This beautiful lady she caused him to stay ; 
 
 And then unto supper she did him invite, 
 
 The charms of her beauty his soul to delight. 
 
 "Worthy sir, she exclaimed, right welcome you be. 
 
 But pray now relate the whole matter to me ; 
 
 "What person it was made use of my name, 
 
 Because to affront you he was much to blame. 
 
 Dear sir, I am sorry and grieved in heart 
 
 That you should have had such affront on your part. 
 
 Then all the whole matter he soon did declare ; 
 
 The lady she smiled, for she could not forbear. 
 
 He had but small stomach to eat at the first. 
 
 Her kind entertainment made him to mistrust 
 
 That it was but some juggle, the matter to prove 
 
 He greeted the lady with proffers of love. 
 
 She said, I now fancy that you have red hair. 
 
 Dear madam, you wrong me, I solemnly swear ; 
 
 So his wig he pulled off, and then, throwing it down, 
 
 Cry'd, madam, behold now my hair it is dark brown ! 
 
224 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 The lady burst out into laughter, and said, 
 
 Your wig will just fit me, as I am a maid ; 
 
 She her head-dress pulled olT, and his wig she put on, 
 
 Saying, Sir, do I look like a handsome young man ? 
 
 The gentleman's heart then began to rejoice, 
 
 Saying, that is the face and the sweeet pretty voice 
 
 "Which I met with at Bury, therefore be not coy. 
 
 For now I am crowned with rapture and joy. 
 
 Why, sir, are you sure on it ; perhaps you mistake P 
 
 No, madam, I do not, my oath I can take. 
 
 Then how do you like me, sir ? tell unto me. 
 
 Sweet honoured lady, right happy I be ! 
 
 Then a lady excuse, sir, I beg and intreat, 
 
 For I'm a poor captive who lies at your feet ; 
 
 I now crave your pardon for being so rude 
 
 On such a kind gentleman thus to intrude. 
 
 'Tis true, sir, I want not for silver or gold : 
 
 I hope you'll excuse me for being so bold, 
 
 For love is a witchcraft, none can it withstand, 
 
 When little brisk Cupid gets the upper hand. 
 
 Dear lady, your love makes amends for it all, 
 
 And therefore in right happy splendor we shall 
 
 Be crowned with comfort, when we are both ty'd, 
 
 And I shall be bless'd with a beautiful bride. 
 
 At Bow-church, in London, then married they were, 
 
 Attended with gentlemen and ladies fair ; 
 
 They rode down to Bury, and as many say. 
 
 Great feastings there lasted for many a day. 
 
 THE POLITICK MAID OF SUFFOLK, OE THE LAWYER 
 OUTWITTED. 
 
 The following curious old ballad is printed from a copy 
 tliat was obligingly communicated to the Eev. James Ford 
 (the Editor of the old " Siilfolk Garland ") by a gentleman 
 whose collections in ancient Enghsh literature stood un- 
 rivalled in this country. 
 
 Come all ye young men and maids. 
 
 Both of high and low degree ; 
 Or you that love a merry jest, 
 
 Give ear awhile to me. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 I'd have you give attention 
 
 To what I have to tell, 
 Then hear it out, I do not doubt 
 
 "Twill please you wondrous well. 
 'Tis of a wealthy lawyer. 
 
 That did in Suffolk dwell, 
 He kept a handsome house-keeper, 
 
 Her name was called Well ; 
 He kiss'd and pressed her o'er and o'er. 
 
 As I to you may tell. 
 Till her apron grew too short before, 
 
 Alas! Poor Nell! 
 It happen'd on a certain day, 
 
 As talking they were led, 
 She wept, she wail'd, she wrung her hands, 
 
 And thus to him she said : 
 My virgin rose you stole away. 
 
 Oh wed me, sir, said she. 
 Or I, like other girls, may say. 
 
 Ah ! woe is me ! 
 He straight gave her a loving kiss. 
 
 And without more delay. 
 He took her by the lily white hand. 
 
 And thus to her did say : 
 I wish old Nick may fetch me straight, 
 
 (A woeful tale to tell) 
 If ever I prove false to thee, 
 
 My dearest Nell. 
 Then thus with joys and loving toys, 
 
 They past away the time, 
 Till seven months were gone and past, 
 
 (But two left out of nine) 
 When from her place he turn'd her quite, 
 
 As I to you may tell. 
 All for the sake of a lady bright, 
 
 Alas, poor Nell ! 
 But when she found she was deoeiv'd. 
 
 She wept and tore her hair, 
 And cry'd, there's no belief in man. 
 
 It plainly doth appear. 
 Oh ! how could he so cruel be, 
 
 Thus to trepan my heart ; 
 
 9-K: 
 
226 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 But I will be reveng'd on him, 
 
 Before that we do part. 
 Now it happen'd to this lady bright. 
 
 Who liv'd a mile from town, 
 That this young lawyer every night 
 
 Would walk to her from home. 
 Forgetting of his former vows, 
 
 As I to you may tell, 
 And longing for a richer spouse. 
 
 He left poor Nell. 
 As Nell was sitting all alone, 
 
 Lamenting sad one night, 
 A project came into her head, 
 
 Which made her laugh outright. 
 Thought she, I'll make myself as black 
 
 As any devil in hel). 
 And watch some night for hia coming home. 
 
 Sing, brave Nell ! 
 She to a chimney sweeper went. 
 
 And there a bargain made. 
 For to have his sooty clothes, 
 
 And furthermore she said. 
 If that my counsel you'll but take, 
 
 A guinea I'll give to thee ; 
 Then let your little sweeper boy 
 
 But come along with me. 
 She having learned the lad his tale, 
 
 Thus unto him did say. 
 If you do act your part aright. 
 
 You half-a-orown I'll pay. 
 She gave him squibs of gunpowder. 
 
 And all appear' d right well. 
 To frighten her master, the lawyer, 
 
 Sing, brave Nell ! 
 And coming to a lonesome wood. 
 
 In ambush they did lie, 
 The which adjoining to a road, 
 
 That the lawyer must come by ; 
 ^\"ith a pair of ram's horns on her head, 
 
 In a lonesome place stood she ; 
 But as for black, the sweeper's boy, 
 She plac'd him on. a tree. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 227 
 
 It was just about the hour of one, 
 
 As for a truth we hear, 
 The lawyer he came trudging home 
 
 From the courtship of his dear ; 
 And stepping o'er to shun the dirt, 
 
 As I to you may tell, 
 She quickly caught him by the skirt. 
 
 Sing, brave Nell ! 
 Then with a doleful, hollow voice. 
 
 She unto him did say, 
 According to your wish I come. 
 
 To fetch you hence away. 
 She said, you must along with me 
 
 Down to my gloomy cell. 
 Except to-morrow by break- of day. 
 
 You wed poor Nell. 
 With that the chimney-sweeper's boy. 
 
 Set fire unto the train. 
 Which flew and crack'd about his head, 
 
 And made him roar amain. 
 Dear Mr. Devil, spare me now, 
 
 And mind but what I tell, 
 And I to-morrow by break of day. 
 
 Will wed poor Nell. 
 Well look you do, the Devil cry'd. 
 
 Or mind what I say to thee ; 
 Dou you see that little devil. 
 
 That sits on yonder tree ? 
 If ever you do break your vow. 
 
 As sure as hell is hell. 
 That little devil shall fetch you. 
 
 If you slight poor Nell. 
 The lawyer he went trembling home. 
 
 In a most dreadful fright, 
 And early in the morning. 
 
 As soon as it was light. 
 With trembling joints and staring eyes, 
 
 With looks both wan and pale, 
 He came to her with humble voice— 
 
 Good-morrow, dear Nell. 
 With kisses and embraces. 
 
 She granted her consent ; 
 
228 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 And having got a license, 
 
 Unto the church, they went ; 
 Where he made her his lawful wife, 
 
 As for a truth I tell, 
 And now they live a happy life, 
 
 Sing, brave Nell ! 
 She never told to friend or foe, 
 
 The trick which she had played. 
 Until some months after, 
 
 When she was brought to bed ; 
 She told it at a gossiping, 
 
 Which pleased the wenches well. 
 He was glad, and laugh'd and said, 
 
 'Twas well done Nell ! 
 
 THE LAMENTATION OF BECKLES. 
 
 A proper neive Sonet, declaring the lamentation of Beckles, a 
 Market Towne in Suffolke, ivhiche tvas in ye greate tcinde upon 
 S. Andretve's ere laste paste, moste pittyfullie burnt idthe fire, 
 to the losse bye estitnacion of twentye thousande poundes and 
 iqncardes, and to ye nombre of fourscore divellinge houses, 
 1586. 
 
 To Wilson's Tune, Finis T. D. 
 
 At London: hnprinted hy Robert Hobinson, for Nicholas Colme, of 
 Norwicli, dwelling in 8. Andreive's Churchyard, 
 
 With sobbing sighes and tickling teares 
 
 My state I doe lament, 
 Perceiving howe God's heavie wrath 
 
 Against my sinnes is bent. 
 Let all men viewe my woefull fall. 
 
 And rue my woefull case. 
 And learne herebye in speedye sort 
 
 Repentance to embrace. 
 
 For late in StrFPOiK was I seene 
 
 To be a statelye Towne, 
 Replenished with riches store, 
 
 And had in greate renowne : 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 229 
 
 Yea, planted on a pleasant soyle, 
 
 So fairs aa hart could wishe, 
 And had my Markets once a weeke 
 
 "Well stored with fleshe and fishe. 
 
 A fairs frsshe River running bye 
 
 To profits me withaU, 
 Who vrith a oristall cleered Streams 
 
 About my bankes did fall ; 
 My Fayres in Somer welthelye 
 
 For to increase my store, 
 My Meadowes green, and Commons greate, 
 
 What could I wishe for more ? 
 
 Fourscore houses in Bechles Towns 
 
 Were burned to ashes quite. 
 And that which most lamentes my hart. 
 
 The House of God I saye. 
 The Church and Temple by this Fyre 
 
 Is cleane consumed awaye. 
 
 The Market Place and Houses fayre 
 
 That stood about the same. 
 Hath felt the force and violence 
 
 Of this most fearefull flame ; 
 Soe that thers is no christian man 
 
 But in his hart would grieve, 
 To see the smarts I did sustayne 
 
 Uppon Saint Andrew'' s Eve. 
 
 Wherefore, goode Christian people, nowe 
 
 Take waminge by my fall, 
 Live not in stryfe and envious hate 
 
 To breed echo other thrall ; 
 Seeke not your neighbor's lastinge Spoyle 
 
 By greedie sute and lawe. 
 Live not in discorde and debate, 
 
 Whiche doth dsstruction drawe. 
 
 A mutilated copy of this rare ballad was discovered some 
 few years ago in the binding of an old Italian work, printed 
 in 1584, in the library of the Royal Society. T. D. was 
 Thomas Delony, the " baUotting silkweaver," of Norwich, 
 
230 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 and probably the above was one of his earliest productions. 
 " Wilson's Tune," or " Wilson's Wilde," as it is sometimes 
 called, is preserved in William Ballet's Lute Book, a MS. 
 in Trinity College, Dublin. A later impression of this 
 " Sonet " may be found among the Bagford Ballads, ia the 
 British Museum. 
 
 ■THE LAMENTATION OF BECKLES. 
 
 A brief sonet declaring tlie Lamentation of Beckles, a market 
 towne in Suffolke, u-hich icas in the great vinde, upon St. 
 Andrew's ere, pitifu/h/ burned irith fire, to the value, by esti- 
 mation, of ttventie thousand j^ounds, and to the number of four- 
 score diceUing houses, besides a great number of other houses. 
 
 1586. To iHE TtWE 01- " Labandalashotte," Finis op D. Stekeie. 
 
 At Lo7idon : Imprinted by Robert Robinson, for Nicholas Caiman, of 
 Norwich, dwelling in St. Andreive^s Churcliyarde. 
 
 (The tune of " Latandalashotte " is mentioned in the " Handful of Pleasant 
 Delights," 1584, but it has not been recovered.) 
 
 I. 
 
 My lovinge goode Neighbors that come to beholde 
 Mee sillie poore Beccles in cares manj'folde, 
 Such robbing, such steeling for more to the lesse, 
 Such dishonest dealing, in tyme of distresse, 
 That whoe so harde harted and worn out of grace, 
 But pittie may pierce him to thinke of mie case ? 
 
 II. 
 
 But my goode Neighbors that see mine estate. 
 Be all one as Christians, nor lyve in debate, 
 With wrapping and trapping, each other enthrall. 
 With watching and pryeing at each other's fall ; 
 With honing and shoving and striving in lawe. 
 Of Q-od nor his Grospell once standing in awe ; 
 Lyve not in hart burning, at God never wrest. 
 To Christ once be turning, not use him in jest ; 
 Lyve lovelye together, and not in disoorde. 
 Let me be your mirrour to lyve in the Lord. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 231 
 
 These two ballads on Beocles fonned part of a collection 
 of seven tj' ballads tbat were sold in London, in 1864, in a 
 folio volume, at tlie sale of the late Mr. Daniell's library, 
 for the sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds. 
 
 A MERRY SOXG ON THE DUKe's LATE GLORIOUS SUCCESS 
 DYER THE DUTCH. 
 
 Southwold bay, or as it was anciently abbreviated " Sole 
 bay," is celebrated as the scene of an obstinate and san- 
 guinary naval engagement, on the 28th May, 1672. In it 
 the fleets of England and France were combined on the one 
 liand, against the Dutch fleet on the other. The former, of 
 101 sail of men of war, besides fire ships and tenders, 
 carrying 6018 guns and 34,500 men. The latter, including 
 fire ships and tenders, mustered 168, of which 91 were men 
 of war. The commanders of the combined squadron were 
 James Duke of York, Count D'Etrees, and Earl of 
 Sandwtich. Against these were opposed on the side of 
 the Dutch, de Euyter, Blaxkart, and Yan Gthent, 
 accompanied by Cornelius de Witt, as deputy from the 
 States. 
 
 The English and French lay upon the bay in a very 
 negligent posture. Sandwich warned his brother com- 
 manders of their danger, but was answered by His Royal 
 Highness with an imputation upon his coiu'age. The event 
 proved how unjust were such suspicions, and how much the 
 allies were indebted for their safety to the caution of the 
 man who had been so groundlessly censured. Upon the 
 appearance of the enemy there was much trepidation, and 
 the combined forces had to cut away some of their cables 
 before their ships could be got into readiness. Sandwich 
 left room for his comrades to disengage themselves by 
 hastening out of the bay. This judicious and well timed 
 movement prevented the destruction of the combined fleet 
 by de Ruyter's fire ships — a result which seemed inevitable 
 
232 THE SUFFOI.K GARLATCD. 
 
 from the false and crowded position in whicli the English 
 commanders had placed themselves. 
 
 Having thus succeeded in disentangling his confederates, 
 the despised Sandwich rushed into the battle, determined to 
 conquer or die. By presenting himself at every post of 
 danger he drew towards him the fiercest shocks and bravery 
 of his opponents. The entire squadron of Van Ghent was 
 thus encountered single handed. But the intrepidity of 
 Sandwich proved more than a match for the Dutch Admiral, 
 whom he slew with his own hand, sinking a man of war and 
 three other of the enemy's vessels. At this moment of un- 
 equalled success, his battered ship was grappled and fired. 
 Of the thousand brave hands that formed his crew but a 
 small portion remained. His officers were all cut down, and 
 himself surrounded with flames. Still was he thundering in 
 the midst of the enemy — being vainly solicited to provide 
 for his own safety; and when his burning vessel could no 
 longer afford him fighting room, he boldly flung himself 
 into the sea, and exposed by his gallant conduct, even in 
 death, the rashness of the censure which impugned his 
 bravery. 
 
 In the meantime the Duke of York was hotly pressed by 
 De Euyter ; and so flercely and obstinately was the dispute 
 maintained between them, that of thirty-two engagements 
 in which his Eoyal Highness had been engaged, he declared 
 this to be the sharpest and longest. His ship became dis- 
 abled, himself overpowered by numbers, and the enemy so 
 sanguine by reason of his seemingly hopeless condition, 
 that had not Sir Joseph Jordan come to his aid, the Duke 
 must have shared the fate of Sandwich. Twice during the 
 heat of the battle he was obliged to desert the ships in which 
 he fought, in consequence of the damage and loss of men 
 which they successively suffered. Night at last brought this 
 well contested engagement to a close, in which the loss on 
 both sides was nearly equal. The English were declared the 
 victors, but the victory gained was nearly as disastrous as a 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 233 
 
 defeat. The French ships scarcely took any share in the 
 action. It is supposed that they had received secret orders 
 to stand aloof, and to spare their hands, that the Dutch 
 and English might be weakened by mutual animosity. 
 
 A letter in the possession of W. P. Hunt, Esq., of Ipswich, 
 whose collection of MSS. and illustrations relating to Suffolk 
 is unequalled in this county, gives an account of the finding 
 of the body of the Earl of Sandwich. It is from Lord 
 Clifford to the Duke of Laudendale, and is dated, Whitehall, 
 June 11, '72. Speaking of the battle and the Earl of 
 Sandwich, Lord Clifford says, 
 
 " His body is brought into Harwich, and found strangely. One of 
 our ketches beeing neer the Long Sand Head but two days since, saw 
 him iioate upon the sea in fifteen fathom water, and knew him by the 
 star upon his coate, and so sent his boate and took him up. His George 
 and blue ribon is brought to the king ; there was also his gold watch in 
 his pocket, and three dimond rings on his fingers." 
 
 The following ballad was composed in reference to the 
 battle, but unfortunately pays attention to the doings of His 
 " Eoyal " Highness, to the neglect of the brave Earl 
 Sandvsich. 
 
 Tune — "Suffolk Stiles." 
 
 One day, as I was sitting still 
 
 Upon the side of Dunwioh hill, 
 And looking on the ocean, 
 
 By chance I saw de Ruyter's fleet, 
 
 With Koyal James' squadron meet, 
 
 In sooth it was a noble treat 
 To see that brave commotion. 
 
 I cannot stay to name the names 
 
 Of all the ships that fought with James, 
 Their number or their tonnage ; 
 
 But this I say, the noble host 
 
 Eight gallantly did take its post, 
 
 And cover' d all the hollow coast 
 i'rom Walderswyck to Dunwioh. 
 
2o4 THE SI'FFOl.K GARLAND. 
 
 The French, who should have joined the Duke 
 Full far astern did lay and look, 
 
 Although their hulls were lighter ; 
 But nobly faced the Duke of York, 
 Tho' some may wink and some may talk, 
 Eight stoutly did his vessel stalk 
 
 To buiiet with De Kuyter. 
 
 Well might you hear their guns, I guess, 
 From Sizewell-gap to Easton Ness, 
 
 The show was rare and sightly ; 
 They battled without let or stay 
 Until the evening of that day, 
 'Twas then the Dutchmen ran away. 
 
 The Duke had beat them tightly. 
 
 Of all the battles gain'd at sea 
 This was the rarest victory 
 
 Since Philip's grand armada ; 
 
 I will not name the rebel Blake — 
 He fought for Horson Cromwell's sake, 
 And yet was forced three days to take 
 
 To quell the Dutch bravado. 
 
 So now we've seen thera take to flight, 
 This way and that, where'er they might, 
 
 To windward or to leeward ; 
 
 Here's to King Charles, and here's to James, 
 And here's to all the captains' names. 
 And here's to all the Suffolk dames, 
 
 And here's the House of Stuart. 
 
 THE MELFORD DISASTLR. 
 A ^'EW BALLAD, TO THE TUNE OF "TOM OF BEDLAM," 179i. 
 
 The circiunstances which gave occasion to this ballad are 
 the following. Three young ladies of Melford agreed to 
 bathe in a river about half-a-mile distant from the town, 
 there being no private acconunodation for that purpose in the 
 neighbourhood. An early hour, at which they would be the 
 least Uable to be discovered by strangers, was determined on ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 23y 
 
 and at four o'clock in the morning they proceeded to the 
 appointed place. But as they walked through the town, 
 they were unfortunately espied by a blacksmith. Curiosity 
 prompted him to find out whither the fair ones were hasten- 
 ing, but he did not discover himself to them till they were 
 in the river, when, perceiving him approach, they screamed 
 out, and prudently sat down in the water. The modem 
 Vulcan, dead to the distresses of these Venuses, determined 
 to divert his uncouth fancy by carrying off their clothes, 
 with which he did not return. In this pitiable situation they 
 were obliged to remain for nearly an hour, when a poor 
 woman passing that way, on hearing of the rude behaviour 
 which they had experienced, and their consequent embarass- 
 ment, procured them such necessary articles of apparel as 
 enabled them to return home with decencj'. 
 
 All in tlie land of Suffolk, 
 At Melford, the unwary, 
 
 On the side of a bank, 
 
 "Was play'd such a prank, 
 By a devil yclept Vagary. 
 
 To look about thee. Bury, 
 (Thy ladies are so charming) 
 
 I'd have thee begin, 
 
 For the Father of Sin 
 Gets a taste that's quite alarming;. 
 
 On Melford' s reputation 
 For scandal we did take it, 
 
 "When 'twas talk'd with disdain, 
 
 Among the profane, 
 That the ladies there go naked. 
 
 'Twas early in the morning, 
 Just as the sun was peeping. 
 
 Three daughters of Eve 
 
 Got up, without leave. 
 To a farmer's pond to creep in. 
 
236 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Nor, look ye, were they Kaiads, 
 
 Nor, mind ye, were they Graces ; 
 
 For the ■women of old, 
 
 By Ovid we're told, 
 
 Wash'd nothing but their faces. 
 
 Long time in nature's buff suits. 
 Not much oppress'd with blushes ; 
 Now in, and now out. 
 They paddled about. 
 Like ducks among the rushes. 
 
 Nor did ye dream, ye Fair ones, 
 "When taking such a frolic. 
 
 That the sweet "West wind, 
 Tho' it blew so kind. 
 Could give a maid the cholic. 
 
 "While thus, in sportive humour 
 They flounced about, God bless 'em ! 
 That villain, old Nick, 
 "Was playing a trick, 
 Oji purpose to distress 'em. 
 
 Three things as soft as pillows, 
 "With stays and caps together ; 
 
 This cunning old wag 
 
 Put into his bag. 
 And flew away like a feather. 
 
 Cloaks, petticoats, and kerchiefs, 
 On Satan's back suspended : 
 "With stockings and shoes, 
 And eke furbelows, 
 Clean out of sight he ascended. 
 
 I'd sing the sequel solemn, 
 Did modesty allow it ; 
 
 But a dock-leaf vest 
 
 Is but Ul exprest 
 By painter or by poet. 
 
 Let Coventry no longer 
 
 For sights like these be reokon'd ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 287 
 
 For, Melford, tliy fame 
 Has got thee the name 
 Of Coventry the Second. 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MELFOKD DISASTER. 
 
 When fair Godiva undertook 
 
 Thro' Coventry to pass, 
 None in the town presumed to look. 
 
 Except one silly ass. 
 Unable he the sight to bear, 
 
 Was struck with much surprise, 
 (Better for him he'd not been there — 
 
 The fool lost both his eyes.) 
 
 If this had been thy luckless fate, 
 
 Alas ! poor Melford Tom, 
 Thou would'st have cursed thy addle pate 
 
 For wandering from home. 
 Good folk, if to New Coventry 
 
 You e'en should chance to roam, 
 You'll know it well, each child can tell 
 
 You who is peeping Tom. 
 
 THE HUMBLE ADDRESS OF GEORGE PARISH AND EDWARD 
 
 BELL, ESQUIRES, BELLMEN OF THE BOROUGH OF IPSWICH, 
 
 IN FULL POTS ASSEMBLED. 
 
 These lines are a burlesqtce on the foUoicing most obsequious 
 Address lohich was jjresented by the Borough of Ipswich to 
 Sis Majesty George III., on his providential escape from 
 tlie knife of Peg Nicholson. 
 
 "To THE Kjng's Most Excellent Majestt. 
 " The humble address of the Bailiffs, Burgesses, and Commonalty 
 of the Ancient Borough of Ipswich, in Great Court assembled. 
 
 " We, YoTJE Majesty's dutiful and loyal subjects, the 
 Bailiffs, Burgesses, and Commonalty of the Ancient Borough of Ipswich, 
 beg leave humbly to offer Yottb Majesty our sincere and hearty congrat- 
 ulations on Yoi7E Majesty's providential escape from the late desperate 
 attempt made upon Youk Majesty's sacred person, an attempt which 
 
238 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 at onoe endangered Your Majissti's life, and the happiness of all Youk 
 Majesty's subjects. 
 
 " Fully sensible of the innumerable blessings we enjoy under Your 
 Majesty's mild government, we fervently pray that Youk Majesiy''s 
 most valuable life may be preserved many years, and that YouE 
 Majesty may long reign over a free, happy, and loyal people. 
 
 " G-iven under our Common Seal, the 18th of August, 1786." 
 
 The Belljien of Ips'v\'ich, umcUliiig to be outdone in loyalty 
 to His Majesty, have composed an address equally as full 
 of Majesty as that presented hy their ivorthy Masters to 
 His Majesty, of which the following is an exact copy. 
 
 'J"o his Majesty most excellent, 
 With humble duty we present, 
 In lines replete with Majesty 
 As lights upon the starry sky, 
 Your Majesty to congratulate 
 In being sav'd from th' attack of late — 
 Th' attack against yoii,r royal life. 
 By woman's hand and blunted knife. 
 How could she dare to lift on high 
 Her hand to stab your Majesty ? 
 That wicked hand, with rage so fierce. 
 Tour Majesty's kind heart to pierce ! 
 'Twas happy for your Majesty 
 That Providence was standing by. 
 Or else, perhaps, your 3Iajesty 
 Might have received a blow so sly 
 As would have killed your 3IaJesty. 
 What sorrow would the land o'erspread 
 T' have heard your Majesty was dead ! 
 Your subjects would have wept full sore 
 T' have seen your Majesty no more. 
 Our thanks unfeign'd we send on high, 
 To Him who sav'd your Majesty, 
 And hope that he will hear our cry, 
 And long preserve your Majesty. 
 
 Given under our own great seal. 
 The lanthorn, staff, and midnight -hell. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 239 
 
 THE MONDAY KIGHTs' CLUB AT IPSWICH. 
 BY DK. OLUBBE. 
 
 Tlie Monday Nights' Club, long celebrated for its social 
 and convivial meetings among the people of Ipswich, was 
 established in the year 1725, and consisted of an unlimited 
 number of members. They met alternately at each other's 
 houses on every Monday evening, and although there were 
 many ivig members amongst them, yet in pohtics they were 
 all most decided Tories. The club ceased to exist in the year 
 1812. The following song, which was sung at their annual 
 dinner, was written by Dr. Clubbe, a gentleman who 
 practised for many years in Ipswich both as a surgeon and 
 a physician. He was the eldest son of the Hev. John 
 Clubbe, rector of Whatfield, and vicar of Debenham, and 
 probably inherited much of that humorous and cheerful 
 disposition for which he was celebrated. 
 
 In the year twenty-five, as by oral tradition, 
 
 A set of choice spirits, enlivened by wine. 
 Agreed 'mong themselves, in a special commission, 
 
 To erect a new banquet at Baoohus's shrine. 
 
 All rosy, good-humoured, and full of invention. 
 
 By some proper name the new meeting to dub. 
 They agreed, one and all, not a voice in dissension, 
 
 It's name shou'd be called. The Monday Nights' Club. 
 
 Prefix'd thus its name, time and place they selected. 
 
 When and where they should hold their nocturnal carouses, 
 
 And one night in each week they by vote then directed, 
 The club should be held at each other's own houses. 
 
 To secure its existence came next in discussion, 
 
 For clubs, if not fostered, fall into decay : 
 They decreed all its members, in future succession, 
 
 In Religion and Party shou'd think the same way. 
 
 In Party, the Tories shou'd first be admitted, 
 And of them only those who reside in the town ; 
 
2i0 THE SUFFOLK GAKL.\ND. 
 
 In Religion, Church Priests shou'd alone be permitted, 
 And both as the true and staunch friends of the crown. 
 
 A wag then exclaimed, My good friends, you're aware, 
 Mere Religion or Party can't keep it from sinking ; 
 
 We must make out a bill of some good wholesome fare, 
 For no club can exist without eating and drinking. 
 
 Let its fare be quite simple — bread, butter, and cheese : 
 
 Hot suppers inflame and distemper the brain, 
 Nice stomachs may then eat, or not, as they please, 
 
 A-nd sup and re-sup o'er again and again. 
 
 Let its liquors be port, punch, porter, and ale ; 
 
 In wine, says the proverb, there's truth and no care ; 
 Each member may then in libations regale, 
 
 And toast that first blessing of heaven, the Fair. 
 
 The fumes of Tabac sooth the ennui of thinking. 
 
 Give a truce to the mind to reflect on its lass ; 
 Long tubes are, of course, an appendage to drinking. 
 
 For a whiff now and then adds new zest to the glass. 
 
 "Well pleased with their banquet, now fully completed. 
 They arose and took each a full bumper in hand. 
 
 Live for ever our club ! with three cheers, they repeated ; 
 Be it envied by all other clubs in the land. 
 
 THE LOYALTY OF WOODBKIDGE. 
 
 BT WILLIAM STYGALL. 
 
 rriday, July the 8th, 1814, being the day appointed for 
 the grand festival in commemoration of the return of peace, 
 the ringing of bells, the martial music of fife and drum, and 
 the thimder of artillery greeted the arrival of the morning in 
 the town of Woodbridge. AU was noise, and glee, and jollity; 
 and that the amusements might not be alloyed by the dull 
 occupations of business, the shops were closed at twelve o'clock. 
 At that hour, also, on the firing of a cannon, the presidents, 
 vice-presidents, and dinner company, sporting their true blue 
 cockades and streamers, assembled in the Crown Meadow. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 241! 
 
 At half-past twelve another piece of ordnance gave the 
 joj'ous intimation that the cooks were all busily employed 
 in taking up and dishing the respecti^'e courses. In another 
 half hour the dinner was on the table, and as soon as the 
 whole had been properly arranged, a bugle sounded, the 
 company arose, and the president invoked a blessing on the 
 feast. Due time having been allowed for the destruction of 
 beef and pudding, a second bugle sounded, the tables were 
 cleared, thanks were retmrned, and as the first loyal toast, 
 " the King," was given with three times three, from fifteen 
 hundred voices at once, the air resounded with " the King," 
 and the succeeding toasts made the very welkin shake. 
 After the above the whole company adjourned to the 
 " Olympic Course." 
 
 " And there another feast began." 
 
 To describe particularly the numerous sports which 
 awaited the spectators, would be imposdhle : they consisted 
 of a Jerusalem pony race, a jumping match in sacks, foot 
 races, grinning matches through horse collars, jingling 
 matches, etc., etc. To crown the solemnities of the day, 
 a grand bon fire was lighted, in which the effigy of 
 Bonaparte was mercilessly consigned to the flames ; a 
 brilliant display of fireworks succeeded, and closed this 
 festival. 
 
 The loyal men of Suffolk to Woodbridge they did go, 
 On the eighth of July, to see a gallant show ; 
 For there were such doings as ne'er were known before, 
 And if you live a hundred years you'll see the like no more. 
 
 Fifteen hundred of the inhabitants din'd in the Market Place, 
 Off plum-pudding and roast beef, in remembrance of this peace ; 
 Men, women, and their children, all eat there very hearty, 
 And after dinner made a fire for to burn Bonaparte. 
 
 "When the gentlemen had din'd the bells were set a ringing, 
 
 They had pipes and tobacco, and much jovial singing, 
 
 Then a toast they all drank, it was a noble thing, 
 
 The gallant " Duke of Wellington," and sung " God save the King." 
 
242 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 When Bonaparte was in flames, how the fire blaz'd ! 
 
 The gentlemen laugh'd very much, they were so greatly pleas'd ; 
 
 The ladies at the windows stood, and lifted up the sashes, 
 
 And olapp'd their hands and all cried out, " Sum the rogue to ashes!" 
 
 But who can now repeat all the sports of that day, 
 
 The mirth and the fun, with which the time was pass"d away ? 
 
 So full was the town, with people great and small. 
 
 That of all the sights in England surely Woodbi idge heat them all. " 
 
 EICHAED .\JSTD KATE ; OR, FAIR DAY. 
 
 A SUFFOLK BALLAD, BY KOEEET BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 " Come, Goody, stop your humdrum wheel. 
 Sweep up your orts, and get your hat ; 
 Old joys revived once more I feel : 
 'lis Fair-day ; — aye, and more than that. 
 
 " Have you forgot, Kate, prithee say. 
 How many seasons here we've tarried ? 
 'Tis forty years, this very day. 
 Since you and I, old girl, were married ! 
 
 " Look out ; the sun shines warm and bright, 
 The stilea are low, the paths all dry ; 
 I know you cut your corns last night : 
 Come, be as free from care as I. 
 
 " For I'm resolved once more to see 
 That place where we so often met ; 
 Though few have had more cares than we, 
 We've none just now to make us fret." 
 
 Kate scorn'd to damp the generous flame 
 That warmed her aged partner's breast ; 
 Yet, ere determination came. 
 She thus some trifling doubts express'd : 
 
 " Night will come on, when seated snug. 
 And you've, perhaps, begun some tale. 
 Can you then leave your dear stone mug — 
 Leave all the folks, and all the ale ? " 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 243 
 
 ' Aye, Kate, I wool ; — because I know, 
 Though, time has been we both could run. 
 Such days are gone and over now ; — 
 I only mean to see the fun." 
 
 She straight slipped off the wall and band,* 
 And laid aside her lucks and twitches ;* 
 And to the hutch she reach'd her hand. 
 And gave him out his Sunday breeches. 
 
 His mattock he behind the door 
 And hedging gloves again replaced. 
 And look'd across the yellow moor. 
 And urged his tott'ring spouse to haste. 
 
 The day was up, the air serene. 
 The firmament without a cloud ; 
 The bee humm'd o'er the level green, 
 Where knots of trembling cowslips bow'd. 
 
 And Richard thus, with heart elate. 
 As past things rush'd across his mind. 
 Over his shoulder talk'd to Kate, 
 Who, snug tuckt up, walk'd slow behind. 
 
 " When once a giggling mawther you, 
 And I a red-faced, chubby boy. 
 Sly tricks you play'd me, not a few, 
 For mischief was your greatest joy. 
 
 " Once, passing by this very tree, 
 A gotoh of milk I'd been to fill, 
 You shoulder'd me, then laugh'd to see. 
 Me and my gotch spin down the hill." 
 
 " 'Tis true," she said, "but here behold. 
 And marvel at the course of Time, 
 Though you and I are both grown old, 
 This tree is only in its prime ! " 
 
 " Well, Groody, don't stand preaching now ; 
 Folks don't preach sermons at a fair ! 
 We've rear'd ten boys and girls, you know. 
 And I'll be bound they'll all be there." 
 
 ' Terms userl in Spinning. 
 
244 THE SUFPOLK GARJ.A^JD. 
 
 Now friendly nods and smiles had they, 
 From many a kind, fair-going face ; 
 And many a pinch Kate gave away, 
 While Richard kept his usual pace. 
 
 At length arrived amongst the throng, 
 Grand- children, bawling, hemm'd them round. 
 And dragged them by the skirts along, 
 Where gingerbread bestrew'd the ground. 
 
 And soon the aged couple spied 
 Their lusty sons and daughters dear ; — 
 When Richard thus exulting cried : 
 " Didn't I tell you they'd be here ? " 
 
 The cordial greetings of the soul 
 Were visible in every face, 
 Aifeotion, voi 1 of all control, 
 Govern'd with a resistless grace. 
 
 'Twas good to see the honest strife 
 Which should contribute most to please, 
 And hear the long recounted life 
 Of infant tricks, and happy days. 
 
 But now, as at some nobler places, 
 Amongst the leaders 'twas decreed 
 'J'ime to begin the Dickey Races, 
 More famed for laughter than for speed. 
 
 Richard look'd on with wondrous glee. 
 And praised the lad who chanced to win ; 
 " Kate, wa'n't I such a one as he ? 
 As like him, ay, as pin to pin. 
 
 " Full fifty years have passed away 
 Since I rode this same ground about ; 
 Lord ! I was lively as the day, 
 I won the high-lows out and out ! 
 
 " I'm surely growing young again, 
 I feel myself so kedge and plump ; 
 From head to foot I've not one pain ; 
 Nay, hang me if I oou'dn't jump ! " 
 
THE SUFFOLK GART.AND. 245 
 
 Thus spoke the ale in Richard's pate, 
 A very little made him mellow ; 
 But still he loved his faithful Kate, 
 Who whisper'd thus, " My good old fellow, 
 
 " Remember what you promised me. 
 And see, the sua is getting low ; 
 The children want an hour, you see, 
 To talk a bit before we go." 
 
 Like youthful lover most complying, 
 He turn'd and chuck'd her by the chin. 
 Then all across the green grass hieing 
 Right merry faces all akin. 
 
 Their farewell quart, beneath a tree 
 That droop'd its branches from above ; 
 Awaked the pure felicity 
 That waits upon parental love. 
 
 Kate viewed her blooming daughters round. 
 And sons, who shook her withered hand ; 
 Her features spoke what joy she found, 
 But utterance had made a stand. 
 
 The children toppled on the green, 
 And bowled their fairings down the hill ; 
 Richard with pride beheld the scene, 
 Nor could he for his life sit still. 
 
 A father's uncheck'd feelings gave 
 A tenderness to all he said, 
 " My boys, how proud I am to have 
 My name thus round the country spread. 
 
 " Through all my days I've labour'd hard, 
 And could of pains and crosses tell ; 
 But this is labour's great reward. 
 To meet ye thus, and see ye well. 
 
 " My good old Partner, when at home. 
 Sometimes with wishes mingles tears ; 
 Goody, says I, let what wool come 
 "We've nothing for them but our pray'rs. 
 
246 THE SUFFOLK IJARLVM-), 
 
 May you be all as old as I, 
 And see your sons to manhood grow ; 
 And many a time before j'ou die, 
 Be just as pleased as I am now." 
 
 Then (raising still his mug and voice), 
 " An old man's weakness don't despise ! 
 I love you well, my girls and boys ; 
 God bless you all ! " — so said his eyes — 
 
 For as he spoke a big round drop 
 Fell bounding on his ample sleeve, 
 A witness which he could not stop, 
 A witness which all hearts believe. 
 
 Thou, Filial Piety, wert there, 
 And round the ring, benignly bright. 
 Dwelt in the luscious, half shed tear. 
 And in the parting word — Good night. 
 
 With thankful hearts and strengthen'd love, 
 The poor old Pair, supremely blest. 
 Saw the sun sink behind the grove. 
 And gain'd once more their lowly rest. 
 
 THE -HORKEY. 
 A niOVIXOIAL BALLAD, BY EGBERT BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 What gossips prattled in the sun. 
 
 Who talk'd him fairly down. 
 Up, memory ! tell ; 'tis Suffolk fun, 
 
 And lingo of their own. 
 
 Ah! Judie Twitchet ! * though thou'rt dead 
 
 With thee the tale begins ; 
 For still seems thrumming in my head 
 
 The rattling of thy pins. 
 
 Thou Queen of knitters ! for a ball 
 Of worsted was thy pride ; 
 
 * Judie Twitchet was a real person, who lived many years with my mother's 
 cousin, Bannock, at Honnington. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAXD. 247 
 
 With dangling stockings great and small, 
 And world of clack beside ! 
 
 We did so laugh ; the moon shone bright, 
 
 More fun you never knew ; 
 'Twas farmer Cheerum's Horkey night, 
 
 And I, and Grace, and Sue^ 
 
 But bring a stool, sit round about, 
 
 And boys, be quiet, pray, 
 And let me tell my story out, 
 
 'Twas sitch a merry day ! 
 
 The butcher whistled at the door. 
 
 And brought a load of meat ; 
 Boys rubb'd their hands and cried, " There's more ! " 
 
 Dogs wagg'd their tails to see't. 
 
 On went the boilers till the hahe " 
 
 Had much ado to bear 'em ; 
 The magpie talk'd for talldng sake ; 
 
 Birds sung ; — but who could hear 'em ? 
 
 Creak went the jack ; the cats were scared, 
 
 We had not time to heed 'em ; 
 The oiod kins cackled in the yard. 
 
 For we forgot to feed 'em. 
 
 Yet 'twas not I, as I may say, 
 
 Because as how d'ye see, 
 I only help'd there for the day — 
 
 They cou'dn't lay't to me. 
 
 Now Mrs. Cheerum's best lace cap 
 
 Was mounted on her head ; 
 Guests at the door began to rap. 
 
 And now the cloth was spread. 
 
 Then clatter went the earthen plates, 
 
 " Mind, Judie," was the cry ; 
 I could have cop't them at their pates, 
 
 " Trenchers for me,'' said I. 
 
 * A sliding pot hook. 
 
248 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 That look so clean upon the ledge, 
 
 And never mind a fall ; 
 Nor never turn a sharp knife's edge, 
 
 But fashion rules us all. 
 
 Home came the jovial Horhey load, 
 Last of the whole year's erop ; 
 
 And Grace among the green boughs rode, 
 Eight plump upon the top. 
 
 This way and that the waggon reel'd. 
 
 And never queen rode higher ; 
 Her cheeks were colour'd in the field. 
 And ours before the fire. 
 
 The laughing harvest folks, and John 
 
 Came in and look'd askew, 
 'Twas my red face that set them on. 
 
 And then they leer'd at Sue. 
 
 And Farmer Cheerum went, good man, 
 And broaoh'd the Ilorlcey heer ; 
 
 And sitch a mart* of folks began 
 To eat up our good cheer. 
 
 Says he, " Thank God for what's before us, 
 
 That thus we meet agen," 
 The mingling voices, like a chorus, 
 
 Join'd cheerfully, " Amen." 
 
 Welcome and plenty, there they found 'em, 
 The ribs of beef grew light. 
 
 And puddings — till the boys got round 'em, 
 And then they vanish'd quite ! 
 
 Kow all the guests, with Farmer Crouder, 
 
 Began to prate of corn ; 
 And we found out they talk'd the louder. 
 
 The oftener pass'd the horn. 
 
 Out came the nuts ; we set a cracking ; 
 
 The ale came round our way ; 
 By ffom, we women fell a clacking, 
 
 As loud again as they. 
 
 * Such a number. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 2-19 
 
 John, sung "Old Benbow" loud and strong, 
 
 And I "The Constant Swain," 
 " Cheer up, my Lads,'' was Simon's song, 
 
 " We'll conquer them again." 
 
 Now twelve o'clock was drawing nigh, 
 
 And all in merry cue, 
 I knook'd the cask, " Oh, ho! " said I, 
 
 ".We've almost oonquer'd you." 
 
 My Lord* begg'd round, and held his hat — 
 
 Says Farmer Grutf, says he, 
 " There's many a Lord, Sam, I know that. 
 
 Has begg'd as well as thee." 
 
 Bump in his hat the shillings tumbled 
 
 All round among the folks ; 
 " Laugh if you wool," said Sam, and mumbled, 
 
 " Tou pay for all your jokes." 
 
 Joint-stock you know among the men, 
 
 To drink at their own charges, 
 So up they got full drive, and then 
 
 Went out to halloo largess. 
 
 And sure enough the noise they made ! ! — 
 
 But let me mind my tale ; 
 We foUow'd them, we worn't afraid, 
 
 We'd all been drinking ale. 
 
 As they stood hallooing back to back, 
 
 We lightly as a feather, 
 Went sideling round, and in a crack. 
 
 Had pinn'd their coats together. 
 
 'Twas near upon 't as light as noon ; 
 
 ' A largess ' on the hill. 
 They shouted to the full round moon, 
 
 I think I hear 'em still ! 
 
 But when they found the trick, my stars ! 
 
 They well knew who to blame ; 
 Our giggles turned to ha, ha, ha's, 
 
 And arter us they came. 
 
 * The leader of the reapers. 
 
2o0 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Grace by the tumbril made a squat, 
 
 Then ran as Sam came by, 
 They said she could not run for fat ; 
 
 I know she did not try. 
 
 Sue, round the neat-house* squalling ran, 
 
 Where Simon scarcely dare ; 
 He stopt — for he's a fearful man — 
 
 " By gom, there's sujfen t there ! " 
 
 And off set John, with all his might, 
 
 To chase me down the yard. 
 Till I was nearly yran^d \ outright. 
 
 He hugged so woundy hard. 
 
 Still they kept up the race and laugh, 
 
 And round the house we flew ; 
 But, hark ye ! the best fun by half. 
 
 Was Simon arter Sue. 
 
 She cared not, dark nor light, not she. 
 
 So, near the dairy door 
 She pass'd a clean white hog, you see. 
 
 They'd kilt the day before. 
 
 High on the spirket § there it hung, — - 
 " Now, Susie, what can save ye ? " 
 
 Round the cold pig his arms he flung. 
 And cried, " Ah ! here I have ye ! " 
 
 The farmers heard what Simon said. 
 
 And what a noise ! good lack ! 
 Some almost laughed themselves to dead, 
 
 And others clapt his back. 
 
 We all at once began to tell 
 
 What fun we had abroad. 
 But Simon stood our jeers right well — 
 
 He fell asleep and snored. 
 
 Then in his button-hole, upright. 
 Did Farmer Crouder put 
 
 ■ Cow-house. t Something there. t Strangled. 
 
 S A n iron li ook. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAlil,ANlJ. 251 
 
 A slip of paper, twisted tight, 
 And held the candle to H. 
 
 It smoked, and smoked, beneath his nose. 
 
 The harmless blaze crept higher. 
 Till with a vengeance up he rose, 
 
 " Grace, Judie, Sue ; fire ! fire ! " 
 
 The clock struck one — some talk'd of parting, 
 
 Some said it was a sin, 
 And hitch'd their chairs — but those for starting 
 
 Now let the moonlight in. 
 
 Owd women, loitering for the nonce'' 
 
 Stood praising the fine weather ; 
 The menfolk took the hint at once 
 
 To kiss them altogether. 
 
 And out ran every soul beside, 
 
 A shanni/-pated-\ crew; 
 Owd folks could neither run nor hide. 
 
 So some hetcli'd one, some tew. 
 
 They shriggled \ and began to scold, 
 
 But laughing got the master ; 
 Some quackling § cried, " Let go j'our hold I " 
 
 The farmers held the faster. 
 
 All innocent, that I'll be sworn, 
 
 There worn't a bit of sorrow ; 
 And women, if their gowns are torn. 
 Can mend them on the morrow. 
 
 Our shadows belter skelter danced 
 
 About the moonlight ground ; 
 The wondering sheep, as on we pranced, 
 
 Got up and gazed around : 
 
 And well they might — till Farmer Cheerum 
 
 Now with a hearty glee 
 Bade all. Good morn, as he came near 'em, 
 
 And then to bed went he. 
 
 Then off we strolled, this way and that, 
 With many voices ringing. 
 
 For the purpose. t Giddy — thoughtless. t To struggle quick. 
 § Choking. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 And echo answered us right pat, 
 As home we rambled singing. 
 
 For when we laugh'd, it laugh'd again, 
 
 A nd to our own doors followed ; 
 " Yo, ho! " we cried, "To, ho!" so plain. 
 
 The misty meadows halloo'd. 
 
 That's all my tale, and all the fun ; 
 
 Come, turn your wheels about. 
 My worsted, see !— that's nicely done, 
 
 Just held my story out ! 
 
 Poor Jude ! — Thus Time knits or spins 
 
 The worsted from Life's ball ; 
 Death stopped thy tales, and stopped thy pins. 
 
 And so he'll serve us all. 
 
 THE GLORIOUS FIGHT OFF BOSTON LIGHTHOUSE, 
 ON THE 1st of JUNE, 1813. 
 
 THE CHESAPEAKE PRIZE TO THE SHANNON." 
 
 At Boston, one day. 
 As the Chesapeake lay. 
 The Captain and crew thus began on : 
 " See that ship out at sea ! 
 She our prize soon shall be, 
 'Tis the tight little frigate the Shannon ; 
 How I long to be drubbing the Shannon ; 
 We shall make a prize of the Shannon ; 
 Oh ! 'twill be a good joke 
 To take Commodore Broke, 
 And add to our navy the Shannon." 
 
 Then he made a great bluster, 
 Calling all hands to muster. 
 And said, '' Now boys, stand firm to your cannon ; 
 Let us get under way, 
 Without further delay. 
 And capture the insolent Shannon. 
 
 We soon shall bear down on the Shannon, 
 The Chesapeake's prize to the Shannon, 
 
 * See " A Naval Duel," page iH. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 253 
 
 "VVithia two hours' space 
 We'll return to this place, 
 And bring into the harhour the Shannon." 
 
 Now alongside they range, 
 
 And broadsides they exchange ; 
 But the Yankees soon flinch from their cannon, 
 
 W.hen captain and crew. 
 
 Without further to do. 
 Are attack'd, sword in hand, from the Shannon, 
 By the tight little tars of the Shannon ; 
 The brave Commodore of the Shannon, 
 
 Pir'd a friendly salute 
 
 Just to end the dispute, 
 And the Chesapeake struck to the Shannon. 
 
 Let America know 
 
 The respect she should show 
 To our National flag and our cannon. 
 
 And let her take heed, 
 
 That the Thames and the Tweed, 
 Give us tars just as brave as the Shannon. 
 
 Here's to Commodore Broke, of the Shannon, 
 To the sons of the Thames, Tweed, and Shannon ; 
 
 May the olive of peace 
 
 Soon bid enmity cease, 
 From the Chesapeake's shore to the Shannon. 
 
 IMPEOMPTU. 
 
 " The bold Chesapeake 
 Came out on a freak, 
 And swore she'd soon silence our cannon, 
 While the Yankees, in port, 
 Stood to laugh at the sport, 
 And see her tow in the brave Shannon. 
 
 " Quite sure of the game 
 
 As from harbour they came, 
 A dinner and wine they bespoke ; 
 
 But for meat they got balls 
 
 I'rom our staunch wooden walls. 
 So the dinner engagement was Broke" 
 
254 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 THE LAMENTATION OF STEPHEN SPINK, THE BRANDESTON 
 
 POST-BOY. 
 
 These lines were "nTitten by the Eev. "William Clubbe, 
 who was La 1769 instituted to the vicarage of Brandeston. 
 He was the second son of the EeY. John Clubbe, vicar of 
 Debenhani, and like liis father possessed of a rich fund of 
 natural humour. 
 
 " To the charitable and the uncharitable, to Christiana, Jews, Turks, 
 Infidels, and Heretics, Stephen Spink, post-boy, of Brandeston, begs 
 leave to state a loss he has lately sustained in the nearest relation he 
 had in the world — his only ass. 
 
 "Too modest to dwell upon any merits of his own, he begs leave to 
 solicit your charity for those of the deceased animal. 
 
 " Of Christians, then, he is bold to ask because an ass once carried 
 the Divine Author of their religion ; of Jews, because he comes the 
 nearest to them of any brute in the creatipn in their obstinacy ; of 
 Turks, because he is the parent of their favourite mule ; and of Infidels 
 and Heretics because of his resemblance to them in stupidity. 
 
 ""With the truly charitable he is sensible no arguments are wanted, 
 and that with the uncharitable none will prevail. For the first, there- 
 fore, as in duty bound, he will ever pray ; to the latter, however 
 unbecoming the mouth of a petitioner, he begs leave to say they may 
 kiss the mark of Stephen Spink. 
 
 " Good people all, attend, I pray. 
 And listen to my ditty. 
 For what poor Stepheti has to say 
 Will soon excite your pity. 
 
 " Both latne and blind he could not pass, 
 A snail, so slow was he. 
 Till, mounted on his dapper ass, 
 He fiew like Mercunj. 
 
 " Oft has he gone, when sent express, 
 For newspaper or letter, 
 Within six hours, and sometimes less, 
 Four miles and rather better. 
 
 " Such was the speed with which he went 
 That he was call'd by most. 
 
THE SUrrOI,K GARLAND. 255 
 
 Who by his bag their letters sent, 
 The BrancVston flying post. 
 
 " But see him now, poor fallen man, 
 On foot and forced to crawl. 
 As crooked and no faster than 
 A snail upon the wall. 
 
 " You, who have legs to walk upon, 
 Two, legs and want no more, 
 Pity the wretch that has but one, 
 And set him upon/bwr. 
 
 " Then on his ass will Stephen ride 
 And wish for nothing higher ; 
 Nor envy the equestrian pride 
 Of vicar or of squire. 
 
 " So shall your humble post-boy thrive, 
 So blithe his hours shall pass. 
 That none in Brand' ston town shall live 
 Like Stephen and his ass." 
 
 DICK DELVEE, THE PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A SUFFOLK BALLAD, FKOM KEAL LIFE. BY THE KEY. JOHN BLACK. 
 
 The E.ev. Jolm Black, tile writer of these lines, was for 
 many years a resident in Woodbridge, and died there, August 
 30th, 1813, in the o9th year of his age. He was hcensed 
 to the perpetual curacy of Butley, in 1789, and that of 
 Eamsholt, in 1807. Among the Fitch MSS. in the Ipswich 
 Museum, is the following receipt from this reverend gentle- 
 man, which shows the miserable stipend that he received as 
 perpetual curate of Butley : 
 
 "Received, March 25th, 1803, of Peter Isaac Thelluson, Esq , by the 
 hand of Mr. Thomas Abblitt, the sum of eight pounds, being half a year's 
 stipend due to me at the date hereof as curate of Butley. 
 
 "JOHN BLACK." 
 
 Though divines of contentment may preach, 
 And the learn'd of philosophy prate. 
 
^'j6 THE SUFFOLK GARL.VN'D. 
 
 How few wisdom's temple can reaoli, 
 
 How few are content with their state ! 
 A philosopher lately I've seen, 
 
 In his lowly condition content, 
 Unraok'd with the gout or the spleen, 
 
 In a jacket oft pateh'd, and yet rent. 
 Thus, the green pliant willow that hends 
 
 To the hlasts o'er the valley that sweep, 
 While the proud mountain oak that contends, 
 
 Is rent from the side of the steep. 
 No time had Dick Delver to play, 
 
 In youth he no playthings did lack : 
 Lonely watch'd he the grunters all day. 
 
 As they rooted the stubble for shack. 
 Dick Delver, poor fellow, fell lame, 
 
 A keen frosty night nipt his toes ; 
 To the fire he unthinkingly came. 
 
 And lost them, while sunk in a doze. 
 A poor-house Dick Delver receiv'd, 
 
 For what could the poor fellow do ? 
 Kot long for his toes Dicky griev'd. 
 
 But hegun a young widow to woo. 
 For idleness, wise men remark. 
 
 Is the parent of mischief and love ; 
 The widow grew pleas'd with her spark. 
 
 And consented his helpmate to prove. 
 Her husband had falVn 'mongst the slain, 
 
 And left her whole months to bemoan ; 
 Untouoh'd could a fond heart remain. 
 
 When Dick for the loss could atone '■f 
 They wedded : — their time gaily pass'd, 
 
 No taxes or debts spoil'd their rest. 
 Each sun rose as bright as the last, — 
 
 But what mortal can always be blest ? 
 Dick Delver no widow had wed. 
 
 Her husband, tho' down, was not slain ; 
 Like a hero he valiantly bled, 
 
 And return'd his own deary to claim. 
 Dick Delver the charmer resign'd. 
 
 Whom no longer he dared to retain. 
 And journey'd, like folks more refin'd 
 
 To search for a doxy again. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 257 
 
 To London Dick Delver now hied, 
 
 Laid seize to a shoe blacking dame ; 
 The lady of blacking complied, 
 
 And united they quickly became. 
 Of relations the lady could boast. 
 
 And doubtless of no mean degree, 
 Who liv'd where the rooks of the coast 
 
 Are wash'd by the spray of the sea. 
 From ocean the lady had sprung, 
 
 As Venus, they say, did of old. 
 And Neptune had giv'n her a tongue 
 
 Like Juno, the goddess, to scold. 
 Dick Delver and spousy left town, 
 
 A visit of frendship to pay ; 
 But scarcely a week had been down. 
 
 When they were not permitted to stay ; 
 Then plao'd in an overseer's cart, 
 
 To his settlement off they were sent ; 
 Mistress Delver was loth to depart. 
 
 But Dicky was always content. 
 To the sandlancls* of Suffolk, with speed, 
 
 The pair in the cart were convey'd. 
 Where heath-nihbling hlacli-faces feed. 
 
 And burrows by rabbits are made. 
 No rabbits or sheep could delight 
 
 The soul of Dick Delver's dear spouse. 
 Who'd rather have seen porters fight. 
 
 Than crones on the prickly whin browze. 
 Around her she gaz'd with surprise. 
 
 When churches like stables she saw. 
 Where no lofty steeples f arise, 
 
 The traveller's attention to draw. 
 " What a dull, dreary country," she said ; 
 
 " These sandlands I cannot abide ; " 
 Then off in a tangent she sped. 
 
 And Dick heard no more of his bride. 
 Dick Delver got married once more, 
 
 Bear'd a cot by the side of the road ; 
 
 * The part of the sandlands here alluded to is that which is south of the 
 line of Woodbridge and Orford, where a large extent of poor and even blowing 
 sand is to be found. 
 
 t The churches of Eyke and Sutton are both without steeples. 
 
258 THE PUFFOLK (JARLAMX 
 
 Of dickies and donkies keeps four, 
 
 And industry decks his abode. 
 For sand and for whin-roots he digs, 
 
 And sells them as fast as he can, 
 Grows potatoes, keeps chickens and pigs ; 
 
 Is not Dick now become a great man ? 
 "Where a hridye* the fair Deben bestrides, 
 
 And his fountains first mingle with brine, 
 There Dick, in his hall now resides, 
 
 With a oart-lodge and donkey-shed flue. 
 Four trees, on the north, screen his cot, 
 
 A church ■]■ in the background you spy. 
 And gypsies, encamp'd near the spot, 
 
 Oft hang out their tatters to dry. 
 The sedge blossoms yellow below, 
 
 Blue hyacinths cover the hills ; 
 While the nightingale's love or his woe, 
 
 The valley with melody fills. 
 If all like Diclc Delver would toil, 
 
 Were all like Dick Delver content. 
 Each brow would be bright with a smile, 
 
 And none to a prison be sent. 
 
 THE FOUNDLING OF SHOEEDITCH AND THE IXWORTH DOCTOR. 
 
 Come all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail ; 
 
 It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail, 
 
 By the Heastern Counties Eailway (vioh the shares I don't desire), 
 
 From Ixworth town, in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire. 
 
 A travelling from Bury this doctor was employed. 
 With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd; 
 And on reaching Mark Tey station, that is next beyond Colchest- 
 Er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed. 
 
 She entered into the carriage all with a tottering step. 
 And a pooty little baby upon her bussum slep ; 
 The gentleman received her with kindness and siwillaty, 
 Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty. 
 
 She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said, 
 Because it was so lonesome, she took a seoknd instead ; 
 
 * Melford bridge, near Melton. f Ufford church. 
 
THE SUFFOLK r.'AULAXD. 209 
 
 Better to travel by seoknd class, than sit alone in the fust, 
 And the pooty little baby upon her breast she nust. 
 
 A seein of her crying, and shiverin, and pail, 
 
 To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail ; 
 
 Says ee, " You look unwell, ma'am, I'll elp you, if I can, 
 
 And you may tell your case to me, for I'm a meddiole man." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," the lady said, " I only look so pale 
 Because I ain't aoeustom'd to travelling on the Rale ; 
 I shall be better presnly, -when I've ad some rest ; " 
 And that pooty little baby she squeezed it to her breast. 
 
 So in conversation the journey they beguiled, 
 
 Capting Loyd, and the medical man, and the lady and the child, 
 
 Tin. the warious stations along'the line was passed ; 
 
 For even the Heasteru Counties' trains must come in at last. 
 
 When at Shoreditch tumminus at length stopped the train, 
 This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again. 
 "Thank you, sir," the lady said, " for your kyindness dear ; 
 My carridge and my osses is probbibly come here. 
 
 " Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see ? " 
 The doctor was a family man : " That I will,'' says he. 
 Then the little child she kist — kist it very gently, 
 Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innooentl.v. 
 
 With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it. 
 Then she gave the Doctor the child — wery kind he nust it ; 
 Hup then the lady jumped hofF the bench she sate from. 
 Tumbled down the carridge steps, and ran along the platform. 
 
 Vile all the other passengers vent upon their vays. 
 The Capting and the Doctor sate there in a maze : 
 Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby ; 
 The Capting and the Doctor vaited vith the babby. 
 
 There they sate, looking queer, for an hour or more. 
 But their feller passinger neather on 'em sore ; 
 iN^ever, never back again did that lady come, 
 To that pooty sleeping hinfint, a sucking of his thum ! 
 
 What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus. 
 When the darling baby woke, cry in for its nuss ? 
 
2G0 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Off he drove to a female friend, vioh she was both kind and mild, 
 And igsplained to her the circumstance of this j-ear little child. 
 
 That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap 
 And made it very comfortable b}' giving it some pap ; 
 And when she took its close off, what d'yon think she found ? 
 A couple of ten pun notes sewn up in its little gowud ! 
 
 Also in its little close was a note, which did oouwey, 
 
 That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way : 
 
 And for its Headucation they reglarly would pay. 
 
 And sirtingly, like gentlefolks, would claim the child one day, 
 
 If the Christian people who'd charge of it would say. 
 
 Per advertisement in the Times, where the baby lay. 
 
 Pity of this baby many people took, 
 
 It had such pooty ways, and such a pooty look ; 
 
 And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see 
 
 Any kind lady as would do as much for me. 
 
 And I wish with all my art, some night in imj night-gowud, 
 I could find a note stitched for ten or twenty pound)— 
 There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say 
 She'd adopt this little baby which her parents cast away. 
 
 While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair, 
 Comes a letter from Devonshire, from a party there, 
 Hordering the Doctor, at his Mar's desire, 
 To send the little Infant back to Devonshire. 
 
 Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddiole man, 
 Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran ; 
 Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honourable beak, 
 That take his seat in Worship street four times a week. 
 
 " Justice ! " says the doctor, " instrugt me what to do, 
 " I have come up from the country, to throw myself on you; 
 " My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills, 
 "(There they are in Siiffolk, without their dratfts and pills.) 
 
 " I have come up from the country to know how I'll dispose 
 
 " Of this pore little baby, and the twenty pun note, and the clothes ; 
 
 " And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please, 
 
 " And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez.' 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 261 
 
 Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk, 
 
 " This year application does me much perplisk ; 
 
 " Wliat I do advise you is, to leave this babby 
 
 " 1' the parish where it was left by its mother shabby.'' 
 
 The Doctor from his Worship sadly did depart — 
 lie might have left the baby, but he hadn't got the heart 
 To go for to leave that Hinnooent, has the laws allows, 
 To the tender mussies of the Union House. 
 
 Mother, who left this little one on a stranger's knee, 
 Tliink how cruel you have been, and how good was he! 
 Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she ; 
 And do not take unkindly this little word of me. 
 Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be. 
 
 SI) FFOLK TEAKS ; 
 
 OK, AN ELEGY ON THAT RENOWED KNKJHT SIK NATHANIEL 
 BAKNAEDISTON. 
 
 The Barnardistons were settled at Kedington ever since 
 the year 1500. They resided at the Hall, a fine old mansion 
 in that jDarish, and produced many persons of distinguished 
 eminence. During the civH commotions in the reign of 
 Charles I., this family is remarkable for having given rise to 
 the appellation of "Roundhead." " The London ap^orentices," 
 says Eapin, " wore the hair of the head cut round; and the 
 Queen, observing out of a window Samuel Barnardiston 
 among them, cried out, ' See, what a handsome round head is 
 there ! ' " Hence originated this name. 
 
 Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston, the subject of the following 
 "Acrostic Elegie," who died July 25, 1653, appears to 
 have been a man of exemplary piety and virtue, and a firm 
 friend to the Kberties of his country. 
 
 He represented the county of Suffolk in several Parlia- 
 ments, and was well known as a staunch friend of the Puritan 
 cause. His death called forth a multitude of elegaio verses, 
 which were published together in a volume bearing the 
 following title, which is in itself an eulogy of no mean 
 description : — 
 
262 
 
 THE SUFFOLK flARLAXD. 
 
 " Suffolk Tears ; or, Elegies on that Renowned Knight Sir Nathaniel 
 Barnardiston, a Gentletaan eminent for Piety to God, love to the Chnrohe, 
 and fidelity to his Country, and therefore highly honoured by them all. 
 He was five times chosen Knight of the Shire for the County of SuffoUi:, 
 and once Burgess for Sudbury. In the discharge of which Trust he 
 always approved Himself Faithful, as by his great suft'erings for the 
 Freedoms and Liberties of his Country abundantly appear. A Zealous 
 Promoter of the Preaching of the Gospel, manifested by his great care 
 in presenting Men, Able, Learned, and Pious to the places whereof he 
 had the Patronage, and also by his large and extraordinary bounty 
 towards the advancing of Religion and Learning, both at home and in 
 Foreign Plantations among the Heathen." 
 
 " Dignum laude rirum Musa vetat Mori." 
 
 '^ London : 2>i'inted by R. I., for Thomas Neivberry, at the Three 
 Lions, in Cornhil, near the Hoyal Mxchange, 1653." 
 
 The volume is printed in a quarto of 70 pages, and 
 in the "Bib. Anglo Poet, 1815," published by Longman 
 and Co., is marked at the enormous price of twelve guineas ! 
 
 The funeral offerings contained in this volimie, wliilst 
 they show the estimation in which their deceased object was 
 holden, are curious specimens of the elegaic poetry of that 
 period ; and the poetical address to Lady Jane Barnardiston, 
 by the Rev. Samuel Fairclough, Juu., which we give, is a 
 rare example of Puritan flattery. 
 
 AX ACROSTIC ELEGY. 
 BY bIK WILLIAM .SPKIXG, BART., OF PAKENHAM. 
 
 S hall such friends dye, and my muse idle bee ? 
 
 I s't possible ? can such stupidity 
 
 R emaine in me, and I not dead with thee ? 
 
 N ature don't give, but lend its life to men, 
 
 A nd at its pleasure cals it hach agen. 
 
 T he image grav'd on man God's right doth shew, 
 
 H is image 'tis, let C'cesar have his due, 
 
 A nd in this Microcosme we plainly see 
 
 N less than part of Qod's Dioinity, 
 
 I n smaller letters; for the soul's a sparke 
 
 E ven of his Idndling, and (though in the dark, 
 
 L odg'd in the grave, the body seems to be) 
 
 L ets hope, and we shall find re-unity. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARI. VN'D. 
 
 S ody and soul shal joyu by heaveu's great power 
 
 A s once they were before the parting hour , 
 
 E, ally the Atomes shal, and then each part, 
 
 N ot losing ought by God's Almighty Art, 
 
 A ttaine shal to its Just a.Ti(i. ^"'oper dne, 
 
 R eturning to its coi-ps its former hue ; 
 
 D esoend then shal the Soul, and with a kisse 
 
 I ts antient friend awake to perfect hliss. 
 
 S these new married couple joyfully 
 
 T heaven ascend, and match eternity ; 
 
 heavenly Musick ! endless harmony ! 
 
 N one can desire to live, that's fit to die. 
 
 AN OFFERTORY. 
 BY THE REV. SAMUEL FAIKOLOUGH, M.a. 
 
 Thrice Noble Lndy, spare that melting bead, 
 
 Our sorrows want no jewel from your head ; 
 
 Still let those silver drops that lightly lye 
 
 Like little dehig'd worlds within your eye. 
 
 Fixed abide in their own brightest sphear, 
 
 His/ame wants not those pendents for her ear ; 
 
 Those falling stars rob heaven, we need not thence 
 
 Borrow our griefs or tax you with expence. 
 
 Behold how every Mourner brings his sheet 
 
 To wipe your eyes and weep himself ; 'tis meet 
 
 That this so public loss by th' Countries charge 
 
 Should mourned be : Spare, Madam, then ; this large 
 
 And thicker volume that is here annext 
 
 Is but our Comment on that public te.tt. 
 
 Come, Argus Hieraolitus, lend your eyes 
 
 To pay on's tomb a liquid sacrifice ; 
 
 Lo ! all the grass that round about him lye 
 
 Hangs full of tears, shed from Dame Nature's eye ; 
 
 See how sad Philomele (that yonder sits. 
 
 And to the dancing twig her music fits) 
 
 Now mourns for him ; the silver brook runs on 
 
 Grumbling to leave those loved banks, whereon 
 
 A Mansion once he had, that's now set round 
 
 With Cypress trees, and with their branches crown'd 
 
 So dark, it seems Night's Mantle for to borrow. 
 
 And may be called the gloomy den of sorroic. 
 
264 THE SUFFOLK GARL.VNU. 
 
 E'er since he di'd, the heavens their griefs to tell, 
 
 Daily in tears to earth's wet bosom fell ; 
 
 Not in an April storm, or those in June, 
 
 Whose trembling Cadents makes it rain in tune, 
 
 But like a grave December day, or those 
 
 Who mourn in Cicero's stile, and weep in prose. 
 
 Madam, you see all Nature's wat'ry store 
 
 Attends this sable day — weep you no more. 
 
 Angels, that on your eyes with bottles wait 
 
 To catch J OTXT falling tears, do now retreat 
 
 With vessels, anon a^^ain they'l stoop 
 
 And lightly hover round the mourning troop, 
 
 Whilst I in silence do his Shrine adore ; 
 
 If worship doth offend, I then implore 
 
 And crave a favor, Madam, 'tis this one — 
 
 Adde to his memory no piotur'd stone. 
 
 Lest whilst within the church my vows I pay, 
 
 I to the image of this saint should 2»'ay. 
 
 EPITAPH ON JOHN ELWES, ESQ., 
 THE MISBK, WHO LIVED AT STOKE BY CLAKE. 
 
 Heke, to man's honour, or to man's disgrace. 
 Lies a strong picture of the human race. 
 In Elwes' form — whose spirit, heart, and raind, 
 Virture and vice in firmest tints combin'd ; 
 Eough was the rock, but blended deep with ore, 
 And base the mass — that many a diamond bore : 
 Meaness to grandeur, folly join'd to sense, 
 And av'rice coupled with benevolence : 
 Whose lips ne'er broke a truth, nor hand a trust, 
 Were sometimes warmly kind — and always j ust : 
 With power to reach ambition's highest birth. 
 He sank a mortal — groveling to the earth ; 
 Lost in the lust of adding pelf to pelf. 
 Poor to the poor — still poorer to himself: 
 Whose wants, that nearly bent to all but stealth, 
 Ne'er in his country's plunder dug for wealth ; 
 Call'd by her voice — but call'd without expense, 
 His noble nature rous'd in her defence ; 
 And in the Senate, labouring in her cause, 
 The firmest guardian of the fairest laws 
 
THE SUFFOJ.K GARLAND. 265 
 
 He stood ; and each instinctive taint above, 
 
 To every bribe preferr'd a people's love ; 
 
 Yet still with, no stern patriotism iir'd, 
 
 Wrapt up in wealth, to wealth again retir'd ; 
 
 Y>j Penury guarded from Pride's sickly train, 
 
 Living a length of days without a pain, 
 
 And adding to the millions never tried, 
 
 Lov'd— pitied— soorn'd — and houour'd — Elwes died ! 
 
 Learn from this proof, that, in life's tempting scene, 
 
 Man is a compound of the great and mean ; 
 
 Discordant qualities together tied, 
 
 Virtues in him and vices are allied : 
 
 The sport of follies, or of crime the heir, 
 
 We all the mixtures of an Elwes share. 
 
 Pondering his faults — then ne'er his worth disown, 
 
 Bat in his nature recollect thiiie own ; 
 
 And think — for life and pardon where to trust, 
 
 Was GrOD not ilEiicr, when his creatures dust ? 
 
 A KHYMB OF ST. EDJlUXDSBrHY ABBEY SEVEN HUNDRED 
 YEARS AGO. 
 
 Seven hundred years have passed away since powerful and great, 
 St. Edmundsbury Abbey stood, in proud monastic state : 
 A bold, stupendous building then, a rich and holy pile. 
 None other Abbey half so fam'd in Britain's sea-girt isle. 
 
 Then, at the sainted Edmund's shrine, were costliest offerings brought, 
 E'en crowned monarchs at its foot the Virgin's aid have sought ; 
 Here too have warlike nobles met ; here too was fram'd the deed 
 Those self-same nobles forc'd their king to sign at Runnymede. 
 
 Within those cloister'd walls there dwelt, in those long years ago, 
 A learned monk, who studied much the Abbey's weal or woe — 
 One Jocelin, of Brakelond, who left a record rare, 
 A valued roll of great events, while he was dweller there. 
 
 He tells us how, under Abbot Hugh, such vast abuse accrues, 
 That Hugh himself ran into debt full heavy with the Jews, 
 And debt and interest inoreas'd to almost frightful sway ; 
 Small wonder, when at cent, per cent, 'twas usual rate to pay ! 
 
 At length the vessels from that shrine, so sacred and so old, 
 And all its costly ornaments were ta'en and pledged for gold I 
 
286 THE SUFFOIJC GARLVXD. 
 
 No punishment attended those who did th' unholy deed, 
 But Hugh himself at last was left to die in abject need. 
 
 Then came the Abbot Sampson, who of a different school, 
 Brought soon the Abbey's wide estate to discipline and rule ; 
 He olear'd it of its heavy debts, not that he niggard were, 
 For gen'rous he, although he us'd much diligence and care. 
 
 Sampson's inauguration was the wonder of the town, 
 
 For with the goodly Abbot did a thousand guests sit down, 
 
 And in the grand refectory, for ev'ry after year. 
 
 Each burgess would at Christmas-tide partake the Abbot's clieer. 
 
 Of Rougham and of Bradfield, the manors did he hold, 
 Their farm deficiencies made up with forty pounds of gold ; 
 And those old halls and buildings did he put in stout repair. 
 Where kites and crows, for many a year, the only tenants were. 
 
 And hereabout the land improv'd, and much to tillage brought. 
 Moreover, too, by his command, a strict account was sought, 
 Of hidages and foder corn, of hen-rents, and such dues, 
 For much the farmers would conceal, and much the Abbey lose. 
 
 Tet Abbott Sampson had a heart replete with grateful love, 
 As Elias, of Elmeswell, and the llisby Enights did prove ; 
 And kindness render'd to him once, was ne'er by him forgot. 
 For when hut a poor cloister monk, much sorrow was his lot. 
 
 Once sent to Rome for Papal grant (a journey sore and long) 
 That Woolpit church for ever to the Abbey might belong ; 
 Himself and errand he oonceal'd 'neath Scottish beggar's dress. 
 For those convulsed times oompell'd much care and thoughtfuluess. 
 
 But worldly troubles oft would break the calm of Abbot life, 
 Thus London's merchant citizens with Bury were at strife, 
 Because their carts from Yarmouth home, with usual iishy freight. 
 Had fifteen-pence been tax'd each, when at the northern gate. 
 
 Once, too, in Bury churchyard, on the holy natal day. 
 
 The servants of the Abbot, with burghers met to play 
 
 At wrestling match, and divers sports ; but sad disputes arose. 
 
 And knives were drawn, and blood was shed, for words gave place to blows. 
 
 Full sorely was the Abbot grieved, he mourned his task in vie\v. 
 For excommunication now was monk and layman's due ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARL VM). 267 
 
 'Twas passed beneath the sacred roof, where eaoh man was by name 
 Cast from the bosom of the Church, with sorrow and with shame. 
 
 Porth from the holy pile they went ! Sad sight for Bury then, 
 Before St. Mary's door fell down a hundrtd cursed men, 
 And for the Church's mercy prayed, with feet and shoulders bare, 
 Kegardless of the public eye, and winter's piercing air. 
 
 The Abbot wept ! nor him alone — all Bury mourned that day, 
 And to the holy father did for ubsolution pray ; 
 "While he. rememb'ring penitence, in goodness quick resolved 
 To list to mercy's voice, and bade the guilty be absolved. 
 
 Thereon they all were smartly whipped (the burgess of the town) 
 And then absolved, and furthermore the Abbot did lay down 
 Severest threats and penalties, if ever from that day 
 In Bury churchyard shows or sports should dare to make their way. 
 
 Thus was it in the olden time, seven hundred years ago ; 
 Kace after race hath passed away, the Abbey's self laid low. 
 But churches, tower, and gate yet stand, each in its beauty rare, 
 May heaven and good St. Edmund long these precious relics spare ! 
 
 Feances E. p. 
 
 A DESCRIPTION OF CHRISTMAS HUSBANDLY FARE. 
 BY THOMAS TUSSEK. 
 
 The " Christmas Husbandly Eare " is interesting as a 
 genuine picture of the mode of living in this county in the 
 sixteenth century. The different viands enumerated are still 
 known by the names which they bear in the text, if we 
 except " shred pies," which appear to be mince pies, as they 
 are now called. 
 
 At Christmas, good husbands,* have corn on the ground, 
 
 In barn and in seller, worth many a pound ; 
 
 With plenty of other things — cattle and sheep. 
 
 All sent them (no doubt on) good houses to keep. 
 
 At Christmas, the hardness of winter doth rage, 
 
 A griper of all things, and specially age : 
 
 * A contraction for good husbandmen. 
 
268 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXn. 
 
 Then liglitly f poor people, the yoiiug with the old, 
 
 Be sorest oppresed with hunger and cold. 
 
 At Christmas, by labur is little to get, 
 
 That wanting, the poorest in danger are set ; 
 
 What season then better, of all the whole year. 
 
 Thy needy, poor neighbour to comfort and cheer p 
 
 At this time, and that time, some make a great matter ; 
 
 Some help not, but hinder the poor with their clatter, 
 
 Take custom from feasting, what oometh then last ? 
 
 "Where one hath a dinner, a hundred shall fast. 
 
 To dog in the manger, some liken I could, 
 
 That hay will eat none, nor let other that would. 
 
 Some scarce, in a year, give a dinner or two, 
 
 Nor well can abide any other to do. 
 
 Play thou the good fellow ! seek none to misdeem ; 
 
 Disdain not the honest, though merry they seem, 
 
 For oftentimes seen, no more very a knave 
 
 Than he that doth counterfeit most to be grave. 
 
 Good husband and huswife, now chiefly be glad. 
 
 Things handsome to have as they ought to be had. 
 
 They both do provide, against Christmas do come. 
 
 To welcome good neighbour, good cheer to have some. 
 
 Good bread, and good drink, a good fire in the hall. 
 
 Brawn, pudding, and souse, and good mustard withall : 
 
 Beef, mutton, and pork, shred pies of the best. 
 
 Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well drest ; 
 
 Cheese, apples, and nuts ; joly carols to hear, 
 
 As then in the country is counted good cheer. 
 
 What cost to good husband is any of this ? 
 
 Good household provision only it is. 
 
 Of other the like, I do leave out a many, 
 
 That costeth the husbandman never a penny. 
 
 At Christmas be merry, and thankful withall. 
 
 And feast thy poor neighbour, the great with the small ; 
 
 Yea, all the year long, to the poor let us give, 
 
 God's blessing to follow us while we do live. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY SALE BY ATJCTIOX. 
 
 At the commencement of tlie present century, there resided 
 in Ipswich an auctioneer who was yery unsuccessful in 
 
 t An old form of expression. The author means that poor people, of 
 course, are sorely oppressed. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 269 
 
 effecting sales ; some wag, to whom this was known, prepared 
 a hand-bill, of which the following is a copy, and this Avas 
 circulated among onr townsmen. 
 
 TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION, 
 
 BY PRIVATE COXTIIACT, 
 
 AT A REPOSITOHY NEAR THE POST OFFICE, 
 
 IPSWICH, 
 
 BY SIMON NEVEE.SELL, 
 
 OX SATUEDAY, THE THIETY-SECOXU IXSTAXT. 
 
 *♦* Tlie Sale to begin precisely at five minutes past Ten u'cloek in the Afternoon. 
 
 LOT. 
 
 1 A Copper Cart Saddle, a Leather Hand-saw, two Woolen Frying- 
 
 pans, and a Glass Wheelbarrow. 
 
 2 Three pairs of Pease Straw Breeches, a China Quarter Cart, and two 
 
 Glass Bedsteads with Copper Hangings. 
 
 3 Two Marble Bonnets, a Feather Cap, an Iron Gown, two Straw 
 
 Petticoats, and three Glass Shoes. 
 
 4 Deal Coal Grate, with Paper Smoke Jack, a Mahogany Poker, China 
 
 Tongs, Cotton Shovel, and a pair of Gauze Bellows. 
 
 5 Two Second-hand Coffins with Glass Nails, three Glass Coach- 
 
 wheels with Cambric Tire, two Persian Saddles, and a Wooden 
 Bridle. 
 
 6 A Leather Tea-kettle, an Iron Feather-bed, six pairs of Brass 
 
 Boots, and a Steel Night-cap. 
 
 SUNDRIES. 
 
 Pewter Waistcoat, and three Flint Wigs. A Bell-metal ChaiF-sieve, 
 and Calimanco Hog-trough. A Buck's-skin Warming-pan, and a 
 Pewter Looking-glass. A Japan Cleaving-beetle, and a Leather 
 Mattock. Three Silk Hog-yokes, and a Pinchbeck Swill-tub. I'our 
 Sheep's-skin Milk Pails, and a Wheat-straw Trammel. A Lamb's-skin 
 Grindstone, and a Horse-leather Hatchet. A pair of Pewter Pudding- 
 bags, and a Canvass Gridiron. A Dimity Coal-scuttle, A Wooden 
 Timber Chain, and a Brass Cart Rope. 
 
 *^* A PEW more articles, too numeeotjs to mention. 
 
 PKINTED Bl' J. BTJSH. 
 
270 THE SUFFOLK GAM, AND. 
 
 THE FARJIERS DAILY JJIET. 
 
 BY THOMAS TUSSER. 
 
 Thomas Tusser here gives a highly interesting description 
 of tiie farmers' mode of Hving in Suifolk in tiie EHzabetiiian 
 age. Salt meat, and fish both fresh and salted, it is evident, 
 were standing articles of diet. But few delicacies are 
 enumerated, hut everything is substantial and wholesome, 
 though plain. 
 
 A plot set down for farmers' quiet, 
 As time required, to frame his diet, 
 With sometimes fish, and sometimes fast. 
 That household store may longer last. 
 Let Lent, well kept, offend not thee. 
 For March and April breeders be ; 
 Spend herring first, save salt fish last, 
 For salt iish is good when Lent is past ; 
 When Easter comes, who knows not then 
 That veal and bacon is the man ;* 
 And Martilmas beeff doth bear good tack 
 When country folks do dainties lack ; 
 When Maorell ceaseth from the seas, 
 John Baptist brings grass-beef and pease. 
 Fresh herring plenty, MiohellJ brings. 
 With fatted crones and such old things. 
 All Saints^ do lay for pork and souse, § 
 For sprats and spurlings|| for their house. 
 At Christmas play, and make good cheer. 
 For Christmas comes hut once a year ; 
 Though some then do, as do they would, 
 Let thrifty do as do they should. 
 For causes good so many ways 
 Keep Embrings* well and fasting days, 
 What law commands we ought t' obey, 
 For Friday, Saturn, and Wednesday. 
 
 " That is, is proper to be used. 
 
 t Beef dried in the chimney, like bacon, and is so called because it was 
 iLsual to kill the beef for this provision about the Feast of St. Martin,Nov. 1st. 
 t Michaelmas. % All Hallows tide. § Pigs' ears, feet, rinds, etc. 
 II A small sea fish, probably smelts. * The Ember days or weeks. 
 
THE SUFFOLK (iARLAND. 271 
 
 Tlie land doth, will, the sea doth wish, 
 Spare sometimes flesh and feed of fish ; 
 Where fish is scant, and fruit of trees, 
 Supply that want with bixtter and cheese. 
 
 SUFFOLK WORDS AND PHRASES. 
 
 The foUowmg very clever illustration of Suffolk words 
 ■was wi'itteu by the late E.ev. Greorge Tiu'ner, of Kettleburgli, 
 and sent to the late Major Moor : — 
 
 K , 31inj 12nd, 1814. 
 
 " DEiR Faiur, 
 
 " I was axed some stounds agon by Billy P., our sesser at 
 
 Mulladin, to make inc[uiration a' yeow if Master had pahd in 
 
 that money into the Bank. Billy P. he fare kinda unasy about it, and 
 when I see him at church to-day, he sah, timmy, says he, prah ha yeow 
 wrot ? so I kinda wif't him off, and I sah, says I, I heent hard from 
 
 Squire D as yet, but I dare sah I shall afore long, so prah write me 
 
 some lines an send me wahd witha the money is pahd a' noe. I don't 
 know what to make of our Mulladin folks, nut I ; but somehow or 
 another they're alias in dibles, an I'll be rot if I don't begin to think 
 
 some on 'em a'l tahn up scaly at last ; an as to that fulla , he grow 
 
 so big and so purdy, that he want to be took down a peg ; an I am glad 
 to hare that yeow gint it em properly at Wickhum. I'm gooin to meet 
 the Mulladin folks a' Friday, to go a' bouuden, so prah rite me wahd 
 afore thennum, an let me know if the money be pahd, that I may make 
 
 Billy P asy. How stammin cow'd 'tis now-a-days ; we heent 
 
 no feed no where, an the stock run bloren about for wittles, just as 
 if twa winter ; yeow may pend on't twool be a mortal bad season for 
 green geese, an we shant have no spring wahts afore soom fair. I dipt 
 my ship last Tu.esday (list a me, I mean Wensday), an tha scringe up 
 their backs so nashunly I'm afeard they're wholly stryd ; but stru's God 
 'tis a strange cow'd time. I heent got no news to tell ya, only we're all 
 stammenly set up about that there corn hill : folks don't fare to like 
 no matters, on tba sah there was a nashun noise about it at Norrij last 
 Saturday was a fautnit. The mob thay got 3 eflgis— a farmer, a squire, 
 an a milla ; an stru as you're alive, they hung um all on one jibbet — 
 so folks sah. Howsumever, we are quite enough here, case we fare to 
 think it for our good. If you see that there chap Harry, give my 
 sarvice to em. 
 
 " I remain, yar tru frind. 
 
THE SUFFOLK rJAllljAXD. 
 
 BURY FAIRS. 
 
 The following account of the Fairs held at St. Edmund's, 
 Bury, is extracted from a scarce pamphlet, entitled, " An 
 Historical Account of Sturbridge, Bury, and the 
 MOST Fajious Fairs in Europe and America ; inter- 
 spersed with Anecdotes Curious and Entertaining; ; 
 and Considerations upon the Origin, the Progress, and 
 Deohne of all the temporary Marts in this kingdom." 
 Cambridge, 8vo. 
 
 " The Fair of Bury St. Edmund's, formerly one of the most resorted 
 Marts in the kingdom, was instituted as early as the year 1272, in the 
 latter part of Henry III.'s reign. This Monarch, returning from Norwich, 
 where he had been to quell a great riot between the citizens and the 
 Jfonks, passed through Bury in Ms way to London ; there he paid his 
 devotions to the shrine of St. Edmund ; and at the requisition of Simon 
 de Cutton, Abbat and Lord of Bury, he granted him a charter for a 
 Fair, to be kept annually without the precints of the Monastery, three 
 days before and three days after the Feast of St. Matthew, which has 
 been since protracted to an uncertain length, for the advantage of the 
 Traders and the diversion of the Company. By this charter the Abbat 
 had the tolls of the Pair, and the sole government of it by his Steward, 
 with the oversight of the Weights and Measures, and the licensing of all 
 the Booths therein. The Townsmen, and all within a mile round the 
 town were then subject to the Abbat ; and the Alderman, at the entrance 
 upon his office, swore before the Steward of the Abbey that he should main- 
 tain the peace of the Borough, and in nothing damage or hurt the Abbat 
 or convent in any of their rights and privileges. King Henry IIL gave 
 to this Monastery special marks of his favour for having received 
 one hundred and twenty marks of the Abbat and Monks towards the 
 marriage of his sister, Isabella, with Frederic, Emperor of Germany. 
 
 "Bury was then the great "Wool Staple in the East of England, and 
 is still very considerable, employing the poor in combing and spinning. 
 The Wool Stalls, in St. Andrew's Street, are very small in oomparision of 
 the spacious magazines, where all the Wool of the country was deposited. 
 Some of the Flemings, brought hither by the Earl of Leicester, and several 
 artificers, who oame over with Qaeen Isabel, Consort of Edward II., 
 established at Bury Woollen Manufactures. 
 
 " The tyranny of the Abbat, and the oppression of his Officers caused 
 divers insurrections of the Townsmen. For one of them, headed by 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAEL VXD. 273 
 
 Richard Drayton and Robert Foxton, the first of Edward III., 1327, 
 they plundered the Church and the Abbey, and carried away their charters, 
 one of which was that granted by Henry III. for St. Matthew's J'air. 
 The insurgents extorted a charter from Richard de Draughton, Abbat of 
 Bury, whom they kept prisoner with some of his Monks, till they had 
 sealed a grant of the tolls and Government of this Fair to the guild of 
 merchants and Alderman ; but this instrument, drawn up by commission, 
 was declared void by the king's Manual Seal, and the Abbat restored 
 to his privileges. This fair was since kept by prescription, and the 
 Monks, taking advantage of the credulous superstition of the times, 
 made a considerable collection in Vows, Masses, and Offerings to St. 
 Edmund's shrine amongst his Votaries. The Abbat kept an open table 
 whilst the Fair lasted, for noble guests, and persons of inferior rank 
 were daily entertained in the Refectory with the Monks. There were 
 different Sows assigned for the Manufacturers of Norwich, Ipswich, 
 Colchester, the Londoners, and the Dutch ; the Jewellers, Silversmiths, 
 Toymen, and Silk Mercers occupied all the Avenues to the Abbat'a 
 Palace. Minstrels, Juglers, and Mountebanks were commonly allowed to 
 perform their feats of dexterity during the Fair, which brought together a 
 great concourse of gentlemen and ladies from Suffolk, Norfolk, and Essex. 
 
 "Mary Tudor, (iueen of France, relict of Louis XII., and sister of 
 Henry VIII., who married afterwards Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, 
 went every year from her Manor of JVesthorp to this Fair ; she had a 
 magnificent Tent, with a splendid retinue and a band of music to 
 attend, and to recreate the persons of distinction who came to pay her 
 homage. The Duke, who was the most dexterous man of his age in 
 tilting, engaged from all parts of the kingdom several armed Knights to 
 these martial exercises, which made this Fair for some years frequented 
 by many noble personages. 
 
 " John Melford, the last Abbat, surrendered the Abbey at the dissolu- 
 tion ; the Alderman received the Toll and assumed the Grovernment of this 
 Fair. King James I., in the sixth year of his reign, gave the rever- 
 sion of the Fairs and Markets of Bury in Fee Farm to the Corporation. 
 
 " The Market Cross is converted into a Theatre, used only during this 
 Fair by the Norwich Comedians. This Fair has considerably decreased 
 for forty years past, and is now become rather a place of amusement than 
 Temporary Mart, as most of the Merchandises now brought hither are 
 chieiiy articles of luxury and curiosity. 
 
 " John Lydgate, the famous poet, who was a Monk of St. Edmund's, 
 wrote an elegant Latin Poem upon Bury Fair, in 1435. 
 
 " This Fair is held on a spacious Plain betwixt the magnificent Gate 
 of the Ahhey and the Town. It begins the 21st of September, and lasts 
 
2l4: THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 fourteen days. It is the rendezvous of the Beau Monde every afternoon, 
 "who conclude their evening by the Plays or Assemblies. This Fair 
 consists chiefly of several Roios of Haberdashers, Milliners, Mercers, 
 Silversmiths, and Toy Shops, which make a fine show. 
 
 " MiDSTJirMEE Fair is of much more ancient date than Stnrbridge. 
 Fuller attributes its institution to children frequently playing on the very 
 spot where it is kept to this day ; their parents or relations often accom- 
 panied them, to prevent any danger from the vicinity of the water, or 
 to keep them off hurt and mischief. This Field being more and more 
 resorted to in the summer season, booths were erected for the accomoda- 
 tion and entertainment of the company, and at last some pedlars began to 
 sell their wares as early as the year 1106." 
 
 The Midsummer Fair is now quite extinct, but tlie grand 
 Fair is still held on the Angel Hill, between the Abbey 
 Grate and the town. It commences about the second week 
 in October, and lasts three weeks, its great attractions 
 being petty shows, roundabouts, gingerbread stalls, and 
 toys. It is a perfect nuisance to the respectable inhabi- 
 tants of the town. 
 
 A good idea of the importance of Bury Fair during the 
 last century, may be gathered from the following advertise- 
 ments from newspapers of a century ago, or thereabouts. 
 
 ADA^EETISEMENTS IX CONNECTION WITH BURY FAIR. 
 
 TO THE LADIES. 
 
 BULL, HAIR DRESSER, 
 
 FROM NO. 2, EAGLE STREET, PICCADILLY, LONDON, 
 
 Takes the Liberty of informing the Nobility and Gentry that he is 
 at Mk. Mead's, Cabinet and Chair maker, in the Cook Row, Bury St. 
 Edmund's, during the fair. Ladies who please to honour him with their 
 commands, may depend upon having their hair dressed in the most 
 fashionable taste, as it is now worn at the Courts of London and Paris. 
 Great attention will be paid to render that part of the dress elegant and 
 fashionable. He has a, great variety of False Hair, to imitate Nature ; 
 Bowes for the ladies, to fix on themselves, that never want dressing ; 
 Tetes, Braids, Curls, Sheniongs, with or without long Hair ; ditto, with 
 Curls, on a new construction. Coshasis, etc., to dress the hair upon. 
 
THE SUFFOT,K GARLAND. 275 
 
 He like'wise intends being at Bath the Autumn season ; to be heard of at 
 Mr. Green's, facing York Houses. 
 
 *^* All orders sent to the above places punctually attended to. 
 
 Bury, November 2\st, 1769. 
 This is to give notice to Gentlemen, Ladies, and others, that the 
 famous MtTTFlN Makek, from London, is come to this Town, at the 
 Spread Eagle, in the Butter Market, where Gentlemen, Ladies, and others 
 may be sure of as good Muffins and Crumpets as in London, and will 
 continue selling the above during the whole season. All favours will 
 be ever esteemed by their most humble servant, 
 
 SAMUEL SHED. 
 
 TO THE HOBItITT, GENIET, ETC., 
 
 WHO AKE ADMIEEES OP THE EITKAOBDINAKT PKODUCTIONS OF NATUKK. 
 
 TO BE SEEN 
 
 DURING BURY FAIR, at the bottom op the angel hill, 
 MARIA TERESA, 
 
 THE AMAZING COESIOAN PAIKT, 
 
 who has had the honour of being shown three times before their 
 Majesties. She is only 34 inches high, weighs but 26 lbs., and is 
 allowed to be the finest display of Human Nature in Miniature that was 
 ever shown in England. 
 
 To be seen from ten in the morning till nine at night. Gentlemen 
 and Ladies, one shilling ; servants, etc., sixpence. 
 
 The following is an account of some of the performances now exhibit- 
 ing in the Theatre, Buet St. Edmund's, by Mr. HERMAN BOAZ, the 
 so celebrated German Artist. 
 
 He first produces a living Pidgeon to the company, which said Pidgeon 
 he suspends by a garter hanging from the ceiling, and the shadow of 
 the Pidgeon being reflected against the wall by means of a candle, 
 Mr. Boaz then takes a sword with which he pierces the said shadow, at 
 which instant blood will fly from the real Pidgeon ; and in drawing the 
 Sword across the Neck of the Shadow upon the wall, he will out ofi' the 
 head of the real Pidgeon, which is at least six yards distant. 
 
 He shatters a large Pane of Glass into fragments, about the Breadth 
 of a Shilling, the length he is not at all solicitous about, and eats them 
 all very readily. He does the same with a Pound of Ten-penny Nails, 
 or small Tenter hooks. 
 
276 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 He gives any person leave with a sharp instrument (but first warmed) 
 to strike at the naked Calf of his Leg with all his Force, and in less 
 than three minutes the Wound heals, without a soar, and with the loss 
 of about a Table spoonful of Blood. 
 
 He takes the Watch of any Gentleman in company, and by only 
 stroking the Glass with the Ball of his Thumb, the watch shall stop as 
 long as the Company shall think proper. 
 
 He takes a New Pack of Cards, with which he performs above two 
 hundred Tricks, after which he eats the whole Pack in presence of the 
 company, drinking a half pint of wine after it. He aftei'wards eats the 
 Decanter, by way of Digestion. 
 
 N.B.— Mr. Boaz will continue to exhibit in Bury, every Evening 
 during the next week, at seven o'clock ; but as Methodists, and People 
 of weak Minds in Town have imagined he deals with a Demon, or some- 
 thing supernatural, he here solemnly declares to such that their Notion 
 is utterly false. He does not deny a Communication with ariel Beings, 
 of which the Learned know well enough the middle Region of the Air 
 is full, but this Communication he humbly conceives to be owing to his 
 exemplary life. 
 
 DuKiNG the present time of St. Edmund Burt Fair, will be exhibited 
 in a commodious BOOTH, on the Angel Hill, facing Cook Row, the 
 capital collection of living WILD PRODUCTIONS, which were shown 
 all last winter, facing Temple Bar, London, with several additions. 
 The famous Lion Combatant, who in a few weeks is to encounter many 
 Bull Dogs, being matched by two noble personages for a large sum of 
 money : a young he Lion not above ten weeks old, so that the curious 
 may now have an opportunity of that which will not present itself again 
 in an Age, of taking a Lion in their arms, etc. The celebrated Oriental 
 Tyger, which is as large as many heifers, and as beautiful as the Queen's 
 Zebra. There is likewise a multiplicity of other extraordinary Phe- 
 nomena. 
 
 In 1766 we find advertised : 
 ' The ASSEMBLIES for the time of Burt Fair, are fixed as follows :— 
 The First on Monday, the 6th of October 
 
 Second on Wednesday, the 8th ,, 
 
 Third on Friday, the 10th ,, 
 
 Fourth on Monday, the 13th ,, 
 
 Fifth on Wednesday, the 15th „ 
 
 The particulars of the Assemblies will be advertised next week. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAJil). 277 
 
 SAINT EDMUND S OAK. 
 
 Lord Arthur Hervey, in his address to the members of 
 " The Arohseologioal Institute," on the occasion of their 
 visit to Bury St. Edmund's, in 1854, said : 
 
 " I cannot help adverting to a most singular tradition, to which I 
 confess I give implicit credence. At Hoxne, a few miles from hence, 
 was an old oak tree, which had always been known as St. Edmund's 
 Oak. The common tradition was (perhaps it had ceased to be the 
 common belief) that it was the very identical oak to which King Edmund 
 was tied, some thousand years ago, when he was shot at by the Danes. 
 Some seven or eight years since, this venerable tree split from extreme 
 old age, and in its very centre, which was then exposed to view, was 
 found an old arrow-head. This remarkable fact, coupled with the 
 previous tradition, makes me believe that this was the very oak tree 
 to which St. Edmund was bound in the forest of Hoxne." 
 
 ROYAL VISITORS TO BURY ST. EDJIUNd's. 
 
 Lord Arthur Hervey, in the address above mentioned, 
 says : 
 
 " I could give you a goodly list of monarohs and other illustrious 
 personages who came from the earliest times to pay their devotions at 
 St. Edmund's shrine. But I must iirst call your attention to a remark- 
 able circumstance. Though King Edmund, the Saxon patriot, died in 
 defending his country against the Danes, yet some of the first kings 
 who did honor to his shrine were themselves Danes and Normans. King 
 Sweyn, having been rash enough to come and ravage St. Edmund's 
 patrimony, came to an untimely end, and was said to have acknowledged 
 on his death-bed that his sacriligious violence had been the cause of his 
 death, through the intervention of King Edmund. In consequence, 
 his son, King Canute, came to make his offerings at the grave of the 
 offended saint, and to expiate his father's impiety, took oif his crown 
 and presented it at the shrine. King William the Conqueror did great 
 honour to St. Edmund, and granted him many privileges. I fancy he 
 came there in person, for it is said that he placed a, cultellum on the 
 shrine. Wow it would be a curious speculation to inquire why Danes 
 and Normans thus united in honouring an Anglo-Saxon saint ; and it is 
 a matter for philosophical inquiry whether it arose from policy, in order 
 to conciliate their English subjects, or whether from a superstitious 
 
278 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 dread of St. Edmuml's vengeance, and a desire to propitiate his favour ; 
 or whether we see in it a faint image of the blessed power of Chris- 
 tianity to unite the most discordant elements. For my own part, I 
 would fain hope that there was at work in this sometliing at least of the 
 power of that religion which had before united in one holy fellowship 
 Jews, Samaritans, and Gentiles ; and which was now able to unite in 
 the same bonds Normans, Danes, and Saxons. * * * * 
 
 " King Edward the Confessor often came to Bury, and was wont, 
 when within a mile of the spot where his royal predecessor, St Edmund, 
 lay, to take off his shoes and approach bare-foot. Here King Henry II. 
 took the cross, and on that occasion Abbot Sampson was so inflamed 
 with warlike ardour to take the cross, that it was almost impossible to 
 restrain him from doing so. Nor could he be deterred from his purpose 
 till the King absolutely forbad him, saying it was not safe for the peace 
 of the counties, that the Abbot of St. Edmund and the Bishop of 
 Norwich should both be absent at the same time. I may mention by 
 the way, as a proof of the singular veneration felt for St. Edmund and 
 his Abbey, that when all England was forced to contribute to the ransom 
 of King E,ichard, and all the abbeys and monasteries were ransacked of 
 their gold and silver vessels for that purpose, no one dared to touch the 
 shrine of St. Edmund, and it remained inviolate till the Reformation. 
 "What became of it then is unknown. The painted case which belonged 
 to Horace Walpole's collection, and was bought at Strawberry Hill sale, 
 I believe, by the Duke of Sutherland, is pretty well ascertained not to 
 have had anything to do with St. Edmund's shrine. Kichard the Lion- 
 hearted himself came to Bury twice. King John also came (no honour to 
 us that he did), and did not earn golden opinions. The sarcastic Jooelin 
 de Brakland complains of liis great shabbiness : the only thing he offered 
 to St. Edmund was a piece of silk, which he borrowed from the convent. 
 On a subsequent occasion, however, he in some measure redeemed his 
 character. King Henry III. held a Parliament here. Edward I. visited 
 Bury thirteen, times, and also held his Parliament here A. D. 1296. 
 Here poor Edward II. came and shed over the place the sad hue of his 
 sorrows and misfortunes : he probably came to St. Edmund's shrine to 
 seek some solace from those heavy cares which weighed him down to the 
 ground. He spent his Christmas here ; but, doubtless, it was not a merry 
 Christmas, for he knew that his faithless Queen Isabella was neat at 
 hand. In point of fact, she landed in Suffolk, and soon afterwards 
 raised a large force at Bury and in the neighbourhood, with which she 
 ultimately drove her unhappy husband from the throne. Eichard II. 
 and his ftueen passed ten days here ; and here Henry VI. held a. 
 Parliament. I will read to you, from Dugdale, a short and characLeristic 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 271) 
 
 description of the manner in which the King passed the time from 
 Christmas to St. George's day (April 23). 
 
 " ' Abbot Curteys made great preparations for the visit, and put the 
 abbatial palace, which was at that time much out of repair, into com- 
 plete readiness for the reception of his royal guest. The aldermen and 
 burgesses of Bury, dressed in scarlet, accompanied by the commons of 
 the town, who also wore a red livery, met the king, to the number of 
 five hundred, upon Newmarket heath. The royal retinue before this 
 extended a mile. They brought the King within the precincts of the 
 monastery by the south gate. Here he was received by the whole 
 convent, the Bishop of Norwich and the Abbot appearing in full 
 pontificials, the Abbot sprinkling the King with holy water, and pre- 
 senting a cross to his lips. Procession, with music, was next made 
 to the high altar of the church, when the antiphon used in the service 
 for St. Edmund ("Ave rex gentis Anglerum") was sung. After this 
 the King paid bis devotions at St. Edmund's shrine, and then passed 
 to the Abbot's palace. He remained with the Abbot till the Epiphany, 
 but afterwards removed to the prior's lodgings, where he stayed till 
 the 23rd of January, the vicinity of the water and the vineyard which 
 led into the open country, and gave facility to the sports of the field, 
 rendering the situation particularly agreeable.' 
 
 " In connection with this visit of King Henry VI., I may refer to 
 an interesting picture in Dugdale's Monasticon (the only one remaining) 
 of St. Edmund's shrine, in which Henry VI. appears in the act of 
 making his devotions before it." 
 
 ANNIVERSARIES OF BISHOP BLAIZE AND ST. CRISPIN. 
 
 During tlie last century Trade Guilds existed in many 
 towns, those of the woolcomhers being most numerous in 
 this district. These " Gruilds " were trading fraternities, 
 established to exercise control over particular handicrafts, 
 and were often benefited by monarohs and monarchs' 
 favourites, at the expense of the public. On anniversary 
 days they usually had a procession, a sort of open air 
 recognition of their fraternity, in some places rivalling the 
 Lord Mayor's show, in London. In " The East Anglian " 
 we find the following account, taken from a MS. Common 
 Place Book, of the celebration of St. Blaizes and St. 
 Crispin's days at Bury St. Edmund's. 
 
280 
 
 THK SITFFOI.K GAELAXn. 
 
 " February 3, 1777. 
 " This day, Monday, being the anniversary of Bishop Blaize, the same 
 was observed in this town, in a manner far surpassing anything of the 
 kind ever seen. The Cavalcade consisted of between 2 and 300 Wool- 
 combers, upon Horses, in uniforms properly decorated, Bishop Blaize, 
 Jason, Castor, and Pollux, a band of music, drums, colours, and every- 
 thing necessary to render the procession suitable to the greatness of the 
 Woollen manufactory. The following lines were spoken by the Orators : — 
 
 " With boundless Gratitude, Illustrious Blaize, 
 Again we celebrate and speak thy Praise ; 
 Britons do still revere, and Fame proclaim 
 To wondering nations thy auspicious Name. 
 Thousands to thee, the Founder of our Art, 
 With thy Great Sire, their equal warmth impart ; 
 A\'ith Breasts inflamed we now our Homage pay, 
 And sound thy worth on this thy Festal Day. 
 And thou, Great Jason, Prince in war renown'd, 
 To Greece with Drum and Silver Trumpet's sound 
 Dauntless drove forward with thy conquering sword, 
 Slaughtered the Guards that dare resist thy Word ; 
 Colchis, amaz'd, beheld her soldiers slain. 
 And thou Possessor of Her greatest gain. 
 Defended still by our own Laws, we boast 
 Our Art the noblest formed on Albion's coast ; 
 To Each, our Patron, now our thanks we pay, 
 And thus in Publick we our joy display ; 
 While you assist. Commerce can never fail, 
 ]N'or other Pow'rs o'er Briton's Sons prevail. 
 
 "Oct. 31st, 1777. 
 " Last Saturday being the anniversary of St. Crispin, the Shoemakers 
 made a grande Procession on Horseback, from the Southgate, thro' all 
 the principal Streets, with Trumpets in front, and the rest of the band, 
 joined with drums, fifes, etc., between the divisions, on which occasion 
 there was more company in town than was ever remembered before. 
 The Prince was mounted on a fine grey Horse and most magnificently 
 habited. He was attended by his nobles, superbly dressed in green and 
 white, and his guards in blue and white, which made a very good 
 appearance. His noble and warlike Br. Crispianus appeared in a coat 
 of Mail, attended by his troops, in two divisions, one in red and white, 
 the other in purple and white. They all rode in half boots, made of 
 morocco, in different colors adapted to their uniforms; their jackets 
 
THE SUFFOLK TxARLAM). 281 
 
 and caps were extremely neat and in elegant taste, made all of leather. 
 The principal characters in the procession were remarkably well chosen, 
 and the pleasing effect of the fancy dresses had showed great judgment in 
 the managers and far exceeded the warmest expectations of the beholders. 
 The Prince, attended by his guard, with his torch bearers and a grand 
 band of musick playing before him, went to the Play, and was received 
 with every mark of Respect." 
 
 TOWN CRIEES' REGISTERS. 
 
 One of tlie documents relating to the toAvn of Clare, in 
 the custody of the Chief Steward of the Honor, is a register 
 of things cried in its market. It extends nearly through a 
 century, the first entry being dated in 1612 and the last in 
 1711. The quaint description of articles lost or found, the 
 singular nature of the dresses worn "by the individuals who 
 " ran away," and the peculiar manner of spelling the names 
 of persons, places, and things, cannot fail to interest our 
 readers. 
 
 EXTKACTS FROM THE EeGISTEBS KEPI BY THE CkIEES OE ClARE, 
 
 SUFEOLK. 
 
 1620. 16th June — Ther was criede in Clar m'kett, a flea bitten greye 
 nagg with a white mane, taken up at Deuston by the Lord of the 
 manor of Denston, his bailiffe their as a straye. 
 
 1687. 25th Feb. — Ther was one Bassilley Lonely, Aboute 14 years of 
 Age, Beeing An Apprentice to a Shoemaker in Melford, was openly 
 cryed in Clare markett, with proviso, that if any man Could bring 
 tidins to the Cryer he should be well paid for his paynes, and this 
 was done by the order of the Bayliefs of the burrow. 
 
 1689. 31st May — Ther was died downe in Clare markett Catherine 
 Frost, wife of Nathaniell Frost, of Hundon, in Suff., yeoman, by 
 me, Edmund Warren, xr. 
 
 1692. 9th October— Cryed yr one browne blacke horse, About 14 hands 
 high, with A starr on his foorehead and whight foot behinde, and A 
 wall eye on the oft side, and the other eye is in his head, but he 
 is allmost bliude of both, and two sadle spots on etoh side of his 
 back, taken or strayed oute of the pasture of Mr. John Brooke, 
 minister of Q-reate Yeldom, in Essex, &o. 
 
 1692. 16th December— Cryed a broune Cow about 9 or 10 years ould, 
 with crumpled horns, with a whight place between her foore leggs. 
 
282 THE SUFFOLK GAllLAND. 
 
 and some whight upon her Throate, taken up Aboute Could fayer 
 day, last, by Mr. Waldgrave Sidy, of uper yeldham, Essex. 
 
 1693. 2nd December — Cryed att severall places in Clare, A hagg Saw of 
 John ssoUowes in Clare , it is about 4 foot long. Borrowed or 
 stolen oute of his shop Aboute 3 or 4 months agoe. 
 
 1694. 21st December— Cryed in Clare Markett, a girle aboute 14 years 
 of age, of a middle statur, with a full red face, oloathed in sad 
 cullored cloathes, who ran away from her master, Thomas Betts, 
 a bricklayer of Stoke by Clare, upon the 28th day of November 
 last. 
 
 1696. 2nd October — Cryed in Clare markett, a ladd that rann away 
 from Isaac Brounesmyth, in grigory parish, in Sudbury ; he is 
 aboute 17 or 18 years ould, with afresh cuUered lif;ht broune heare. 
 An ould black hatt and a fuschin frock, with an ould ooate under 
 it, with sad oullered briohes and sad ouUered stockens. 
 
 1701. 28th March — Cryed in Clare markett, one John Wade, the souu 
 of William Wade, of Clare, Glover, that non of the King's Subioots 
 should lend the said John Wade Anything upon his father's 
 Account, nor pay him Any of his father's debts. 
 
 1701. nth September — Cryed in Clare, one Thomas Sparrow, appren- 
 tice to one John Barnard, of Sudbury, who did run away from his 
 master on the 23rd day of last August : he hath a ruddy com- 
 plection and browne hair, with a soarr upon his forehead, with a 
 sad cuUered fuschin frock, and a pair of oallimankoe briches and 
 sad cuUered stockens. 
 
 1704. 7th July — Cryed in Clare markett, one John Woods, Apprentice 
 to John Snell, in Clare, who Ran Away from his master, the boy 
 Aboute 15 years of Age, with a lank Broune Thick head of hair, 
 and A Round Plumpe palle vissage ; he hath had the small pox ; 
 he had a light cuUered Coate and Wesooate, and Britches of 
 Sinniment Culler, and Gray Wollen Stockens and a black hatt. 
 
 1710. 2nd Ifebruary — Cryed down in Clare Markett, one Sarah 
 Wordeley, the wife of ould Mr. Wordeley, of Glemsford, in Suff. 
 for westening and makeing Away her housband's Estate, and this 
 I was ordered to doe by Roger Wordeley his sonn, who did promise 
 me I should sustain no wrong for so doeing. 
 
 COCK FIGHTING IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 It is not known when the barbarous pastime of Cock- 
 figliting was introduced into England, but it is supposed to 
 have been brought here by the Eomans. From the time of 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 283 
 
 Henry II. it seems to have been a popular amusement in 
 this country, and the Cock Pit at Whitehall was erected by a 
 crowned head, for the more magnificent celebration of the 
 pastime. 
 
 The reproach incurred by this pastime in England is 
 greatly aggravated by two sorts of fighting, called the 
 " battle royal," and the " Welsh main." In the battle 
 roj'al, an unlimited number of fowls are pitted, and when 
 they have slaughtered one another for the diversion of the 
 spectators, the single surviving bird is to be esteemed the 
 victor, and carries away the prize. 
 
 The Welsh maia consists, we will suppose, of sixteen pairs 
 of cocks ; of these, the sixteen conquerors are pitted a second 
 time, the eight conquerors are then pitted a third time, the 
 four conquerors a fourth time, and lastly the two conquerors 
 are pitted a fifth time ; so that thirty-one cocks are sure to 
 be murdered for the sport and pleasure of men, who would 
 have regarded it as a great affront to have been accused of 
 either want of feehng or morality. 
 
 A century ago, the men of Suffolk appear to have been 
 very fond of this kind of amusement. During the three days 
 of the races at Ipswich, a maia of cocks was fought each day 
 at the " Cock and Pye " ran, between the gentlemen of Esses 
 and Suffolk, or Norfolk and Suffolk. At Bury St. Edmund's, 
 also, it was annually practised, for two days, at the " Three 
 Tuns " inn. At the " White Horse," Stoke Ash, near Eye, 
 the lovers of the sport used to assemble ; Suffolk and Norfolk 
 each shewed twenty-one cocks on a side, and the fight was 
 for two guineas a battle, and twenty guineas the odd battle. 
 At the Eoyal Cock Pit, in Newmarket, on the 6th, 6th, and 
 7th of March, 1767, a main of cocks was fought for five 
 guineas a battle, fifty guineas the odd battle, and four 
 hundred guineas, bye. It is stated that on this occasion Mr. 
 Burdett fought his cocks with liis new-fashioiied spiu's. At 
 Beccles the same pastime was regularly indulged in ■ during 
 the race week, the stakes on the odd battle being sometuncs as 
 
284 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 high as fifty guineas, and it was so usual a part of the race 
 entertainment that we find it inserted at the end of the ad- 
 yertisement of the races, in the same way as an ordinary is 
 at the present day. The cook pit was sometimes at the 
 "Falcon," sometimes at the "Angel," and at other times at 
 the " White Swan." 
 
 PETTY SESSIONS FOR HIRING OF SERVANTS. 
 
 A century ago, it was customary once a year to hold what 
 was called a " Petty Sessions " in each of the Himdreds of 
 Sufi'olk, for the Hiring and Retaining of Servants. The 
 male and female servants used to assemble every Michaelmas 
 at a time and place fixed by the chief constable of the 
 hundred, and the " Sessions " was generally held at some 
 noted public-house in the district. Thus, for Plomesgate, 
 it was held at the " Grreen Man," Tunstall ; for Cosford, at 
 the "Crown," Bildeston; for Blaekbourn, at the "Boar," 
 Walsh am le Willows ; for Blything, at Halesworth, some- 
 times at the "Tuns," and sometimes at the "Angel;" for 
 Bosmere, at the " Crown," Coddenham, etc. Sometimes tiro 
 were held in one year, as in 1765, Hundred of Stow, one 
 was held at the " Shepherd and Dog," Onehouse, and another 
 at the " WTiite Horse," at Finborough ; and in Hartismere, 
 one at the " White Horse," Stoke, and another at the " Grrey- 
 hound," Botesdale. But as the holding of two Sessions led 
 to great iaconveniences, the chief constable of each hundred 
 was ordered and directed by the magistrates at the General 
 Quarter Sessions, held at Beccles in the same year, 1765, 
 that only one Petty Session for the Hiring and Retaining of 
 Servants should be held in each Hundred. 
 
 Old Acts of Parliament had originated this custom by 
 enacting that ploughmen and other laborers should be hired 
 to serve for a full year, and not by the day. The servants 
 open to engagements stood in a row at a particular spot, 
 some of them exhibiting a straw in their mouths, to indicate 
 their unengaged condition. A small sum of money given to 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 28-3 
 
 each servant was supposed to legalize the contract. "WTien 
 the business of the day was over, amusement began. Dinner 
 was provided at each of the public houses at which the Petty 
 Sessions was held, the best rooms being laid out with tables 
 and forms for the entertainment of the multitude. The 
 announcement of the dinner always formed part of the 
 advertisement, the stereotype phraseology being, " Where aU 
 persons will meet with a hearty welcome from their humble 
 servant." The lads brought in the lasses when the amuse- 
 ment began, and it is acknowledged that coarseness, if not 
 something worse, prevailed. Few persons wiU regret that 
 this custom, a relic of feudalism, has long since passed away. 
 
 PUXISHMEXT OF DEATH BY BURNING. 
 
 In the month of April, 1763, a woman was strangled and 
 burnt to death on Eushmere Heath, near Ipswich, under 
 sentence of the Judge of Assize, for the murder of her 
 husband. The criminal law was at this period very severe 
 and cruel, and this burning to death was one of the savage 
 remains of Norman policy. Murder of a husband was petty 
 treason, and the law prescribed that for this offence the 
 criminal should be burnt alive. The Sheriif who did not 
 execute the sentence of burning alive, was liable to a prosecu- 
 tion ; but, fortunately, men were too humane to carry the 
 sentence into effect, and the practice was to strangle the 
 victims by drawing away a stool from under their feet before 
 the faggots were piled round the stake. The case at Rush- 
 mere Heath was that of Margery Beddingfield, for being an 
 accompHce in the murder of her husband, John Beddingfield, 
 of Stemfield, in Suffolk. A farm servant, Eichard Einge, 
 her paramour and the actual murderer of John Bedding- 
 field, was sentenced to be hanged at the same time and 
 place. 
 
 The sentence upon Margery Beddingfield was that she 
 should be " taken from hence to the place from whence you 
 came, and from thence to the place of execution, on Saturday 
 
28() THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 next, where you are to be biu'nt until you be dead, and the 
 Lord have mercy on your soul ! " 
 
 SELLING A WIFE. 
 
 This odious custom was not unknown in the county of 
 Suffolk ; and as numerous instances may be cited as having 
 occurred in various parts of England, foreigners cannot well 
 be blamed for thinking wife-selling a publicly recognized 
 national custom among us. Few persons of the present day 
 have seen a husband offer his wife for sale, in a public street 
 or market-place, with a halter round her neck ; but the case 
 has ofttimes occurred in this county. In 1787 we find the 
 following announcement in print : — 
 
 "A farmer of the parish of Stowupland sold his wife to a neighbour 
 for five guineas, and being happy to think he had made a good bargain, 
 presented her with a guinea to buy her a new gown ; he then went 
 to Stowmarket, and gave orders for the bells to be rung iipon the 
 occasion." 
 
 The above extract is made from the columns of the 
 "Ipswich Journal," January 28th, 1787. It is given as 
 news in the ordinary column, without any remark as to its 
 being an unusual occurrence. 
 
 HOUR GLASSES IN PULPITS. 
 
 In Kedington chm-ch, near Clare, Suffolk, on the left side 
 of the pulpit, is the stand for supporting the hour-glass, 
 formerly used by ministers when preaching. It is a slender, 
 turned pillar, rising about thirteen inches above the side of 
 the pulpit, and surmounted by an iron ring, or rim, six inches 
 in circumference. 
 
 These hour-glasses are relics of Puritanic times, and appear 
 to have constituted, in those days, part of the furniture of the 
 pulpit. In the accounts of the churchwardens of Mellis for 
 1629, appears, " Item, an houre glasse 9d. Item, the hour 
 glasse frame, 8d." Though sermons at the present day seldom 
 exceed thi-ee-quarters of an hour in delivery, the practice of 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLA^'D. 287 
 
 long preaching in the olden times much prevailed, and the 
 general poverty of the country and the scarcity of clocks and 
 watches doubtless gave rise to the adoption of the hour- 
 glass, for the measurement of a brief portion of our fleeting 
 span. Dyos, in a sermon preached at St. Paul's Cross, in 
 1570, speaking of the walking and profane talking in the 
 church at sermon time, also laments how they grudged the 
 preacher his customanj hour. So that an hour seems to have 
 been the practice at the Reformation. That the practice was 
 general, may be inferred from the fact that in the preface to 
 the Bishop's Bihle, printed by John Daye, in 1569, Arch- 
 bishop Parker is represented with an hour-glass at his right 
 hand. Hogarth, in his " Sleeping Congregation," has 
 introduced an hour-glass on the left side of the preacher. 
 It also figures in the engraving of the painting, by Wilkie, 
 of John Knox preaching before Mary Queen of Scots. 
 Butler, in his Mudihras, speaks of " gifted brethren preaching 
 by a carnal hour-glass." In the days of Cromwell, on first 
 getting into the pulpit and naming the text, the preacher 
 turned up the glass ; and if the sermon did not hold tiU 
 the glass was empty, it was said by the congregation that 
 the preacher was lazy ; and if he continued to preach much 
 longer, they would yawn and stretch, and thus signify to 
 the preacher that they began to be weary of his discourse, 
 and wanted to be dismissed. Congregations were not, 
 however, always tired out by one hour's preaching. In the 
 frontispiece of Dr. Young's book, entitled, " England^ s Shame; 
 or, a Relation of the Life and Death of Hugh Peters, London, 
 1663," Peters is represented preaching, and holding an hour- 
 glass in his left hand, in the act of saying, " I know you are 
 good fellows, so let's have another glass." Macaulay also 
 gives us a welcome illustration. Speaking in his History of 
 England (vol. ii.) of Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Sahsbury, 
 he says : " He was often interrupted by the deep hum of his 
 audience ; and when, after preaching out the hour-glass, 
 which in those days was part of the fm-niture of the pulpit, 
 
~t-8 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 he held it in his hand, the congregation clanioui-ously 
 encouraged him to go on till the sand had run off once 
 more." 
 
 THE DUCKING STOOL AT IPSWICH. 
 
 At the top of the staircase leading to the Council Chamher 
 of the Town Hall, Ipswich, a venerahle relic of ancient 
 customs has long hung up unused — we allude to the 
 " ducking stool," into which refractory Ipswich scolds of 
 former days were used to be fastened and dipped into the 
 water, to cool their angry passions. It is in the form of a 
 strong-hacked arm-chair, with a wrought iron rod, about an 
 inch in diameter, fastened to each arm in front, meeting in a 
 segment of a circle above ; there is also another iron rod, 
 affixed at the back, which curves over the head of the person 
 seated in the chair, and is connected with the others at the ^ 
 top, to the centre of which is fastened an iron ring for the 
 purpose of slinging the machine into the river. It is plain 
 and substantial, and has more the ajDpearance of solidity 
 than antiquity in its construction. 
 
 When required for use, the chair was hung on a sort of 
 axle, on which it plaj^ed freely, so as always to remain inr the 
 horizontal position. The scold being well fastened in her 
 chair, the two beams were placed as near to the centre as 
 possible, across a post on the water side, and being hfted up 
 behind, the chau- of com'se dropped into the cold element. 
 The ducking was renewed according to the degree of 
 shrewishness possessed by the patient. This funny mode 
 of punishing scolding women was often employed during the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and Clarke, in his 
 History of Ipswich, says, that in the Chamberlain's books, 
 belonging to the Corporation of Ipswich, there are entries 
 for the pajrments of persons employed in using the ducking 
 stool, and that in the year 1597, three unfortunate females 
 underwent this opprobrious ceremony. The fee for inflicting 
 this punishment was Is. 6d. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 289 
 
 HEART BURIAL AT HOLBROOK CHURCH. 
 
 Holbrook, a small village about six miles from Ipswich, on 
 the banks of the Stour, possesses a church wliich in more 
 than one respect is of considerable interest. The nave and 
 chancel are of the early decorated style, and were probably 
 built at the commencement of the fourteenth century, soon 
 after Edward II. began to reign. On the north side of the 
 chancel is, or rather was, the founder's tomb, coeval in style 
 with the earhest part of the church. Close to the tomb, and 
 raised three feet from the ground, is a small niche, about the 
 size of an ordinary piscina, of undoubtedly the same period 
 as the founder's tomb. The slab within it contains a small 
 figure, so mutilated that it is almost impossible to say 
 whether it had been a whole e&gy, or only part of one, as 
 kt Narborough, in Norfolk. T'ae general form of the head, 
 and the pillow upon which it rests, are sufficiently clear, and 
 there is enough of the left arm remaining to show that the 
 hands either met in the usual attitude of prayer, or what is 
 probable, owing to subsequent discoveries, that it held a 
 metal or stone heart. 
 
 Upon removing the slab on which this e&gy was carved, 
 a sohd stone was found, in the centre of which was sunk 
 a circular hole, as sharp and as perfect in its outlines as the 
 day the masons cut it, about five hundred and fifty years ago. 
 This sinking measures six inches in diameter at the top, and 
 tapers down to four inches and three-quarters at the bottom, 
 the depth being six inches. 
 
 Inside this, and closely fitting to the sides, almost as if it 
 had been cast in it, was a metal vase or jar, nearly perished 
 by corrosion. It had a metal cover, with a knob, which 
 being thicker and heavier than the rest, upon the decay of 
 the lower part, sank down by its weight into the centre of 
 the vase. Upon lifting it and removing the pieces of metal, 
 the vase was found to be three-parts full of a chalk, lime, 
 
290 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 and loamy substance, in -which were interspersed several 
 small pieces of charcoal, and other substances, the nature of 
 •which could not be satisfactorily discoYcred by analysis. 
 There can be, however, but little doubt that the vase 
 contained the remains of a defectively embalmed heart ; 
 or it may have been (consideriag the presence of charcoal) 
 burnt previously to its interment. 
 
 ANGLO-SAXON BUKIALS IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 Various Anglo-Saxon relics having been at different times 
 discovered on the heath at West Stow, Suffolk, the attention 
 of the Eev. E. E. Benyon, the proprietor of the heath, was 
 in 1851 directed to the circumstances, and systematic ex- 
 cavations were in consequence made for the purpose of as- 
 certaining whether more important remains could be found. 
 The result of these laboiu'S demonstrated that the spot had 
 been a burial place of the Anglo-Saxons. The site of the 
 graves, the intervals of which varied from two or three feet 
 to as many yards, which was the most general distance, were 
 indicated by a dark streak in the gravel or sand. The 
 skeletons, about 100 in number, were found lying with their 
 heads to the South-west and their feet to the North-east, a 
 position observable at other bmial places of the same people. 
 The bodies were interred just within the gravel, which is only 
 fifteen or eighteen inches below the surface. With the 
 skeletons were found urns, beads, brooches, spear-blades, etc. 
 
 Three modes of sepultui-e appear to have prevailed at West 
 Stow-heath : — 
 
 1. That of burning the body and placing the ashes in an urn. 
 
 2. That of burying the body entire without a coflSn or cist, but 
 
 with the garments, weapons, and ornaments of the deceased. 
 
 3. That of burial in cof&ns. 
 
 The two former seemed to have prevailed contempora- 
 neously, but it would appear from the small number of urns 
 containing ashes that the practice of burning the dead was 
 on the decline. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 291 
 
 The presence of Saxon urns in graves wHcli contained 
 skeletons majr" indicate the partial adoption of usages which 
 custom had stamped as sacred, after those usages had become 
 superseded by others of totally different character. Over 
 "what period of time the interments at Stow-heath extended it 
 is not easy to determine, for history is almost silent as to the 
 condition of our island from the third century to the conver- 
 sion of the Saxons to Christianity ; but it is probable that 
 they extended from the fifth to the seventh centuries. 
 
 The Z^riis, five in number, discovered at Stow-heath, are all 
 of unburnt earth, and of considerable substance ; one of them, 
 in form resembling those of E-oman manufacture, was full of 
 burnt ashes of bones and of wood. It was found in a round 
 hole at the head of a grave, and had pieces of charcoal about 
 it, but there was no charcoal or bones in any other part of 
 the grave. It fell down with the loosened soU before it was 
 seen,' and became much broken, but the workmen carefully 
 gathered up all the fragments, which being united, it was de- 
 posited in the Museum of the Suflfolk ArchEeological Institute 
 at Bury St. Edmund's. As such urns are but seldom met 
 with in an entire state, it is probable that they may have sus- 
 tained some injury during the ceremony of cremation, being 
 manufactured on the spot and dried by the fire of the funeral 
 pile. 
 
 Stone Coffin. A stone coffin was discovered, and this is be- 
 lieved to be the only one ever found in a Saxon burial place 
 in this kingdom. It is hewn out of a solid block of Bamack 
 or Northamptonshire stone, is five feet eight inches in length, 
 and hdless. It was partially embedded in the gravel, and 
 when found was only about fifteen inches under the surface. 
 A few bones, of a small size, probably those of a youth or a 
 female, with the half of a small bronze clasp, and one or two 
 pieces of iron, were within it. 
 
 Bosses of Shields, a Sword three feet long and an inch and a 
 half broad, Spears, an Arrow-head of iron. Knives, a pair of 
 Tweezers, a Hair-pin, Girdle-hanger, BiicMes of iron and bronze, 
 
292 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Brooches, a large number of Beach, and some Coins were also 
 found with the remains of the dead. 
 
 INVIDIOUS DISTINCTION. 
 
 In the Eegisters of the parish of Mellis from 1783 to 1791, 
 " An Account of Baptisms of those Children whose Parents 
 were relieved by the Parish at the time they were born," was 
 entered separately in the Eegister Book, and also during the 
 same period was entered a separate "Account of Persons 
 buried at Mellis at the Parish expense." The rector 
 (Pv-ev. Henry Creed), when he made the extract, remarked, " I 
 know of no reason why this invidious distinction was made 
 between rich and poor." 
 
 THE FORMATION OF THE EARLIEST CONGREGATION OF 
 THE INDEPENDENTS IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 Several Christian Societies of Noncomformists were formed 
 in Suffolk during the years 1662 and 1653, upon the model of 
 those established at Yarmouth and Norwich. The inhab- 
 itants of Beccles took the lead. The church book opens with 
 the following record : — 
 
 The 6th day of ye fifth " The names of such, persons whoe have co- 
 
 month, com'oniy caUed venanted togither to walk in ye -wayes of Christ 
 July, 1662. according to Gospell Order, with an account of 
 
 such matters as have occurred in ye Church att Beccles. 
 
 " In the day and yeare above written, these following p'sons joyned in 
 covenant together under j'e visible Regiment of Christ, according to 
 ye &ospell, viz., Joh. Clarke, James King, jun., Robt. Otley, Edm. 
 ISTevill, Joh. Morse, Wm. Cutlove, Edm. Artis, Robt. Harne, Joh. 
 Botswaine." 
 
 Although this mutual engagement was all that was 
 essential to the formation of a Church of Christ, yet on 
 an occasion so deeply interesting, and fraught with con- 
 sequences so momentous, it was natural that the brethren 
 elsewhere should be requested to add their approval, their 
 counsel, and their prayers. In the Congregational Church 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAND. 293 
 
 Book at Norwich, a letter is stated to have been received 
 from the Christians at Beokles, by which they signified 
 their intention to gather into church fellowship, "and 
 desired the church would send messengers, to be there upon 
 the 23rd of July, 1652." Daniel Bradford, James Gooding, 
 and Samuel Clarke, were selected for this service. 
 
 The first of these three individuals had been " employed in 
 the army," when the Yarmouth church was formed, and was 
 afterwards a deacon at Norwich. The other two appear to 
 have been among Mr. Bridge's companions in esile, and to 
 have returned with him. Doubtless they were men whose zeal 
 was chastened by experience and discretion, and whose piety 
 had stood the test of time and persecution. 
 
 "Within twelve months of the formation of the church 
 twenty-one other persons had joiaed. The first of these was 
 Mr. Joseph Cutlove, who appears to have been at the same 
 time portreeve of the Corporation at Beccles, and to have had 
 some influential friends among the members of the Long 
 Parliament. Amongst the names is also that of " Himaphrey 
 Brewster," one of the truly honourable family to whom be- 
 longed the Hall and Manors of "Wrentham, and who for many 
 years greatly encouraged and supported the dissenting interest 
 there ; and " Francis Hayloveke," subsequently a deacon 
 of the church. 
 
 During the above period there was no recognised pastor. 
 But in the year 1653 occurs this memorandimi : — 
 
 29 d., 6 m., com'only _^ p^gj^j, ^^^ chosen, 
 
 called July. 
 
 Who this was is rather uncertain ; perhaps Mr. John 
 Clarke. 
 
 He seems to have been a Minister in the Established 
 Church, for in the parochial register under the years 1647 
 and 1648 are recorded the baptisms of two sons of " John 
 Clarke, minister, and of Ann his wife." It is also observable 
 that his name is the first enrolled on the list of members of 
 the Independent Church. And among the individuals 
 
294 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 subsequently admitted was " Anna " his wife, which serves to 
 identify him with the person mentioned in the parish register. 
 
 KIXGERS' JUGS. 
 
 There is a curious jug, or pitcher, belonging to the ringers 
 of Hadleigh. This " pitcher," as it is called, has two ears, 
 and is circular in shape, swelKng out in the middle, and 
 being more contracted at the end. The material of which 
 it is made is brown earthenware, glazed, and the following 
 are the dimensions : — 
 
 Height .... 
 
 Diameter at the base 
 
 Diameter of the mouth, inside 
 
 Diameter of the mouth, outside 
 
 Circumference of the base 
 
 Circumference of the middle at the largest part 
 
 Circumference of the neck, including the spout 
 
 Depth of the neck 
 
 Width across the handles 
 
 The jug holds sixteen quarts, and bears this inscription, 
 very rudely indented, apparently with a chisel, when the 
 clay was soft, and running round the vessel without any 
 regard to uniformity of size in the letters, or to straightness 
 of hne. The first word, ME, or perhaps MEI, is in italics ; 
 the rest of the letters are in Roman capitals. 
 
 "ME THOMAS WINDLE, ISAAC BVNN, lOHN MANN, ADAM 
 SAGE, GEORG BOND, THOMAS GOLDSBOROVGH, KOBART 
 SMITH, HENRY WEST." 
 
 These were, no doubt, the names of the eight ringers, as 
 Hadleigh belfrey has eight beUs, and below the names are 
 these lines — 
 
 " If yov love me dve not lend me, 
 Evse me cfton and keep me clenly, 
 Fill me fvll, or not at aU, 
 If it be strovng, and not with small." 
 
 I-IOBT. 
 
 IKCHES, 
 
 1 
 
 3i 
 
 
 4 
 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 4§ 
 
 3 
 
 5 J 
 
 
 4 
 
 
 n 
 
 1 
 
 '^-, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 295 
 
 Below all, in the front, is the word "Hadly ; " underneath 
 one handle is the date, 17, T. Gr. 15, and underneath the 
 other, 17, E. 0. 15. The letters T. G. and R. 0. being, 
 probably, the initials of the potters. 
 
 The jug is in the possession of Mr. Pettitt, of the " Eight 
 Bells " inn, Angel street, who holds it for the ringers, of 
 whom he is the leader. He has had it about twenty-seven 
 years, having claimed it on the death of John Corder, the 
 parish clerk, who had formerly the custody of it, and he 
 beheves that it has always belonged to the Hadleigh ringers. 
 Mr. Pettitt says that it is stiU. occasionally used by the ringers 
 on the occurrence of any profitable wedding, and it has been 
 introduced into the belfrey. It is said to be filled every 
 Christmas by mine host of the " Eight Bells," when the 
 riagers assemble for a " frohc," with strong beer, which in 
 Angel street goes by the name of " Old King William;" and 
 any stranger going iuto the room is compelled to pay six- 
 pence to arrest the natural effects of their potations, by 
 keeping it "fuU," according to its own request. 
 
 At Hiaderclay a riagers' pitcher is still preserved in the 
 church tower, of form and size similar to the Hadleigh jug. 
 It is thus inscribed — 
 
 '' By Samuel Moss, this pitcher was given to the nohle society of 
 ringers at Hinderolay, in Suffolk, viz., Tho. Sturgeon, Ed. Loch, 
 John Haw, Ric Ruddock, and Ealf Chapman, to which society he 
 once belonged, and left in the year 1702. 
 
 From London I was sent. 
 As plainly doth appear ; 
 It was with this intent. 
 To be filled with strong beer. 
 Pray remember the pitcher when empty." 
 
 At Clare there is also a "jug " of a sinular kind, which 
 belongs to the ringers of that place. It will hold more than 
 seventeen quarts. 
 
296 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 THE CASE OF MAKGAEET CUTTING, OF '\\-ICKHAM MAKKET. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING IS TAKEN FEOJI THE " BEITISH SPY," AND THE 
 LETTER IS DATED JANUAEY 10, 1742-3. 
 
 An account of Margaret Cuttinci, a young woman, now licing at 
 Wickam Market, in Suffolk, who speaks readily and intelligibly, 
 tM she has lost her tongue. 
 
 Mr. Boddington, Turkey Merchant, at Ipswich, first commiinicated 
 this extraordinary Fact, and his account was read before the Royal 
 Society, July 1, 1742, who thought it so remarkable as to desire a very 
 exact Enquiry to be made into the Truth of it, which was accordingly 
 made by Mr. Boddington, the Rev. Mr. Kotcutt, and Mr. Hammond, a 
 skilful Anatomist, who, after the strictest Examination, attested the 
 following circumstances : — 
 
 " We have this April 9th, 1742, seen Margaret Cutting, who informed 
 us she was but twenty-four years old, that when she was but four years 
 of age a cancer appeared on the upper part of her tongue, which soon 
 eat its way quite to the root, Mr, Scotohmore, surgeon, at Saxmundham, 
 used the best means he could for her relief, hut pronounced the ease 
 incurable. One day, when he was injecting some medicine into her 
 mouth, her tongue dropped out, the girl immediately saying, to their 
 great surprise, ' Don't be frightened, mamma, it will grow again.' In 
 a quarter of a year after she was quite cured. In examining her mouth 
 we found not the least appearance of any tongue remaining, nor any 
 Uvula ; but we observed a fleshy excrescence under the left jaw, 
 extending itself almost to the place where the uvula should be, about 
 a finger broad. This did not appear until some years after the cure. 
 It is not moveable. The passage to the throat where the uvula should 
 be is circular, and will admit a small nutmeg. She performed the 
 swallowing of solids and liquids as well as we could. She discoursed as 
 well as other persons do, but with a little tone through the nose. 
 Letters and syllables she pronounced very articulately, and vowels 
 perfectly, as also those consonants that require most the help of the 
 tongue, d, 1, t, r, n. She read to us in a book very distinctly, and sung 
 very prettily. What is still more wonderful, notwithstanding the loss 
 of this organ, she distinguishes all tastes very nicely. To this certificate 
 may be added the attestation of Mr. Dennis, tobacconist, in Aldersgate 
 Street, who has known her many years, and upon frequent inspections 
 had found the case before recited true, A letter from the young woman 
 herself to Mr, Dennis, owning the fact entirely, was also read. Some 
 few instances of the like nature have occurred, particularly one related 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 297 
 
 by Tulpices, of a man, himself examined, -who having had his tongue 
 out out by the Turks, after three years could speak distinctly. 
 
 " N.B. — All the original papers are lodged with the Koyal Society." 
 
 ROYAL TEAVELLING IS SUFFOLK IN 1736 7. 
 
 In January, 1736 — 7, His Majesty George II. had been 
 a considerable time on his voyage from Helveotsluys to 
 England, occasioned by stormy and contrary winds, and had 
 been also exposed to the most imminent danger. On the 
 14th of the month, the vessel appeared off Lowestoft, and 
 when the royal barge approached the shore, a body of sailors 
 belonging to the port, uniformly dressed in seamen's jackets, 
 rejoicing that their King, after having escaped the perils of 
 the ocean, was honouring their native town with a visit, waded 
 into the sea, and meeting the barge took it on their shoulders, 
 with the King, the Countess of Yarmouth, and all the 
 attendant nobility in it, and carried it to the beach without 
 suffering it to strike the ground. His Majesty was met 
 at the sea shore by John Jex, Esq., of that town, with his 
 carriage, who conducted him to his house— Mr. Jex having 
 the very high honour of being coachman. The monarch 
 landed about twelve at noon, and about two hours after 
 set off for London. Between six and seven o'clock in the 
 evening, Mr. Carrington, one of the King's messengers, 
 arrived at the post office in Ipswich with the agreeable news 
 that His Majesty would be there that night, on which the 
 bailiffs, portmen, etc., assembled in their formahtiesto receive 
 him at St. Margaret's gate. The whole town was imme- 
 diately iUimiinated, and Christchurch, the house of Thomas 
 Eonnereau, Esq., in particular, made a most splendid appear- 
 ance. His Majesty did not arrive tiU after the clock had 
 struck eleven, having been nine hours on the journey from 
 Lowestoft ; and when the cortege appeared, the crowd was 
 so great at the gate that the magistrates could not pay their 
 duty to him there, but repaired to the White Horse, and 
 attended him as he came out of his carriage. He immediately 
 
~98 THE SUl'i'OLK GARLAND. 
 
 went up stairs into the great dining-room, whither they were 
 soon admitted with several of the clergy of the town, and 
 aU had the honour to kiss his hand. Mr. Bailiff Sparrow, 
 finding that His Majesty was much fatigued, addressed him 
 in a short speech, setting forth the joy the Corporation felt 
 in paying their duty to him, after the many anxious thoughts 
 they had had on account of the great danger that he had 
 experienced. The King came in the same chaise from 
 Lowestoft, hut at Saxmundham he was accommodated with 
 a set of Lord Strafford's horses, which brought him to 
 Ipswich. The messenger, who was gone forward, left orders 
 for a coach and chaise, ■ndth four horses each, to he hired 
 at Ipswich, and as many dragoons as could he collected 
 were to attend as an escort. His Majesty entered the coach 
 a little before twelve, and passed through the town, attended 
 by the joyful acclamations of a numerous crowd of people, 
 and was pleased to take notice of the ladies, who shook theii- 
 handkerchiefs at the windows in the Market-place, by waving 
 his hat. When he reached Copdock, it was so dark that 
 lights were deemed necessary. The of&cer that went in 
 advance inquired of the landlady at the " White Elm " 
 if she had any flambeaux, or - could procure any. Being 
 answered in the negative, he asked her if she had any 
 Links. " Aye, that I have," said she ; " and some as good 
 as His Majesty, God bless him ! ever eat in all his Hfe ; " 
 and immediately produced some fine sausages ! The King 
 stopped at Isaac Spencer's, at the Swan Inn, Stratford St. 
 Mary, where he laid himself down to rest for three or four- 
 hours, and about six o'clock took coach -for London. A 
 messenger had been sent from Woodbridge to Felixstow, 
 who ferried over to Harwich, and ordered coaches to go to 
 Stratford ready for the King. His Majesty went through 
 Colchester without stopping, and arrived at St. James's 
 Palace about two in the afternoon. What a striking contrast 
 this mode of travelling presents to the present rapidity of 
 royal conveyance ! 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 299 
 
 HABITS OF A LADY IN THE LAST CENTUKY. 
 
 A glance at the life of Lady Hanmer, Sir Thomas Han- 
 mer's first mfe, will give an insight into the expenses, and 
 enable our readers to guess the habits of a lady of fashion a 
 hundred and fifty years ago. Isabella, Duchess of Grafton, 
 Tvas the sole heiress of Plenry Bennett, Earl of ArKngton, 
 one of the principal ministers of Charles II. In 1682, when 
 only fifteen years of age, she was married to Henry Fitzroy, 
 the second son of the Duchess of Cleveland, created at his 
 birth Baron Sudbury, Viscount Ipswich, Earl of Euston, and 
 Duke of Grafton. She had been betrothed ten years pm- 
 viously, when she was only five years of age, and the bride- 
 groom nine. The venerable Evelyn was very partial to her. 
 He says, " I was at the marriage of Lord Arlington's lovely 
 daughter (a sweet child, if there ever was any) to the Duke 
 of Grafton. The Archbishop of Canterbury officiated, the 
 
 king and all the grandees of the Court beiag present 
 
 I confess," says Evelyn, " I would give my Lady Arhngton 
 little joy, and so I plainly told her ; but she said the King 
 would have it so, and there was no going back. Thus the 
 sweetest, hopefulest, most beautiful child, and most virtuous, 
 too, was sacrificed to a boy that had been rudely bred, with- 
 out anything to encourage them but His Majesty's pleasure. 
 I pray God the sweet child may find it to her advantage, 
 who, if my augury deceive me not, will in a few years be 
 such a paragon as were fit to make a wife to the greatest 
 prince in Europe." 
 
 The death of her husband, who was slain during the siege 
 of Cork, in 1690, left her a widow at the early age of twenty- 
 two ; and though the widowed Duchess was rich, one of the 
 most Celebrated beauties of the Court, and of irreproachable 
 character, she did not marry again until 1698, when she gave 
 her hand to the graceful and accomplished Thomas Hanmer, 
 then a handsome youth of twenty-one. The private account 
 book of the Duchess,,£rom the year 1708, ten years after her 
 
300 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 second marriage, and when she was beginning to fall into 
 the "sere and yellow leaf," is exceedingly interesting. 
 Within the cover is written with child-like simplicity, " Isa- 
 bella Grafton is my name." The spelling of her Grace affords 
 us a very sorry example of the education of ladies of high 
 birth in that age : ''' Fade for four peaces of Turliey toby" is a 
 specimen of the Duchess's orthography. It appears that the 
 Duchess had £500 a-year allowed her as pin-money, a rare 
 pittance for a woman of her rank and independent fortune. 
 Operas and card parties appear to have been her principal 
 amusements, but what more could be expected when the 
 Duchess of Marlborough -says that Queen Anne never read, 
 and that cards entirely occupied her thoughts in her youth ; 
 and Miss Strickland remarks that thi-oughout a voluminous 
 correspondence Her Majesty never makes a literary quotation 
 or mentions a book as if she had actually read it. The 
 Duchess was expensive in dress, and apt to lose money at 
 play. The balances every quarter tell always heavily against 
 her, and only once she enters a balance of two guineas in her 
 favour. Such entries as the following occur, " Lost at cards 
 this month £17 4s. Lost to Sir Thos. Hanmer (her hus- 
 band) £7 10s. 6d." The theatres were the resort of all who 
 pretended to taste, and the Duchess was a frequent visitor. 
 The sums paid at the j)layhouses and operas are minutely 
 entered, and no traces of hiring of boxes for a term are found. 
 The entrance money was paid at the door, and in 1708 half 
 a guinea (10s. 6d.) ; from 1709 to 1721 it was only 8s. The 
 London season seems to have begun in November, and lasted 
 to the end of June. Presents to the principal actors were 
 regularly made. Mrs. Oldfield, who moved like a goddess 
 among the stiff puppets of the scene, and used the tones of 
 nature on the stage, and the gold-laced, highly powdered, 
 scented, and diamonded Colley Gibber were among the 
 recipients of one guinea. People of fashion seemed to have 
 nursed their children by a contribution levied on their ac- 
 quaintance at every christening. " To my Lady Hervey's 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 301 
 
 cliristening £10 15s." " To my Lady Rebecca Holland's 
 christening £10 15s." The expense of the sedan chair was 
 great — the entries are numerous and heavy : " To Ben, the 
 chair-man, £13." " Paid the chair-men £16 14s." Other 
 items -will be interesting to modern ladies : " For half a yard 
 of black velvet 8s. 6d." " To Lady Jersey's woman for a 
 french gownde £20." " Paid to Lady Charlotte de Eouse for a 
 black-laced scarfe £16." " For a pair of black silk stockings 
 12s." " A pair of scarlet stockings 7s. 6d." " For three 
 dozen gloves £3 4s. 6d." "Lutestring for a pettycoat 
 £4 10s." "For altering of smock 18s." "For cutting 
 my hair £1 Is. 6d." " To a man for cleaning my teeth 10s." 
 " To the corn-cutter 10s. 6d." " For a black lace hood £3." 
 " Paid for a quart of brandy Is. 3d." " To Mrs. Lilly for 2 
 pounds of green tea £2 8s." Occasionally there are such 
 entries as : " Given to the 3fob 2s. 6d." " To a poor body 6d." 
 " To the poor people 8d." These, we' presume, were her 
 Grace's charities. Her largesses were much more liberal : 
 " To the Duke of Grafton's cook £2 3s." " To a woman 
 who brought French fashions £1 Is. 6d." " Given to a 
 gentleman of my Lord Bolingbroke's £2 3s." In the literary 
 line the outlays are very small, but they are not for trifling 
 books : " Atterbury's Sermons 6s." " Nelson's Festivals and 
 Fasts 5s. 6d." " Cave's Primitive Christianity 6s." " For 
 Dr. Prideaux's Connexion of the Testaments 15s. ; " and 
 sometimes the " Flying Post" or the " Evening Post" at l|d. 
 each. Six quires of paper, such as a duchess might use, 
 cost 3s. lOd. " Seven places for the Play at Bury 17s. 6d." 
 An advertisement in the " Courant " about her Grace's 
 lost watch-case 3s. 6d. As her Grace waxed in years the 
 nature of her expenditure varied. The cost of brandy and 
 Brazil snuff and the losses at cards increased, while operas and 
 plays ceased to be numbered among the Duchess's expenses. 
 The old age of cards, drinking, and snuff-taking form a 
 singidar and painful contrast to the innocence of her childhood 
 and sweetness of her youth, as traced by the good Evelyn. 
 
302 THE ST'FFOLK GARLAXD. 
 
 HABITS OF A COUNTRY SQUIRE IN SUFFOLK, 1790. 
 
 The following interesting description of the habits of a 
 coimtry squire and his wife during the latter part of the 
 last century appears in the life of the poet Crabbe, by his 
 son. He says, " On the third day we reached Parliam, and I 
 was introduced to a set of manners and customs of which 
 there remains, perhaps, no counterpart in the present day. 
 My great-uncle's establishment was that of the fii'st-rate 
 yeoman of that period — the yeoman that already began to be 
 stj'led by courtesy an Esquire. Mr. Tovell might possess an 
 estate of some eight hundred poimds per annum, a portion of 
 which he himself cultivated. Educated at a mercantile 
 school, he often said of himself, 'Jack will never make a 
 gentleman ; ' yet he had a native dignity of mind and of 
 manners which might have enabled him to pass muster in 
 that character with any but very fastidious critics. His 
 house was large ; and the surrounding moat, the rookery, the 
 ancient dovecot, and the well-stored fish-ponds, were such as 
 might have suited a gentleman's seat of some consequence ; 
 but one side of the house immediately OA'erlooked a farm- 
 yard full of all sorts of domestic animals, and the scene of 
 constant bustle and noise. On entering the house there was 
 nothing at fii'st sight to remind one of the farm — a spacious hall, 
 paved with black and white marble ; at one extremity a very 
 handsome drawing-room, and at the other a fine old staircase 
 of black oak, poHshed till it was as slippery as ice, and having 
 a china clock and a barrel-organ on its landing places. But 
 this drawing-room, a corresponding dining parlour, and a 
 handsome sleeping apartment, were all tabooed ground, and 
 made use of on great and solemn occasions only — such as 
 rent days, and an occasional visit with which Mr. Tovell was 
 honoured by a neighbouring peer. At all other times the 
 family and their visitors lived in the old-fashioned kitchen, 
 along with their servants. My great-uncle occupied an arm- 
 chair, or in attacks of gout a couch on one side of a large open 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 303 
 
 cliimney. Mrs. Tovell sat at a small table, on which in the 
 evening stood one small candle in an iron candlestick, plying 
 her needle by the feeble glimmer, surrounded by her maids 
 all busy at the same employment ; but in winter a noble 
 block of wood, sometimes the whole circumference of a 
 pollard, threw its comfortable warmth and blaze over the 
 apartment. 
 
 "At a very early hour in the morning the alarum called 
 the maids, and their mistress also, and if the former were 
 tardy, a louder alarum and more formidable was heard chiding 
 the delay ; not that scolding was peculiar to any occasion — it 
 regularly ran on through all the day, like bells on harness, in- 
 spiriting the work whether it were done ill or well. After 
 the important business of the dairy and a hasty breakfast, 
 their respective employments were again resumed, that which 
 the mistress took for her especial privilege being the scrubbing 
 of the floors of the state apartments. A new servant, igno- 
 rant of her presumption, was found one morning on her knees 
 hard at work on the floor of one of these preserves, and was 
 thus addressed by her mistress, ' You wash such floors as 
 these ! Give me the brush this instant, and troop to the 
 
 scullery and wash that, madam As trtie as Gr— d's 
 
 in heaven here comes Lord Eochford to call on Mr. Tovell ; 
 here, take my mantle (a blue woollen apron), and I'll go 
 to the door.' 
 
 " If the sacred apartments had not been opened, the family 
 dined in this wise : — the heads seated in the kitchen, at an old 
 table ; the farm men standing in the adjoining scullery, door 
 open ; the female servants at a side table, called a holder ; 
 with the principals at the table perchance some travelling rat 
 catcher, or tinker, or farrier, or an occasional gardener in his 
 shirt sleeves, his face probably streaming with perspiration. 
 
 " On ordinary days, when the dinner was over, the flre re- 
 plenished, the kitchen sanded and lightly swept over in waves, 
 mistress and maids, taking off their shoes, retired to their 
 chambers for a nap of one hour to the minute. The dogs 
 
304 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 and cats commenced their siesta by the fire, Mr. Tovell dozed 
 in liis chair, and no noise was heard except the melancholy 
 and monotonous cooiag of a turtle-dove, varied, however, by 
 the shrill treble of a canary. After the hoiu' had expired, the 
 active part of the family were on the alert, the bottles (Mr. 
 Tovell's tea equipage) placed on the table, and as if by in- 
 stinct some old acquaintance would glide m for the evening's 
 carousal, and then another, and another. If four or five ar- 
 rived, the punch-bowl was taken down, and emptied and filled 
 again. But whoever came it was comparatively a dull 
 evening, unless two especial Knights Companions were of the 
 party ; one was a jolly old farmer, with much of the person 
 and humour of Falstaff, a face as rosy as brandy could make 
 it, and an eye teeming with subdued merrunent, for he had 
 that prime quality of a joker, superficial gravity ; the other 
 was a relative of the family, a wealthy yeoman, middle-aged, 
 thin, and muscular. He was a bachelor, and famed for his 
 indiscriminate attachment to all who bore the name of 
 woman — young or aged, clean or dirty, a lady or a gipsy, it 
 mattered not to him — all were equally admired. He had 
 peopled the village green, and it was remarked that, whoever 
 was the mother, the children might be recognised in an in- 
 stant to belong to him. Such was the strength of his con- 
 stitution that though he seldom went to bed sober he retained 
 a clear eye and a stentorian voice to his eightieth year, and 
 coursed when he was ninety. He sometimes rendered the 
 colloquies over the bowl peculiarly piquant, and as soon as 
 his voice began to be elevated, one or two of the inmates, my 
 father for example, withdrew with Mrs. Tovell into her own 
 sanctum ; but I, not being supposed capable of understanding 
 much of what might be said, was allowed to linger on the 
 skirts of the festive circle, and the servants being considered 
 much in the same point of view as the animals dozing on 
 the hearth, remained to have the fuU benefit of their wit, 
 neither producing the sHghtest restraint nor feeling it them- 
 selves." 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAnT, \XD. 305 
 
 SIE SIJIONDS d'eWEs' LOVE LETTER. 
 
 The famous antiquary and puritan, Sir Simoncls D'Ewes, 
 Bart., M.P. for Sudbury in the Long Parliament, has left us 
 in his autobiography some curious details of his private life. 
 He studied at Cambridge, and having been trained there for 
 the law, he afterwards took up his abode at the Temple. 
 His parsimonious father allowed him but a very niggardly 
 stipend, and both at Cambridge and in the Temple, young 
 D'Ewes, frugal as he was, often found himself short of cash. 
 He commenced reporting law cases, but his delight was " in 
 examining records and other exotic monuments of antiquity." 
 
 The attention of D'Ewes was not, however, confined to law 
 and records. He was anxious for a monied wife, and to rich 
 heiresses and family records he devoted himself Avith intense 
 earnestness. It was his strongest passion to be thought a 
 gentleman, and it was a sad grief to him that some of his 
 family had been of humble occupation. " Seeing," he says, 
 " that Divine Providence had blessed my father with a wife 
 that was the heir of her father's estate, I did not doubt but 
 he would in mercy vouchsafe to me the like happiness." 
 After some unsuccessful attempts at matchmaking, his wish 
 was gratified. A lady was discovered, not " a penniless lass 
 wi' a long pedigree," but an heiress with something in hand 
 and an ample estate in reversion. This lady was the only 
 child of Sir William Clopton, of Kentwell HaU, Sufi'olk. To 
 Mistress Anne Clopton, before she was fourteen years of age, 
 D'Ewes was united in marriage, in October, 1626. It must 
 have been a pitiable rather than an amusing spectacle, to see 
 this precise and formal puritan, who did " firmly beheve that 
 I was elected from all eternity," joining hands at the altar to 
 a mere child, for the sake of wedding himself to " pure 
 blood," and a "sole heir." In his autobiography are the 
 following lines : — 
 
 "August the 31si. — I sent my servant over to Clare witli a diamond 
 carcanet (necklace), to be presented to Mistress Clopton, and a letter 
 
306 THE SUFFOLK GARLAXP. 
 
 with it, which being the only lines I sent her during my wooing time, 
 and but short, I have thought good to insert in this place. 
 
 " ' Faieest, 
 
 " ' Blest is the heart and hand that sincerely 
 sends these meaner lines, if another heart and eye graciously deign to 
 pity the wound of the first and the numbness of the latter : and thus 
 may this other poor inclosed oaroanet, if not adorn the purer neck, yet 
 be hidden, in the private cabinet of her whose humble sweetness and 
 sweet humility deserves the justest honour — the greatest thankfulness. 
 Nature made stones, but opinion jewels ; this, without your milder ac- 
 ceptance and opinion, will prove neither stone nor jewels. Do but en- 
 happy him that sent it, in the ordinary use of it, who, though unworthy 
 in himself, resolves to continue your humblest servant, 
 
 '"SIMONDS D'EWES.'" 
 
 ILLEGAL CARPENTEKS THREATENED. 
 
 Some of our readers will doubtless be very much surjsrised 
 on perusing the following advertisement, which appeared in 
 the columns of the "Suifolk Chronicle," February 23, 1811, 
 threatening to prosecute any journeyman carpenter working 
 at his trade who had not served the full seven years' appren- 
 ticeship, or any master carpenter, or employer, who gave 
 work to such a person. The advertisement ran as follows : — 
 
 "A CAUTION 
 
 To Master and Journeymen Cmyenters in the Borough of Ipswich, in 
 
 the County of Suffolk. 
 
 "The numerous intrusions on the trade in direct violations of the 
 ancient statutes of the Realm, to the injury of the trade and the public 
 in general, has, by a late decision in the Court of King's Bench, before 
 Lord EUenboroiigh, been prored by an action of debt under the follow- 
 ing statute, to justify all proceedings against those who violate the 
 same : — 
 
 Evan V. Hunter. 
 
 "By the statute in the fifth year of the reign of Elizabeth, cap. 4, 
 sec. 31, It is enacted that it shall not be lawful for any person or persons 
 to set up, occupy, or exercise the art, mystery, or occupation of a 
 carpenter, except he shall have been brought up therein seven years 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 307 
 
 at least as an ' apprentice in manner and form aforesaid ; nor set any 
 person at work at the above trade except lie shall have been apprenticed 
 as aforesaid, upon pain that every person willingly offending shall forfeit 
 and lose for every default /oi-Zy shillings for every month. 
 
 " 'ihe defendant, a master carpenter, near Manchester Square, 
 employed a person named Delastone in the above trade, and this was 
 an action of debt to recover the penalties given by the above statute. 
 Delastone not having served an apprenticeship, nor being under inden- 
 ture at the time, the Jury, under his Lordship's direction, found a 
 verdict for the plaintiff' for £20, being ten months' penalty. 
 
 " The Trade are happy to say the above case has met the decided 
 approbation of many respectable masters, who have given their great 
 encouragement by discharging every illegal exerciser of the trade from 
 their employ, and therefore hope that every master and journeyman in 
 the Town and Borough of Ipswich wiU consider it their indispenable duty 
 individually to persevere in maintaining that right so wisely provided 
 by their ancestors. 
 
 "N.B. — Any person acting contrary to the above statute, will be 
 proceeded against accordingly by the legal followers of the trade in the 
 Borough of Ipswich." 
 
 Distressing as it is to think that such petty tyranny ever 
 existed among working men, we cannot feel too thankful 
 that such injustice has passed away, we trust, for ever. 
 
 INSCRIPTION ON THE FOUNDATION-STONE OF CARDINAL 
 WOLSEy's college, AT IPSWICH. 
 
 In Ingram's " Memorials of Oxford," speaking of Oxford 
 Cathedral, says, " In the outer division of the Chapter House, 
 against the south wall, is the foundation-stone of Wolsey's 
 College, at Ipswich, rescued from destruction by the Eev. 
 Richard Canning, Eector of Harkstead and Freston, in 
 Suffolk, who found it built into a wall, and bequeathed it to 
 the Dean and Chapter in 1789. The inscription (at length) 
 runs thus : — ' Anno Christi, 1528, et Eegni Hemici Octavi 
 Eegis Angliae 20, mensis vero Junii 15 positum per Johannun 
 Episcopum Lidensem.! This Bishop was John Holt, titular 
 Bishop of Lydda, and probably a suffrangan of Lincoln." 
 
 This passage has excited some controversy, for Mr. Ingram 
 
308 
 
 THF, SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 was the first to read the doubtful contraction lidem, Liden- 
 sem, contrary to the received opinion of most antiquaries, 
 that Lincoln is meant. The foundation-stone of Wolsey's 
 College at Ipswich was laid in the year 1528 ; but according 
 to Stubbs' "EegistrumSacrum Anglicanum,"p.l47, JohnHolt 
 was not appointed Suffrangen of Lydda until 1530. More- 
 over, as Kirby (" Suffolk Traveller," edit. 1764, p. 48) further 
 remarks, " John Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, did certainly 
 lay the foundation-stone of Wolsey's College at Oxford, and 
 preached a seiinon from Prov. ix, 1. That stone was laid 
 20th March, 1525. As the stone of Wolsey's College at 
 Ipswich was laid a little more than tliree years after that, 
 it seems not improbable that the same person might be 
 employed on a like occasion at Ipswich. For this reason 
 (and because the word could not mean any other English 
 bishop in that year) we suppose the last word on the inscrip- 
 tion to stand for Lincoln. But as the stone would not admit 
 of more letters, that word consists of five only, and is plainly 
 abbreviated in two places, which abbreviations have rendered 
 the meaning of it somewhat doubtful." The Editor of "Notes 
 and Queries," saj^s, " We are inclined to think there must 
 be some defect in this part of the inscription, for Dr. Ingram 
 has 'lidem'; whereas Gough (Camden's ' Britannica,' 11, 85) 
 has ' Lioem ' ; and in the ' Beauties of England and Wales,' 
 xiv, 253, it is spelt 'Linem.' " 
 
 OAKDNEE, THE HISTORIAN OF DUXWICH. 
 
 The remains of Thomas Gardner, the well-known and 
 self-taught historian of Dunwich, are interred under the 
 south wall of Southwold church. He was a salt officer of 
 Southwold, that is, resident reveniie officer, appointed as 
 collector of duties at the Salt Works, Southwold ; and having 
 been twice married, there are three stones to mark the 
 respective graves of himself and each of his wives, interred 
 on either side of him. The inscriptions on the three stones 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLA>i D. 309 
 
 partake of the quaintness and sobriety of the author's living 
 style, and richly deserves to be commemorated in our pages. 
 The stone on the south side records as follows : — 
 
 " TO lUE MEMOET OF EACHEL, TUE WIPE OP THOMAS GAKDNEE, 
 
 WHO DIED 9th MAKOH, 1729, AGED 35 YEARS. 
 
 AND EACnEl, THEIK BAUGHTEH, WHO DIED APKIL 18tH, 1729, 
 
 AGED 12 YEAES. 
 
 " Virtue crowned during life 
 Both the daughter and the wife." 
 
 The stone on the north side is thus inscribed : — 
 
 " MAET, THE WIPE OE THOMAS GAEDNER, DIED 3ED MAT, 1759, 
 AGED 67 YEAES. 
 
 " Honour ever did attend 
 
 Her just dealings to the end." 
 
 The middlemost stone of the three, which are as close 
 one to the other as though they "woidd indicate that the 
 sleepers beneath them drew most lovingly together, and 
 would not be separated even in death, bears this characteristic 
 notice : — 
 
 "liS" MEMORY OE THOMAS GARDNER, SALT OFPICEE, 
 
 WHO DIED MAEOH SOlH, 1769, 
 
 AGED 79 TEARS. 
 
 " Between Honour and Yiriite here doth lie 
 The remains of old Antiquity.'' 
 
 CURIOUS INSCRIPTION IN BRAMFIELD CHURCH. 
 
 The following quaint and unique inscription appears on 
 one of the tablets in the ancient church of Bramfield, a 
 village about niae miles south of Southwold : — 
 
 Between the remains of her brother Edward 
 
 And of her husband Arthur, 
 Here lies the body of Bridgett Applewhaite, 
 
 Once Bridgett Nelson ; 
 
310 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAKD. 
 
 After the fatigues of a married life, 
 
 Borne by her with incredible patience 
 
 For four j-ears and three-quarters, bating three weeks, 
 
 And after the enjoyment of the glorious freedom 
 
 Of an easy and unblemisht widowhood 
 
 For four years and upwards. 
 
 She resolved to run the risk of a second marriage bed. 
 
 But death forbad the banns ; 
 And having with an apoplectiok dart, 
 (The same instrument with which he had formerly 
 
 Despatched her mother), 
 Touched the most vital part of her brain. 
 She must have have fallen directly to the ground, 
 
 (As one thunder strook), 
 If she had not been oatoh't and supported 
 
 By her intended husband ; 
 
 Of which invisible bruise. 
 After a struggle for above sixty hours 
 "With that grand enemy to life, 
 
 (But the certain and merciful friend to helpless old age), 
 In terrible convulsions, plaintive groans, or stupefying sleep. 
 Without recovery of her speech or senses, 
 She died, on the 1 2th day of Sept , in the year of our Lord , 1 7 
 
 And of her own age 44. 
 
 SALE OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD S EFFECTS. 
 
 The sale catalogue of the goods, books, MSS., and general 
 effects of Eobert Bloomfield is an interesting and rare doeii- 
 ment. We give a few extracts therefrom, as a mournful 
 record of value to all who feel an interest in the author of 
 " The Farmer's Boy." 
 
 His boohs, prints, drawings (215 lots), and furnitiu'e (105 
 lots), were sold in the humble house in which he died, at 
 Shefford, Beds, on the 28th and 29th May, 1824. The far 
 greater number of his boohs had been presented to him by his 
 friends, viz., the Duke of Grafton (a very liberal contributor), 
 Dr. Drake, James Montgomery, Samuel Eogers, Mrs. Bar- 
 bauld, Eichard Ciunberland, Sir James Bland Burges, Capel 
 Lofft, etc. His autograph manuscript of " The Fanner's Boy," 
 
THE SUFFOIJv GAllI, \ND. 311 
 
 elegantly bound, was sold for £14 ; of " Eural Tales," boards, 
 £4 ; of "Wild Flowers," for £3 10s. ; of " Banks of tbe Wye," 
 for £3 ; of " May Day with the Muses " (imperfect) for 
 10s., and "Description of the .^olian Harp" (he was a 
 maker of seolian harps) for 15s. His few well-executed draw- 
 ings, by humclf (view of his City Eoad cottage and garden, 
 etc.) produced from 5s. to 18s. each. Among his furniture 
 were " A handsome inkstand, presented to him by the cele- 
 brated Dr. Jenner " (in return for his sweet poem of " Good 
 Tidings"), and the celebrated oak table which Mr. Bloomfield 
 may be said to have rendered immortal by the beautiful and 
 pathetic poem inscribed to it in his " Wild Flowers." The 
 first was sold for £6 10s. and the second for £14. The 
 original miniature of Bloomfield, an admirable likeness, by 
 Edridge, from which the portrait of him was engraved that 
 was prefixed to the first edition of his Poems, was in 1853 in 
 the possession of the late George Daniel, Esq., of Canonbuiy, 
 London. 
 
 Garrett's iron works, — 1765 and 1865. 
 
 There are but few existing large firms that have the means 
 of comparing their position with what it was a century ago. 
 The following advertisement, however, from the pages of the 
 '' Ipswich Journal," of 1765, will enable our readers, with the 
 help of a few facts which we shall supply, to contrast the 
 magnitude of the Leiston Works at the present day -ndth the 
 humble position of the great-grandfather of the present head 
 of the firm, a centmy ago : — 
 
 " THIS IS TO INFORM THE PUBLICK, 
 
 " That whereas I, Eichard Garret, of Woodbridge (late of Ufford), in 
 the county of Suffolk, Blade-smith, have always stamped my Sickles and 
 other Edge-tools with my name, E. Gakret, and have acquired, by 
 using the best steel and great care in the workmanship, a large demand 
 for my wares (especially Sickles and Hoes) ; but my name, E. Garret, 
 has of late been counterfeited, and stamiicd on sale Sickles and Hoes by 
 some bad person or persons in or near Sheffield, in Yorkshire, and been 
 
dl'i THE SUFFOLK GARLA^'D. 
 
 sold wholesale to several shops in Norwich, Yarmouth, Harleston, Diss, 
 Beooles, Bungay, Halesworth, Lowestoft, and many other towns and 
 country shops in the counties of Suffolk and Norfolk at Ten shillings a 
 dozen at most, which Sickles and Hoes have been retailed for my make 
 at Eighteen-penoe each (the price mine are sold at) to Farmers and poor 
 Laborers, when such sale Sickles and Hnes ought not to be sold for more 
 than Fourteen-peuce each, and profit sufficient for an honest man. 
 
 " Now for preventing such an imposition on the Public and prejudice 
 to myself I have added a star to my foimer Mark on my Sickles and 
 IIols, &c., and anj resolved the Law shall determine whether such 
 JIakers and Sellers have a right to act as above without being punished 
 as cheats and counterfeits. 
 
 "R. GARRET." 
 
 Ijet us now glance at the origin, progress, and present con- 
 dition of Leiston Iron "Works. 
 
 The origin of Leiston Works is to be dated from 1778, in 
 which year the son of the above-named Eichard Garrett v.-(-mt 
 from Woodbridge and commenced business at Leiston in the 
 trade followed by his father, viz., "Sickle and Edge-tool 
 Maker and Blade Smith." He employed a wheel worked by 
 a single horse, to drive a grindstone, and had at most from 
 eight to ten men. The business did not increase beyond 
 this in his time. 
 
 He was succeeded by his son in 1805, who in his tm-n re- 
 linquished the works in favour of the present head of the fliin 
 in 1836, and died the year after. He, as well as his father 
 and grandfather, excelled in the production of tools used in 
 husbandry, though till the j-ear 1806 the sickle was the chief 
 instrument of their manufacture. At this period Mr. Garrett 
 engaged in making a threshing machine, patented by Mr. John 
 Ball, of Hetheringsett, near Norwich, the first of its kind that 
 was usefully applied to threshing purposes in this country. 
 This was considered a serious imdertaking for one in Mr. 
 Garrett's humble position, but as the speculation succeeded 
 beyond the most sanguine expectations of the patentee, it 
 brought both him and the manufacturer into great repute 
 amongst the agriculturists of the Eastern counties of 
 Eua:lancl. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. -313 
 
 With tlie advent, however, of the present Mr. Eichard 
 Garrett as head of the firm, the prosperous state of the 
 Leiston Works may be said to commence. In him great self- 
 possession and force of character are united, and intimately 
 acquaiated as he was with the manufacture of agricultural 
 implements from his youth upwards, he, when the whole 
 weight of the business rested on his shoidders, applied him- 
 self with great energy to carry out the various projects which 
 he considered essential to the successful working of this in- 
 dustrial community. When, in the spring of 1836, the busi- 
 ness was rehnquished in his favour, about sixty men and 
 eight or ten horses were employed ; no steam power up to 
 that period had been brought into use. Now the number 
 of hands is from six hundred to seven hundred, besides which 
 employment is found for five powerful steam engines, a steam 
 hammer, and all sorts of appliances for working in iron and 
 wood, boiler making, cast and malleable iron foundry, gas 
 works, etc., etc. There is a tramway directly thi-ough the 
 Works, which also places them in direct communication with 
 the Eailway. The space occupied by the shops, etc., is up- 
 wards of ten acres. Garrett & Sons have at the present time 
 agents for their machinery in all the principal towns of Great 
 Britain and Ireland, and depots in the leading cities and 
 towns in Europe, India, and Australia. They have received 
 from various societies twenty gold and sixty-eight silver 
 medals, besides twelve hundred pounds in cash, and have 
 been distinguished by the highest possible awards at each 
 of the Great International Exhibitions, viz., London, 1861 
 and 1862; Dublin, 1853; Paris, 1855; London, 1862; 
 Hamburg, 1863. 
 
 Entering the Works, the offices are on the left hand, and 
 attached to them are a suite of private offices. The ninety 
 feet shaft is a prominent object for miles round. The engine- 
 house is formed by a set of three gigantic boilers made by the 
 firm. The portable engine erecting shop is ninety feet by 
 fifty feet, sufiiciently large for nine engines, four or five a 
 
314 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 week being fitted. It contains a magnificent collection of 
 planing, slotting, and boring machines, and some remarkably 
 fine lathes. The mannfactm-e of road locomotives is becoming 
 an important branch of the business carried on by the fii-m ; 
 the steam ploughing and cultivating apparatus is also exten- 
 sively manufactured. It is adapted for hilly as well as for 
 flat land, and as many as forty or even fifty acres of land can 
 be advantageously cultivated without any removal of the 
 engine or windlass. From seven to ten acres per day can 
 be broken up with an ordinary eight or ten horse portable 
 engine, which is also available for threshing. 
 
 Adjoining the engine erecting shops, are '_ the stores — mar- 
 vellous in regard to quantities. Above this shop are galleries 
 used for fitting. 
 
 The " testing shop " or " break house " is an important 
 part of the Works, for here all the engines are examined by 
 one of the firm. In the boiler-house there are usually one 
 hundred boilers in stock, of from twenty- thi-ee to twenty-five 
 horse power. The steam sawing mills are large and suitable, 
 and the beautiful morticing and tenoning machines are 
 piarticularly worthy of notice. There is also in this shop 
 one large sawing frame with forty-eight saw blades, and 
 marvellous as the statement may appear, it is a fact that by 
 the aid of this machine the largest tree ever grown can be 
 cut into boards in thirty seconds ! It will cut the largest, 
 roughest, or most crooked tree grown in England, as the 
 grain runs. 
 
 The threshing machine was one of the first agricultm-al 
 implements to which the attention of this firm was directed, 
 and nearly two thousand machines have been made at the 
 Leiston Works dming the last sixteen j-eai-s- 
 
 The iron foundry is a hundred and twenty-five feet by a 
 hundred and twenty-five, there being tlii-ee cupolas. Found- 
 ing is either in casting any quantity of metal in the solid, or 
 with a score (by means of which the metal is preserved of a 
 determired tliickness or substance) or in plain casting. In 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLANE. 31j 
 
 the smithy, which is a hundred and forty feet by eighty feet, 
 there are eighty forges and two steam forges. Adjoining is 
 one of the lathe shops, and above are large fitting shops. 
 The inward and outward traffic of the Works ranges between 
 15,000 and 20,000 tons annually; that is, so much material 
 of all sorts goes in in a rough state and comes out in a 
 manufactured form. 
 
 Near the Works is a large building constructed at the sole 
 cost of Mr. Eichard Grarrett, Sen., known as the Works' Hall. 
 It is a Mechanics' Institute, Eeacbng Eoom, and Lecture 
 HaU, and also a depot for the Ninth Suffolk, or Leiston 
 Works' Eifle Corps. 
 
 SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT. 
 
 At a meeting of the Society of Antiquaries, on the 11th 
 of December, 18-51, the Eev. E. B. Exton, of Cretingham, in 
 Suffolk, exhibited an origiaal roll containing the Solemn 
 League and Coyenant-, as subscribed in that parish, on the 
 20th March, 1643. The signatures attached are those of 
 " Eo Sayer " (vicar of Cretingham from 1634 to 1650), and 
 forty-three of his parishioners, of whom seventeen only signed 
 by marks. 
 
 MARRIAGES A CENTURY AGO. 
 
 A curious feature connected with Marriage in the middle 
 of the last century — the publishing of the dower of the lady 
 in the annoimcement of the marriage, is shown by the 
 folloTS'ing extract taken from the Fitch MSS. in the Ipswich 
 Museum. It relates to the daughter of Dr. Messenger 
 Monsey, an eccentric physician, who resided at Biuy St. 
 Edmund's. The date is December, 1753. 
 
 "Yesterday was married at Lee churoh, in Kent, Mr. "William 
 Alexander, an eminent merchant, to Miss Monsey, daughter of Dr. 
 Mousey, a lady of £0000 fortune." 
 
316 THE SUFFOLK CARLAND. 
 
 CURIOUS INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 The following insciiption was found in the kitchen of 
 Gipjoeswj'k Hall, Ipswich. Supposed date, the beginning of 
 the sixteenth century. It is still preserved. 
 
 He. that. 
 
 seteth. do 
 
 wn. to. mete. 
 
 and. leteth. 
 
 grace, pas. 
 
 Seteth. do 
 
 wn. leik. a 
 
 n. oxe. and 
 
 ryseth. leik. 
 
 a. nase. 
 
 [He that sitteth down to meat, and letteth grace pass, 
 sitteth down like an ox, and riseth like an ass. J 
 
 A short time since, there was at the " King's Head," at 
 Stutton, the following poetical invitation to weary travellers ; 
 
 "Good people, stop, and pray walk in, 
 Here's foreign brandy, rum, and gin; 
 And, what is more, good purl and ale. 
 Are both sold here by old Nat Dale." 
 
 Over the door of a chandler's shop at Drinkstone, in 
 August, 1776, as recorded by the newspapers of that date, 
 there was a sign-board with the following inscription : — 
 
 " Hear Liss one woo Cuers a Goos, 
 Gud. Bare. Bako sole Hare." 
 
 The information the village scribe wished to convey is con- 
 tained in these words : — " Here lives one who cures agues. 
 Good beer. Tobacco sold here." 
 
 It was formerly the practice to inscribe knives with 
 mottoes. There was, in the collection of the late ]\Ir. 
 Mills, of Norwich, a knife with a brass handle, of the period 
 
THE sri'FOLK GARLAND. 317 
 
 of Charles II., and which was found at Woodbridge, on 
 which the following distich was inscribed : — 
 
 " He that dotli a good knife lack, 
 Buy me, I am steel unto the back." 
 
 It was with our forefathers a common practice to inscribe 
 church bells with mottoes, sacred and otherwise. The 
 following is on a bell at Clare, in the church of St. Peter 
 and St. Paul : — 
 
 " While thus we join in cheerful sound, 
 Let love and loyalty abound, 
 
 " Mears, London, fecit, 1779." 
 
 On the tenor bell at Kersey church is this inscription : — 
 
 " Samuel Sampson, churchwarden, I say, 
 Caused me to be made by Colchester Graye. 
 
 "1638." 
 
 POSIES ON RINGS. 
 
 Some old rings with inscriptions, called " Posies," have 
 been found in various parts of Suffolk. 
 
 Upon one found in Ixworth church : — 
 
 " God alone made vs two one." 
 
 Upon one found near "Woodbridge : — 
 
 " If in my love thou constant bee. 
 My heart shall never part from thee." 
 
 Upon a small but massive lady's ring found at Hundon : — 
 " I like my choyse." 
 
 Upon one found at Westleton : — 
 
 " Love Virtue." 
 
 Upon one found at Dunwich : — 
 
 "Let Virtue be 
 A guide to thee." 
 
31.S 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 THE SMALLEST PULPIT IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 The pulpit in Stoke-by-Clare churcli, is probably the 
 smallest in the county of Suffolk. It is octangular, and its 
 interior diameter only 20| inches. It is handsomely decorated 
 with well designed tracery work, carved in oak, of which 
 material the pidpit also is formed. The Avhole is in 
 excellent condition. 
 
III. 
 
 Mtdkm fim ^wfalE f 0^fe, §^xh mih 
 
ni. 
 
 
 EPISODE OF ROSIPHELE. 
 
 BY JOHN GOWBE. 
 
 John Goweb, is supposed to have been Lorn some time about 
 tbe year 1325, and to have consequently been a few years 
 older than Chaucer. He was a gentleman possessing a con- 
 siderable amount of land in the county of Suffolk. He 
 wrote a poetical work in three parts, the last part of which 
 was a grave dissertation on the Morals and Metaphysics of 
 Love ; and the solemn sententiousness of this work caused 
 Chaucer to denomiaate its author " The Moral Glower." 
 
 Eosiphele, Princess of Armenia, a lady of surpassing 
 beauty, but insensible to the power of love, is represented 
 by the poet as reduced to an obedience to Cupid by a vision 
 which befell her on a May-day ramble. The opening of this 
 episode is as follows : — 
 
 When come was the month of May, 
 She would walk upon a day, 
 And that was ere the sun arist. 
 Of women but a few, it wist ;* 
 
 * Few of her women knew of it. 
 
322 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 And forth she went privily, 
 
 Unto a park was fast by, 
 
 All soft walk, and on the grass, 
 
 Till she came there the land was, 
 
 Through which ran a great river. 
 
 It thought her fair ; and said, here 
 
 I will abide under the shaw,* 
 
 And bade her women to withdraw ; 
 
 And there she stood alone still. 
 
 To think what was in her will. 
 
 She saw the sweet flowers spring. 
 
 She heard glad fowls sing. 
 
 She saw beasts in. their kind : 
 
 The buck, the doe, the hart, the hind, 
 
 The males go with the female ; 
 
 And so began there a quarrel 
 
 Between love and her own heart, 
 
 Fro which she could not astart. 
 
 And as she cast her eye about. 
 
 She saw clad in one suit, a rout 
 
 Of ladies, where they oomen ride 
 
 Along under the woode side, 
 
 On fair ambuland horse they set, 
 
 That were all white, fair, and great ; 
 
 And everioh one ride on side. 
 
 The saddles were of such a pride ; 
 
 So rich saw she never none. 
 
 With pearls and gold so well begone. 
 
 In kirtles and in copes rich. 
 
 They were clothed all alioh. 
 
 Departed even of white and blue, 
 
 "With aU lusts that she knew. 
 
 They were embroidered over all : 
 
 Their bodies weren long and small. 
 
 The beauty of their fair face 
 
 There may be none earthly thing deface : 
 
 Crowns on their heads they bare, 
 
 As each of them a queen were ; 
 
 That all the gold of Croesus' hall 
 
 The least coronal of all 
 
 • A grove. 
 
THE SUFi'OLK GAllLAXD. .j,'.3 
 
 Might not have boug-ht, after the worth ; 
 Thus comen they ridand forth. 
 
 In tlie rear of this splendid troop of ladies, the princess 
 beheld one mounted on a miserable steed, Avretchedly adorned 
 in everything excepting the bridle. On questioning this 
 straggler "why she was so unlike her companions, the visionary 
 lady replied that the latter were receiving the bright 
 reward of having loved faithfully, and that she herself was 
 suffering punishment for cruelty to her admirers. The 
 reason that the bridle alone resembled those of her com- 
 panions was, that for the last fortnight she had been siacerely 
 in love, and a change for the better was in consequence 
 beginning to show itself in her accoutrements. The parting 
 words of the dame are — 
 
 Wow have ye heard mine answer ; 
 To God, madam, I you betake. 
 And warneth all for my sake, 
 Of love that they be not idle, 
 And bid them think of my bridle. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to remark that the hard heart 
 of the Princess of Armenia is duly impressed by this lesson. 
 
 THE LONDON LYCKPENNY. 
 BY JOHN LYDGATE. 
 
 John Lydgate, the chief immediate follower of Chaucer 
 and Grower, is supposed to have been born at Lydgate, in 
 Suffolk. He was a monk of Bury St. Edmund's, and his 
 poetical compositions range over a variety of styles. "His 
 muse," says Warton, " was of universal access ; and he was 
 not only the poet of the monastery, but of the world in 
 general." The priucipal works of this versatile writer are 
 entitled, " The History of Thebes," " The FaU of Princes," 
 and " The Destruction of Troy." He at one time kept a 
 school in the monastery for the instruction of young persons 
 
324 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 in the art of versification. A poem of bis, called " The London 
 Lyckpenny," is curious for the particulars it gives respecting 
 the city of London in the early part of the fifteenth century. 
 The poet has come to town in search of legal redress for 
 some wi'ong, and visits in succession the King's Bench, the 
 Court of Common Pleas, the Court of Chancery, and West- 
 minster Hall. 
 
 Within the hall, neither rich, nor yet poor 
 "Would do for me aught, although I should die ; 
 
 Which seeing, I gat me out of the door. 
 Where Flemings began on me for to cry, 
 " Master, what will you copen* or buy ? 
 
 Fine felt hats ? or spectacles to read ? 
 
 Lay down your silver, and here you may speed." 
 
 Then to Westminster gate I presently went. 
 
 When the sun was at high prime. 
 Cooks, to me, they took good intent,! 
 
 And proifered me bread, with ale, and wine, 
 
 Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine ; 
 A fair cloth they gan for to spread. 
 But, wanting money, I might not be sped. 
 
 Then unto London I did me hie. 
 Of all the land it beareth the price : 
 
 " Hot peasoods ! " one began to cry, 
 
 " Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rise !" % 
 One bade me come near and buy some spice ; 
 
 Pepper, and saffron they gan me heed ; § 
 
 But for lack of money, I might not speed. 
 
 Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn. 
 Where much people I saw for to stand ; 
 
 One offered me velvet, sUk, and lawn. 
 Another he taketh me by the hand, 
 " Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land ! " 
 
 I never was used to such things indeed, 
 
 And, wanting money, I might not speed. 
 
 * Xoojjen (Flemish) is to buy. f Took notice— paid attention. 
 
 J On the twig. § Offer. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 325 
 
 Then went 1 forth by London stone,* 
 Throughout all Cauwick street : 
 
 Drapers much cloth me offered anon ; 
 Then comes me one cried, " Hot sheep's feet ; " 
 One cried mackerel, rushes green, another, gan greet,! 
 
 One bade me buy a hood to cover my head ; 
 
 But, for -want of money, I might not be sped. 
 
 Then I hied me unto East Cheap, 
 
 One cries ribs a beef, and many a pie ; 
 
 Pewter pots they clattered on a heap ; 
 There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy : 
 Yea by cock ! nay by cock ! some began cry ; 
 
 Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed ; 
 
 But, for lack of money, I might not speed. 
 
 Then unto Cornhill anon I yode. 
 
 Where was much stolen gear among ; 
 I saw where hung mine owne hood. 
 
 That I had lost among the throng. 
 
 To buy my own hood I thought it wrong : 
 I knew it well, as I did my creed ; 
 But, for lack of money, I could not speed. 
 
 The taverner took me by the sleeve, 
 
 " Sir," saith he, " wiU you our wine essay ? " 
 
 I answered, " that can not much me grieve, 
 A penny can do no more than it may ; " 
 I drank a pint, and for it did pay ; 
 
 Yet, sore a hungered, from thence I yede, 
 
 And, wanting money, I could not speed, etc. 
 
 A PEAISE OF HIS LOVE, 
 
 WHEREIN HE REPROVETH THEM THAT COMPARE THEIR LADIES WITH HIS. 
 BY THE EARL OP SURREY. 
 
 Henry Howard, Eaii of Sm-rey, 1516 — 1546, known as tlie 
 first writer of EngKsli blank verse, is supposed to have been 
 
 * A fragment of London stone is still preserved in Cannon street, formerly 
 called Canwick or Candlewick street. t Cry. 
 
o'20 THE SI'FFOLK CARl.AXD. 
 
 born in the year 151G or 1517 ; but wlietlier at Framlingbam, 
 at Tenclriug Hall, SufPoDv, or at Kcnningball in Norfolk, 
 is uncertain. He was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 
 L'lst, 1.j4G — 7, and his body was interred in the churdi of 
 All Hallows, Barking Tower Street, and after the lapse of 
 nearly seventy years it was removed to lYamlingham by his 
 second son, who erected a stately monument to his memory. 
 The influence which Siu-rey influenced over English poetry 
 was very great. He is said to have been the first English 
 poet who understood and exemplified the art of translation. 
 He is among the earliest of our love poets : his language 
 is often happy, and never superfluous. 
 
 Give place, ye lovers, here before 
 
 That spent your boasts and brags in vain : 
 
 My lady's beauty passeth more 
 
 The best of yours, I dare well sayen, 
 
 Than doth the sun the candle light, 
 
 Or brightest day the darkest night. 
 
 And thereto hath a troth as just 
 As had Penylope the Fair ; 
 For what she saith, ye may it trust, 
 As it by writing sealed were : 
 And virtues hath she many mo' 
 Than I with pen have skill to show. 
 
 I could rehearse, if that I would. 
 The whole effect of Nature's plaint, 
 "When she had lost the perfect mould, 
 The like to whom she could not paint ; 
 With wringing hands, how she did cry, 
 And what she said I know it, aye. 
 
 I know she swore with raging mind. 
 
 Her kingdom only set apart. 
 
 There was no loss by law of kind 
 
 That could have gone so near her heart ; 
 
 And this was chiefly all her pain ; 
 
 " She could not make the like again." 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 327 
 
 Sith Nature thus gave her the praise, 
 To be the chiefest work she wrought ; 
 In faith, methink, some better ways 
 On your behalf might well be sought, 
 Than to compare, as ye have done. 
 To match the candle with the sun. 
 
 AN EPITAPH ON CLEEE, SURREy's FAITHFUL FRIEND 
 AND FOLLOWER.* 
 
 Norfolk sprung thee, Lambeth holds thee dead ; 
 Clere, of the Count of Cleremont, thou hight 
 Within the womb of Ormond's race thou bred, 
 And saw'st thy cousin crowned in thy sight. 
 Shelton for love, Surrey for lord, thou chase ; f 
 (Aye, me ! whilst life did last that league was tender), 
 Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsal blaze, 
 Landreoy burnt, and battered Boulogne render. J 
 At Montreuil gates, hopeless of all reoure. 
 Thine Earl, half dead, gave in thy hand his will ; 
 "Which cause^did thee this pining death procure 
 Ere summers four times seven thou couldst fulfil. 
 
 * Thomas Clere, whose family, of Clere-mont, in Normandy, came into 
 England with the Conqueroi', was the youngest son of Sir Robert Clere, of 
 Ormesby, in Norfolk, and Alice, daughter of Sir "William Boleyn, by 
 Margaret, daughter and co-heir of the Earl of Ormoud. Ilcuce the allusions 
 in^the Epitaph to his being sprung from Norfolk, having been born at 
 Ormesby ; to the Count of Cleremont, from whom he derived his name ; 
 and to his cousin, Anne Boleyn, at whose coronation he is here stated to 
 have been present. The Shelton, whom he is stated to have chosen for 
 love, was one of the daughters of Sir John Shelton, of Shelton, in Norfolk ; 
 but there is no evidence of his having been married to her. He was a 
 follower and friend of Surrey, and attended him as his page. Surrey was 
 greatly attached to him, and amongst other proofs of his friendship, made over 
 to him all his rights in the Manor of Wyndham, which he had received by 
 grant from the King. Clere died on the 14th of April, 1545, and was buried 
 at Lambeth, in a chapel belonging to the Howard family, where the above 
 verses were engraved on a tablet, placed on a wall near the tomb, 
 t Did choose, 
 i These lines allude to the expeditions to Kelsal, in Scotland; Landrecy, 
 in the Netherlands ; and Boulogne, in France ; at which Clere was present 
 in his attendance on SuiTey. 
 
328 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Ah ! Clere ! if love had booted care or cost, 
 Heaven had not won, nor earth so timely lost.* 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT. 
 
 "Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest ; 
 
 Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain ; 
 And virtue sank the deeper in his breast, 
 
 Such profit he by envy could obtain. 
 
 A head, where wisdom mysteries did frame ; 
 
 Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain 
 As on a stithe,t where that same work of fame 
 
 Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain. 
 
 A visage stern and mild, where both did grow 
 
 Vice to contemn, in virtue to rejoice : 
 Amid great storms, whom grace assured so 
 
 To live upright, and smile at fortune's choice. 
 
 A hand, that taught what might be said in rhyme, 
 
 That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit, 
 A mark, the which (unperfected for time) 
 
 Some may approach, but never none shall hit. 
 
 A tongue, that served in foreign realms his King ; 
 
 Whose courteous talk to virtue did inflame 
 Each noble heart ; a worthy guide to bring 
 
 Our English youth by travail unto fame. 
 
 An eye, whose judgment none affect J could blind. 
 
 Friends to allure, and foes to reconcile ; 
 Whose piercing look did represent a mind 
 
 With virtue fraught, reposed § void of guile. 
 
 * Tliese lines explain their own story. Clere, in a moment of peril, when 
 he was protecting his wounded friend at one of the gates at Montreuil, 
 received a wound, from tlie consequences of which he lingered several months, 
 and ultimately died. 
 
 + A blacksmith's anvU. The shed or shop containing the anvil was called 
 a stithy, now smithy. 
 
 J Sometimes printed effect — affection, passion. 
 
 § In tlie sense of calmly fixed— resolved. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAXD. 329 
 
 A heart, where dread was neyer so imprest 
 
 To hide the thought that might the truth advance ; 
 
 In neither fortune loft, * nor yet represt 
 
 To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance. 
 
 A valiant corpse, t where force and beauty met : 
 
 Happy, alas ! too happy, but for foes, 
 Lived, and ran the race that nature set 
 
 Of manhood's shape, where she the mould did lose. 
 
 But to the heavens that simple soul is fled, 
 
 "Which left, with such as covet Christ to know, 
 
 AVitness of faith, that never shall be dead ; 
 Sent for our health, but not received so. 
 
 Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost ; 
 
 The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost. 
 
 GOOD ALE. 
 BY JOHN STILL, D.D., BISHOP OF BATH AND WELLS. 
 
 John Still, 1543 — 1607, was born at Grantham, in Lincoln- 
 shire. Having been sent to Christ's College, Cambridge, he 
 was elected to a Fellowship there in 1560. He became 
 famous as a preacher, and was appointed Lady Margaret 
 Professor of Divinity, in 1570 ; Chaplain to Archbishop 
 Parker, and Rector of Hadleigh, in 1571 ; Master of Trinity 
 College, in 1577 ; and Bishop of Bath and Wells, in 1592. 
 He was the authoyof a " Pyght Pythy, Pleasaunt, and Merie 
 Comedie, intytuld, Gammer Gurton's Needle. London, 1695," 
 the second act of which opens with the following " drinking 
 song," which is valuable for its vein of simplicity and 
 humour, and for its being the first drinking ballad of any 
 merit in our language. Original copies of this play are very 
 rare. One sold at the Duke of Roxburgh's sale, in 1812, 
 for £8 8s. ; another copy sold, in 1825, for £10 ; and one at 
 the sale of Mr. Daniel's collection, in 1864, for £64 ! 
 
 * Lofty — prosperous. f Body. 
 
330 THE SUFFOLK GARI.AXD. 
 
 I cannot eat but little meat, 
 
 My stomaoli is not good ; 
 But sure I think that I can drink 
 
 With him that wears a hood. 
 Though I go bare, take ye ue care, 
 
 I am nothing a colds ; 
 I stuiFe my skin so full within 
 
 Of joly good ale and old. 
 
 Back and side, go bare, go bare, 
 Booth foot and hand go colde ; 
 
 But belly, God send thee good ale i'noughe. 
 Whether it be new or old. 
 
 I love no rost, but a nut-browne teste, 
 
 And a orab laid in the fire ; 
 A little bread shall do me stead, 
 
 Moobe bread I not desire. 
 No frost, no snow, no winde, I trow. 
 
 Can burte me if I wolde : 
 I am so wrapt and throwly lapt 
 
 Of joly good ale and old. 
 
 Back and side go bare, etc. 
 
 And Tib, my wife, that as her life, 
 
 Loveth well good ale to seeke. 
 Full ofte drinks shee, till ye may see 
 
 The tears run downe her cheeke ; 
 Then dooth she trowle to me her bowle. 
 
 E'en as a mault worm sholde ; 
 And saitb, " Sweet heart, I tooke my part 
 
 Of this joly good ale and old." 
 
 Back and side go bare, etc. 
 
 Now let them drink, till they nod and winke, 
 
 E'en as good fellows should do ; 
 They shall not misse to have the blisse 
 
 Good ale dooth bringe men to ; 
 And all good sowles that have scoured bowles, 
 
 Or have them lustely trolde, 
 God save the lives of them and their wives, 
 I Whether they be young or old. 
 
 Back and side go bare, etc. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 331 
 
 BALLAD UPON A WEDDING. 
 BY Sm JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 Sir John Suckling [1608 — 1G12], born at Twickenham, 
 baptised there February 10th, 1608 — 9 ; resided at Barsham, 
 Suffolk; was M.P. in the Long Parliament; became a staunch 
 adherent of Charles I., and fled to France on the discoyery 
 of a plot, in which he joined, to rescue Strafford from the 
 Tower. He died at Paris, it is said, by suicide, in the 
 thirty-fourth year of his age. His " Ballad on a Wedding " is 
 equal to the pictures of Chaucer. 
 
 I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, 
 "Where I the rarest things have seen ; 
 
 Oh, things without compare ! 
 Such sights again cannot he found 
 In any place on English ground. 
 
 Be it at wake or fair. 
 
 At Charing Cross, hard by the way 
 Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, 
 
 There is a house with stairs ; 
 And there did I see coming down 
 Such folk as are not in our town, 
 
 Vorty at least, in pairs. 
 
 Amongst the rest, one pest lent iine, 
 
 (His beard no bigger, though, than thine), 
 
 "Walk'd on before the rest ; 
 Our landlord looks like nothing to him : 
 The King, God bless him ! 'twould undo him, 
 
 Should he go still so drest. 
 
 But wot you what ? the youth was going 
 To make an end of all his wooing ; 
 
 The parson for him staid ; 
 Yet by his leave, for all his haste, 
 He did not so much wish all past. 
 
 Perchance, as did the maid. 
 
332 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 ' The maid, and thereby hangs a tale, 
 
 For such a maid no Whitsun ale * 
 
 Could ever yet produce ; 
 No grape that's kindly ripe could be 
 So round, so plump, so soft as she, 
 
 Nor half so full of juice. 
 
 Her finger was so small, the ring 
 Would not stay on which they did bring 
 
 It was too wide a peck : 
 And, to say truth (for out it must). 
 It look'd like the great collar (just) 
 
 About our young colt's neck. 
 
 Her feet beneath her petticoat 
 Like little mice stole in and out, 
 
 As if they fear'd the light. 
 But oh ! she dances such a way ! 
 No sun upon an Easter dayf 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 Her cheeks so rare a white was on. 
 No daisy makes comparison ; 
 
 Who sees them is undone. 
 For streaks of red were mingled there, 
 Such as are on a Cath'rine pear. 
 
 The side that's next the sun. 
 
 Her lips were red, and one was thin, 
 Compar'd to that was next her chin. 
 
 Some bee had stung it newly ; 
 But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 
 I durst no more upon them gaze 
 
 Than on the sun in July. 
 
 * AYldtsun ales were festive assemblies of the people of whole parishes at 
 Whit-Sunday. 
 
 + This allusion to Easter-day is founded upon a beautiful old superstition 
 of the English peasantry that the sun dances upon that morning. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 333 
 
 Her moutli so small, -when she does speak, 
 Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, 
 
 That they might passage get ; 
 But she so handled still the matter, 
 They came as good as ours, or better, 
 
 And are not spent a whit. 
 
 Passion, oh me ! how I run on ! 
 There's that that would be thought upon, 
 
 I trow, besides the bride : 
 The bus'ness of the kitchen's grate, 
 For it is fit that men should eat ; 
 
 Nor was it there denied. 
 
 Just in the niok, the cook knook'd thrice. 
 And all the waiters in a trice 
 
 His summons did obey : 
 Each serving man, with dish in hand, 
 Maroh'd boldly up, like our train'd-band, 
 
 Presented, and away. 
 
 When all the meat was on the table. 
 What man of knife, or teeth, was able 
 
 To stay to be entreated ? 
 And this the very reason was. 
 Before the parson could say grace, 
 
 The company were seated. 
 
 Wow hats fly off, and youths carouse ; 
 Healths first go round, and then the house, 
 
 The bride's came thick and thick ; 
 And when 'twas nam'd another's health, 
 Perhaps he made it her's by stealth. 
 
 And who could help it, Dick ? 
 
 0' th' sudden, up they rise, and dance ; 
 Then sit again, and sigh, and glance ; 
 
 Then dance again, and kiss. 
 Thus sev'ral ways the time did pass. 
 Till ev'ry woman wish'd her place. 
 
 And ev'ry man wish'd his. 
 
33-± THE SUFFOLK G.VRLAXD. 
 
 By this time all were stol'n aside 
 To counsel and undress the bride : 
 
 But that he must not know ; 
 But yet 'twas thought he guess'd her miud, 
 And did not mean to stay behind 
 
 Above an hour or so. 
 
 LINES TO THE MISSES IlARLANl). 
 BY THE REV. WILLIAM BROOME. 
 
 The Eev. William Broome, died. 1745. He was a native 
 of Chesliii-e, was educated on the foundation at Eton, and 
 afterwards sent to St. John's College, Cambridge, by the 
 contributions of his friends. In 1713, he was presented by 
 Lord ComwaUis to the rectory of Stuston, Suffolk, where he 
 married a wealthy widow. In 1720, he was presented by his 
 Lordship, to whom he was chaplain, to the rectory of Oakley, 
 and in 1728, he was presented by the Crown to the rectory 
 of Pulham, in Norfolk, and in the same year to the vicarage 
 of Eye. He died at Bath, November the 16th, 1745, and 
 was interred in the Abbey Church. Though it cannot be 
 said that he was a great poet, yet he cannot be thought a 
 mean one whom Pope chose for an associate in translating 
 the " Odyssey " of Homer. Pope's enemies attacked him in 
 a way that gave great praise^ to Broome, as the following 
 lines of Henley will show : — 
 
 " Pope came off clean with Homer; but they say 
 Broome went before, and kindly sweiit the loay." 
 
 Broome's share in the work was the translation of eight 
 books : the 2nd, 6th, 8th, 11th, 12th, 16th, 18th, and 23rd, 
 together with all the notes. He did not consider himself 
 liberally treated by Pope, and the disappointed labourer 
 charged his master with avarice. Pope, in consequence, with 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 335 
 
 that petty spite which was his strongest characteristic, ahusecl 
 Broome in the " Dunciad," and in the " Bathos." 
 
 On hearing Miss Harland (afterwards Lady Gage, of 
 Hengrave), sing, and her sister and herself play on different 
 musical instrmnents, the following lines were written, at 
 Sproughton, near Ipswich, in 1737, at the seat of Captain, 
 afterwards Admiral Harland, and the ladies were aunts to 
 the late Sir Robert Harland, Bart, of Orwell Park. 
 
 Strange stories of old by poets are told, 
 
 Of the pow'r of sweet Orpheus's lyre, 
 And how that Amphion, if them we rely on,' 
 
 The hare stones could with motion inspire. 
 
 Such hyperboles strained, which may credit have gain'd, 
 
 I could ne'er be induo'd to believe ; 
 But a truth I'll proclaim of two ladies' fair fame. 
 
 And in that none whatever deceive. 
 
 If Miss Harland sings, while on tuneful strings, 
 
 She herself and iliss Edith both play ; 
 The two here first named, how much so e'er famed, 
 
 Never charmed hearers more than will they. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON MY OWN SITUATION. 
 
 WRITTEN IN T — T-NGST-NE HOUSE OF INDUSTRY, FEEKUAEY, 1802, 
 
 BY MKS. ANN CANDLER. 
 
 Anne Candler [1740 — 1814], born at Yoxford, November 
 18th, 1740. Her father was in business as a glover, at 
 Yoxford. In her twenty-second year she married a worthless 
 man belonging to the village of Sproughton, who, a year after 
 her marriage, enlisted iato the Gruards, and after enduring 
 many privations, she became an inmate of Tattingstone 
 Workhouse, and was there secluded from the world for 
 nearly twenty years. Here she frequently indulged the 
 poetic faculty, and her case and her abilities being made 
 known to Mrs. Elizabeth Cobbold, that lady generously 
 
336 THE SUFFOLK GARLAMD. 
 
 came forward to help her. Ann Candler's poems were 
 collected, and under the favoiu-able auspices of Mrs. 
 Cobbold, published in a small volume. By this means a 
 sum of money was raised, which enabled her to leave 
 the workhouse, and hire lodgings for herself. She first 
 lived at Oopdock, and afterwards at Holton, near Stratford 
 St. Mary, where she died, on the 15th September, 1814, 
 aged seventy-four. 
 
 How many years are past and gone, 
 
 How alter'd I appear, 
 How many strange events have known, 
 
 Since first I entered here ! 
 
 Within these dreary walls confin'd, 
 
 A lone recluse I live. 
 And, with the dregs of human kind, 
 
 Uncultivated, void of sense. 
 
 Unsocial, insincere ; 
 Their rude behaviour gives offence. 
 
 Their language wounds the ear. 
 
 Disgusting objects swarm around, 
 Throughout confusions reign ; 
 
 Where feuds and discontent abound, 
 Kemonstranoe proves in vain. 
 
 No sympathising friend I find, 
 Unknown is friendship here : 
 
 Not one to soothe or calm the mind, 
 When overwhelmed with care. 
 
 Peace, peace, my heart, thy duty calls, 
 With cautious steps proceed ; 
 
 Beyond these melancholy walls, 
 I've found a friend indeed. 
 
 I gaze on numbers in distress. 
 Compare their state with mine ; 
 
 Can I reiieot, and not confess 
 A Providence divine ? 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 337 
 
 And I might bend beneath the rod, 
 
 And equal want deplore, 
 But that a good and gracious God 
 
 Is pleased to give me more. 
 
 My gen'rous friends, with feeling heart, 
 
 Remove the pond'rous weight, 
 And those impending ills avert 
 
 Which want and woes create. 
 
 Yet what am I, that I should be 
 
 Thus honor'd and oarest ? 
 And why such favours heaped on me, 
 
 And with such friendship blest ? 
 
 Absorb'd in thought, I often sate 
 
 Within my lonely cell, 
 And mark'd the strange mysterious fate 
 
 That seem'd to guide me still. 
 
 When keenest sorrow urg'd her claim, 
 
 When evils threaten'd dread, 
 Some unexpected blessing came. 
 
 And rais'd my drooping head. 
 
 In youth strange fairy tales I've read. 
 
 Of magic skill and pow'r, 
 And mortals in their sleep convey'd 
 
 To some enchanted tower. 
 
 In this obscure and lone retreat, 
 
 Conceal'd from vulgar eyes. 
 Two rival genii us'd to meet. 
 
 And counterplots devise. 
 
 The evil genius, prone to ill. 
 
 Mischievous schemes invents ; 
 Pursues the fated mortal still. 
 
 And ev'ry woe augments. 
 
 Insulted with indignant scorn, 
 
 Aw'd by tyrannic sway ; 
 A prey to grief each rising morn, 
 
 And cheerless all the day. 
 
338 THE SUFFOLli GAKLAXD. 
 
 But fate and fortune in their scenes 
 A pleasing change decree : 
 
 The friendly genius intervenes, 
 And sets the captive free. 
 
 Content and freedom thus regain'd, 
 Depriv'd of both before ; 
 
 So great the blessing, when obtain'd, 
 What can he wish for more ? 
 
 The tales these eastern writers feign, 
 Like facts to me appear ; 
 
 The fabled sufferings they contain 
 I find no fiction here. 
 
 And since, in these romantic lays, 
 
 My miseries combine. 
 To bless my lengthen'd wane of days. 
 
 Their bright reverse be mine. 
 
 Look down, God! in me behold 
 How helpless mortals are, 
 
 Nor leave me friendless, poor, and old, 
 But guide me with thy care. 
 
 A FARMER S WIFE IIS OLD TIMES. 
 BY EOEEKT BLOOMHELD. 
 
 Eobert Bloomfield [1766-1823], a natve of Honington, 
 in Suffolk, was the youngest son of a tailor, who died before 
 Robert was a year old, leaving a widow with six children. At . 
 the age of eleven Eobert went as " Farmer's Boy " to Mr. 
 Austin, a fanner at Saplston ; but his mother being unable to 
 provide Avith him clothes, he was after a short time placed in 
 charge of his elder brother Greorge, in London, to learn the 
 art of shoemaking. A knowledge of reading and writing 
 was all that he had acquired in the coimtry, but being 
 furnished with a few books in London, he as he verged 
 towards manhood, improved his education, and whilst working 
 with six or seven men in a garret, he composed, mentally, his 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 339 
 
 poem of " The Farmer's Boy," and a great portion of it 
 was composed, arranged and re-arranged without committing 
 a line to paper. The poem was rejected by several pubHshers, 
 and ultimately issued through the exertions of Capel Lofft, 
 Esq., who generously aided the poor poet. Its success was 
 so great that 20,000 copies were sold in three years, and 
 editions were j)ublished in German, French, and Italian. 
 He published several more volumes of poetry, but unfortu- 
 nately died in poverty in the fifty-seventh year of his age, 
 at Shefford, in Bedfordshire. 
 
 Forth comes the maid, and like the inorning smiles, 
 The Mistress, too, and follow'd close by Giles ; 
 A friendly tripod forms their humble seat. 
 With pails bright soour'd and delicately sweet ; 
 Where shadowing elms obstruct the morning ray, 
 Begins the work, begins the simple lay ; 
 The full charged udder yields its willing streams, 
 While Mary sings some lover's amorous dreams ; 
 And crouching Q-iles, beneath a neighbouring tree. 
 Tugs o'er his pail and chants with equal glee ; 
 Whose hat with tatter'd brim, of nap so bare. 
 From the cow's side purloins a coat of hair, 
 A mottled ensign of his harmless trade, 
 An unambitious, peaceable cockade. 
 As unambitious, too, that cheerful aid 
 The mistress yields besides her rosy maid ! 
 With joy she views her plenteous reeking store. 
 And bears a brimmer to the dairy door. 
 
 SUFFOLK CHEESE. 
 
 Unrival'd stands thy country cheese, Giles ! 
 Whose very name alone engenders smiles ; 
 Whose fame abroad by every tongue is spoke. 
 The well-known butt of many a flinty joke, 
 That pass like current coin the nation through ; 
 And ah ! Experience proves the satire true. 
 Pro-vision's grave, thou ever craving mart. 
 Dependent, huge metropolis ! where Art 
 Her poring thousands slows in breathless rooms. 
 
340 THE STFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 Mid'st pois'nous smokes and steams and rattling looms ; 
 
 Where grandeur revels in unbounded stores, 
 
 Restraint, a slighted stranger at their doors ; 
 
 Thou, like a whirlpool, drain'st the countries round, 
 
 Till London market, London price resound 
 
 Through every town, round every passing load, 
 
 And dairy produce throngs the Eastern road. 
 
 Delicious veal and butter every hour 
 
 From Essex lowlands, and the banks of Stour, 
 
 And further far, where numerous herds repose, 
 
 From Orwell's brink, from Waveny or Oase. 
 
 Henoe, Suffolk dairy-wives run mad for cream, 
 
 And leave their milk with nothing hut its name — 
 
 Its name derision and reproach pursue ; 
 
 And strangers tell of " three times skimm'd sky blue.'' 
 
 To cheese converted, what can be its boast ? 
 
 What but the common virtues of a post ! 
 
 If drought o'ertake it faster than the knife, 
 
 Most fair it bids for stubborn length of life ; 
 
 And like the oaken shelf whereon 'tis laid, 
 
 Mocks the weak efforts of the bending blade ; 
 
 Or in the hog-trough rests in perfect spite, 
 
 Too big to swallow, and too hard to bite. 
 
 Inglorous victory ! Ye Cheshire meads. 
 
 Or Severn's flow'ry dales, where plenty treads, 
 
 AVere your rich milk to suffer wrongs like these. 
 
 Farewell j'our pride ! farewell, renown'd cheese ! 
 
 The skimmer dread, whose ravages alone. 
 
 Thus turn the mead's sweet nectar into stone. 
 
 HARVEST HO:\[E. 
 
 Now e'er sweet Summer bids its long adieu, 
 
 And winds blow keen where late the blossom grew ; 
 
 The bustling day and jovial night must come, 
 
 The long aooustom'd feast of Harvest Home. 
 
 No blood-stain'd victory, in story bright. 
 
 Can give the philosophic mind delight ; 
 
 No triumph please, while rage and death destroy, 
 
 Ileflection sickens at the monstrous joy. 
 
 And where the joy, if rightly understood. 
 
 Like cheerful praise for universal good ? 
 
 The soul, nor cheek, nor doubtful anguish knows, 
 
THE SUFFOLK G.VKLAXD. 3-11 
 
 But free and pure the grateful current flows. 
 Behold the sound oak table's massy frame, 
 Bestride the kitchen floor ! the careful dame 
 And generous host invite their friends around, 
 I'or all that clear'd the crop or tilled the ground, 
 Are guests by right of custom ; old and young, 
 And many a neighbouring yeoman join the throng, 
 With artizans, that lent their dext'rous aid, 
 When o'er each field the flaming sunbeams played. 
 
 Yet plenty reigns, and from her boundless hoard, 
 Though not one jelly trembles on the board. 
 Supplies the feast with all that sense can crave, 
 With all that made our great forefathers brave : 
 Ere the oloy'd palate countless flavours tried. 
 And cooks had Nature's judgment set aside. 
 With thanks to Heaven, and tales of rustic lore, 
 The mansion echoes when the banquet's o'er ; 
 A wider circle spreads, and smiles abound, 
 As quick the frothing horn performs its round ; 
 Care's mortal foe, that sprightly joys imparts. 
 To cheer the frame and elevate their hearts ; 
 Here, fresh and brown, the hazel's produce lies. 
 In tempting heaps, and peals of laughter rise ; 
 And crackling music, with the frequent song. 
 Unheeded, bear the midnight hour along. 
 
 Here once a year Distinction low'rs its crest, 
 The master, servant, and the merry guest 
 Are equal all ; and round the happy ring 
 The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling, 
 And warm'd with gratitude, he quits his place. 
 With sunburnt hands and ale enliven'd face, 
 Eefills the jug, his honor'd post to tend. 
 To save at once the master and the friend ; 
 Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale. 
 His nuts, his conversation, and his ale. 
 
 Such were the days — of days long past I sing. 
 When Pride gave place to Mirth without a sting ; 
 Ere tyrant custom's strength sufficient bore. 
 To violate the feelings of the poor. 
 
34:2 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 AN ELEGY ON THE ENCLOSUUE OF HONINGTON GREEN. 
 
 BY NATH.\.NIEL BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Nathaniel Bloomfield was a brother of the author of " The 
 Farmer's Boy," and was born at Honington. The spot 
 which is the subject of the following ballad was less than 
 half-an acre in extent ; but it was an ornament to the village, 
 and to the Bloomfields, whose cottage was close by, every 
 circumstance gave it peculiar endearment. Capel LofPt said, 
 that as a poetical effusion, this elegy had the tone, simplicity, 
 sweetness, and pleasing melancholy of the ballad. 
 
 Nathaniel had the honour of a lash from Byron, thus : — 
 
 " If Phoebus smiled on you, 
 Bloomfield ! why not on brother Nathan too ? 
 Him too the Mania, not the Muse, has seized ; 
 Not inspiration, but a mind diseased : 
 And now no boor can seek his last abode, 
 No common be enclosed, without an ode." 
 
 The proud City's gay wealthy train. 
 
 Who nought but refinements adore, 
 ]\tay wonder to hear me complain 
 
 That Honington Green is no more ; 
 But if to the Church you e'er went, 
 
 If you knew what the village has been, 
 You will sympathise, while I lament 
 
 The Enclosure of Honington Green. 
 
 That no more upon Honington Green 
 
 Dwells the Matron whom most I revere. 
 If, by pert observation unseen, 
 
 I e'en could indulge a fond tear ; 
 Ere her bright morn of life was o'ercast, 
 
 When my senses first woke to the scene, 
 Some short happy hours she had past 
 
 On the margin of Honington Green. 
 
 Her parents with plenty were blest, 
 And num'rous her children, and young ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 343 
 
 Youth's blossoms her cheek yet possest, 
 
 And melody woke when she sung, 
 A "Widow so youthful to leave 
 
 (Early clos'd the blest days he had seen), 
 My Father was laid in his grave, 
 
 In the Churchyard on Honington Green. 
 
 I faintly remember the Man 
 
 Who died when I was but a child ; 
 But far as my young mind could scan. 
 
 His manners were gentle and mild ; 
 He won infant ears with his lore, 
 
 Kor let young ideas run wild, 
 Tho' his hand the severe rod of pow'r 
 
 Never sway'd o'er a trembling child. 
 
 Not anxiously careful for pelf, 
 
 Melancholic and thoughtful, his mind 
 Look'd inward, and dwelt on itself, 
 
 Still pensive, pathetic, and kind ; 
 Yet oft in despondency drown'd. 
 
 He from friends and from converse would fly. 
 In weeping a luxury found, 
 
 And reliev'd others' woes with a sigh. 
 
 In solitude long would he stay, 
 
 And long lock'd in silence his tongue ; 
 Then he humm'd an elegaic lay, 
 
 Or a psalm penitential he sung. 
 But if with his friends he regal'd, 
 
 His mirth, as his griefs knew no bounds ; 
 In no Tale of Mark Sargent he fail'd, 
 
 Nor in all Robin Hood's Derry downs. 
 
 Thro' the poor Widow's long lonely years 
 
 Her Father supported us all ; 
 Yet sure she was loaded with cares, 
 
 Being left with six children so small. 
 Meagre want never lifted her latch, 
 
 Her cottage was stiU tight and clean, 
 And the casement beneath its low thatch 
 
 Commanded a view o'er the Green. 
 
344 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 O'er the Green, where so often she blest 
 
 The return of a husband or son, 
 Coming happily home to their rest. 
 
 At night, ■when their labor was done : 
 Where so oft in her earlier years 
 
 She with transport maternal has seen 
 (While plying her housewifely cares) 
 
 Her children all safe on the Green. 
 
 The Green was our pride through the year, 
 
 For in spring, when the wild flow'rets blew, 
 Tho' many rich pastures were'near. 
 
 Where cowslips and daffodils grew ; 
 And tho' such gallant flow'rs were our choice. 
 
 It was bliss interrupted by fear — 
 The fear of their Owner's dread voice. 
 
 Harshly bawling, "You've no business here ! " 
 
 While the Green, tho' but daisies its boast, 
 
 Was free as the flow'rs to the bee. 
 In all seasons the Green we lov'd most. 
 
 Because on the Green we were free. 
 'Twas the prospect that first met my eyes. 
 
 And memory still blesses the scene. 
 For early my heart learnt to prize 
 
 The freedom of Honington Green. 
 
 No peasant had pin'd at his lot, 
 
 Tho' new fences the lone heath enclose ; 
 
 For, alas ! the blest days are forgot. 
 When poor men had their sheep and their cows. 
 
 Still had Labour been blest with Content, 
 Still Competence happy had been, 
 
 Nor Indigence utter'd a plaint. 
 Had Avarice spar'd but the Green. 
 
 Not Avarice itself could be mov'd 
 
 By desire of a morsel so small : 
 It could not be lucre he lov'd. 
 
 But to rob the poor folk of their all. 
 He in wantonness ope'd his wide jaws. 
 
 As a Shark may disport with the Frj', 
 Or a Lion, when licking his paws. 
 
 May wantonly snap at a Fly. 
 
THE SrFFOLK GARLAND. olu 
 
 Could there live such an envious man, 
 
 Who endur'd not the halcyon scene, 
 When the infantine peasantry ran 
 
 And roU'd on the daisy-deok'd Green ? 
 Ah ! sure 'twas Envy's despite, 
 
 Lest Indigence tasted of bliss. 
 That sternly decreed they've no right 
 
 To innocent pleasure like this. 
 
 Tho' the youth of to-day must deplore 
 
 The rough mounds that now sadden the scene. 
 The vain stretch of Misanthropy's power. 
 
 The enclosure of Honington Green ; 
 Tet when not a green turf is left free, 
 
 When not one odd nook is left wild. 
 Will the children of Honington be 
 
 Less blest than when I was a child ? 
 
 No ! — childhood shall find the scene fair, 
 
 Then here let me cease my complaint ; 
 Still shall health be inhal'd with the air. 
 
 Which at Honington cannot be taint ; 
 And tho' Age may still talk of the Green, 
 
 Of the Heath and free Commons of yore, 
 Youth shall joy in the new-fangled scene. 
 
 And boast of that change we deplore. 
 
 Dear to me was the wild, thorny hill. 
 
 And dear the brown heath's sober scene : 
 And youth shall find happiness still, 
 
 Tho' he roves not on common or green : 
 Tho' the pressure of wealth's lordly hand 
 
 Shall give emulation no scope, 
 And tho' all the appropriate land 
 
 Shall leave Indigence nothing to hope. 
 
 So happily flexile man's make, 
 
 So pliantly docile his mind. 
 Surrounding impressions we take, 
 
 And bliss in each circumstance find ; 
 The youths of a more polish'd age 
 
 Shall not wish these rude commons to see ; 
 To the bird that's inur'd to the cage, 
 
 It would not be bliss to be free. 
 
346 THE SUFFOLK GAEL AND. 
 
 THE POPPY AND THE COEN A FABLE. 
 
 EY MISS E. KNIPE, AFTERWARDS MP.S. ELIZABETH COBBOLD. 
 
 Mrs. EHzabetli Cobbold [1767—1824] was born in London, 
 and was the daughter of Mr. Eobert Knipe, of Liverpool. 
 In 1790 she was married to William Clarke, Esq., a port- 
 man of the Borough of Ipswich, a gentleman twice her own 
 age, and became a widow within six months of her marriage. 
 It was not long, however, before she a second time entered 
 the conjugal state. John Cobbold, Esq., of the CHif Brewery, 
 Ipswich, a widower with fourteen children, was the second 
 husband. Well acquainted as she was with music, botany, 
 eonchology, and general Hterature, and possessing artistic 
 powers of no mean order, as well as the power of addressing 
 a pubHe audience, this alliance placed her at once in a position 
 congenial to her tastes and feelings, and she became the leader 
 in literary circles, the friend of artists, and the patron of in- 
 nocent amusements. For more than twenty years she shone 
 pre-eminently in the circle in which she moved, and the 
 mansions of Cliff and Holywells were hospitably opened to 
 all who belonged to the literary or artistic craft. Some 
 of her poems were published immediately after her decease, 
 but the following poem, penned when she was Miss Knipe, is 
 from the valuable collection of W. P. Hunt, Esq., and has 
 not, we believe, been previously published : — 
 
 'Twas on a sultry summer's day, 
 Where Phoebus shot his fiercest ray, 
 And drank the liquid gems of morn, 
 Amid a iield of waving corn 
 A proud, conceited Poppy grew, 
 And gloried in her vermil hue. 
 Now here, now there, her head inclin'd, 
 And wanton'd with the passing wind ; 
 Play'd off a thousand flirting airs, 
 And soorn'd the humble Barley Ears, 
 Unless when, by the breath of heaven. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 3 47 
 
 Against her stem reluctant driven, 
 
 Their deeper red inflam'd her breast, 
 
 And thus her neighbours she addrest : 
 
 " Vile miscreants, hence ! and learn to know 
 
 What duty 'tis to me you owe. 
 
 Obey with reverential awe 
 
 Your sov'reign, I, by nature's law ; 
 
 'Tis she who bids me higher tower : 
 
 Yield, then, to conscious Beauty's power ! 
 
 Do not my charms attract the eye ? 
 
 My graceful form ? my vermil dye ? 
 
 The gaudy tulip, or the rose. 
 
 Not half such splendour can disclose. 
 
 View, then, my brighter glory's blaze. 
 
 And at an awful distance gaze.'' 
 
 With virtuous warmth the Corn reply 'd : 
 
 " Vain, gaudy thing ! elate with pride. 
 
 What use have all thy boasted charms ? 
 
 Can they protect, or ward from harms 'i 
 
 Weak is thy conscious beauty's pow'r ; 
 
 The spoiler comes in fatal hour. 
 
 And tears thee from thy native bed — 
 
 Then, fading, droops thy languid head ; 
 
 No longer charming to his eye. 
 
 He throws thee unregarded by, — 
 
 In a loathsome dunghill doom'd to die. 
 
 A -widely difF'rent fate attends 
 
 Thy scorn' d, thy now neglected Friends. 
 
 For us e'en man bestows his cares. 
 
 For us the kindly soil prepares, 
 
 Protects our growth with fond concern, 
 
 And builds for us the spacious barn ; 
 
 Matur'd, we then enrich his hoard. 
 
 And grace the homely, plenteous board. 
 
 With joyful gratitude 'tis ours 
 
 To bless his gay, convivial hours. 
 
 The solid pleasures we bestow 
 
 1 by vanity can never know." 
 
 This moral truth through life we find : 
 Virtue alone can bless mankind ; 
 Without it, what is beauty's power ? 
 A. toy — the gewgaw of an hour. 
 
348 THE SUFFOLK GAKLANB. 
 
 TO SHAKSPEAKE. 
 BY CAPEL LOFFT. 
 
 Capel Lofft [1751 — 1824] was born in London, educated 
 at Eton and Cambridge, and in 1775 was called to the bar. 
 He, however, had but little practice, and after he succeeded 
 to his uncle's property at Stanton, in Suflblk, he was much 
 better known as a politician than as a barrister. He was a 
 leader among the Eeform party at county meetings. He had 
 a great love of literature, and through him Bloomfield's 
 " Farmer's Boy " was introduced to the public. 
 
 Thy name, Homer ! thine, great Shakspeare, writ 
 
 In starry characters ! — Shakspeare, whose eye 
 
 With eagle intuition, piero'd the maze 
 
 Of moral nature, gave to airy being 
 
 A local habitation and a name ; 
 
 The unresisted master of the heart, 
 
 "Whether in terror oloth'd, he shake our souls. 
 
 Strike dumb the guilty, and appal the free, 
 
 Shew Vice her proper feature, and present 
 
 All-lovely Virtue in her heavenly form ; 
 
 Or time the melting chords of sympathy. 
 
 And wake, with magic touch, the tender sense 
 
 To sweet vibrations of unutter'd joy ; 
 
 Or with creative energy, call forth 
 
 Ideal characters and worlds his own. 
 
 Endosia, Book iv. 
 
 Kirke White, having published a few sonnets in the 
 " Monthly Mirror," in the composition of which he had not 
 observed the rules of that peculiar kind of poetry, Capel Lofft 
 addressed to the youthfiil author the following elegant ad- 
 monition, which Kirke White gracefully acknowledged in a 
 sonnet, in which the hints of his kind patron were adopted. 
 
 Ye, whose aspirings court the muse of lays, 
 " Severest of those orders which belong 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLANU. 349 
 
 Distinct and separate to Delphic song," 
 "Wliy shun the sonnet's undulating maze ? 
 And why its name, hoast of Petrarohian days. 
 
 Assume, its rules disowned P whom from the throng 
 The muse selects, their ear the charm obeys 
 
 Of its full harmony ; — they fear to wrong 
 The Sonnet, by adorning with a name 
 
 Of that distinguished import, lays, though sweet, 
 
 Yet not in magic texture taught to meet 
 Of that so varied and peculiar frame. 
 0, think ! to yindicate its genuine praise 
 Those it beseems, whose lyre a favoring impulse sways. 
 
 PIOUS FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 BY MRS. BAEEAULD. 
 
 Mrs. Barbauld [1743 — 1825] was born at the village of 
 Kibworth. Harcourt, in Leicestershire. She was the eldest 
 child and only daughter of the Eev. John Aikin, LL.D., 
 a dissenting minister, who was master of an excellent 
 academy. She gave early indications of "uncommon powers 
 of mind, and in 1773 she was persuaded to publish a volume 
 of miscellaneous poems, which was so well received that four 
 editions were issued within the year. In 1774 she was 
 married to the Eev. Eochemont Barbauld, a dissenting 
 minister, who had charge of the Unitarian congregation at 
 Palgrave, in Suffolk. The newly married pair opened a school, 
 and Mrs. Barbaidd's literary fame, and her devotion to the 
 duties of instruction, soon secm-ed celebrity and success to 
 the Palgrave academy. Her "Early Lessons for Children," 
 and "Hymns in Prose," have proved invaluable manuals 
 for the young. She died at Stoke Newington, in the eighty- 
 second year of her age. 
 
 How blest the sacred tie that binds 
 
 In union sweet according minds ! 
 
 How swift the heavenly course they run. 
 
 Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one ! 
 
350 THE SUFFOLK GATILAND. 
 
 To each the soul of eaoli how dear ! 
 "What jealous love, what holy fear ! 
 How doth the generous flame within 
 Refiiie from earth and cleanse from sin ! 
 
 Their streaming tears together flow 
 For human guilt and mortal woe ; 
 Their ardent praj'ers together rise 
 Like mingling flames in sacrifice. 
 
 Together both they seek the place 
 "Where God reveals his awful face ; 
 How high, how strong, their raptures swell, 
 There's none but kindred souls can tell. 
 
 Nor shall the glowing flame expire 
 "When nature droops her sickening fire : 
 Then shall they meet in realms above, 
 A heaven of joy, because of love. 
 
 THE SUN FLOWER. 
 BY LOUD THUELOW. 
 
 Edward HoveU, the second Baron Thurlow [1781-1829], 
 was the eldest son of Thomas Thurlow, Bishop of Durham, 
 the brother of Lord Chancellor Thurlow. He was born 10th 
 of Jime, 1781, and succeeded to the dignity of Baron 
 Thurlow, of Thurlow, September, 1806, by virtue of a special 
 limitation in the patent of creation. On the 13th November, 
 1813, he married Mary Catherine Bolton, the daughter of 
 Mr. James Bolton, and many years on the Covent Garden stage, 
 and noted for having made her deliit in the character of 
 Polhj Pvachum, by whom he had three sons. He assumed 
 the name of HoveU, pursuant to royal sign manual, dated 
 July 8th, 1814 ; and died 3rd. June, 1829. He published 
 several volumes of poems. 
 
 Behold, my dear, this lofty flower. 
 
 That now the golden sun receives ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 351 
 
 No other deity has power, 
 
 But only Phoebus, on her leaves ; 
 As he in radiant glory burns. 
 From east to west her visage turns. 
 
 The dial tells no tale more true. 
 
 Than she his journal on her leaves. 
 When morn first gives him to her view. 
 
 Or night, that her of him bereaves, 
 A dismal interregnum, bids. 
 Her weeping eyes to close their lids. 
 
 Forsaken of his light, she pines 
 
 The cold, the dreary night away, 
 Till in the east the crimson signs 
 
 Betoken the great God of day ; 
 Then, lifting up her drooping face, 
 She sheds around a golden grace. 
 
 Nature, in all parts divine ! 
 
 What moral sweets her leaves disclose, 
 Then in my verse her truth shall shine. 
 
 And be immortal, as the rose, 
 Anacreon's plant ; arise, thou flower. 
 That hast fidelity thy dower ! 
 
 Apollo, on whose beams yon gaze, 
 
 Has filled my breast with golden light ; 
 
 And circled me with sacred rays. 
 To be a poet in his sight : 
 
 Then thus I give the crown to thee. 
 
 Whose impress is fidelity. 
 
 ALDBOROUGH A CENTURY AGO. 
 
 BY GEORGE CEABBE. 
 
 G-eorge Crabbe [1754-1832], wbom Byron describes as 
 "Nature's sternest painter, yet tbe best," was born at 
 Aldborough, where his father was Collector of duties on Salt, 
 the same as Gardner, the Historian, was at Dunwich. Crabbe 
 was apprenticed to a surgeon, which profession the author for 
 a time adopted. Meeting with but httle success, and having 
 
352 THE SI:FF0LK OAKLAND. 
 
 become enamoured of autliorship, he determined to seek his 
 fortune in London, where a short time starvation stared him 
 in the face. He made unsuccessful apphcations for relief to 
 Lord North, Lord Shelburne, and Lord Chancellor ThurloW) 
 biit was ultimately rescued by Edmund Burke, to whom he 
 most pathetically made known his destitute condition. By 
 the assistance of Burke, Crabbe was enable to prepare himself 
 for holy orders, and was ordained priest in 1782. He was a 
 cui-ate at Aldborough, then chaplain to the Duke of Eutland, 
 and died rector of Trowbridge, in Wiltshire. Crabbe's poem 
 of "The Library," was published in 1781, and his " Tales of 
 the Hall," his last publication, in 1819. For these Tales 
 and the copyright of his previous works, Mr. Murray gave 
 the poet the sum of three thomand jpoimcls. 
 
 Lo ! where the heath, with withering hrake grown o'er, 
 Lends the light turf that warms the neighbouring poor ; 
 From thence a length of baruiiig sand appears, 
 "SVhere the thin harvest waves its withered ears ; 
 liaulc weeds, that every art and care defy, 
 Pbeign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye; 
 There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar. 
 And to the ragged infant threaten war. 
 There poppies, nodding, mock the hope of toil. 
 There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; 
 Hardy and high above the slender sheaf. 
 The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf ; 
 O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade. 
 And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade ; 
 With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, 
 And a sad splendour vainly shines around. 
 
 So looks the nymph whom wretched arts adorn. 
 Betrayed by man, then left for man to scorn ; 
 Whose cheek in vain assumes the mimic rose. 
 While her sad eyes the troubled breast disclose ; 
 Whose outward splendour is but folly's dress. 
 Exposing most, when most it gilds distress. 
 
 Here, joyless roam a wild amphibious race, 
 With sullen woe displayed in every face ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 353 
 
 Who far from civil arts and social fly, 
 And scowl at strangers with suspicious eye. 
 
 Here, too, the lawless merchant of the main. 
 Draws from his plough the intoxicated swain ; 
 Want only claimed the lahour of the day, 
 But vice now steals his nightly rest away. 
 
 Where are the swains, who, daily labor done. 
 With rural games played down the setting san ; 
 Who struck with matchless force the hounding ball. 
 Or made the pond'rous quoit obliquely fall ; 
 While some huge Ajax, terrible and strong 
 Engaged some artful stripling of the throng. 
 And fell beneath him, foiled, while far around 
 Hoarse triumph rose, and rocks returned the sound ? 
 Where now are these ? Beneath yon cliff they stand. 
 To show the freighted pinnace where to land ; 
 To load the ready steed with guilty haste. 
 To fly in terror o'er the pathless waste. 
 Or, when detected in their straggling course, 
 To foil their foes by cunning or by force ; 
 Or yielding part (which equal knaves demand) 
 To gain a lawless passport through the land. 
 
 Here, wandering long 'amid these frowning fields, 
 I sought the simple life that Nature yields ; 
 Kapine and wrong, and fear usurped her place 
 And a bold, artful, surly, savage race, 
 Who, only skilled to take the finny tribe, 
 The yearly dinner, or septennial bribe, 
 Wait on the shore, and as the waves run high. 
 On the tossed vessel bend their eager eye. 
 Which to their coast direct its venturous way, 
 Theirs or the ocean's miserable prey. 
 
 As on their neighbouring beach yon swallow stand, 
 And wait for favouring winds to leave the land ; 
 While still for flight the ready wing is spread. 
 So waited I the favouring hour and fled, 
 Fled from the shores where guilt and famine reign. 
 And cried, ah ! hapless they who still remain ! — 
 Who still remain to hear the ocean roar. 
 
354 THE SUFFOLK GAKLANU. 
 
 Whose greedy waves devour tlie lessening shore. 
 Till some fierce tide, with more imperious sway, 
 Sweeps the low hut and all it holds away ; 
 When the sad tenant weeps from door to door, 
 And begs a poor protection fr'om the poor ! 
 
 THE AUTHOR EECTOE.* 
 
 " Then came the Author-rector : his delight 
 Was all in hooks, to read them, or to write ; 
 Women and men he strove alike to shun. 
 And hurried homeward when his tasks were done : 
 Courteous enough, but careless what he said, 
 For points of learning he reserved his head, 
 And when addressing either poor or rich 
 He knew no better than his cassock which ; 
 He like an osier was of pliant kind 
 Erect by nature, but to bend inclined, 
 Not like a creeper, falling to the ground. 
 Or meanly catching on the neighboui-s round : — 
 Careless was he of surplice, hood, and baud, 
 And kindly took them as they came to hand ; 
 Nor, like the doctor, wore a world of hat. 
 As if he sought for dignity in that ; 
 He talk'd, he gave, but not with cautious rules. 
 Nor turned from gipsies, vagabonds, or fools ; 
 It was his nature, but they thought it whim, 
 And so our beaux and beauties turned from him." 
 
 THE VILLAGE. 
 
 WKITTEN TJPOM THE EOOKERY HILL, AT T0XFO];D. 
 
 BY JAMES BIKD. 
 
 James Bii-d [1788 — 1839], the Yoxford poet, as he Avas 
 familiarly called, was born at Earl Stonham, and was 
 apprenticed to a miller ; and about 1814 embarked in busi- 
 ness as a miller at Yoxford, where he continued to reside 
 until his death. In 1816 he married Emma, the daughter of 
 
 *" The Author-rector," says liis sou, "is in all jioints the similitude of 
 Mr. Crahhe himself, except in the subject of his lucubrations. " 
 
TIJE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 355 
 
 Mr. Hardacre, bookseller, of Hadlelgh. ; and, reHnquisliiug 
 the " Mills," he cominenoed business as a bookseller and 
 druggist. In 1819 he published "The Vale of Slaiighden," 
 an historical poem ; and this was followed by many others. 
 His good social disposition, and strong literary tastes, 
 endeared him to a large circle of acquaintances ; but his 
 constitution, ever delicate, was undermined by pulmonary 
 disease ; and he died on the 26th March, 1839. 
 
 'Tis niglit — tke weary world is still 
 
 Forgotten and alone ; 
 I muse, upon the wooded hill, 
 
 Beneath the summer moon. 
 That seems as though she smiled more bright, 
 WhUe listening to the bird of night ! 
 
 Beside me sweeps the spreading glade ; 
 
 Around me spring the flowers ; 
 And far below, amid the shade 
 
 Of happy green wood bowers, 
 All bright beneath the spangled skies, 
 My loved and lovely village lies. 
 
 There many a high aspiring dome 
 
 And lowly cot is seen ; 
 There many a glad and peaceful home. 
 
 Where pride nor care has been — 
 Where hearts are undisturbed by strife. 
 Unruffled on the sea of life. 
 
 And yet, perchance, of all who now 
 
 Rest there, enchained by sleep. 
 Some wretch may wake with throbbing brow, 
 
 And eyes unclosed, to weep : 
 Whose heart within its blighted core, 
 May feel the glow of hope no more ! 
 
 Oh ! in a spot so fair as this. 
 
 Which Nature's heavenly hand 
 Has painted for her bower of bliss. 
 
 Her Eden of the land ; 
 In this fair spot life's stream should glide, 
 Oae sweet, unchanged, unbroken tide. 
 
356 THE SUFFOLK GAKLAND. 
 
 Dear, peaceful village ! though, from thee 
 My thoughts are wont to roam 
 
 To distant scenes o'er earth and sea, 
 Thou only art my home ; 
 
 In thee alone my treasure lies — 
 
 My all of joy beneath the skies ! 
 
 Here, here alone, I feel the spell. 
 
 All earthly spells above ; 
 Oh ! here my friends, my children dwell, 
 
 Here smiles my own true love ! 
 Vain world ! I would not change this spot 
 For all thou hast and I have not. 
 
 Now sleep, the beauteous landscape fades 
 
 Beneath the waning moon ; 
 And I forsake these lovely glades 
 
 To seek my home alone ; 
 Still, still the scene shows fair and bright — 
 Thou Village of my heart ! Good night ! 
 
 woman's tongue. 
 
 Sweet woman's tongue ! I love to hear its chime 
 That drowns the heavier iron tongue of time ! 
 Uich in its tones, and varied in its power. 
 Its accents falling like an April shower 
 Upon the snowdrops of man's heart, to cheer, 
 Wai-m, soften, cherish, animate, endear ! 
 
 RURAL VIEW OF SUFFOLIC. 
 
 Health smiles around thy richly wooded dales. 
 
 Luxuriant uplands, and refreshing vales ; 
 
 Thy fields are like a fairy garden, wide. 
 
 Where art and nature are so close allied. 
 
 Their happy union has subdued the wild : 
 
 Their home is here, and beauty is their child ! 
 
 Fair district ! where I drew my natal breath. 
 
 Awoke to life, and hope to sleep in death — 
 
 Where I have seen, and loved to see, green nooks. 
 
 Have heard, and joyed to hear, thy murmuring brooks- 
 
 Where I beheld, and gladdened to behold. 
 
 Lime, elm, ash, beech, and towering oaks of old — 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 357 
 
 Where I have felt sink in my heart the beams 
 Of the bright snn, that glowed on hills and streams ; 
 Fain would I hope, in honour of my theme, 
 This dream of loveliness no fiotious dream ! 
 
 WOMAN S HEART. 
 
 That hallowed sphere, a woman's heart, contains 
 Empires of feeling, and the rich domains 
 Where love, disporting in his sunniest hours. 
 Breathes his sweet incense o'er ambrosial flowers ; 
 A woman's heart ! — that gem, divinely set 
 In native gold — that peerless amulet, 
 Which, firmly linked to love's electric chain, 
 Connects the worlds of transport and of pain ! 
 
 THE SITE OF DUNWICH. 
 
 "UTiere the lone cliff uproars its rugged head. 
 Where frowns the ruin o'er the silent dead. 
 Where sweeps the billow on the lonely shore, 
 Where once the mighty lived, but live no more ; 
 Where proudly frowned the convent's massy wall, 
 Where rose the gothio tower, the stately hall. 
 Where bards proclaimed, and warriors shared the feast. 
 Where ruled the baron, and where knelt the priest, — ■ 
 There stood the city in its pride — 'tis gone ! 
 Mocked at by crumbling pile, and mouldering stone. 
 And shapeless masses which the reckless power 
 Of time hath hurled from ruined arch and tower ! 
 O'er the lone spot, where shrines and pillared halls 
 Once gorgeous shone, the clammy lizard crawls ; 
 O'er the lone spot, where yawned the guarded fosse. 
 Creeps the wild bramble, and the spreading moss : 
 Oh ! time hath bowed that lordly city's brow, 
 In which the mighty dwelt — where dwell they now ? 
 
 WOMAN S FAITH. 
 
 Oh ! loved and loveliest of creation's forms. 
 Devoted woman ! — when distracting storms 
 Tumultuous sweep o'er man's ambitious breast, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Thy love can oharm his troubled soul to rest, 
 And, like a sun-beam on the tempest's gloom, 
 Shed light and beauty o'er his darkest doom ! 
 "While man, still varying with the varying hour, 
 Flits, like the restless bee, from flower to flower. 
 Thy faith remains — upon thy breast alone 
 Eternal love hath fixed his certain throne ! 
 Thou art man's changeless comforter — his all — 
 His hope — his heaven — although his earliest fall ! 
 Oh ! when thy fair, but rash and erring hand. 
 In Eden dared to break the dread command. 
 Then Adam, doubtless, from that fatal tree. 
 Deemed ruin welcome, since it came by thee ! 
 
 TO THE SWALLOW. 
 BY MES. FORD. 
 
 Listitia Jermyn [1788 — 1848] second daughter of Mr. 
 George Jermyn, at an early age evinced a taste for poetry 
 and general literature, and her graceful writings appeared in 
 many periodicals of the day. She was born at Ipswich, 
 October 8, 1788, and was married in 1830 to the Eev. James 
 Ford, Fellow of Trinity CoUege, Oxon, and vicar of Nave- 
 stock, whose topographical and antiquarian researches she 
 materially aided during an engagement of twenty years, and 
 to whose well-stored mind he constantly referred in all his 
 literary pm-suits. Possessing unusual conversational powers 
 and sparkling wit, combined with a lively manner and great 
 personal attractions, she was an ornament to the society in 
 which she moved. Her love of natm-e led her to the study of 
 Entomology. She published, in 1827, the " Butterfly Col- 
 lector's Yade-Mecum," dedicated to the Eev. William Kirby. 
 She was a good botanist, and a knowledge of conchology 
 also ranked among her many attainments. She died 
 at the Yicarage, Navostock, after a short illness, July 15, 
 ISIS. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAra. VND. 359 
 
 ' The sxDallow is one of wy favourite birds." — S.VLiroxiA. 
 
 Oh, swift-wing'd bird of sunny skies 
 And gentle zephyrs, how I prize, 
 Lov'd, vagrant swallow, thy return 
 From thy far distant long sojourn ! 
 Thou rival of the nightingale. 
 That sweetly throngs the dewy vale. 
 Pours her rich melody along, 
 And trills her softly plaintive song ; 
 As she mine ear, thou gladd'st mine eye, 
 In graceful curves now sweeping by ; 
 Now lightly skimming o'er the pool. 
 Shaded by alders, dank and cool, 
 Now dashing with quick flash away. 
 Like some bright meteor, now at play 
 In the warm sunbeams gaily glancing, 
 The beauty of each scene enhancing. 
 Oh, harbinger of summer hours, 
 Of balmy airs, and fragrant flow'rs ; 
 Oh, joyous prophet of the year. 
 To me thou ever shall be dear, 
 'Midst nature's loveliest forms, thy life, 
 Oh, happy bird, midst pleasures rife. 
 With mingled sweets of hue and scent. 
 Beneath the azure vault is spent. 
 To thee stern winter is unknown ; 
 Thou then to other climes art flown. 
 "When autiimn dons her russet hue, 
 To England's meads thou bid'st adieu. 
 And to Italia's regions bright, 
 And orange groves directs thy iiight. 
 Delighted there at wiU to roam, 
 Or make new myrtle bow'rs thy home ; 
 Or, travelling on to farther lands, 
 'Midst Afric's palms and burning sands. 
 Pursuing still with untir'd wing 
 And instinct true, thy wandering. 
 Where'er thou art, whate'er the clime, 
 Beauteous, though transient, is thy time, 
 like the ephemera— thy prey— 
 
360 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Whose life is scarce one joyous day ; 
 How, taught of heaven thy course to bend, 
 And, at appointed seasons, wend 
 From shore to shore, from year to year, 
 Thou sacred bird, com'st duly here — 
 Com'st with bright summer in thy train. 
 To charm and welcome us again. 
 
 THE SKYLARK. 
 " Of cdl birds I should like to he a larlc'.' — WAsniNGTON Irving. 
 
 Of all the joyous birds that fly 
 
 Through the mild blue of summer's sky. 
 
 None like the lark so charms my sight, 
 
 None seems so happy, free, and light ! 
 
 He revels in morn's earliest prime, 
 
 Luxuriates in day's brightest time ; 
 
 In the year's blythest season, too. 
 
 He comes his pleasures to renew. 
 
 Prom the fresh meads, and opening flowers. 
 
 All fragrant with the dewy showers. 
 
 Sated with sweets, from earth he springs, 
 
 His upward flight to heaven he wings ; 
 
 Soaring aloft to greet on high 
 
 The morning stars with melody. 
 
 Hark to that note, so loud and clear. 
 
 How it comes trilling on the ear ! 
 
 Now like a stream, the gushing song. 
 
 Note over note, it flows along ; 
 
 Never tiring, never palling. 
 
 In soft, delicious cadence falling. 
 
 Oh ! who for operas would care. 
 
 Or concerts, that can freely share. 
 
 As through the verdant field he strays. 
 
 The music of the lark's sweet lays P 
 
 Oft, as I mark his vocal rise, 
 
 I wish, like him, to mount the skies ; 
 
 And think, while listening to his glee, 
 
 " I of all birds a lark would be ! " 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 361 
 
 TO A VERY YOUNG HOUSEWIFE. 
 EY BEENAKD BARTON". 
 
 Bernard Barton [1784-1849], the Quaker Poet, was torn 
 in London. His father and mother were members of the 
 Society of Friends. After an apprenticeship at Halstead, 
 in Essex, he in 1806 entered into partnership with Mr. 
 Jesup, of Woodbridge, as a corn and coal merchant, and 
 the year after married the sister of his partner ; but she died 
 twelve months after marriage in giving birth to a daughter, 
 who became a solace to her father untd his death. In 1810 
 he accepted an engagement as clerk in the bank of Messrs. 
 Alexanders and Co., in which office he remained untd. the 
 day of his death. He published many volumes of poems, but 
 the title of one of them would most aptly describe the whole 
 — " Household Verses." They did not win for him a lofty 
 niche in the Temple of Fame, but they made for him a home 
 in many hearts. In 1846, Sir Robert Peel recommended the 
 " Quaker Poet " to the Queen, as a fit subject for an annual 
 pension of £100, and Bernard Barton gratefully accepted the 
 boon. He died February 19th, 1849. 
 
 To write a book of Houseliold song 
 
 Without one verse to thee. 
 Whom I have known and loved so long, 
 
 Were all unworthy me. 
 
 Have I not seen thy needle plied 
 
 With as much ready glee 
 As if it were thy greatest pride 
 
 A sempstress famed to he ? 
 
 Have I not ate pies, puddings, tarts, 
 And bread thy hands had kneaded, 
 
 All excellent — as if those arts 
 Were all that thou hast heeded ? 
 
362 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Have I not seen thy cheerful smile 
 And heard thy voice as gay 
 
 As if such household the while 
 To thee were sport and play. 
 
 Yet can thy penqjl copy well 
 Landscape, or flowers, or face ; 
 
 And thou canst waken music's spell 
 With simple, natural grace 
 
 Thus variously to play thy part. 
 
 Before thy teens are spent, 
 Honours far more thy head and heart 
 Than mere accomplishment. 
 
 So wear the wreath thou well has won, 
 
 And be it understood, 
 I framed it nor in idle fun 
 
 For girlish womanhood ; 
 
 But in it may a lesson lurk, 
 Worth teaching now-a-days. 
 
 That girls may do all household work 
 Nor lose a'poet's praise. 
 
 WINTER EVENING DITTY, FOR A LITTLE GIRL. * 
 
 'lis dark and cold abroad, my love, but warm and bright within, 
 So ransack o'er thy treasured store, and evening's sports begin ; 
 The playthings, what an endless list ! thy dolls, both great and small ; 
 Empty thy Lilliputian hoard, and let us see them all. 
 
 * This and the preceding poem to " A Very Young Housewife," referred to 
 Miss Emma Knight, the daughter of a long-tried and much esteemed friend 
 of the Poet. This dear child he petted almost as much as his own, presents 
 being a favourite mode of manifesting his esteem, and when she grew to 
 womanhood he frt'i^^uently employed her in making fair manuscript copies of 
 his verses, as he ofttimes had apjilications for more copies than he covild find 
 time to make. His letters to her were generally addressed to " Dear Puck,'' 
 or "My dear Puck." In 1833, writing to her on her birth-day, he says, 
 " As thou art now grown so great a girl [she was then fourteen years old] as 
 to be likely to go out to tea now and then with dear mamma, it has oceurrfd 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARL.VND. 363 
 
 There's not a king who wears a crown, nor miser hoarding pelf, 
 More absolute and rich than thou, my little sportive elf; 
 Those dolls thy docile subjects are, that footstool is thy throne, 
 And all the wealth which mammon boasts is worthless to thy own. 
 
 Or must it be a living thing to please thy fancy now, 
 There's puss, although she looks so grave, as fond 6f play as thou ; 
 Who patiently submits to sports which common cats would tire, 
 Contented, if she can but keep her post beside the fire. 
 
 She quietly consents to be in baby garments drest, 
 
 Or, in thy little cradle rook'd, as quietly will rest ; 
 
 I know not which most happy seems, when mirthful is your air, 
 
 Nor could I find a puck, or puss, with either to compare. 
 
 But if a graver mood be thine— with needle and with thread — 
 When sport grows dull, e'en give it o'er, and play at work instead ; 
 Yet much I doubt, though sage thy look, and busy as a bee. 
 Whether that fit of sempstresship will long suppress thy glee. 
 
 But hark ! I hear the curfew-bell— thy little eyes grow dim ; 
 Put by thy work, dolls, toys, and all, and say thy evening hymn : 
 'lis said ! now bid us all farewell ; kiss dear mamma — and then 
 Sweet sleep and pleasant dreams be thine till morning dawn again. 
 
 to me whether a little portable workbox, just large enough to carry a pretty 
 piece of work, and a few needful implements with them at such times, might 
 not be the fittest trifle I could think of to mark my affectionate interest in 
 thy returned birthday. " In a letter of a later date, accompanyiug a present 
 of a piece for a gown : "It is not, however, by any such slight and perishable 
 memorials that I could wish thee to estimate my afl'eotionate interest in thy 
 welfare. That, my dear friend, bears date before gowns formed part of thy 
 wardrobe, and will I hope and trust outlast the wear and tear of the present 
 and many more." 
 
 Of the latter poem, he wrote to Mrs. Knight soon after he had penned 
 it: "A piece wTiich I have written since thy leaving home is a grand 
 favourite of mine for its delectable childishness. I defy Wordsworth to go 
 beyond it in its tone of nursery simplicity. It is a ' Wiutur Evening's 
 Ditty,' about little Puck, her dolls and her playthings, and puss in the 
 cradle, and her notability and sempstresship, and her evening hymn, etc. 
 They said at first I dared not print it, but I most assuredly will, for I am 
 more inclined to be proud of it than of anything I ever wrotr." 
 
364 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Thou should'st not to the grave descend 
 
 Unmoiirned, iinhonor'd and unsung ; 
 Could harp of mine record thy end, 
 
 For thee that rude harp should be strung, 
 And plaintive notes as ever rung 
 
 Should all its simple strings employ. 
 Lamenting unto old and young 
 
 The bard who sung the Farmer's Boy. 
 
 The Harvest Home's rejoicing cup 
 
 Should pause when that sad note was heard, 
 The Widoiv turn her Hour e/lass up, 
 
 "With tenderest feelings newly stirr'd ; 
 And many a pity-waken'd word, 
 
 And sighs that speak when language fails. 
 Should prove thy simple strains preferr'd 
 
 To prouder poets' lofty tales. 
 
 Circling the Old Oah Table round, 
 
 Whose moral worth thy measure owns, 
 Heroes and heroines yet are found. 
 
 Like Ahner and the JVidow Jones ; 
 There Gilbert lleldrum's sterner tones 
 
 In virtue's cause are bold and free. 
 And ev'n the patient sufferer's moans 
 
 In paia and sorrow plead for thee. 
 
 Nor thus beneath the straw-roof d cot 
 
 Alone, should thoughts of thee pervade, 
 Hearts which confess thee, unforgot, 
 
 On heathy hill, in grassy glade ; 
 In many a spot by thee array 'd 
 
 With hues of thought, with fancy's gleam, 
 Thy memory lives — in Euston's shade. 
 
 By Barnham Water's shadeless stream. 
 
 And long may guileless hearts preserve 
 
 Thy memory, and its tablets be ; 
 While nature's healthy power shall nerve 
 
 The arm of labour toiling free : 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 365 
 
 While childhood's innocence and glee, 
 
 With green old age enjoyment share, 
 Richards and Kates shall tell of thee, 
 
 Walters and Janes thy name declare. 
 
 How wise, how nohle was thy choice, 
 
 To be the bard of simple swains. 
 In all their pleasures to rejoice, 
 
 And soothe with sympathy their pains ; 
 To sing with feeling in thy strains 
 
 The simple subjects they discuss. 
 And be, though free from classic chains. 
 
 Our own more chaste Theocritus ! 
 
 THE VALLEY OF FEKN. * 
 
 There is a lone valley, few charms can it number 
 Compared with the lovely glens north of the Tweed ; 
 
 No mountains enclose it, where morning mists slumber, 
 And it never has echoed the shepherd's soft reed : 
 
 No streamlet of crystal, its rocky banks laving. 
 Flows through it, delighting the ear and the eye, 
 
 * Bernard Barton, writing to Mrs. Knight, in 1826, says, " I have received 
 tliis morning a letter from Capel LofTt, from which I extract the following, 
 thinking that however extravagant it may be as applied to the poetry of the 
 ' Valley of Fern,' it will please yoa to find the tribute paid to our favourite 
 spot has excited some attention. 
 
 ' ' ' "We have read with pleasure your verses on Felixstow, but with peculiar 
 delight that calm, and soothing, and soul-elevating poem, "The Valley of 
 Fern ." I cannot but wish to know to what particular spot your muse attaches 
 this pure spirit of immortality. I wish to give to this airy being a local 
 habitation and a name — pure, touching, sublime — this is poetry.' " 
 
 We can fortunately give this lonely spot a local habitation . In reply to a 
 question, Mrs. Knight thus wrote me, a few years prior to her decease : 
 " ' The Valley of Fern ' is a, beautiful little wild, sequestered spot, lying on 
 the left of the high-road leading to Melton, and behind what is called Leeks 
 hill, never noticed, I dare say, until the Poet immortalized it. I well 
 remember going through it, for the first time, one summer day, with him 
 and my two sisters, and enjoying its romantic stillness. The next day he 
 brought in the first part of the poem and read it to us, when we suggested a 
 few verbal alterations, which he readily responded to, and from that day it 
 was an adopted pet with us. 1 think this was in 1816 or 1817. We trio of 
 
3G6 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 On its side no proud forests, their foliage waviag, 
 
 I\[eet the gales of the autuma or summer wind's sigh. 
 
 Yet by me it is prized, and full dearljr I love it. 
 And oft my steps thither I pensively turn ; 
 
 It has silence within, heaven's proud arch above it. 
 And my fancy has named it the Valley of Fern. 
 
 Oh deep the repose which its calm recess giveth, 
 
 And no music can equal its silence to me ; 
 When broken 'tis only to prove something liveth, 
 
 By the note of the sky-lark or hum of the bee. 
 On its sides the green fern to the breeze gently bending, 
 
 With a few stunted trees, meet the wandering eye ; 
 Or the furze and the broom theirbright blossoms extending, 
 
 With the braken's soft verdure delightfully vie ; 
 These are all it can boast, yet, when fancy is dreaming. 
 
 Her visions, which poets can only discern, 
 Come crowding around, in unearthly light beaming, 
 
 And invest with bright beauty the Valley of Fern. 
 
 Sweet valley, in seasons of grief and dejection, 
 
 I have sought in thy bosom a shelter from care, 
 And have found in my musings a bond of connexion 
 
 With thy landscape so peaceful and all that was there : 
 In the verdure that soothed, in the flowers that brightea'd, 
 
 In the blackbird's soft note, in the hum of the bee, 
 I found something that lulled and insensibly lighten'd, 
 
 And felt grateful and tranquil while gazing on thee. 
 Yes, moments there are when mute nature is willing 
 
 To teaoh, would proud man but be humble and learn. 
 When her sights and her sounds on the heart-strings are thrilling. 
 
 And this I have felt in the Valley of Fern. 
 
 For the bright chain of being, though widely extended, 
 
 Unites all its parts in one beautiful whole. 
 In which grandeur and grace are enchantingly blended, 
 
 Of which God is the centre, the light, and the soul. 
 
 sisters were veiy frequently his compauions in rural walks, at which time I 
 was engaged to my gentle and gifted cousin, James Knight. 
 
 " B. B. very frequently allowed us to exercise a censorship on minor points 
 in his poems, professing himself no disciple of Lindley Murray, while my 
 sisters had been thoroughly trained into the observance of his rules. In after 
 years, we mostly read over his proof sheets as they came from the publislicrs. " 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 367 
 
 And holy the hope is, and sweet the sensation, 
 
 Which this feeling of union in solitude brings ; 
 It gives silence a voice, and to calm contemplation. 
 
 Unseals the pure fountain whence happiness springs. 
 Then Nature, most loved in her loneliest recesses. 
 
 Unveils her fair features, and softens her stern, 
 And spreads, like that Being who bounteously blesses, 
 
 Por her votary a feast in the Valley of Fern. 
 
 And at times in its confines com.panionles3 straying. 
 
 Pure thoughts, born in stillness, have pass'd through my mind ; 
 And the spirit within, their blest impulse obeying. 
 
 Has soar'd from this world on the wings of the wind. 
 The pure sky above, and the still scene around me, 
 
 To the eye which survey'd them no clear image brought ; 
 But my soul seemed entranced in the vision which bound me. 
 
 As by magical spell, to the beings of thought. 
 And to Him, their dread Author, the fountain of feelings, 
 
 I have bow'd while my heart seem'd within me to burn. 
 And my spirit contrited, for mercy appealing, 
 
 Has call'd on His name in the Valley of Fern. 
 
 Farewell, lovely valley ; when earth's silent bosom 
 
 Shall hold him who loves thee, thy beauties may live. 
 And thy turf's em'rald tints, and thy broom's yellow blossom. 
 
 Unto loiterers like him soothing pleasures may give. 
 As brightly may morning, thy graces investing 
 
 With life and with light, wake thy inmates from sleep ; 
 And as softly the moon, in still loveliness resting. 
 
 To gaze on its charms, thy lone landscape may steep. 
 Then should friend of the Bard who hath paid with his praises 
 
 The pleasure thou'st yielded e'er seek thy sojourn, 
 Should one tear for his sake fill the eye while it gazes. 
 
 It may fall unreproved in the Valley of Fern. 
 
 THE DYING CHILD. 
 " What should it Tcnow of death ? " — wokdsworth. 
 
 BY GEOEGE WILLIAM FULOHEK. 
 
 Greorge William Fulcher [1795-1855] was for many years 
 a bookseller at Sudbury, and the author of " The Village 
 Paupers," in addition to many miscellaneous poems, one of 
 
368 THE SUFFOLK GARLANB. 
 
 which, " The Dying Child," the world Avill not mllingly 
 let die. lie was the author of " The Life of Grainsborough," 
 and of several pamphlets. Of the " Sudbmy Pocket 
 Book," which he started in the year 1825, he was for 
 many years the editor. As one of the guardians of the 
 Sudbmy Union, as well as a magistrate of the Borough, Mr. 
 Fulcher was highly respected, and on more than one occasion 
 was elected as mayor of the town in which he so long resided. 
 He died suddenly of disease of the heart, on June 19th, 
 1855. 
 
 Come closer, closer, dear mamma, 
 
 My heart is filled with fears, 
 My eyes are dark, I hear your sobs. 
 
 But cannot see your tears. 
 
 I feel your warm breath on my lips 
 
 That are so icy cold ; 
 Come closer, closer, dear mamma. 
 
 Give me your hand to hold. 
 
 I qaite forget my little hymn — 
 
 " How doth the busy bee," 
 Which every day I used to say 
 
 When sitting on your knee. 
 
 Nor can I recollect my prayers, 
 
 And, dear mamma, you know 
 That the great God will angry be. 
 
 If I forget them too. 
 
 And dear papa, when he comes home. 
 
 Oh, will he not be vex'd ? 
 " Give us this day our daily bread " — 
 
 What is it that comes next ? 
 
 " Thine is the kingdom and the power ; " 
 
 I cannot think of more : 
 It comes and goes away so quick. 
 
 It never did before. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 369 
 
 Hush, darling ! you are going to 
 
 The hright and blessed sky, 
 Where all Grod's holy children go 
 
 To live with him on high. 
 
 But will he love me, dear mamma, 
 
 As tenderly as you P 
 And will my own papa, one day. 
 
 Come and live with me too ? 
 
 But you must first lay me to sleep 
 
 Where grandpapa is laid ; 
 Is not the churchyard cold and dark, 
 
 And shan't I feel afraid ? 
 
 And will you every evening come 
 
 And say my pretty prayer 
 Over poor Lucy's little grave. 
 
 And see that no one's there ? 
 
 And promise me whene'er you die 
 
 That they your grave shall make 
 The next to mine, that I may be 
 
 Close to you when I wake. 
 
 Nay, do not leave me, dear mamma. 
 
 Tour watch beside me keep, 
 My heart feels cold— the room's all dark. 
 
 Now lay me down to sleep. 
 
 And should I sleep to wake no more, 
 
 Dear, dear mamma, good bye ; 
 Poor nurse is kind, but oh, do you 
 
 Be with me when I die ! 
 
 THE STEPMOTHER. 
 
 ' She saw me weep, and asked in high disdain 
 If tears would bring my mother back again ? ' 
 
 Well, I will try and love her then. 
 
 But do not ask me yet ; 
 You know my own dear dead mamma 
 
 I never must forget. 
 
370 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Don't Tou remember, dear papa, 
 The night before she died. 
 
 You carried me into her room ? 
 How bitterly I cried ! 
 
 Her thin white fingers on my head 
 
 So earnestly she laid, 
 And her sunk eyes gleamed fearfully, — 
 
 I felt almost afraid ; — 
 
 You lifted me upon the bed 
 To kiss her pale, cold cheek. 
 
 And something rattled in her throat, 
 I scarce could hear her speak ; 
 
 But she did whisper — " When I'm gone 
 For ever from your sight, 
 
 And others have forgotten me. 
 Don't you forget me quite." 
 
 And often in my dreams I feel 
 Her hand upon my head, 
 
 And see her sunken eyes as plain 
 As if she were not dead. 
 
 I hear her feeble, well-known voice 
 Amidst the silent night, 
 
 Repeat her dying words again — 
 " Don't you forget me quite." 
 
 It sometimes wakes me, and I think 
 
 I'll run into her room. 
 And then I weep to recollect 
 
 She's sleeping in the tomb. 
 
 I miss her in our garden walks. 
 At morn and ev'ning prayer. 
 
 At church, at play, at home, abroad,— 
 I miss her everywhere : — 
 
 But most of all I miss her when 
 The pleasant daylight's fled, 
 
 And strangers draw the curtains roiind 
 My lonely little bed ! 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 371 
 
 For no one comes to kiss me now, 
 
 Nor bid poor Anne, " Good night," 
 Nor hear me say my pretty hymn — 
 
 I shall forget it quite ! 
 
 They tell me this mamma is rich, 
 
 And beautiful, and iine. 
 But will she love you, dear papa. 
 
 More tenderly than mine ? 
 
 And will she, when the fever comes 
 
 With its bewildering pain, 
 Watch night by night your restless couch 
 
 Till you are well again ? 
 
 When first she sung your fav'rite song — 
 
 " Come to the sunset tree," 
 Which my poor mother used to sing 
 
 With me upon her knee, 
 
 I saw you turn your head away, 
 
 I saw your eyes were wet ; 
 'Midst all our glittering company 
 
 Tou do not quite forget ! 
 
 But must you never wear again 
 
 The ring poor mother gave ? 
 Will it be long before the grass 
 
 Is green upon her grave ? 
 
 He turn'd him from that gentle child. 
 
 His eyes with tears were dim. 
 At thought of the undying love 
 
 Her mother bore to him. 
 
 He met his gay, his beauteous bride, 
 
 With spirits low and weak. 
 And miss'd the kind, consoling words 
 
 The dead was wont to speak. 
 
 Long years roU'd on, but hope's gay flowers 
 
 Blossom'd for him in vain ; 
 The freshness of life's morning hours 
 
 Never returned again. 
 
372 THE SUFFOLK GARLAKD. 
 
 THE outlaw's wife TO HER HUSBAND. 
 BY LUCY EMILY PEATT. 
 
 Mrs. Pratt, of Sudbury (formerly Luoy Emily Fuloker), 
 was born April 27th, 1825. She was the eldest daughter of 
 Mr. G-. W. Fulcher, the editor of the " Sudbury Pocket 
 Book," and was, during her maiden and married life, a 
 frequent contributor to that periodical. She was married 
 to Mr. Henry Spooner Pratt, in 1848, and died January 
 2nd, 1851 
 
 " Urge me no more, I could not bear 
 Thee to go forth alone ; 
 Thou wert indeed an exile there, 
 A hopeless, friendless one. 
 
 " I -will go with thee ; I have weighed 
 The dangers that betide, 
 And I am sure my safest place 
 Is by my husband's side. 
 
 " And there are other lands as bright, 
 And other skies as fair, 
 Where yet thou mayest dwell in peace, 
 Although an outlaw there. 
 
 " Ouxlaw ! I had not thought to hear 
 That linked with thy name ; 
 Yet, dearest, it can never be 
 To thee the brand of shame. 
 
 " There is no crime upon thy head, 
 No guilt upon thy brow ; 
 I still may honour while I love : 
 Then could I leave thee now ? 
 
 "My kindred, friends, what could they be 
 When thou wert gone, to me ? 
 I quit my native land — but oh ! 
 My home is aye with thee.'' 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 373 
 
 THE OLD FOUNDRY. 
 
 BY MKS. BIDDELL. 
 
 The furnace fires are out, the lathes are still, 
 The engine pufis its fiery breath no more ; 
 
 No longer now is heard the groaning mill, 
 No busy feet are tramping on the floor. 
 
 Some threescore years ago, an anxious man 
 Beside that furnace took his earnest stand. 
 
 Marking the fiery fiood, when first it ran, 
 Flaming and sparlding o'er the sabled sand, 
 
 From its hot prison to its destined mould ; 
 
 And from his bosom burst the father's prayer, 
 That he might prosper, and his sons behold. 
 And share the fortunes which he founded there. 
 
 His was a hopeful spirit — he had felt 
 
 The bitter pangs of unrequited care ; 
 Like his own metal, though his heart might melt, 
 
 'Twas but a brighter, better form to wear. 
 
 He lived to pro''e how industry may tread 
 A height proud indolence may never claim ; 
 
 His sons have prospered, as their father sped. 
 And far and wide resounds that father's name. 
 
 For sixty years those furnace fires were glowing ; 
 
 The old man sleeps — his children's children now 
 Set on another spot their engines going, 
 
 A cloudy coronet on Orwell's brow. 
 
 Yet ere those fires were quenched, the iron tower. 
 Begirt by dusky forms, or pensive band, 
 
 Saw its last stream the ancient furnace pour. 
 And the last ploughshare glittered in the sand. 
 
 Silent and sad, they saw the metal gleam, 
 
 The " melting mood " their simple hearts confessed. 
 
 Some tear-drops hallowed that last parting stream, 
 And transient sorrow touched his rugged breast. 
 
374 THE SUFFOLK GAULAND. 
 
 Old Foundry ! I have known thee long and well, 
 And childhood's memories haunt thy blacken'd walls, 
 
 Hark to the sound I it is thy passing hell : 
 How many a thought its iron tongue recalls 
 
 Of thee and thine ; thy curfew notes have pealed. 
 Thy fires are out, and silence reigns alone. 
 
 Where busy hundreds thy dark chambers filled, 
 And giant engines gave a stirring tone. 
 
 Change ere the scene — where Orwell's waters glide. 
 Bright with the fires, surrounding banks display, 
 
 While sail and steamer crowd the flowing tide, 
 Hich with materials brought and borne away. 
 
 There thy successor boldly rears its head ; 
 
 Long may it flourish, and its memory be 
 As dear to kindred hearts, when years are fled, 
 As thine. Old Foundkt, ever will to me. 
 June 14iA, 1849. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP SANOKOFT. ON HIS RETIREMENT TO HIS 
 
 PATRIMONIAL FARM, AT FRESSINGFIELD, IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 BY THE EEV. JOHN MITFOIiD. 
 
 The Eev. Jolin Mitford [1781—1859] was born August 
 13tli, 1781. His father, John Mitford, Esq., was descended 
 from the " Mitfords," of Mitford Castle, and was formerly a 
 commander in the service of the East India Company. His 
 son, John, after being educated at Trmbridge by the well- 
 known Dr. Vicesimus Knox, was entered at Oriel College, 
 Oxford, where he had for his tutor the celebrated Dr. 
 Copleston, and for his intimate associate the still more cele- 
 brated Reginald Heber. In 1810, he was appointed to the 
 vicarage of Benhall, and at a later period he became rector 
 of Stratford St. Andrew, and of Weston. Eor many years 
 he was editor of the " Gentleman's Magazine, and he edited 
 and published a number of volumes relating to the poets and 
 poetry of England. He was intimately acquainted with the 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELAND. 375 
 
 Greek and Eoman classics, as well as with Italian, French, 
 and Grennan literature, and he had at his decease a finer 
 collection of EKzabethian books than any other coUeotor in 
 the district. He died at BenhaH, April 27th, 1859. 
 
 And sucli was he, wtom time could never wrong 
 
 (His name would sanctify the weakest song), 
 
 "Who left high. Lambeth's venerable towers 
 
 For his small heritage and humble bowers, 
 
 Conscience and faith his guide. And what if now, 
 
 Taking the mitre from his aged brow, 
 
 (Crowds round his knees, and many a furrow'd cheek, 
 
 And glistening eye, that seemed indeed to speak 
 
 Better than language, seeing him depart, 
 
 In the meek sorrows of a silent heart : 
 
 Soft, gentle deeds, blossoms of love, that hung 
 
 Ever around him — could they want a tongue ? 
 
 Tears, too, from childhood, and the words that call 
 
 ' Father and friend,' were heard alike from all.) 
 
 Gently he passed beside them, with a mien 
 
 Temper'd with hope and fortitude serene. 
 
 Nor deem him unattended with a train 
 
 Of more sublime emotions, free from pain 
 
 Of doubt or fear — like an unclouded day 
 
 Upon the golden hills in endless ray, 
 
 A well-spring in his heart without decay ; 
 
 As one who knew that God a home had made 
 
 For those he cherished, in the humble shade. 
 
 Now, with his staff, on his paternal ground. 
 
 Amid his orchard trees he may be found. 
 
 An old man late returned, where he was seen 
 
 Sporting, a child, upon the village green — 
 
 How many a changeful year had passed between, 
 
 Blanching his scattered hair, yet leaving there 
 
 A heart kept young by piety and prayer ; 
 
 That to the inquiring friend could meekly tell : 
 
 " Be not for me afflicted — it is well. 
 
 For in my great integrity* I fell ; 
 
 'Twas in my great integrity I made 
 
 The choice that sends me to my native shade." 
 
 * The words Bancroft addi'essed to his chaplain on his death-bed. 
 
376 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 THE SOLDIER S BRIDE TO HER HUSBAND AFTER HIS ESCAPE 
 FROM IMMINENT DANGER. 
 
 BY ELIZA ACTON. 
 
 Eliza Acton was the eldest daughter of a Mr. Acton who 
 was for many years managing clerk in the firm of Trotman, 
 Halliday, Studd & Co., of St. Peter's, Ipswich, and being an 
 ingenious man, and an active, attentive servant, the firm was 
 induced to give him a share in the business. Miss Acton's 
 poems were published in 1826, and the first edition (of 500) 
 sold very readily, and a second was issued in the following 
 year. She left Ipswich, and resided for some time in France, 
 and on her return to England she went to live at Hampstead. 
 Whilst residing there, she turned her attention to a diflferent 
 subject to poetry. She prepared a " Cookery Book," which 
 was published by the Messrs. Longman, as " Miss Acton's 
 Cookery Book," and it having become the best book in the 
 trade, it was doubtless to her much more remunerative than 
 poetry. Coming from the pen of so practical a person as the 
 author of the " Cookery Book," these poems have a peculiar 
 interest. 
 
 I tremble at thy peril past ! 
 
 It shakes me, like some fearful dream, 
 In horror's mould of madness cast, 
 
 To chill the warm heart's living stream. 
 
 I shudder but to view that fate, 
 
 Which would have rent my soul's last tie 
 
 To earth, and left me desolate, 
 Beyond all thought of agony. 
 
 Spar'd is the blow which would have left 
 
 Within the world no breathing thing 
 So utterly of hope bereft, 
 
 So crush' d by loneliest suffering, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 377 
 
 As she, who -warinly grateful now, 
 
 Pours her best orisons to Heaven, 
 For life to one beloved as thou. 
 
 In danger saved, in mercy given. 
 
 Oh ! when the battle's rage is round, 
 
 Amidst the fearful strife, for thee 
 May that protecting aid be found, 
 
 Which now restores thee safe to me ! 
 
 FORGIVE THEE ! YES. 
 
 Forgive thee ! — yes— when ev'ry cord 
 
 Which binds my soul to earth is broken ; 
 When scarce I hear the whisper'd word. 
 
 By gentlest tongues around me spoken. 
 
 Forgive thee ! — yes — thy once-lov'd name 
 
 Shall mingle with my faltering breath. 
 When, fainter still, this languid frame 
 
 Shall bend before the touch of death. 
 
 Forgive thee ! — yes— when, paler still. 
 
 This cold and fading brow shall be. 
 And o'er my head the latest chill 
 
 Comes on of mortal agony. 
 
 Forgive thee ! — yes — but rest awhile, 
 
 'Till mem'ry of the past hath perish'd : 
 'Till from my mind that voice, that smile. 
 
 Have passed as though they ne'er were cherished. 
 
 Come, when each hope is rais'd to heav'n. 
 Which wither'd in the world's cold shade ; 
 And thou, e'en thou, shalt be forgiven 
 The wretchedness which thou hast made. 
 
 SONNETS TO A YOUNG MOURNER WIDOWED ERE WEDDED. 
 BY THE KEV. K. B. EXTON. 
 
 The Eev. Eicliard BrudeneU Eston [1780—1863], torn 
 in the parisli of St. Peter's, Marlborough, Wilts, March 17th, 
 
378 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 1780, instituted to the rectory of Athelington, in 1822, and 
 to the vicarage of Cretingham, in 1827. "Was domestic 
 chaplain to George Earl of Clarendon, and a Jvistice of the 
 Peace for the County of Suifolk He was the author of "Cen- 
 tenary of Sonnets," "Sixty Lectures on the Psalms," "Blank 
 Verse Sermon," etc., etc. Died August 23rd, 1863. 
 
 Dear one, be comforted ! dream o'er again, 
 Since life ia all a dream, the blissful past ; 
 That time thy gentle spirit, wont to taste, 
 Unaw'd, the promise neither false nor vain, 
 Soft whisper'd to thine ear by guileless love, 
 And Hope, his fair attendant, as they wove 
 The rainbow chaplet for thy virgin brow, 
 Ere call'd to breathe the fond, eternal vow. 
 Yes — court again the bright illusive scene, 
 'Till, as the glow of youth serenely fades, 
 Thy chasten'd vision shall descry (between 
 The twilight dim, and evanescent shades, 
 Here measuring our moments) that the birth 
 Of aught to cherish, is not — cannot be of earth. 
 
 But though the sunny morn its brief career. 
 Hath closed amid the tempest's fatal strife, 
 Sweeping from off the cheerful ways of life 
 Him whose young love did all its scenes endear. 
 The first, last, sole desire of thine eyes ; 
 Time's vagrant pinion shall not wrap for aye 
 In shadowy terrors thine appointed day, 
 Nor from the smile of yon cerulean skies 
 Veil thine implorir.g glance. The stricken flow'r 
 Bends her meek head ; anon, ere yet the storm. 
 Hath ceased upon her humble couch to lower, 
 In timid faith she lifts her bruised form. 
 And, prescient of the joy his presence brings. 
 Awaits the sun's return with healing in his wings. 
 
 Thus shall there dawn for thee a cloudless morrow. 
 And in the brightness of its rising beam, 
 No more to haunt thee, be absorb'd the theme, 
 Too dearly nurs'd, of unavailing sorrow. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 379 
 
 Spirits like thine, endued (but to be made 
 
 Perfect through suiFering) with the passive love 
 
 Of sweet humility, at length shall soar 
 
 Where death's dread power never did invade : 
 
 And there to realize, beyond the reach 
 
 Of thought, faith, feeling, to the mortal given. 
 
 More than the sage's pen on earth can teach, 
 
 All that inspires the seraph's song in heaven : 
 
 For love with immortality doth reign, 
 
 And to its portals bright shall Hope thy feet sustain. 
 
 PEAISE TO THE HEROES. 
 BY \VILLIAM JOHNSON FOX. 
 
 William Johnson Fox [1786—1864] was bom at Wrent- 
 ham, near Beccles, but his parents soon after removed to 
 Norwich, and at the age of twelve he became a weaver boy. 
 At fourteen, the loom was exchanged for the banker's desk, 
 and after remaining six years at the bank, he entered 
 Homerton Academy, as a student, under Dr. Pye Smith, and 
 in due time issued forth as a minister among the Calvinistio 
 Independents. In a few years, however, he found his 
 theological opinions so much at variance with his position, 
 that he honestly resigned his charge, and he then entered the 
 Unitarian body as a minister. Ultimately he became one of 
 the most finished orators of his age, and eminent as a 
 philosophical teacher, rather than as a Christian minister. 
 He was one of the most influential speakers in the Anti-Corn 
 Law movement, and he was elected M.P. for the Borough of 
 Oldham, without his having asked for a vote or spent a 
 shilling in obtaining one. 
 
 Praise to the heroes 
 
 Who struck for the right, 
 When freedom and truth 
 
 Were defended in fight : 
 
380 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Of blood-shedding hirelings 
 The deeds are abhorred, 
 
 Bat the patriot smites 
 
 With the sword of the Lord. 
 
 Praise to the martyrs 
 
 Who died^for the right, 
 Nor ever bowed down 
 
 At the bidding of might : 
 Their ashes were cast 
 
 All abroad to the wind, 
 But more widely the blessings 
 
 They won for mankind. 
 
 Praise to the sages. 
 
 The teachers of right. 
 Whose voice in the darkness, 
 
 Said, "Let there be light." 
 The sophist may gain 
 
 The renown of an hour, 
 But wisdom_is glory, 
 
 While knowledge is power. 
 
 Heroes, martyrs, and sages, 
 
 True prophets of right ! 
 They foresaw and they made 
 
 Man's futurity bright ; 
 Their fame would ascend. 
 
 Though the world sunk in flames : 
 Be their spirit on all 
 
 Who sing praise to their names ! 
 
 STABAT MATER. 
 
 Jews were wrought to cruel madness, 
 Christians fled in fear and sadness : 
 Mary stood the cross beside. 
 
 At its foot her foot she planted. 
 By the dreadful scene undaunted. 
 Till the gentle Sufferer died. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 381 
 
 Poets oft have sung her story, 
 Painters decked her brow with glory, 
 Priests her name have deified : 
 
 But no worship, song, or glory. 
 Touches like that simple story — 
 Mary stood the cross beside. 
 
 And when under fierce oppression. 
 
 Goodness suffers like transgression, 
 
 Christ again is crucified ; 
 
 But if love be there, true-hearted, 
 By no grief or terror parted, 
 
 Mary stands the cross beside. 
 
 TO PRISCILLA WAKEFIELD. 
 
 It is not fit that thou should'st leave 
 Life's busy scene and varied throng ; 
 
 Until the Muse a wreath shall weave 
 Around thy name, of deathless song. 
 
 Thou wert the first a path to spy, 
 Untrod before, through learning's maze. 
 
 Science and art to simplify. 
 And render plain to childhood's gaze. 
 
 Thy " Leisure Hours" allured us o'er. 
 From tales of ghosts and giants strange ; 
 
 Thy "Anecdotes" enchanted more 
 Than all the tales of fairy range. 
 
 Numbers have trod thy useful course. 
 And justly won the meed of praise ; 
 
 But still to thee we trace the source 
 Of learning, wove 'mid pleasure's ways. 
 
 When last I saw thee, time had laid 
 His withering hand upon thy form ; 
 
 But yet within the mind still played. 
 Bright as the lightning 'mid the storm. 
 
382 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 As to the oak tlie ivy clings, 
 
 Shedding spring's brightness all around, 
 And o'er its leaiiess age now flings 
 
 That shelter which in youth it found : 
 
 Oh, thus our harps of thee shall breathe, 
 "Who taught^'us wisdom's worth to know, 
 
 And grateful memory fondly wreathe 
 The fadeless ivy for thy brow. 
 
 THB GOLDEN BEE. 
 
 BY MISS MATILDA BETHAM EDWAEDS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Laden with precious merchandise, the growth of Chinese soil, 
 And costly work of Chinese hands, the patient wealth of toil, 
 Over the wave with outspread sails, like white-winged bird at sea, 
 Swiftly, gaily, homeward bound, sped on the^ Golden Bee. 
 
 Stored with such peachy-textured silks as shimmer in the sun, 
 With countless rainbow-tinted gleams, and never keep to one — 
 Silks to burnish Beauty's self with a new resplendent ray — 
 Silks an English queen might wear on her coronation day. 
 
 She had chests of fragrant tea-leaves to make social household boards, 
 Or to be the one sweet luxury of widows' scanty hoards ; 
 With grotesque and dainty ivories, carved by coarse-grained hands, 
 For idle money-spenders in rich European lands. 
 
 Cloudless the sky, fresh blew the breeze ; the Captain's heart was light. 
 
 As on the deck he lingered late, and watched the coming night ; 
 
 If sweet the journey homewards from an unpropitious sail, 
 
 'Tis sweeter still where Fortune smiles, in port, and sea, and gale. 
 
 Blithe was the Captain's gallant heart, for things had prospered well. 
 Soon should he reach his home on shore, with much good news to tell ; 
 G-Qod news for his Parsee merchants, and for the fair young wife. 
 Whose sweet affection made the joy and beauty of his life. 
 
 Soon should he kiss his bonnie boy, and hold him on his knee, 
 Awhile he'd listen, eager-eyed, to stories of the sea ; 
 Soon should he kiss his latest-born, and then the Captain smiled — 
 Smiled, father-like to think of her, his little unseen child. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELANU. 383 
 
 A tear ran down his sun-burnt olieek, a mild joy lit his eye, 
 
 So sweet were thoughts of love and home, so near they seemed to lie ; 
 
 Whilst, through his great rough heart diffused such pure and soft 
 
 delight, 
 Which, like an even song of praise, went up to heaven's height. 
 
 One by one, upon the waves, twinkled every rising star. 
 And Dian trailed her golden hair over the deep afar ; 
 Whilst lonely o'er the vastness of that solitary sea. 
 Glided, as on feathered feet, the good ship. Golden Bee. 
 
 Hark ! what terrific cry was that of horror and affright, 
 Which broke like some tempestuous sound the stillness of the night, 
 Rousing the crew from rest and sleep to tremble with dismay, 
 Waking the Captain's sunny dreams of harbour far away ? 
 
 Oh, Captain, wake ! 'tis but a dream — the harbour is not won, 
 Thou dost not clasp thy Mary's hand, or kiss thy little son ! 
 Thy baby sweetly sleeps on shore, that shore is far from thee ; 
 Oh, Captain, wake ! for none but God can save thy Golden Bee. 
 
 "Fire ! " 'twas an awful sound to hear on solitary seas. 
 With double danger in the breath of every fresh'ning breeze ; 
 An awful sight it was to see, the vessel all alight, 
 As if a blazing meteor dropped into the darksome night. 
 
 Foremost and calm, amid his crew, the Captain gave command, 
 
 Nor backward, in a moment's need, to help with skilful hand ; 
 
 Awhile the courage in his voice, and firmness on his brow, 
 
 Imparted strength and hope to hearts which ne'er had drooped till now. 
 
 Three days, three nights the vessel burned ; oh. Heavens ! 'twas strange 
 
 to be 
 'Mid fire unquenchable, with all the waters of the sea ! 
 But neither skill nor strength availed : the fatal breezes blew 
 Death and destruction, fiery-winged, threatened the gallant crew. 
 
 And all was lost — those gorgeous silks would sweep no palace now, 
 Those ivory fans would never feign a breeze to beauty's brow ; 
 The aromatic leaf could soothe no weary student's brain. 
 Or freshen lips in fever heats upon the bed of pain. 
 
384 THE SUFFOLK GAR1.A>;D. 
 
 " Get out the boat ! " -with, firm, quick voice, the short command was 
 
 said. 
 And no man spoke, but straight and swift the order was obeyed ; 
 Then, one by one, the crew stepped forth, but all looked back with tears, 
 Upon the bonnie Golden Bee, their home of many years. 
 
 But first the Captain snatched from flame, and pressed within his breast 
 
 A relic of departed days, of all his heart loved best : 
 
 A little Prayer-book, weU-worn now, a. gift in early life, 
 
 Sweet token from his early love, ere yet he called her wife. 
 
 And, quick as falls a lightning shaft, when thunder is behind, 
 A thousand recollected joys flashed o'er his troubled mind ; 
 Of happy, happy courtship days, and later still, more sweet. 
 The tranquil joys of married life, the sound of baby feet. 
 
 Amid a death-like silentness of breeze, and sky, and sea. 
 Beneath a burning noon-day sun, they left the Golden Bee ; 
 And when they saw the blackened wreck totter amid the foam , 
 Each sailor breathed a prayer to God, and thought of wife and home. 
 
 Then out upon a lonely sea, six hundred miles from land, 
 The solitary boat sailed forth with that courageous band ; 
 Sailed forth as drifts a withered leaf upon the surging tide. 
 With only hope to be their strength, and only God as guide. 
 
 No white sail specked the arid sky, no cloud or shadow came 
 To cool that blue abyss of air, which seemed to be aflame ; 
 No breeze sprung up to aid their oars, no friendly ray of light, 
 Of moon, or star, shone out to guide their dreary path at night. 
 
 Oh, God ! it was a fearful thing to float and drift away 
 
 Upon so wild a wilderness, day after weary day, 
 
 With meagre store of food and drink, which, ere two daj's had rolled, 
 
 They measured out as never yet a miser did his gold. 
 
 " Oh, Captain ! " cried a sailor boy, " I ran away to sea. 
 And well I know my mother's heart has sorely grieved for me ; 
 Will some one take my parting love P — I shall not reach the shore ! " 
 And then he smiled a saintly smile, nor smiled, nor spoke no more. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 385 
 
 Then teaderly, with bare brown hands, his comrades did prepare 
 An humble shroud, and wrap'd him in with more than woman's care ; 
 And all stood up, and bared their heads, awhile the Captain read 
 The Church of England's requiem over its ransomed dead. 
 
 The red sun dipp'd into the sea; and lit the west afar. 
 The crimson clouds paled one by one, beneath the evening star ; 
 A calm of even-tide enwrapp'd both breeze, and sky, and wave, 
 When in God's great cathedral vault the sailor found a grave. 
 
 They wept no more — but, silent, stood and watched the placid deep. 
 Thinking with wistful hearts of him who slept such blessed sleep ; 
 And one, a gaunt and giant man, sent forth a bitter cry. 
 And clenched his hand, and shrieked aloud, " Oh, master, let us die ! " 
 
 Oh, let us die ! The words rang forth through the sweet summer air, 
 As if a mad and tortured soul breathed out its last wild prayer. 
 They sounded far athwart the sea, and up into the sky. 
 Till even silence seemed to make the echo, " Let us die ! " 
 
 Then rose the Captain, sternly sad, and where the sun had set 
 He waved one hand, and cried, in tones which could command them yet — 
 " Oh, comrades ! will you see Mis works, and doubt that He can still 
 Save, e'en in the eleventh hour, if such should be his will ? 
 
 "Oh, whilst there's life, despair not! Have we mothers, children, 
 
 wives ? 
 Does not their memory give us all the strength of double lives ? 
 Mind ye not how the widow's cruse, though wasted, filled again ? 
 We've yet the widow's God o'erhead, and yet a little grain. 
 
 " Oh ! tender wives, who live for us, our hearts consent to take 
 
 A little hope, a. little faith, for your beloved sake : 
 
 Oh, children of our dearest love ! oh, pleasant home ashore ! 
 
 Our souls can brave a thousand deaths to call ye ours once more ! " 
 
 yi'here palaces of merchant kings in marble splendour rise, 
 And gleam beneath the burning blue of fair Calcutta's skies — 
 Where orange groves and myrtle bowers weigh down the sultry air. 
 The Captain's fair young wife abode, and watched his coming there. 
 
386 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 She never heard the hillows roar, or saw a ship at sea, 
 Without a thought of those who steered the honnie Golden Bee ; 
 She never kissed her habes at night, or wuke at dawn of day. 
 Without a prayer that God would speed her sailor on his waj'. 
 
 One night rose up a fierce monsoon, and with a sudden roar. 
 
 Startled the waves from twilight rest, and dashed against the shore. 
 
 Where all night long they shrieked and wailed, and sobbing sunk to 
 
 sleep. 
 As dying groans of shipwrecked men fade on the silent deep. 
 
 The Captain's habes serenely slept, and through the tempest smiled, 
 As sweet forget-me-nots bloom fair amid an Alpine wild ; 
 The mother, weeping, clasped her hands, and, pacing to and fro, 
 Prayed, with a white-faced misery, in murmurs faint and low : — 
 
 " Oh ! husband, art thou safe ashore, or shipwrecked on the sea. 
 And do the wild waves bring from far thy drowning voice to me ? 
 Oh ! father of my sleeping babes, 'tis hard that thou must bear 
 Dangers unspeakable, which I, thy own wife, may not share ! 
 
 " Oh, God ! who, mid ten thousand worlds, has fixed thy glorious seat, 
 
 And cares for every human heart that worships at thy feet. 
 
 Pity my happy, helpless babes — my watchful agony. 
 
 And guide my husband's precious life in safety back to me." 
 
 Days glided by, and brought the time when every ship might be 
 
 That one for which her soul was sick of wistfulness to see ; 
 
 Days grew to weeks, and still she watched, and hoped, and prayed .tlie 
 
 same. 
 For the Golden Bee's safe advent, which never, never came. 
 
 Then rose a morn, when hope grew faint within her patient heart. 
 When every sudden voice or step would make her pale and start 
 "With some deep, undefined fear, that brought no words or tears. 
 But worked upon her maiden cheeks the furrowed grief of years. 
 
 Ah me ! the sailor's lot was hard, to drift upon the waves. 
 
 Which yawned beneath the tempest's breath, and showed a thousand 
 
 graves. 
 With scarce a hope of seeing wife or children any more — 
 But oh ! the woman's part was worse— to wait, and weep ashore I 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 387 
 
 She held her children to her heart, and prayed without a word 
 (Ofttitnes the heart's unspoken prayer by Heaven is soonest heard) ; 
 And if they heedless played or slept, the passion of her grief 
 Would spend itself in wailing tears, which brought her no relief. 
 
 Then, as a soft and tranquil day follows a night of rain. 
 
 And drooping ilowers will feel the sun, and ope their leaves again : 
 
 For sweetest sake of feeble babes, no helper by save One, 
 
 She learned to lead a widowed life, and say, " Thy will be done." 
 
 One night the moon escaped from clouds, and with a pale light gleamed 
 Over the sea, which felt the glow, and murmured as it dreamed ; 
 Her bright boy cradled at her feet, her baby on her breast, 
 She sung her evening cradle song, and hushed the pair to rest. 
 
 And with the heaven's tranquil light upon her golden hair, 
 The mother's love within her eyes — eyes that were still so fair ; 
 She looked like some Madonna, of antique Italian art, 
 Such as breathe the whole religion of the painter's pious heart. 
 
 Awhile the elder child still drowsed, and, like a dove in June, 
 Cooed from his little downy nest unto his mother's tune, 
 A ship that bore a foreign flag rode calmly with the tide. 
 And dropp'd its anchor in the port, by the fair city's side. 
 
 Before the mother's voice had ceased its chanting fond and sweet, 
 A distant footstep echoed through the silence of the street ; 
 And when the boy's blue, dreamy eyes sought for her face no more, 
 ' A shadow flecked the window panes, and paused without the door — 
 
 A shadow of a human form, but oh, so white and wan! 
 
 As if the strong vitality of manhood must be gone ; 
 
 Then came a low-breathed, tender voice, it only murmured, " Wife ! " 
 
 And heart to heart the two were clasped, called back to new, glad life. ] 
 
 For hours they hardly spoke a word, but, shedding blessed tears, 
 Poured out their prayers of thankfulness to One who always hears ; 
 Those tears fell on their sleeping babes. 0, children, ye receive 
 Such pure baptismal rite as Church or Priesthood ne'er can give. 
 
388 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 BY EEV. GOODWIN BAEMBY. 
 
 Among the leaves spread of a strawberry bed 
 
 Was a living and delicate tomb, 
 Which, under the rich fruit so fragrant and red, 
 
 Hung in web of a frail insect loom ; 
 And a spirit was there in that sepulchre fair, 
 
 And had panted within itself long, 
 Like the frail, shrouded soul of some genius rare, 
 
 Or like bard who would live in sweet song. 
 
 The bright sun it shone the rich red fruit upon, 
 
 And lit up with a beam that thin tomb, 
 And the stir of a life — faintly coming — then gone, 
 
 And now seeking for light in the gloom ; 
 And then, with a gentle pulse, rising in power, 
 
 Throbbed forth in that sepulchre dim. 
 Like the soul of a Genius, waiting its hour 
 
 When the sunshine was beaming for him. 
 
 The sun it rose high, and its warmth floated nigh 
 
 The frail tomb in the strawberry leaves. 
 And the tomb was a cradle for infancy's sigh, 
 
 And a cot with a thaw in the eaves ; 
 And an emerald eye, and a rich feathered thigh, 
 
 And a soft, dim-hued winglet appeared, 
 Like young bard, or young song-thrush preparing to fly. 
 
 Ere the pinions of flight had been reared. 
 
 The sun threw a flush o'er a burning rose bush, 
 
 And all idly the chrysalis hung. 
 For the gallant New-Born, breathing love for the blush 
 
 Of the rose, into giddy flight sprung ; 
 And so fondly he flew on the soft breeze that blew. 
 
 That he reached with delight the loved flower : 
 As the soul of a bard a rich poem would view. 
 
 And by flight should grow conscious of power. 
 
 And upon the sweet flower he enchanted the hour. 
 And basked in her smile, and the sun, 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 389 
 
 And his bright wings displayed, with their rare-coloured dower, 
 
 And the soft-feathered down they had on ; 
 The panting wings rioh with red velvet were drest, 
 
 And dark bars, and while rings, and light plumes. 
 And enraptured he lay in his black, glossy vest, 
 
 Like a genius whom glory illumes. 
 
 But a cloud hid the sun, and a storm shower came on, 
 
 And the rain-drops destroyed its bright dyes, 
 And its velvet was crape, and its scarlet was dun, 
 
 And the tears dimmed its emerald eyes ; 
 And its young breath was faint, and unheard was its plaint. 
 
 And it died on the breast of the rose, 
 Like a genius too fair, at once martyr and saint, 
 
 And whose glories have death for their close. 
 
 THE HAND OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Give me the hand that is warm, kind, and ready ; 
 
 Give me the clasp that is calm, true, and steady ; 
 
 Give me the hand that will never deceive me, — 
 
 Give me its grasp, that my soul may believe thee ! 
 Soft is the palm of the delicate woman, 
 Hard is the hand of the rough, sturdy yeoman : 
 Soft palm or hard hand, it mattereth never. 
 Give me the grasp that is friendly for ever ! 
 
 Give me the hand with the grasp of a brother ; 
 
 Give me the hand that has harmed not another ; 
 
 Give me the hand that has never forsworn it,— 
 
 Give me its grasp, that my love may adorn it ! 
 
 Lovely the palm of the fair, blue-veined maiden, 
 Horny the hand of the workman o'erladen : 
 Soft palm or hard hand, it mattereth never, 
 Give me the grasp that is friendly for ever ! 
 
 EYES OF BROWN. 
 
 Eyes of blue may sweetly pierce. 
 Eyes of black are quick and fierce ; 
 But the eyes whose power I own, 
 Are my lady's eyes of brown. 
 
390 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 When in motion, liquid light, — 
 Softly dark and darkly bright, — 
 Like a stream o'er red-mossed stone, 
 Gleams in amber 'mid their brown. 
 
 When at rest their shades are deep, 
 As if meaning great they keep ; 
 As a tarn on mountain high 
 Seems that it would hold the sky. 
 
 Dark as any tarn are they, 
 When lit from the gates of day ; 
 Clearer brims its oup, and fills 
 Up the grand hush of the hills. 
 
 Like twin mountain tarns, her eyes. 
 Solitary sanctities. 
 Musing 'mid ways seldom trod, 
 Up amid the hills of God. 
 
 Yet so large, — so soft their orbs, 
 All the heaven she absorbs. 
 Prom their fringes shines again 
 In the path God walks with men. 
 
 Oh, to look up to those eyes 
 Well might make the sceptic wise ! 
 And might teach him how the light 
 Gleameth through the darkest night. 
 
 Simpler cares to them belong. 
 Not less worthy, though, of song : 
 Glance of kindness in distress. 
 Look of love, to soothe and bless, 
 
 All the care to watch and ward, 
 All the womanly regard, — 
 All the upturned gaze of prayer. 
 In those eyes of brown are there. 
 
 Let the blue eyes sweetly pierce, 
 Let the blacli ones sparkle fierce ; 
 But the eyes whose power I own 
 Are my lady's eyes of brown ! 
 
THE SUFFOT.K GARLAND. ' 391 
 
 THE farmers' club. 
 BY MK. EOBEET HTjaHMAX. 
 
 RECITED BY THE AUTHOR TO THE MEMBERS OF THE YOXFORD FARMERS' CLtJB, AT THEIR 
 ANNUAL MEETING IN OR ABOUT THE YEAR 1845, BUT NOT PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED. 
 
 ' ' Ipse dies agitat festos ; fususque per herbam 
 
 Ignis ubi in medio et socii cratera coronaut . " 
 
 Terr/. Georgicon, C. 527. 
 
 The Farmers' Club, its rise and progress, all 
 Belonging to its fate, except its fall 
 (That day by some foreboded long ago. 
 May its fair genius far avert as now !) 
 Its full-moon gatherings, and though last, not least, 
 The crowning glories of its annual feast 
 Deserve a song : who shall a song refuse ? 
 Farmers were always favourites with the muse ; 
 The subject is divine, although the style 
 In which 'tis handled m«y provoke a smile : 
 Smile on ! I love to see you once a year. 
 But mind the Attic caution — •" Strike, but hear ! "* 
 " Happy the man," the Mantuan minstrel sings, 
 " "Who knows the causes of material things : " f 
 Happy the club, forsaking folly's shoals. 
 Which studies principles instead of rules, 
 "Which Nature makes its universal law. 
 And from her source alone will maxims draw. 
 Her book is ever open, read and think ! 
 At the unsullied fount of wisdom drink ! 
 Those tainted streams, coloured by human art. 
 Pervert the judgment and pollute the heart. 
 Nor is this all false theorists will do, 
 They shame your sense, and pick year pockets, too ; 
 The first offence may be in silence past. 
 But Where's the farmer can forgive the last ? 
 "With rules on reason built I wage no strife. 
 They are the ready change of rural lif i ; 
 Reduced in bulk, and ready for the hand. 
 They pass like current money through the land. 
 
 * Themistocles to Eurybiades (vide Plutarch). 
 t Felix qui potuit cognoscere causas. 
 
•j9'-.* THE ST'FFOI.K (iAKl.ANI). 
 
 IS'o — rules like these tou cannot prize too well, 
 They are the very pith of principle. 
 "Wheat is the best supply for future store, 
 Bread suits the wants and purpose of the hour ; 
 Of principles the same's as truly said, 
 'Ihey are the wheat, and rules the daily bread. 
 About your grain you little caution need, 
 I know you all on finest households feed ; 
 Tou sift your flour before your loaves are made. 
 Yet swallow rules with principles unweighed. 
 Consistent husbandmen ! although ye laugh, 
 Such rules may choke you — they are only chaff! 
 
 Allen ! to thee the Farmers' Club belongs, 
 Its sage discussions and its social songs. 
 To Allen Rausome we award their claim. 
 Their " local habitation and their name." 
 
 Ashbocking was the Reuben of thy strength, 
 Toxford thy Joseph to succeed at length: 
 I'pon the first the sire benignant smiled. 
 But yet the younger was the favourite child. 
 Then, year by year, thy sons on every hand, 
 In patriarchal numbers filled the laud ; 
 "Weak, strong, and wise, in diiierent degree. 
 Like members of a human family. 
 
 Ashbocking, like a wayward, first-born child. 
 By promise pamper'd, by indulgence spoiled, 
 Engross'd its father's undivided care. 
 And bloom'd a season in its native air ; 
 But when, transplanted from its genial bed, 
 The gas of Ips'wich glittered round its bead, 
 "With civic honours when the}- would instal 
 The rustic beauty in the Temperance HaU. ; 
 "When gownsmen, townsmen, chymists, arlizans. 
 On her fair bosom laid licentious hands. 
 The scientific synod quailed the dame, 
 And made her faithless to her maiden fame ; 
 Like an exotic flower, she pined away, 
 And briefly blended with her kindred clay. 
 Her members mourned her fate in "forty-three," 
 And drank to her immortal memory. 
 
 "Woodbridge full soon resigned its infant breath. 
 Chilled by the breeze that blew from Eesgrave Heath. 
 
 Then Harleston like a river rolled along. 
 
■IIIK SI FKOLK GAltl.AM). 393 
 
 Awhile united and by union strong — 
 
 The rook of politics asunder tore, 
 
 Tlie tide that ran harmonious just before — 
 
 Two angry streams now vex the fruitful plain, 
 
 In mutual murmurs at each other's gain. 
 
 Health to that half who dare express their thought. 
 
 And use the freedom which their fathers bought ! 
 
 Health to that better half, who raised the hand 
 
 To question politics that cramped the land ! 
 
 What ! oast your brains and purses in the earth, 
 
 N"or scan the laws that make or mar its worth f 
 
 Thus Harleston a divided city shews, 
 
 " Part v?ith the Apostles hold, and part wi' the Jews." 
 
 Then Wrentham, after many a social yecar 
 Of monthly converse, and of annual cheer, 
 Fell a sad victim to some sudden fate. 
 In the fuU bloom and manhood of its state. 
 About its case the doctors couldn't agree. 
 Some knew, but durst not tell its malady : 
 The heart was sound enough, while others said. 
 Some hinted inflammation in the head ; 
 Or head, or tail, the effects were just the same : 
 Something was wrong, and dissolution came. 
 Yet still each member's disembodied sprite 
 "Will haunt the " Eagle " on the wonted night. 
 Will dance around the door, pale, grey, or blue. 
 Hankering for joys they in the body knew ; 
 Glide through the key-hole of the well-known room. 
 Their favourite glass and former seat resume. 
 Ring for the waiter in the usual way. 
 When hostess comes and finds the de'il to pay. 
 
 Thus four have fallen through influence malign, 
 Cold, fever, apoplexy, and decline ! 
 And yet lament not, Allen, they are gone. 
 Thou still canst number many a thrifty son : 
 Apples may hang too thick upon the tree. 
 Some fall, and leave the rest to ripen free ; 
 The strongest still are those that longest last. 
 As the best fruit survives the sternest blast. 
 All things decline at length, and so must we. 
 Not Farmers' Clubs can an exception be : 
 
394 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Our Farmers' Club may die -its members must, 
 Chairman and treasurer are but kindred dust ; 
 E'en your poor Secretary's busy bead 
 Shall soon repose, and all his cares be fled ; 
 Time, ruthless time shall soon arrest his quill, 
 Numb be his guiding hand, his prompting brain be still ! 
 Another shall your monthly notes record, 
 And your minutes, at the annual board. 
 Another Chairman other times shall see, 
 Another Cross, control the treasury ; 
 Another race of farmers here shall sit, 
 And canvass every word we said or writ : 
 Perhaps on some sound resolution pause. 
 Or give some freeborn sentiment applause ; 
 In the dim records left behind us see 
 The dawn of free inquiry doomed to be 
 The day spring of the lights of husbandry. 
 Earth's inmost powers shall they then explore. 
 Free from the trammels which their fathers wore ; 
 O'er the rich meadows spread the thick manure, 
 In lessened game and lengthened lease secure. 
 The strong Guano range in triple row. 
 Till merchants want another Ichaboe ; 
 No embryo thistle, million-blown in seed 
 Shall on the vitals of their furrows feed, 
 But war untired be waged with every weed. 
 The sister arts shall lend their social aid. 
 Swell the full ear, and urge the exuberant blade ; 
 The stringent clause that cramped the generous plan, 
 And put the soil's improvement under ban, 
 And drew a curse from many a starving man, 
 Before a wise generation's eye 
 Back to the shades of feudal night shall fly. 
 Nor stain the parchment with its odious dye. 
 Tenants and lords shall social compacts draw, 
 With half the skin and less than half the law ; 
 The farmers' children to the fourth agree. 
 Shall heir at will their father's husbandry, 
 And bless the acknowledged claims of fair priority. 
 That moral dawning, like the natural light 
 "Which dissipates the noxious dews of night, 
 Shall roll the mists of ignorance away, 
 And the false front of prejudice display ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARL VXD 395 
 
 AVith mutual mirrors shall men's minds invest, 
 And each reflect his own in others' interest. 
 Onward it comes, with elementary force, 
 (Clouds of detraction cannot bar its course), 
 Onward it comes, and, ere your days decline. 
 You yet may see that glorious morning shine ; 
 Truth rides its wings, and, lord or tenant's right, 
 Truth ne'er was worsted in an open fight. 
 
 Then keep her claims alive from year to year, 
 Advance, accelerate her bright career ! 
 All censure challenge, and no favour court, 
 But strive to leave behind a fair Heport. 
 
 MY OWN FIRESIDE. 
 
 My own Fireside, where'er I be 
 Like magnet true, I turn to thee : 
 I find no sport, I feel no bliss 
 Pure as thy pastime and thy kiss. 
 "Where are the social joys of life 
 Without our girls, and boys, and wife ? 
 The losel wanders far and wide ; 
 Love nestles near his own Fireside. 
 
 My own Fireside, when twilight's hour 
 P^esigns the scene to fancy's power, 
 "What dreams of loveliness and light 
 I've pictured in thine embers bright ! 
 What forms fantastic seen thy glow 
 Fast flickering up the ceiling throw ! 
 Through fairy land I've seemed to glide. 
 In reveries round my own Fireside. 
 
 My own Fireside, the world may name 
 More splendid fields to cope for fame, 
 May show the camp, the court, the bar, 
 To tempt us with their dangerous star ; 
 But ah ! ambition's glittering ray 
 Lures but man's baser half astray, 
 His better part is yet allied 
 To nature, and his own Fireside. 
 
 My own Fireside, of thee possest, 
 And family, and friends, I'm blest ; 
 With work I'd wear away my days, 
 My evenings with thy jovial blaze. 
 
396 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Heaven grant me still the grace of prayer, 
 Enougli to spend, a mite to spare 
 Some lonely one, hj lot denied. 
 The comforts of an own Fireside ! 
 
 My own Fireside, oh let us strive 
 To keep domestic love alive 
 By cheering word, hy kindly deed. 
 And learn each other's looks to read ! 
 And loyal praise and thanks bestow 
 For blessings more than millions know, 
 And worship, morn and eventide. 
 The Saviour of our own Fireside ! 
 
 My own Fireside, now fifty years 
 
 Bring half a century of cares. 
 
 And while the grey hairs, one by one. 
 
 Like Autumn's withering leaves come on. 
 
 Oh may we to our children give 
 
 Our long experience how to live, 
 
 And joyous jubilees betide 
 
 Children's on children's own Fireside. 
 
 THE CHRONICLE OF CASTEL FRAilLINGHAM. 
 BY MRS. E. B. COWELL (LATE MISS CHARLESWORTH). 
 
 "We saw the Deben's silver wave roll gleaming through the vale, 
 
 We pass'd where Wickham's tapering spire looks far o'er hill and dale, 
 
 And pale across the dusky lea gleamed sheep and snow white lamb. 
 
 When rose against the distant sky the Towers of Framlingham. 
 
 Dark shadowing in the dim twilight their massive outline rose. 
 
 But oh ! no banner's crimson fold stirr'd the grey walls' repose, 
 
 No breath of distant warder's note, no far-off bugle horn 
 
 Faint floating to the horseman's ear along the wolds was borne ; 
 
 But slow decay kept watch and ward about the Castle gate, 
 
 And ruin held the lofty place of long departed state. 
 
 And grass-grown were the entrances where knightly hoofs had rung. 
 
 And the low roof of poverty within its site had sprung. 
 
 Oh Framlingham ! grey Framlingham ! thy lords have pass'd away. 
 On them and over thee hath fallen the mantle of decay ! 
 Thy ruin'd walls still crown the brow where ages they have tower'd. 
 But in thy holy chancel aisles lie many a noble Howard. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 397 
 
 There sleeps the Lady Margaret, and there Fitz Alan's child, 
 And gleams the vacant niche where once an infant image smil'd ; 
 And where round Norfolk's sculptur'd tomb the granite columns rise. 
 In marble slumber by her Lord proud Stafford's daughter lies : 
 Branch of a house whose graceful stem deserv'd a better fate 
 Than met the noble Buckingham from Wolsey's deadly hate ; 
 And high the Howard's lion crest looks down in ebon gloom 
 Above the flower of Chivalry, the gallant Surrey's tomb. 
 
 "Within thy walls, in other days, held Saxon princes reign, 
 
 And round thee reav'd the pirate lords, led by the robber Dane ; 
 
 But when the Norman's iron hand ruled over hill and heath, 
 
 Then grandeur reared thy stately roofs, and splendour dwelt beneath ; 
 
 And green the park around thee spread, where glanced the graceful deer. 
 
 And slowly glided the white swan along the glassy mere ; 
 
 And through the shady avenues, the merry archer sprang, 
 
 And to the joyous huntsman's horn, the woodland echoes rang ; 
 
 And tapestry hung its storied folds around the banquet-room, 
 
 And lamps within the Chapel shrine, lit up the midnight's gloom. 
 
 And floated many a pennon fair, those battlements across, 
 
 Where only waves the wild briar now, and spreads the yellow moss. 
 
 When sorrow upon England fell, and hopeless tears were wept, 
 
 When over many a noble head the restless waters swept ; 
 
 When sank the hope of England, beneath the wild wave's foam. 
 
 And an aged King dwelt sorrowful in a deserted home ; 
 
 While o'er their head the sea gull shrieked, and the wild petrel swam. 
 
 There slumber'd low beside his prince the Lord of Framlingham. 
 
 When rose the sun upon a day, whose fame shall long endure, 
 
 That saw the bold Plantagenet in the field of Agincourt, 
 
 A single horseman fearlessly before the army rode. 
 
 And the hosts of England shouted at the signal that he shew'd : 
 
 The brave Sir Thomas Erpingham was earliest in the fray, 
 
 The Lord of Ancient Framlingham began the fight that day. 
 
 When the wild wars of the Koses were ringing through the land, 
 And the flowers of England faded, beneath the mower's hand. 
 When ruled the house of York, over moor and upland side. 
 In his Castle halls of Framlingham, the Duke of Norfolk died. 
 Earl Marshal of England, Lord of Legrave and of Gower, 
 Well knew the lost Lancastrian, his titles, and his power. 
 They bare him to his resting place, in Thetford's silent aisles. 
 And his young and only child they led to Westminster's proud piles. 
 
398 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 And her hand, and her towers, to King Edward's son they gave : 
 
 But the given and the gifted met hoth an early grave ; 
 
 In the secrets of the tower, that noble boy was laid. 
 
 And his infant bride lies sleeping in the tranquil Abbey shade. 
 
 Oh! a voice came o'er the border, of wailing and dismay. 
 
 From Stirling and from Yarrow side, lamenting for the day ; 
 
 Oh! many a song of sorrow made Ettrick Forest ring 
 
 For the fatal field of Flodden, when Scotland lost her king ; 
 
 When Lenox and Montrose were slain, when Huntley fled o'erpowered 
 
 Before the Lord of Framlingham, the banner of the Howard. 
 
 He lived, as soldiers seldom live, to grey and honour'd age, 
 
 And bravely kept a noble house and knightly equipage ; 
 
 And, full of honour and of years, he calmly pass'd away, 
 
 While bloom'd along his fair domains, the pleasant month of May ; 
 
 And none could breathe of injury, or rightful claim unpaid. 
 
 By him whose grey head peacefully in Thetford's walls was laid. 
 
 He had served a reckless master, whose fiery heart and head 
 
 Had little room for gratitude, to the living or the dead ; 
 
 But a few swift years had floated o'er the aged warrior's tomb. 
 
 When again the House of Howard bent beneath the stroke of doom — 
 
 Where, like another Venice, gleaming along the wave, 
 
 Stands haughtily the tower — a palace and a grave. 
 
 Saw ye that galley flitting towards the vaulted stair ? — 
 
 Knew ye the muffled figures silently hurried there ? — 
 
 Oh ! where art thou, Earl Surrey, in thy country's hour of need P 
 
 Oh ! where wert thou, Lord Norfolk, when thy son was led to bleed ? 
 
 Oh ! wo ! wo ! for the hour ; oh ! wo ! wo ! for the day 
 
 When the stateliest of the herd became the angry lion's prey ! 
 
 A star of song, a light of Fame, a child of Minstrelsy, 
 
 In royal Windsor's woodland bowers, they marked his boyhood nigh ; 
 
 There, by the side of young Fitzroy, he trod the oaken glade, 
 
 And they are laid together now, in the same chancel shade. 
 
 In many a sunny Southern land his lyre and sword were known, 
 
 And bright in Honour's listed fields his crest of knighthood shone ; 
 
 Note in the aisles of Framlingham, no longer watched nor wept, 
 
 Though passionate love and grief were his, for ages hath he slept ; 
 
 The noble heart that beat so high, there mouldereth in decay, 
 
 And all that woke its pulses warm hath past to dust away ; 
 
 The tale of List and Tournament, the legend and worn stone. 
 
 Are all that rest to tell us, now, of faded things and gone. 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 399 
 
 Oh ! parted times ! — thy shadowy veil hath shrouded from our view 
 
 The splendours of forgotten years, the scenes our fathers knew ; 
 
 Peace resteth on our changed land, and Holy Faith is there, 
 
 And Freedom hreathes in every breeze, that stirs her island air ; 
 
 And safety dwells beside our hearths, and round our calm church towers, — 
 
 A blessing on the sainted heads that died to leave them ours ! 
 
 But oh I the pleasant festal rites, the feasts and customs old, 
 
 The rich and joyous pageantry, the loyalty unsold. 
 
 The grace of ancient courtesy, the worth and honour grey, 
 
 The reverent love of reverent things, that all have passed away — 
 
 Oh ! broken is the yew-tree bow — the wandering harper fled. 
 
 And the lost things of parted years are with the parted dead ! 
 
 And long, long, pleasant summers in silence floated on. 
 
 With flowers that all are faded now, with green wreaths that are gone, 
 
 While every breath that sighed over hamlet and lone grange, 
 
 Some tidings brought of wonder, of trouble, or of change ; — 
 
 The wail above the early dead, nor youth nor rank could save, 
 
 The sorrow round the peasant's hearth, and by the martyr's grave ; 
 
 But when that royal lady our island sceptre held. 
 
 For whom the winds of Heaven fought, and the dark waters swell'd ; 
 
 When England all saw golden days, and spread the festal board. 
 
 Again, deoay'd fortress, the tower held thy Lord ; 
 
 And dark the stain of noble blood flushed on the keen axe- blade, 
 
 And Scotland unto dool and death her rightful liege betray'd. 
 
 Oh ! many a summer sun since then hath lit that proud church-nave. 
 
 And shone across the statues cold that gleam on Surrey's grave. 
 
 The lifeless things that vainly these would shadow to the ej'e. 
 
 The image of the beautiful be gone for ever by ! 
 
 And in our halls the sword of war hath long forgot to gleam, 
 
 And knighthood, with its stainless crest, hath vanished like a dream ; 
 
 And sounds of peace float trancLuilly our island vales along, 
 
 The music of the harvest-home, the early mowers' song ; 
 
 And by the side of ducal tombs, and chieftains, mail array'd, 
 
 Have risen lowlier monuments, where other men have laid ; 
 
 There wreath'd, but with love's simple wreaths, which never blood defil'd. 
 
 The pastor slumbereth with his flock, the mother with her child. 
 
 Oh Framlingham ! grey Framlingham ! proud record of the past. 
 Written by many a horse's hoof, by many a bugle blast ; 
 By many a wandering summer-wind, fretting the ancient stone. 
 Sighing through niche and window-slit, all lichen-oyergrown— 
 
400 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Chased by the silent summer shower, freshening the briar and moss, 
 And, trickling down the channell'd way, worn thy broad stones across ; 
 Relic of what hath long since been, of what is with the dead, 
 Ages lit up by splendours wild, whose meteor-gleam hath fled! 
 The quiet rest of peaceful age now hangs thy worn brow o'er. 
 And grey-haired men sit cheerfully, each at his cottage door, 
 And obildrenj chanting holy psalms, now seek the house of God, 
 Where once the chieftain's plume flashed by, the mail'd warrior trod. 
 
 The bloody flag of Popery was rear'd upon thy walls j 
 
 The Protestants' lone chronicler was sheltered in thy halls ; 
 
 Royal and noble have they been, thy dwellers in the past ; 
 
 The poor man and the homeless now tenant thy gates at last : 
 
 The bridge which hath seen leaders pass, to conquer or to die. 
 
 Is trodden by the quiet foot of way-worn poverty. 
 
 So fadeth the memorial of that which hath been high I 
 
 So worketh round the viewless wheel of human destiny ! 
 
 Oh ! beautiful in ruin ! — most lovely in decline I 
 
 Be ours an age as ruffleless, as full of calm as thine I 
 
 And thou who should'st have elos'd for me my long unfinished song, 
 
 Heaven watch above thy happy home, and grant it stand as long ; 
 
 Sweet quiet, with its shadowing wings, guard over its roof, keeping. 
 
 As have the solemn aisles, where thine ancestors are sleeping.* 
 
 STAXZAS WRITTEN ON A CHILD S FIRST BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 BT MR. T. W. GISSING. 
 
 The Spring was coming o'er the earth, 
 
 And every flower and tree 
 "Was courted by the sun and shower, 
 
 To set its foliage free ; 
 The wild birds carolled their sweet lays, 
 
 When th' light first shone on thee. 
 
 Four seasons since have run their course ; 
 
 The Spring, and Summer's heat, — 
 The Autumn's placid mid-day skies, 
 
 * This Poem was originally dedicated to iliss Alexander, The Goldrood, 
 Ipswich, and the "Ancestors," referred to in the last line, are those of the 
 Alexander family, whose monuments are in the Framlingham Church. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 401 
 
 And gilded sunsets sweet, — 
 And Winter's cold and chilly frosts, 
 With drear December's sleet. 
 
 I've seen thy gambols on the hearth, 
 
 And watched thee oft with joy, 
 As kitten-like from place to place, 
 
 Thou'dst fling some infant toy, 
 And clap thy little hands with glee. 
 
 Thou bright-eyed, laughing boy ! 
 
 Thy simple prattlings I have heard. 
 
 And striv'u to understand ; 
 And when in eagerness thou point'st 
 
 Thy tiny baby hand. 
 Unknowing what thou wished for, 
 
 My heart is sadly pained. 
 
 How falt'ringly thy patt'ring feet 
 
 The first lone step essayed. 
 While clinging to thy trembling self 
 
 Thou stood'st, to start afraid, 
 And raised thy supplicating eyes, 
 
 Tliat some might give thee aid. 
 
 Thy mind is like the future flowers, 
 
 Deep hidden in the stem ; 
 And gaining strength with ev'ry day, 
 
 'Twill soon expand like them, 
 And what is now the unseen germ, 
 
 Will be the blossomed gem. 
 
 Thou camest with the Spring, fair child ! 
 
 When cowslips were in bloom ; 
 When mossy banks sent through the air 
 
 The violet's sweet perfume ! 
 Oh ! may thy life be like the Spring, 
 
 Till Death shall call thee home. 
 
 MOSSES. 
 
 Where the wild world-clasping sea 
 Laves its shores eternally ; 
 Where the raging torient swells, 
 
402 THE SXrFKOr.K GARLAM). 
 
 'Midst the highlands' heathy dells ; 
 Where the stately river flows, 
 Springing 'midst eternal snows ; 
 By the brooklet's sparkling sheen, 
 Year by year the Moss grows green. 
 
 Where the summer sun unbinds 
 Th' thyme's wild perfume to the winds ; 
 Where amidst the boggy swamp, 
 Jaok-o' -lantern trims his lamp ; 
 Where the marish flow'rets blow — 
 There the beauteous Mosses grow. 
 
 On the riven cliff's cold breast ; 
 On the mountain's rugged crest ; 
 On the upland's slippery slope ; 
 On the barrow's rounded cope ; 
 O'er the columns, that ere while 
 Stood amidst the sacred pile — 
 Columns that beheld the sway 
 Of creeds, for ever passed away. 
 O'er the castle's ruined keep ; 
 O'er its walls where reptiles creep ; 
 In its dungeons dank and lone, 
 Where each age -encrusted stone 
 Enclosed once to captive's groan ; 
 In its wide hall's shadows deep, 
 Where the mocking echoes sleep — 
 Living Mosses greenly creep. 
 
 'Midst the mighty city's hum. 
 Where the breaking heart is dumb ; 
 Where the wrecked and ruined soul 
 Vainly strives 'gainst Sin's control ; 
 Where the river's chilly arms 
 Gape to clasp her faded charms — 
 There, where passions heave and toss, 
 Blooms the ever verdant Moss. 
 
 'Neath the forest's shadows dim, 
 Where the wild bird pipes his hymn ; 
 Where the ev'ning breezes low 
 Change to music as they blow ; 
 
THE SUFFOLK CARLAXD. 403 
 
 Where the perfume from the flower 
 Sweeter comes at twilight hour- 
 There, amidst that wilderness, 
 Mosses grow in wild excess. 
 
 'Midst the rustling grass that waves 
 O'er the tear-besprinkled graves, 
 Where the dead are free from ill. 
 Careless of the harsh world's wiU ; 
 Slander now, nor envious spite. 
 Dream they of in their long night. 
 Flowers will blow, though men may rave, 
 Lie bestained above each grave ; 
 Those beneath will never feel 
 Cursing tongue, or spurning heel^- 
 On that last lone silent bed, 
 Mosses spring to deck the dead. 
 
 Beauty slumbers in each blade, 
 By no mortal hand arrayed ; 
 Truth and Wisdom likewise dwell 
 In the'Mosses' smallest cell. 
 Nature's handmaids, fost'ring earth, 
 For her yearly floral birth ; 
 They by Nature's high decree. 
 Teach a lesson, Man, to thee. 
 
 THE IJLTKS OF JERUSALEM. 
 
 BY MISS AGXES STKIIJKLAXD. 
 
 Fair lilies of Jerusalem, 
 
 Ye wear the same array 
 As when imperial Judah's stem 
 
 Maintained its regal sway. 
 
 By sacred Jordan's desert tide 
 
 As bright ye blossom on 
 As when your simple charms outs'ied 
 
 The pride of Solomon. 
 
404 THE SUFFOLK GARLA>!1). 
 
 The lonely pilgrim's heart is fiU'd 
 With holiest themes divine, 
 
 "When first he sees your colours gild 
 The fields of Palestine ; 
 
 Fresh springing from the emerald sod, 
 
 As beautilul to see, 
 As -when the meek, incarnate God 
 
 Took parable from ye. 
 
 "What rose amidst her fragrant bowers 
 That steals the morniuj;'s glow, 
 
 Or tulip, queen of eastern flowers. 
 Was ever honoured so ? 
 
 But ye are of the lowly train 
 Which He delights to raise ; 
 
 Ye bloom unsullied by a stain, 
 And therefore ye have praise. 
 
 Ye never toiled with anxious care, 
 From silken threads to spin 
 
 That living gold, refined and rare. 
 Which God hath clothed ye in, 
 
 That ye, His simplest works, should shine 
 
 In such adorniuent drest, 
 That mightiest kings of Judah's line 
 
 Could boast of no such vest. 
 
 Ye still as mute memorials stand 
 Of Sciipture's sacred page, 
 
 Sweet lilies of the holy laud, 
 And bloom in every age. 
 
 Ye've seen the terrors of the Lord 
 By signs and wonders shown, 
 
 And kindly rebels to His ]iower 
 Amidst their pride o'erthrown. 
 
 Ye flourished when the captive band, 
 By prophets warned in vain. 
 
 Were led to far Euphrates' straud. 
 From Jordan's pleasant plain, 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 405 
 
 In hostile lands to weep and dream 
 
 Of tilings that still were free, 
 And sigh to see your golden gleam, 
 
 Sweet flowers of Galilee ! 
 
 And ye have seen a darker hour 
 
 On Zion's children fall, 
 Than when Chaldea's vengeful power 
 
 Assailed her leaguered wall. 
 
 Ye saw the eagles from afar 
 
 On wings of teiror come, 
 And godless jiriests maintain a war 
 
 'Gainst earth-sabduing Rome. 
 
 The meteor sword, that high in air 
 
 O'er guilty Salem swept, 
 And all her burden of despair 
 
 er which Messiah wept. 
 
 Ye bloomed unscathed, meek, lowly flowers : 
 
 On that terrific night. 
 When marble fanes and rock-built towers 
 
 Crashed downwards from their might. 
 
 Ye have survived Judea's throne, 
 
 Her temple's overthrow. 
 And seen proud Salem, sitting lone, 
 
 A widow in her woe. 
 
 Her children from that pleasant place 
 
 Are outcasts sent to roam. 
 And Ishmael's misbelieving race 
 
 Lay waste their forfeit home. 
 
 But, lilies of Jerusalem, 
 
 Through every change ye shine, 
 And still your gjlden urns be-gem 
 
 The fields of Palestine ! 
 
406 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 OH 
 
 ! CAN YOU LEAVE YOUE NATIVE LAND?" 
 
 A CANADIAN SONG. 
 EY MRS. MOODIE (LATE SUSANNAH STRICKLAND). 
 
 Oh ! cau j'ou leave your native land, 
 
 An exile's bride to be ; 
 Your mother's home, and cheerful hearth. 
 
 To tempi the main ■with me, — 
 Across the wide and stormy sea, 
 
 To trace our foaming track. 
 And know the wave that bears us on 
 
 "Will ne'er convey us back ? 
 
 And can you in Canadian woods 
 
 With me the harvest bind. 
 Nor feel one lingering, sad regret 
 
 For all you leave behind ? 
 Can those dear hands, unused to toil. 
 
 The woodman's wants supply, 
 Nor shrink beneath the chilly blast. 
 
 When wintry storms are nigh p 
 
 Amid the shades of forest dark. 
 
 Our loved isle will appear 
 An Eden, whose delicious bloom 
 
 Will make the wild more drear : 
 And you in solitude will weep 
 
 O'er scenes beloved in vain, 
 And pine away your life to view 
 
 Once more your native plain. 
 
 Then pause, dear girl! ere those fond lips 
 
 Your wanderer's fate decide ; 
 My spirit spurns the selfish wish — 
 
 You must not be my bride ! 
 But, oh ! that smile— those tearful eyes 
 
 My firmer purpose move — 
 Our hearts are one, and we will dare 
 
 All perils thiis to love ! 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 407 
 
 " HARVEST CART " IN SUFFOLK. 
 BY QUILL. 
 
 Yow, Jack, bring them 'ere bosses here — 
 
 Get this 'ere waggia out ; 
 I think the weather mean to clear, 
 
 So jest yow look about ! 
 Come, put old Jolly to, right quick — 
 
 Now then, hook Di'moud on, 
 (There chuck yow down that plaguy stick ! ) 
 
 An' goo an' call old John. 
 
 John bo' the " Cart shod close '' we'll try 
 
 (Get yow upon the stack) ; 
 I'm sure the whate's by this time dry — 
 
 Bring them 'ere forks here, Jack. 
 Blarm that 'ere chap ! where is he now ? 
 
 Jest look yow here, my man. 
 If yow don't want to have a row, 
 
 Be steady, if yow can. 
 
 Ope that 'ere gate. Wish ! Jolly — Wo ! 
 
 Cop that 'ere rope up, Sam ; 
 Now I'll get down an pitch, bo' ; so 
 
 Jump yow up where I am. 
 Load wide enough, mate — that's the style — 
 
 Now hold ye ! Di'mond ! — Wo-o ! 
 Jack ! — that 'ere boy do me that rile — 
 
 Jest mind yow where yow goo ! 
 
 There goo a rabbit ! Boxer, hi ! — 
 
 She's sure to get to grownd, 
 Hold ye ! Now then bo', jest yow try 
 
 To turn them nicely round. 
 Don't knock them shoves down ! Blarm the boy !- 
 
 You'll be in that 'ere haw ! 
 That feller do me so annoy ; 
 
 But he don't care a straw ! 
 
408 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 How goo the time ? I l;ind o' think 
 
 Our foiirses* should be here. 
 Chaps, don't yi w Tare to want some driuk ? — 
 
 There's Sue with the old beer. 
 The rain have cleared right slap away, 
 
 Au' if it hold out briyht, 
 Let's work ri^ht hard, lads (what d'j-e saj- ?) 
 
 An' clear this Md to uight ! 
 
 " GLEANING TIME " IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 Why, listen 3'ow— be quiet, bo' ! — the bell is tnllin;^ ei^ht! f — 
 AYhy don't vow mind what you're about ?— We're allei'S kind o'late ! 
 Now, Mary, get that raawtlier dresa'd —oh dear ! how slow vow fare — 
 There come a lot 0' gleaners now— ilaw', don't stand gawkiu' tliere I 
 
 Now, Jane, goo get that 'ere conch, an' put them jjillars in — 
 Oil ! won't I give it yow, my dear, if 1 do ouoe begiu! 
 Get that 'ere bottle, too — ah, yow may well stand there an' sneer; 
 What will yowr father say, d'ye think, if we aou't taak his beer ? 
 
 Come, Willie ! — Jane, where is he gone ? Goo yow an' fetch that child ; 
 If yow don't move thera legs of yow'ro, ycpw'll raaak me kind o' riled I 
 There, lock the door, an' lay the key behind that 'ere old plate ; 
 An' Jemmy, yow run on afore, and ope the whatefeld gate. 
 
 Well, here we be at last — oh, dear ! how fast my heart do beat! 
 Now, Jane, set yow by this 'ere coach, an' don't yow leave yowr seat 
 Till that 'ere precious child's asleep ; then brini; yow that 'ere sack, 
 Au' see if yow can't try, to-day, to kind u' bend yowr back ! 
 
 Yow'U all wish, when the winter come, and yow ha'ent got no bread, 
 Uhat for all drawliu' about so, yow'd harder wrought instead; 
 For all yowr father 'arn most goo old Skiu'em s rent to pay, 
 
 An' Mister Last, the shoemaker; so work yow hard, I pray I 
 
 ****** 
 
 Dear me ! there goo the bell agin— 'tis seven, I declare ; 
 
 An' we don't 'pear to liave jjot none ; — the gleanin' now don't fare 
 
 To be worth nothin' ; but I think — as far as 1 can tell — 
 
 We'll try a comb, some how, to scratoli, if we be 'live an' well. 
 
 • The harvest men leave off at four o'clock for refreshment, which tin y 
 call their ' ' fourses." 
 
 •|- In some villages in Suffolk the church bells toll at 8 a.m. and 7 ji.ni. 
 to regulate the time for gleaning. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 409 
 
 SONNET TO THE RIVEE ORWELL. 
 
 BY MR. J. T. SHEVVELL. 
 
 Orwell, d&liglitful stream, whose waters flow 
 Fring'd with luxuriant beauty to the main ! 
 Amid thy woodlands taught, the Muse could fain 
 On thee, her grateful eulogy bestow. 
 Smooth and majestic though thy current glide. 
 And bustling Commerce plough thy liquid plain ; 
 Tho' grao'd with loveliness thy verdant side. 
 While all around enchantment seems to reign : 
 These glories still, with filial love, 1 taste, 
 And feel their praise ; — yet thou hast one beside 
 To me more sweet ; for on thy banks reside 
 Friendship and Truth combin'd, whose union chaste 
 Has sooth'd my soul; — and these shall bloom sublime, 
 When fade the fleeting charms of Nature and of Time. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCE CONSORT. 
 
 BY MK. JAMES SPILLING. 
 
 The wise decree is spoken ; 
 
 The spirit hears its Lord ; 
 The golden bowl is broken, 
 
 And loosed the silver cord ; 
 The monarch and the peasant 
 
 Are mingling bitter tears, 
 Unheeding that their lord still livts 
 
 Amid the golden spheres. 
 
 The people sip the chalice 
 
 Their stricken Q,ueen must drain ; 
 'J he wail that fills the palace 
 
 Shrills up from cot and plain. 
 Why marvel that the nation 
 
 Keels at the sudden blow? 
 She feels her desolation ; 
 
 She feels her Sovereign's woe. 
 
410 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 But not for him she weepeth ; 
 
 "We know that he is gone 
 Where God's true servant reapeth 
 
 The harvest he hath sown — ■ 
 To the shining spheres of beauty, 
 
 Where blessings fall like dew 
 On him who knew his duty, 
 
 And wrought the truth he knew. 
 
 'Twas not thy high alliance 
 
 With the Lady of the Isles, 
 Lost friend of Art and Science, 
 
 That won a nation's smiles. 
 'Twas not the name thoxi worest, 
 
 But thy spirit's patriot zeal, 
 The manly heart thou borest, 
 
 Thy love for human weal ! 
 
 True Husband, Friend, and Father ! 
 
 Tbtje Man — far nobler yet 1 
 These titles, twined together, 
 
 Form a fadeless coronet. 
 Worn by the star-zoned spirit 
 
 In regions undefiled. 
 Who taught a future king to rule, 
 
 And blessed the pauper child. 
 
 The wise decree is spoken ; 
 
 The soul hath sought its Lord ; 
 The golden bowl is broken. 
 
 And loosed the silver cord. 
 The monarch and the peasant 
 
 May mourn, with bitter tears. 
 The Prince whose deeds are spirit seeds 
 
 To grow in after years. 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE MILLIXEr's WORK-ROOM. 
 
 Each thing that lives beneath the stars 
 
 Adorns our wandering earth 
 With some bright ray of beauty's power, 
 
 Or virtue's milder worth. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 411 
 
 But far the sweetest, purest gem, 
 
 In Nature's bounteous mine. 
 Is she around whose maiden heart 
 
 Love's sacred tendrils twine. 
 
 But seldom doth her hapless fate 
 
 Our selfish thoughts engage. 
 Though carefully we watch the flower, 
 
 And tend the young bird's cage. 
 We think not of the weary hours 
 
 She toils to swell our pride. 
 In the feverish room, till the rose's bloom 
 
 From off her cheek hath died. 
 
 For ere the calm immortal lights 
 
 Fade from the morning sky, 
 Till evening twilight melts o'er earth, 
 
 'Mid softest melody. 
 She still must toil to frame the gauds 
 
 Her haughty sisters wear. 
 Whilst silently the shades of fate 
 
 Her burial clothes prepare. 
 
 Oh, sisters ! think of bitter tears 
 
 In sorrow's silence shed ; 
 Of pangs that rend the struggling soul. 
 
 Till every hope has fled — ■ 
 Till the noble spirit, in whose pure depths 
 
 The love of love's impearled. 
 With all its worth is lost to earth, 
 
 That fashion may rule the world. 
 
 Oh, lost to virtue, hope, and love ! 
 
 Oh, lost to life and light ! 
 More pure than silver dew drops wept 
 
 Upon the breast of night ! 
 A revelation of Beauty's power ! 
 
 A beam of Heaven's own truth ! 
 A portion of nature's fervid soul 
 
 Arrayed in the glories of youth ! 
 
 Oh, sisters! mourn the noble hearts 
 That sleep beneath the clay, 
 
412 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 Anrl know tliat virtue's far too rare 
 To sweep like drobs away ; 
 
 And oh ! metliinks your lovely cheeks 
 Would blanch in your sellish mirth, 
 
 nid I name the sin of those who cast 
 The BEAUTY or God from earth. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 TO SIR HENRY EDWARD BUNBURY, BART. 
 
 BY MR. T, u. Y'OUXGMAN. 
 
 Droop, scattered flowers of tardy spring ! 
 Hush'd be your songs, ye birds, that bring 
 Joy to our hearts, while blithe ye sing, 
 
 Though bitter north winds rave ; 
 Grey be the sky, and still the air, 
 But let a sunbeam here and there 
 Look through, whilst slow and sad we bear 
 
 A good man to his grave. 
 
 "We bear him from his father's hall. 
 The forest giants, gaunt and tall. 
 Stretch their baie arras above the pall 
 
 As slowly on we go ; 
 By level lawn, by wooded dell, 
 By lowly homes where cotters dwell, 
 By lane and croft he loved so well 
 
 We bear him sad and slow. 
 
 As thus we pass each well-known haunt, 
 Ko waving plumes above him flaunt, 
 No blazon'd trappings' hollow vaunt 
 
 Make up his funral show ; 
 In this his wishes we fulfil. 
 In this his word we follow still. 
 And feel, as thus we do his will, 
 
 A less'ning of our ^^oe. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 413 
 
 We reach at last the churchj-ard's bound, 
 And stand with silent awe around 
 That quiet spot of sacred ground 
 
 He oluise to be liis grave : 
 With holy words, wilh pious care, 
 With loving hands, we place him there. 
 Then lift our hearts in fervent prayer 
 
 To Him who died to save. 
 
 Now lightly o'er his rev'rend head. 
 The level, fragrant turf we spread. 
 And by his lonely, hallowed bed 
 
 A stately stone we raise ; 
 Now on that fair-hewn tablet write. 
 Grave deep and strong, with hand of might. 
 This good man's sole, last earthly right — 
 
 His meed of human praise. 
 
 Yes, write — but what ? That, nobly bred, 
 
 A soldier's life he chose and led, 
 
 And gained a name for heart and head. 
 
 From friend and foe ? 
 No, write not that — 'tis true, but vain : 
 England on many a bloody plain 
 Such seed has sown like summer rain. 
 
 For glory's transient glow. 
 
 That when fair youth and strength declined, 
 Cheerful, the war-sword he resigned. 
 And strode upon the realms of miud 
 
 AVith no uncertain foot ? 
 No, write not that — his efforts there 
 Shall meet from time their guerdon fair. 
 And take of fame their rightful share. 
 
 As flowers spring from their root. 
 
 But on his hallowed tablet grave. 
 Cut deep, so that your words may brave 
 Time's longest roll of wearing wave — 
 Cut deep, and fair, aud clear ; 
 
414 THE SUFFOLK UARLATsl). 
 
 And write that, in a sordid age, 
 "When gold was God, and Mammon's rage 
 Filled social life and learning's page, 
 He who now lieth here 
 
 Could o'er that heartless serfdom rise, 
 
 The lust and greed of gold despise. 
 
 Be rich, but good, and great, and wise, 
 
 The Guardian of the poor ; 
 That on the acres of his soil 
 No man for stinted wage did moil. 
 Nor e'er in vain for " leave to toil " 
 
 Ask at " his brother's door." 
 
 That earnestly he strove to give 
 His fellow man the means to live. 
 To learn, to know, to think, to strive. 
 
 If fall'n to rise again ; 
 And thus, though often sorely tried, 
 He nobly lived, and fearless died. 
 And by his actions justified 
 
 " The ways of God to men." 
 
IV. 
 
 .^Mistiral ittf0matimT, 
 
lY. 
 
 <SlatislkaI |iiformali0iL 
 
 POPULATION. 
 
 In April, 1861, the population of our county, variously occu- 
 pied and distributed over the surface, amoimted to 335,409. 
 
 The number of the male population was 164,144, and of 
 the female, 171,265. The women and girls thus exceeded 
 the men and boys by 7,121 ; but as a number of the men 
 were at sea, the real clisparHy was something less than this 
 number. The excess of females was greatest in the towns of 
 Ipswich and Bury St. Edmund's ; but in Cosford, Thingoe, 
 Hoxne, Bosmere, and Samford districts, the males exceeded 
 the females in number. The annexed table exhibits the 
 population of Suifolk at each Census from 1801 to 1861 in- 
 clusive. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 PEESONS. 
 
 1801 
 
 214,404 
 
 1811 
 
 233,963 
 
 1821 
 
 271,541 
 
 1831 
 
 296,317 
 
 1841 
 
 315,073 
 
 1851 
 
 337,215 
 
 1S61 
 
 335,409 
 
 INCKEASE OF 
 
 DECKEASE OF 
 
 INCfiEASE 
 
 DECEE 
 
 POPTTIATION. 
 
 POPULATIOrr. 
 
 PEll CEHT. 
 
 PEE CI 
 
 19,'559 
 
 
 '9 
 
 
 37,578 
 
 
 16 
 
 
 24,776 
 
 
 9 
 
 
 18,612 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 21,885 
 
 
 7 
 
 
 
 1,806 
 
 
 2 
 
418 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 HOUSES AND FAMILIES. 
 
 Families are the social units that eombinedly form hamlets, 
 villages, and towns. In 1801, the number of families in 
 Suffolk was 43,481, and in 1861, the number of separate 
 occupiers or famihes was 77,543. At the commencement of 
 the century, the number of inhabited houses was 32,805, and 
 155 were building ; in 1861 they numbered 72,714, and 230 
 were building. The increase of the population was 45 per 
 cent. ; the increase of inhabited houses was 121 per cent, in 
 the same period. At the commencement of the century there 
 were 66 persons to every 10 houses. In 1861 the accommo- 
 dation had so far increased, that the occupied houses were 
 inhabited in the proportion of 21 houses to every 100 persons. 
 From 1841 to 1861 the increase of inhabited houses was 
 greater than the increase of population, and this is in many 
 respects a good test of the degree of improvement in the 
 county. The number of houses inhabited, uninhabited, and 
 building at each Census have been returned thus : 
 
 TEAKS. 
 
 INHABITED. 
 
 irUIKHABITED. 
 
 BTJILDING. 
 
 ]801 
 
 32,253 
 
 552 
 
 155 
 
 18H 
 
 37,227 
 
 624 
 
 270 
 
 1821 
 
 42,773 
 
 666 
 
 No Return. 
 
 1831 
 
 50,139 
 
 1,141 
 
 259 
 
 1841 
 
 64,041 
 
 2,352 
 
 574 
 
 1851 
 
 69,282 
 
 3,107 
 
 449 
 
 1861 
 
 72,714 
 
 3,568 
 
 230 
 
 A house, as is well known to travellers in Suffolk, is a very 
 variable imit. In the Census definition it includes the hut on 
 the common and the castle on the hill, and the large propor- 
 tion of small tenements in Suffolk is proved by the annual 
 value of the houses. Only 7 per cent, of all the houses in the 
 county are assessed to the House Duty. 67,000 householders 
 in Suffolk reside in houses under £20 annual value, for only 
 6,394 houses in the county are liable to the House Duty. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLANB. 419 
 
 BIRTH PLACES OF THE PEOPLE OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 An exammation of the birth places of the people of this 
 county -will exhibit the blending of the people of other 
 counties with those of our own, and show how many of the 
 residents of Suffolk were actually born in the county. 
 
 Suffolk, in 1861, contained natives of Ireland, of Scotland, 
 of "Wales, of islands in the British Seas, of the British 
 Colonies, of the Bast Indies, of persons born at sea and in 
 foreign lands, as well as natives of every county in England 
 and Wales. Taking the civil or geographical limits of the 
 county, we find that 42,956 of the residents were born out- 
 side the limits of Suffolk. Of this number "Wales furnished 
 191 ; Ireland, 752 ; Scotland, 512 ; British Colonies and 
 East Indies, 439 ; Islands in the British Seas, 62. In 
 foreign lands 410 of our residents first drew breath, and 
 27 were born on the briny deep. Looking at the contribu- 
 tions to the population of Suffolk from each of the counties, 
 we find that Essex sent 7,618 ; Norfolk, 16,421 ; Cambridge, 
 2,836 ; and Middlesex, 4,749. The numbers from each of 
 the other counties are much smaller : — Bedford, 141 ; Berks, 
 230 ; Buckingham, 157 ; Chester, 116 ; Cornwall, 135 ; Cum- 
 berland, 42; Derby, 123 ; Devon, 422 ; Dorset, 151 ; Durham, 
 137; Gloucester, 264; Hereford, 46; Hertford, 378; Hunt- 
 ingdon, 178 ; Kent, 1,160 ; Lancaster, 357 ; Leicester, 156 ; 
 Lincoln, 420 ; Monmouth, 26 ; Northampton, 212 ; Northum- 
 berland, 145 ; Nottingham, 131 ; Oxford, 148 ; Rutland, 29 ; 
 Salop, 94; Somerset, 254 ; Southampton, 512 ; Stafford, 165 ; 
 Surrey, 975 ; Sussex, 404 ; Warwick, 225 ; Westmoreland, 19 ; 
 Wnts, 181 ; Worcester, 116 ; York, 680. The residents born 
 within the limits of the county numbered 294,124. 
 
 MIGRATION OF THE PEOPLE OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 Comparison of the number of inhabitants in Suffolk, and 
 the number returned for England and Wales as having been 
 
420 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 bom in the county, shows how large a number of the 
 "natives" have been absorbed in the active operations of 
 other counties. 337,070 persons were enumerated in the 
 civil county in lS6i ; but 400,G0x persons in England and 
 "Wales were retui-ued as ''born in Suffolk," so that the num- 
 ber of persons in England and Wales belonging to Suffolk 
 hij iirth, exceeded by 63,534 the actual number of inhabitants 
 in the county. But even this does not fully exhibit the 
 number of Suffolk people distributed over England and 
 Wales. The residents born in the county numbered only 
 294,124, leaving 106,480 persons born in Suffolk as resident 
 of other parts of England and Wales. More recruits have, 
 with one exception, been sent from Suffolk to every county 
 in England than it has received in return, in many instances 
 three or four to one. Thus 
 
 Cambridge has sent 2,836 to Suffolk, and received 4,823 from Suffolk. 
 
 Sussex 
 
 J) 
 
 404 
 
 
 1,445 
 
 Yorkshire 
 
 )) 
 
 680 
 
 
 „ 2,375 
 
 Lancashire 
 
 J) 
 
 357 
 
 
 1,976 
 
 Surrey 
 
 )> 
 
 975 
 
 
 10,811 
 
 Eent 
 
 !» 
 
 1,160 
 
 
 6,711 
 
 Middlesex 
 
 )> 
 
 4,749 
 
 
 „ 34,090 
 
 Essex 
 
 n 
 
 7,618 
 
 
 „ 15,334 
 
 THE BLIND IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 The census of 1851 was the first that made us acquainted 
 with the number of blind in Suffolk, and they were then 
 foimd to be much more numerous than was previously sup- 
 posed. In the census of 1861, the inquiry was repeated, and 
 the number of persons returned as " blind," or "blind from 
 birth " was, males 217, females 157, total 374. Of these, 35 
 (including 10 females) were described as "blind from bii'th." 
 Whatever may be the influences which induce diseases in the 
 organs of sight, it is evident that there is a larger proportion 
 of bhnd people in Suffolk than in many other districts. In 
 every 10,000 males in England and Wales there were 10 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 421 
 
 bKnd ; but in Suffolk tHere were 13 ; in Lancasliire, 9 ; in 
 Cheshire, 8 ; in the West Riding of Yorkshire, 8 ; in Essex, 9 ; 
 and in Norfolk, 13. In England and "Wales, 1 in every 
 1,037 persons were returned as blind ; in Suffolk the propor- 
 tion was 1 in 897 persons. The proportion of those " blind 
 from birth " to the total blind, is almost the same in Suffolk 
 as it is in England and Wales. Of the blind females in 
 Suffolk, 89 were 60 years of age and upwards, and 26 were 
 80 years and upwards. Of those blind from birth, 1 female 
 only had reached 40 years of age, but two males had attained 
 the age of 65. 
 
 THE DEAF AND DUMB IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 The deaf and dumh are much less numerous than the blind, 
 there being 13 blind in every 10,000 males in Suffolk, and 8 
 deaf and dumb. The distribution of the deaf and dumb in 
 England points to the fact that special influences, at present 
 imperfectly understood, are in operation in particular locali- 
 ties, and we find that in Suffolk, deaf and dumb persons in- 
 creased from 195 persons in 1851, to 247 persons in 1861. 
 In England and Wales, the proportion of living persons 
 to 1 deaf and dumb person was 1,640, but in Suffolk it was 
 only 1,358. The relative numbers of the sexes exhibit dis- 
 proportion ; there were 8 male deaf mutes to 6 female deaf 
 mutes. The contrast of age between the blind and the deaf 
 and dumb is conspicuous. The numbers of the blind increase 
 when we pass 40 years of age, but the numbers of the deaf 
 and dumb are highest under 40 years of age. Of the 157 
 bhnd females in Suffolk, only 37 are imder 40 years of age ; 
 but of the 106 deaf and dumb females, no less than 71 are 
 under 40 years of age. Of the total blind, 85 had attained 
 the age of 75 years ; of the total deaf and dumb, only 8 had 
 attained to 75. 
 
 OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 In 1861, the Population Eeturns were arranged by the 
 
422 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARIAND. 
 
 Registrar Q-eneral into six classes, and the respective numbers 
 of each class in Sulfolk, dming the first week in April in that 
 year, stood thus : 
 
 
 Males. 
 
 Females 
 
 1st Class Professional . 
 
 4,200 
 
 1,932 
 
 2nd ,, Domestic 
 
 69,880 
 
 138,411 
 
 3rd ,, Commercial . 
 
 9,947 
 
 388 
 
 4th ,, Agricultural. 
 
 57,195 
 
 7,751 
 
 5th ,, Industrial . 
 
 28,445 
 
 18,273 
 
 6th ,, Indefinite and Non- Productive 
 
 4,472 
 
 4,728 
 
 The following tabulated returns give, as it were, a bird's 
 eye view of the number of persons employed in the principal 
 occupations in the county : 
 
 OCCTJPATIONS IN 'WHICH THEKE WAS AN Increase IN THE NUMBER OP 
 PERSONS EMPLOYED IN SUFEOLK IJT 1861 OOMPAHED WITH 1851. 
 
 
 1851. 
 
 1861. 
 
 
 1851. 
 
 1861. 
 
 Post Office Employes 
 
 148 
 
 188 
 
 Employed on Kail- 
 
 
 
 Police 
 
 198 
 
 254 
 
 ways 
 
 251 
 
 580 
 
 Clergymen 
 
 542 
 
 585 
 
 Telegraph Service . . 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 Barristers 
 
 ]6 
 
 30 
 
 Seamen . . 
 
 1117 
 
 1424 
 
 Photographic Artists 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 Farm Bailiff's 
 
 581 
 
 7.i3 
 
 General Teachers & 
 
 ) 
 
 \ 11 
 
 Shepherds 
 
 5S3 
 
 878 
 
 Teachers of Lan- 
 
 f 39 
 
 Gardeners 
 
 1521 
 
 1735 
 
 guages, Males 
 
 ) 
 
 Gamekeepers 
 
 315 
 
 377 
 
 General Teachers & 
 
 ) 
 
 ( 299 
 
 Fishermen 
 
 698 
 
 837 
 
 Teachers of Lan- 
 
 147 
 
 \ 11 
 
 Printers . . 
 
 270 
 
 317 
 
 guages, Females . . 
 
 ) 
 
 Coachmakers 
 
 314 
 
 341 
 
 Civil Engineers 
 
 13 
 
 19 
 
 Plumbers & Glaziers- 
 
 764 
 
 879 
 
 Music Mistresses . . 
 
 23 
 
 41 
 
 Millwrights 
 
 98 
 
 108 
 
 Governesses 
 
 371 
 
 468 
 
 Butchers . . 
 
 896 
 
 915 
 
 Female Servants — 
 
 
 
 Fishmongers 
 
 125 
 
 245 
 
 General Servants . 
 
 7358 
 
 9002 
 
 Maltsters 
 
 540 
 
 049 
 
 Housekeepers . . 
 
 1294 
 
 1642 
 
 Innkeepers 
 
 751 
 
 756 
 
 Cooks . . 
 
 815 
 
 135G 
 
 Publicans and Beer- 
 
 
 
 Housemaids 
 
 1000 
 
 1760 
 
 sellers 
 
 377 
 
 519 
 
 Nursemaids 
 
 606 
 
 1171 
 
 Grocers . , 
 
 851 
 
 1248 
 
 Male Servants — 
 
 
 
 Soap Boilers 
 
 9 
 
 40 
 
 Coachmen 
 
 93 
 
 155 
 
 Tanners . . 
 
 87 
 
 153 
 
 Grooms 
 
 295 
 
 661 
 
 Sawyers . . 
 
 461 
 
 514 
 
 Gardeners 
 
 67 
 
 155 
 
 Thatchers 
 
 526 
 
 544 
 
 Commercial Clerks . 
 
 169 
 
 338 
 
 Drapers, Mercers . . 
 
 496 
 
 599 
 
 Auctioneers 
 
 58 
 
 66 
 
 Gas Works Service . 
 
 35 
 
 72 
 
 Accountants 
 
 49 
 
 62 
 
 Briekmakers 
 
 724 
 
 873 
 
 Pawnbrokers 
 
 29 
 
 34 
 
 Boiler Makers 
 
 21 
 
 56 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 423 
 
 OOOTTPATIONS IN ■wHicu TnEUE "WAS A Decrease in the numbee of 
 
 PERSONS EMPLOYED IN SUFFOLK IN 1861 OOMPAEKD WITH 1851. 
 
 Protestant Ministers 
 
 Physicians and Sur- 
 geons 
 
 Schoolmasters 
 
 Schoolmistresses 
 
 General Srvnts.,Mal 
 
 Bargemen 
 
 Pilots 
 
 Messengers, Errand 
 Boys 
 
 Farmers, Graziers . 
 
 Farm Servants, In 
 door ; Male 
 
 Watchmakers 
 
 1851. 
 
 1861. 
 
 130 
 
 125 
 
 232 
 
 205 
 
 336 
 
 309 
 
 951 
 
 960 
 
 1061 
 
 960 
 
 229 
 
 145 
 
 141 
 
 117 
 
 1195 
 
 716 
 
 5196 
 
 4989 
 
 2845 
 
 959 
 
 194 
 
 164 
 
 Architects 
 
 yurvej'ors 
 
 Carpenters 
 
 Bricklayers 
 
 Masons . . 
 
 Cabinet Makers 
 
 Wheelwrights 
 
 Bakers 
 
 Tallow Chandlers 
 
 Basket Makers 
 
 Coopers . . 
 
 Silk Manufacturers 
 
 Shoemakers 
 
 Tailors 
 
 1851. 1861. 
 
 33 
 
 25 
 
 3155 
 
 2194 
 
 174 
 
 441 
 
 927 
 
 770 
 
 70 
 
 158 
 
 258 
 
 650 
 
 3979 
 
 1657 
 
 19 
 9 
 
 3065 
 
 2126- 
 
 113 
 
 403 
 
 900 
 
 739 
 
 49 
 
 140 
 
 241 
 
 585 
 
 3761 
 
 1415 
 
 OCCUPATIONS IN WHICH 
 
 MALE JUVENILES WEKE EMPLOTED IN SUFFOLK 
 
 
 IN 1861. 
 
 
 
 Under 
 
 
 Under 
 
 
 10 years 
 
 
 10 years 
 
 
 of Age. 
 
 
 of Age. 
 
 Domestic Servants . 
 
 3 
 
 Carpet Manufacturer 
 
 1 
 
 Gardener 
 
 1 
 
 Silk 
 
 12 
 
 Seaman 
 
 1 
 
 Flax „ 
 
 3 
 
 Errand Boys 
 
 4 
 
 Straw Plait ,, 
 
 16 
 
 Agricultural Labourers 
 
 515 
 
 Mat Makers . 
 
 5 
 
 Shepherds 
 
 7 
 
 Kope Maker 
 
 1 
 
 Farm Servants (indoor) 
 
 3 
 
 Brick Makers 
 
 6 
 
 Woodman 
 
 1 
 
 Earthenware Manufacturer 
 
 1 
 
 Cattle Dealer 
 
 1 
 
 Labourers 
 
 24 
 
 Sailmaker 
 
 \ 
 
 Dependent on Relatives 
 
 1 
 
 OCCUPATIONS IN WHICH FEMALE JUVENILES WERE EMPLOTED IN 1861. 
 
 
 Under 
 
 10 to 15 
 
 
 Under 
 
 10 to lo 
 
 
 10 years 
 
 years 
 
 
 10 years 
 
 years 
 
 
 of Age. 
 
 of Age. 
 
 
 of Age. 
 
 of Age. 
 
 Shopwomen 
 
 
 4 
 
 Hair Bristle Manu- 
 
 
 
 ■Woollen Cloth Manu- 
 
 
 
 facturers 
 
 17 
 
 75 
 
 facturers 
 
 
 14 
 
 Brush & Broom ditto 
 
 24 
 
 67 
 
 Silk ditto . 
 
 19 
 
 272 
 
 General Servants 
 
 3 
 
 1063 
 
 Cotton ditto 
 
 2 
 
 5 
 
 Housekeeper 
 
 
 1 
 
 Straw Plait ditto 
 
 103 
 
 271 
 
 Cook 
 
 
 1 
 
 Tailors . 
 
 
 21 
 
 Housemaids 
 
 
 105 
 
 Dressmakers 
 
 
 121 
 
 ]S"urses 
 
 5 
 
 293 
 
 Seamstresses 
 
 2 
 
 
 Inn Servants 
 
 
 10 
 
 Shoemakers 
 
 
 51 
 
 Warehouse Women 
 
 
 24 
 
 Laundresses 
 
 
 19 
 
 Agricultural Labour- 
 
 
 
 Clothes Dealers 
 
 2 
 
 
 ers 
 
 16 
 
 49 
 
 Net Makers 
 
 
 17 
 
 Pedlar . 
 Gipsy 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
424 
 
 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 LIST OF THE OCCUPATIONS 
 FEMALES WERE EMPLOYE 
 EMPLOYED. 
 
 General Servants . 9002 
 
 Milliners and Dressmakers 45G9 
 Laundresses . .2219 
 
 Straw Plait Manufacturers 1792 
 
 Housemaids . . 17fiO 
 
 Silk Manufacturers . . lhS7 
 
 Housekeepers . . I(i42 
 
 Cooks . . . 1356 
 
 Farm Servants (Indoor) . 1215 
 Nursemaids . . .1171 
 
 Charwomen . . 1054 
 
 Schoolmistresses . 950 
 
 Shoemakers . . 820 
 
 IN EACH OF WHICH ABOVE TWO IlUKDUEn 
 D IN SUFFOLK IN 18G1, AND THE KUMBBR SO 
 
 Seamstresses . 
 
 793 
 
 Tailors . 
 
 642 
 
 Nurbes (not Domestic Servants 
 
 563 
 
 Governesses 
 
 468 
 
 Hair Bristle Manufacturers 
 
 353 
 
 Agricultural Labourers . 
 
 333 
 
 Stavmakers . 
 
 307 
 
 Grocers 
 
 328 
 
 General Teachers 
 
 299 
 
 Brush and Broom Makers 
 
 273 
 
 Inn-keepers and Beershop- 
 
 
 keepers 
 
 209 
 
 Net Makers 
 
 212 
 
 MAKRIAGES. 
 
 The Registrar-General has shown that " the fluctuation in 
 the marriages of a covintry expresses the view which the 
 great body of the peoj)le take of their prospects in the world." 
 Such a view of the most important event in the lives of 
 human beings invests it with an extra degree of interest, 
 socially and commercially. The follovnng table exhibits the 
 number of marriages in Suffolk in the years 1851 — 3, and 
 1861—3. 
 
 1851. 1852. 1 1853. 
 
 1861. 1862. 1863. 
 
 2,294 2,326 2,476 
 
 2,298 2,283 | 2,430 
 
 The Population Eetmms of 1861, when compared with 
 those of 1851, exhibit a decrease in the numbers of the 
 people ; but the decrease in the number of marriages in the 
 three years ending 1863, compared with the returns of the 
 ten years previous, is greater than that of the population. 
 
 Of the marriages contracted in the years 1861 and 1862, 
 there were 3,672 celebrated according to the rites of the 
 Established Chmxh. Exclusive of Roman Catholics, Quakers, 
 and Jews, there were 482 other marriages, celebrated at 
 Nonconformist places of worship, and 418 at the offices of 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELAND. 
 
 425 
 
 the Superintendent Registrars. In 1861, there were three 
 Roman Catholic and three Quaker marriages ; and in 1862, 
 two Roman Cathoho and one Quaker marriage. 
 
 There is considerable improvement in the state of education 
 in Suffolk, as shown by the marriage registers, but the im- 
 provement is greatest on the female side. In the three years 
 ending 1863, there were 2,121 females, and 2552 males, 
 signed the marriage register with marks ; that is, thirty per 
 cent, of the females, and thirty-six per cent, of the males. 
 But in the seven years, 1839 — 45, no less than forty-six per 
 cent, of the men, and fifty- two per cent, of the women signed 
 with marks. 
 
 BIRTHS. 
 
 There were 32,880 births registered in Suffolk diiring the 
 three years ending 1863. This number does not, however, 
 exactly represent the number that occurred, as the births of 
 still-bom children are not registered. The term "still-born" 
 implies children born who never breathe in the world. If a 
 premature infant of six months breathe, it is said to be born 
 alive, is registered among the births, and, if it die, among 
 the deaths. The returns for the three years just mentioned 
 exhibit a decrease in the number of illegitimate births. 
 Although the proportion of illegitimate children cannot, 
 without various other particulars, serve as a standard of 
 morality, nevertheless a remarkable frequency of such cases 
 is, both morally and socially, a serious evil. The following 
 table exhibits the number of births, and the number of 
 illegitimates for the years 1861 — 3. 
 
 KUMBEE OP BIRTHS IN STJEFOLK 
 DUKING THE TEAKS 
 
 NUMBKR OF ILLEGITIMATE BtKTHS 
 IN SUFIOLK BUniNG THE YEAKS 
 
 1861. 1 1862. 1 1863. 
 
 1861. 1 1862. 1863. 
 
 10,921 
 
 10,951 11,008 
 
 888 848 1 865 
 
 DEATHS. 
 
 In the three years ending 1863, there were 20,759 deaths 
 
426 
 
 THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 registered in the county of Suffolk ; the year 1862 being 
 distinguished as a healthy, and that of 1863 as an unhealthy 
 period. The mortality experienced in the summer quarter 
 of 1863 was, in some districts of this county, greater than 
 had been known for many years. In the year 1862, there 
 were 6,135 deaths in this county; but in 1863, there were 
 7670, showing an increase of 1535 on the year, and being 
 nearly 600 more than was ever previously registered in 
 Suffolk in one year. We give here a table of the number of 
 deaths in the three years ending 1863, and in the corres- 
 ponding three years ending 1853 : — 
 
 DEATHS IN SUFFOLK IN 
 TEAKS, 1851- 
 
 THE THKEE 
 
 3. . 
 
 DEATHS IN SUFFOLK IN THE THUEE 
 TEAES, 1861-3. 
 
 1851. 
 
 1 
 
 1852. 
 
 
 1833. 
 
 1861. 
 
 1 1862. 
 
 1 
 
 1863. 
 
 (i,8:i9 
 
 
 6,870 
 
 1 
 
 6,907 
 
 6,954 
 
 1 6,135 
 
 1 
 
 7,670 
 
 20,61i) 
 
 20,759 
 
 On glancing over these returns, it will be observed that 
 coincident with a decrease in the population, when compared 
 with 1851, we have in the years 1861 — 3 a decrease in the 
 number of marriages, an increase in the number of births, and 
 an increase in the number of deaths. 
 
 RELIGIOUS COXDITION OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 At the Census in 1861, an account of the religious con- 
 dition of the people was not taken. Full particulars were, 
 however, obtained at the previous Census, 1851 ; and as these 
 Eetums are important in many respects, we condense the 
 leading facts from those relating to Suffolk, in order to show 
 the number of persons that attended places of worship, the 
 number of places provided for worship, and the particular 
 doctrines and forms of the parties for whom these provisions 
 were made. 
 
 In 1851, the population of Suffolk was 537,215. Of this 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 427 
 
 population, there were in the afternoon of Sunday, March 
 30th, 136,820 persons attending puhHc worship in 719 
 places ; of these 136,820 attendants, nearly two-thirds, 
 86,095, belonged to the Church of England. The largest 
 numbers among the Dissenters were Baptists, 18,415, 
 Independents, 18,181, "Wesleyan Methodists, 6,473, Primi- 
 tive Methodists, 5,822. 
 
 There were 895 places of worship in the county ; and, 
 including an Estimate for Returns, which omitted to men- 
 tion the number of sittings, there were 239,403 sittings. 
 Of these places of worship, 716, with 221,377 sittings, were 
 open in the morning ; 719, with 208,427 sittings, were open 
 in the afternoon; and 290, with 91,756 sittings, were open 
 in the evening. 
 
 The total number of sittings provided by each religious 
 body may be thus exhibited : — Church of England, 157,476 ; 
 Independent, 31,466 ; Particular Baptists, 24,515 ; Baptists 
 (imdefined), 14,304; Wesleyan Methodists, 14,649; Primi- 
 tive Methodists, 7,740 ; Society of Friends, 2,380 ; Unitari- 
 ans, 1,270 ; Wesleyan Methodist Association, 395 ; Wesleyan 
 Peformers, 518 ; Brethren, 400 ; Roman Catholics, 725 ; 
 Mormons, 233 ; Jews, 10 ; Isolated Congregations, 1,780. 
 
 The Church of England had 519 places of worship. Of 
 these, 455 were open in the morning, 430 in the afternoon, 
 and 36 in the evening. The Independents had 90 places 
 of worship, of which 59 were open for the morning service, 
 61 in the afternoon, and 68 in the evening. The Baptists 
 had 91 places of worship, and opened 70 in the morning, 
 71 in the afternoon, and 57 in the evening. The Wesleyans 
 had 163 places of worship ; 104 were open in the morning, 
 137 in the afternoon, and 113 ia the evening. The Mormons 
 had three places of worship, each of which was open morn- 
 ing, afternoon, and evening. 
 
 On comparing the number of attendants with the number 
 of sittings available during each part of the day, it was found 
 
428 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 that during the morning and afternoon, but little more than 
 halfoi the accommodation actually available was used; and 
 in the evening, less than half of the available sittings were 
 occupied. 
 
 The lowest proportion of attendants, to population, occurred 
 in the Mutford Union; and the highest proportion in the 
 Eisbridge Union. In the Bmy St. Edmund's, Ipswich, and 
 Mutford Unions, more than two-thirds of the population 
 were absent from public worship. 
 
 FAUPEKISM. 
 
 The county of Suffolk has been for a great many years 
 notorious for the extent of its pauperism ; and prior to the 
 Poor Law Amendment Act coming into operation, it was 
 more deeply pauperised than any other county in England. 
 The cost of poor relief per head in 1834, on the population 
 of 1831, was, in Hosne Union, £1 5.s. 0\d. ; in Hartismere 
 Union, £1 Is. 5|c/. ; and in Cosford Union, £1 l.s. 4.id. 
 But even this exhibition of the cost in these Unions fails 
 to show the enormous pressure which some parishes in the 
 county were compelled to bear. In Bacton, the cost per 
 head was £1 7s. 9d. ; in Stradbroke, £1 10s. 2d. ; in What- 
 field, £2 Os. 7d. ; and in Barsham, £3 16s. Od. Generally 
 speaking, the "Workhouse was a large " Almshouse," where 
 the iadolent, able-bodied labourer was maintained in sensual 
 indulgence. The lavish expenditure that characterised the 
 provision department became notorious to the whole county. 
 Hundreds availed themselves of this mode of living, pre- 
 ferring the comfort and security of residence in a Workhouse 
 to either industrial labour or out-door relief. And that the 
 diet table was on a scale so exceedingly liberal that the 
 inmates were far better fed than it was possible for them 
 to be at their own homes, the following particulars of the 
 dietaries of various Houses of Industry, in 1834, will 
 prove : — 
 
THE SUFFOLK OAKLAND. 
 
 429 
 
 WEKKLY DIETARY TABLE FOE ABLE-BODIED PAUPEKS. 
 
 
 Ounces of 
 
 
 
 
 
 solid Food, 
 
 Pints of 
 
 
 
 
 Bread, 
 
 Fluid, 
 
 Vegetables 
 
 Beer 
 
 Parish Workhouse or 
 
 Cheese, 
 
 Nutritious 
 
 
 
 
 Coolted 
 
 Diet, such 
 
 in 
 
 in 
 
 House of Industry. 
 
 Meat, 
 
 Meat 
 
 Dumplings, 
 
 etc., etc. 
 
 as Milk, 
 Soup, Rice- 
 Milk, etc. 
 
 Pounds. 
 
 Pints. 
 
 Workliouse, Parish of Framlingham 
 
 194 
 
 18 
 
 24 
 
 9 
 
 Onehouse House, Stow Hundred 
 
 i;03 
 
 lOi 
 
 24 
 
 14 
 
 Buloamp House, Blything Hundred 
 
 210 
 
 4i 
 
 16 
 
 7 
 
 Barham House, Bosmere Hundred 
 
 211 
 
 m 
 
 32 
 
 14 
 
 Naoton House, Colneis Hundred 
 
 217 
 
 24 
 
 32 
 
 14 
 
 Eye Parish Workhouse . 
 
 224 
 
 21 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 Semer House, Cosford Hundred 
 
 233| 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 Tattingstone House, Samford Hund. 
 
 247 
 
 m 
 
 — 
 
 12 
 
 Gilbert's Union House, Oulton 
 
 2651 
 
 124 
 
 32 
 
 9 
 
 The pauper class is still a large class in Sufifolk, but, 
 happily, a class decreasing in numbers. In the five years 
 ending March, 1853, the annual average number of persons 
 relieved was 26,582; but in the three years ending January 
 1st, 1865, the average, annually, was only 24,027 — nearly 
 one in twelve of the entire population of the county. The 
 cost of supporting what Thomas Carlyle calls " this army 
 of paupers," averages about £185,000 a year. Thus, in 
 the year ending Lady Day, 1863, the cost of indoor main- 
 tenance was £20,224 ; and the amount of out-relief was 
 £83,144. The salaries and rations of the officers, including 
 the sums re-paid to Her Majesty's Treasury, amount to 
 £18,710 (nearly as much as the maintenance of the in-door 
 poor). On January 1st, 1865, there were 23,944 paupers 
 reheved: the in-door paupers numbering 2,574, and the 
 out-door 21,379. But the able-bodied adults among them 
 were only 587 in-door, and 4398 out-door. The following 
 table exhibits at one view the present state of pauperism, 
 and the cost of pauperism in the county of Suffolk : — 
 
430 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 
 
 First of 
 
 First of 
 
 
 
 January, 
 
 January, 
 
 
 
 1864. 
 
 1865, 
 
 Total number of Paupers relieved 
 
 
 24,113 
 
 23,944 
 
 Number of Indoor Poor 
 
 
 2,582 
 
 2,574 
 
 ,, Outdoor Poor 
 
 
 21,531 
 
 21,379 
 
 ,, Able-bodied Adults . 
 
 Indoor 
 
 59] 
 
 587 
 
 )i >i I) 
 
 Outdoor 
 
 4,505 
 
 4,398 
 
 EKTURXS RELATING TO THE YI 
 
 AR ENDIXG LADT 
 
 DAT, 1864. 
 
 Total 
 Receipts 
 from Poor 
 
 Rate 
 Returns, 
 
 In 
 Main- 
 tenance. 
 
 Out 
 
 Relief. 
 
 Mainte- 
 nance 
 of Lunatics 
 in Asylums 
 
 Salaries 
 
 and 
 Rations, 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Total 
 Expendi- 
 ture of 
 Relief to 
 the Poor. 
 
 Payments 
 towards 
 
 County 01 
 Borough 
 Rates. 
 
 Total 
 
 Expendi- 
 ture. 
 
 186,764 
 
 17,012 
 
 79,379 
 
 10,253 
 
 19,026 
 
 135,775 
 
 30,546 
 
 184,721 
 
 THE COMPARATIVE WEEKLY COST OF INDOOK AND OUTDOOR RELIEF TER 
 100 OF POrULATION FOR THE YEARS ENDING LADY-DAY, 1852-3, AND 
 THE YEARS ENDING LADY-DAY, 1862-3; ALSO THE COST PER HEAD OF 
 POOR RELIEF IN 1834. 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Average Weeldy Cost of Indoor 
 
 
 
 Cost of Poor Be- 
 
 and Outdoor Relief per 100 of 
 
 Unions. 
 
 lation in 
 
 lief per Head in 
 
 Population for the Yeary ending 
 
 
 1S61. 
 
 1834 on the Po- 
 
 Lady-day :— 
 
 
 
 pulation of 1831. 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1852. 
 
 1853. 
 
 1862. 
 
 1863. 
 
 
 
 £ 
 
 a. d. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 6. d. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 Ely tiling 
 
 26,848 
 
 
 
 17 1 
 
 9 6 
 
 8 11 
 
 10 2 
 
 9 2 
 
 Bosmere & Claydon . 
 
 16,174 
 
 
 
 17 11 
 
 10 4 
 
 11 2 
 
 12 4 
 
 11 10 
 
 Bury St. Edmund's . 
 
 13,318 
 
 
 * 
 
 10 10 
 
 11 8 
 
 13 8 
 
 14 
 
 Cosford . 
 
 17,376 
 
 1 
 
 1 41 
 
 8 7 
 
 8 9 
 
 13 4 
 
 14 1 
 
 Kartismere 
 
 17,665 
 
 1 
 
 1 6i 
 
 14 9 
 
 14 11 
 
 13 4 
 
 12 8 
 
 Hoxne . 
 
 14,694 
 
 1 
 
 5 o.;,- 
 
 15 1 
 
 14 1 
 
 14 
 
 14 5 
 
 Ipswich . 
 
 37,881 
 
 
 
 13 3| 
 
 10 7 
 
 11 4 
 
 12 11 
 
 10 5 
 
 Mildenhall . 
 
 9,595 
 
 
 
 14 10,^ 
 
 10 
 
 9 10 
 
 16 
 
 16 8 
 
 Mutford & Lothing- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 land . 
 
 24,050 
 
 
 * 
 
 6 6 
 
 6 2 
 
 10 3 
 
 7 11 
 
 Plomesgate 
 
 20,720 
 
 
 
 19 li 
 
 12 1 
 
 13 7 
 
 ' 13 4 
 
 12 9 
 
 Kisb ridge 
 
 17,432 
 
 
 
 17 8i 
 
 14 
 
 14 2 
 
 17 
 
 16 6 
 
 Samford . 
 
 12,736 
 
 
 * 
 
 5 11 
 
 7 
 
 10 7 
 
 10 6 
 
 Stow 
 
 20,908 
 
 
 
 14 8| 
 
 10 11 
 
 10 10 
 
 12 11 
 
 12 6 
 
 Sudbury . 
 
 31,415 
 
 
 
 13 OJ- 
 
 13 3 
 
 14 1 
 
 18 6 
 
 17 5 
 
 Thingoe . 
 
 18,224 
 
 
 
 10 1| 
 
 14 4 
 
 13 11 
 
 14 10 
 
 14 6 
 
 Wangford 
 
 13,619 
 
 
 
 16 llj 
 
 11 9 
 
 H 10 
 
 13 7 
 
 14 3 
 
 Woodbridge . 
 
 22,754 
 
 
 
 16 Hi 
 
 14 10 
 
 13 7 
 
 14 1 
 
 13 5 
 
 * The cost of these Unions cannot be ascerta.iiied, as they did not dissolve their incor- 
 porations until several yeais after 1834. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAKLAND. 
 
 431 
 
 The foregoing extracts from tables, kindly fm-nished by 
 Sir John Walsham, Bart., exhibit the comparative cost of 
 relief in the several Unions of this county at two different 
 periods, ten years apart. We have also added, for still 
 further comparison, the cost per head of pauperism in four- 
 teen of the Unions in the year 1834. 
 
 CRIME. 
 
 There are several indioations at the present time of the 
 improved social condition of the people of Suffolk ; and an 
 opinion prevails among those best able to judge, that we 
 may add to these indications the fact that crime has, during 
 the last few years, decreased in this county, both in its 
 extent and its enormity. But though this impression is 
 strong on the minds of many persons holding official posi- 
 tions, it is not easy to prove it by statistical returns. The 
 following table is compiled from Returns furnished by the 
 Home Office, but it fails to elucidate the very point that 
 wants to be proved. 
 
 A EETTJKN OF THE ITtTMBER OF "COMMITMENTS FOR TRIAL" IN THE 
 COrNir OF SUFFOLK (iNCLTJDING THE BOROUGHS) IN THE TEARS 
 
 1050 
 
 1S51 
 
 1852 
 
 1853 
 
 1860 
 
 1861 
 
 1862 
 
 1863 
 
 472 
 
 629 
 
 609 
 
 521 
 
 177 
 
 243 
 
 243 
 
 248 
 
 A RETURN OF THE NUMBER OF "SUMMARY CONYICIIONS IN THE 
 COUNTY OF SUFFOLK (INCLUDING THE BOROUGHS) IN THE YEARS 
 
 1860 
 
 1861 
 
 1862 
 
 1863 
 
 1922 
 
 1930 
 
 2158 
 
 2020 
 
 Here we see that the commitments for trial have decreased 
 in ten years from 629 in 1851 to 243 in 1861 ; but a great 
 
432 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 proportion of this decrease iu the number of commitments 
 is owing to alterations in tlie Criminal Law. The Summary 
 Jurisdiction Act gave the power to persons charged with 
 certain indictable offences, the opportunity of being tried 
 at Petty Sessions, and acquitted or convicted summarily. 
 This Act, therefore, by giving increased power to magis- 
 trates, greatly reduced the number of commitments, and 
 will almost account for the decrease exhibited in the above 
 Return. 
 
 The " Summary Convictions " for the four years ending 
 1863, are very numerous; but as the Home Office could not 
 furnish a similar Return for the four years ending 1853 
 or for any one of these years, the j)revailing opinion as to 
 the decrease of crime remains, as far as statistical state- 
 ments are concerned, unproved. 
 
 At the Sessions convened for the Borough of Ipswich, 
 in January, 1865, there was not a prisoner for trial ; and 
 this singular, and as far as is known, unprecedented event 
 in the memory of persons living, was marked by the Mayor 
 presenting to the Recorder a pair of white gloves, to com- 
 memorate the Maiden Sessions — a Sessions at which there 
 was no prisoner to try. Although this cii'cumstance does 
 not prove the absence of crime in the town of Ipswich, 
 it evidences the absence of those violent and malicious 
 offences against person and property which are the surest 
 indications of moral debasement. 
 
 LITERARY INSTITUTES IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 The merest glance at the tabular statement in page 434 will 
 show that the love of literature is not very strongly developed 
 in Suffolk. Among the males, we find only 3,478 members 
 of Literary Institutes in the county, although the adult 
 males, twenty years of age and above, numbered S5,5l3 ; 
 and, be it remembered, a considerable number of these 3,478 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARL.VKU. 433 
 
 members are under twenty yeaxs of age. TJIieii, again, we find 
 only 204 female members of Literary Institutes out of 94,472 
 females in tbe county twenty years of age and upwards. 
 According to the Census Report in 1851, there were 2,808 
 members of Literary Institutes ; the above Eeturn therefore 
 shows an increase of 874 members in ten years ; but two- 
 thirds of this increase has occurred in the Town of Ipswich 
 alone. Since the Eeturns of 1851, "Institutes" have 
 been established at Debenham, Mildenhall, and Eye ; and 
 Reading Rooms opened at Wrentham and Hadleigh. That 
 at Debenham has been very materially aided by Lord Henni- 
 ker; that at Mildenhall by Sir Charles and Lady Bunbury ; 
 and that at Eye by Lady Caroline Kerrison. The " Leiston 
 Institute " is indebted to Richard Garrett, Esq., not only for 
 the use of the room, but also for fire and gas, which that gen- 
 tleman provides at his own expense. The Mechanics' Insti- 
 tute at Bury St. Edmund's has also the use of its rooms 
 rent free. In fact, several of the Institutes are not what 
 may be called self-supporting; and those at Ipswich and 
 Stowmarket are in a more prosperous condition than any 
 others in the county. 
 
 Comparing 1851 with 1865, we find that at Clare, the 
 members of the Institute have decreased from 104 to 75 ; 
 at Halesworth, from 100 to 83 ; at Leiston, from 124 to 85 ; 
 at Woodbridge, from 150 to 93 ; and at Yoxford, from 93 
 to 56. The Ipswich Literary Institute, with its 102 mem- 
 bers in 1851, has ceased to exist. The Bures Reading Room 
 has merged into the Parochial Lending Library ; the Low- 
 estoft Mechanics' Institute, which in 1851 had 150 members, 
 was obliged to wind up its affairs in October, 1865, leaving 
 a deficiency of ten poxmds to be made good by the Executive ; 
 and the Woodbridge Institute had 1,400 vols, in 1851, and 
 now, after fourteen years, making allowance for " lost" and 
 "unfit for use," has no larger number. Were we not jus- 
 tified, therefore, in making our opening remark, that the 
 love of literature in Suffolk is not very strongly developed ? 
 
434 
 
 THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 
 
 CONDITXOy OP LITEKAKT INSTITUTES IN" SUFFOLK IN 1865. 
 
 
 
 No. 
 
 of Jl 
 
 em- 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 bers 
 
 
 
 
 No. of 
 
 
 =^g 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 vols. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Institutes. 
 
 »_s s 
 
 OT 
 
 _QJ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Rate of Annual 
 
 Annual 
 
 in 
 
 
 l«l 
 
 H 
 
 i 
 
 & 
 
 Subscription. 
 
 Income. 
 
 Libra- 
 ry. 
 
 Beccles Public Library 
 
 1835 
 
 80 
 
 7 
 
 87 
 
 21s. 
 
 £90 
 
 6600 
 
 Beecles Working Men's Institute 
 
 1866 
 
 54 
 
 3 
 
 57 
 
 4s. 4d. and 10s. 
 
 40 
 
 100 
 
 Bury St. Edmund's Athenpeum 
 
 1853 
 
 300 
 
 60 
 
 350 
 
 10s. 6d. and 6s. 
 
 300 
 
 7600 
 
 ,, „ Mechanics' ) 
 Institute . . J 
 
 1824 
 
 65 
 
 
 65 
 
 10s. 6d. 
 
 70 
 
 5600 
 
 Bury and West Suffolk Library 
 
 1846 
 
 
 
 140 
 
 21s. 
 
 
 8000 
 
 Clare Literary Institute 
 
 1850 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 21s., 10s. 6d. and 6s. 
 
 60 
 
 600 
 
 Bebenhaui Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1853 
 
 40 
 
 16 
 
 65 
 
 6s. 
 
 20 
 
 650 
 
 Eye Literary Institute 
 
 1858 
 
 91 
 
 
 91 
 
 10s. 6d. and 5s. 
 
 25 10s. 
 
 631 
 
 Framlingham Mechanics'Institute 
 
 1844 
 
 40 
 
 
 40 
 
 8s. 
 
 17 16s. 
 
 600 
 
 Hadleigh Young Men's Institute 
 
 1862 
 
 90 
 
 
 90 
 
 8s. and 4s. 
 
 SO 
 
 
 IJalesworth Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1850 
 
 79 
 
 4 
 
 83 
 
 10s. and 6s. 
 
 30 
 
 1200 
 
 Ipswich Public Library 
 
 1791 
 
 185 
 
 36 
 
 220 
 
 21s. 
 
 
 9200 
 
 ,, Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1824 
 
 C05 
 
 12 
 
 617 
 
 10s. 
 
 460 
 
 7600 
 
 „ Orwell Works 
 
 1830 
 
 226 
 
 
 226 
 
 4s. 4d. 
 
 49 
 
 2850 
 
 ,, Working Men's College 
 
 1862 
 
 653 
 
 
 653 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 144 
 
 1000 
 
 Leiston Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1850 
 
 
 
 86 
 
 8s. 
 
 50 
 
 3500 
 
 Melford Literary Institute ]■ 
 Mildenhall Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1849 
 
 91 
 
 6 
 
 97 
 
 flOs. 6cl, 7s. 6a.,1 
 
 1 5s., ladies, 4s. J 
 
 10s. and 6s. 
 
 44 
 
 600 
 
 1850 
 
 52 
 
 3 
 
 55 
 
 25 
 
 500 
 
 Nayland Literary , 
 
 1851 
 
 24 
 
 
 24 
 
 10s. 
 
 20 
 
 180 
 
 Needham Market Mechanics',', 
 
 1850 
 
 61 
 
 '2 
 
 63 
 
 12s. and 63. 
 
 
 850 
 
 Stowmarket ,, „ 
 
 1840 
 
 165 
 
 24 
 
 189 
 
 20s., 8s., and 6s. 
 
 130 
 
 2500 
 
 Sudbury „ „ 
 
 1834 
 
 124 
 
 6 
 
 130 
 
 21s., 12s. 6d., and 5s. 
 
 133 
 
 1100 
 
 Woodbridge „ ,, 
 
 1856 
 
 90 
 
 3 
 
 93 
 
 10s. and 6s. ladies. 
 
 65 
 
 1400 
 
 Wrenthani Reading Room 
 
 1857 
 
 51 
 
 
 61 
 
 10s. and 3s. 
 
 15 
 
 604 
 
 Yoxford Mechanics' Institute 
 
 1851 
 
 22 
 
 34 
 
 56 
 
 10s. and 6s. ladies. 
 
 25 
 
 800 
 
 There are other Libraries in Suffolk, as the Corporation 
 Library, Ipswich, with its 922 vols., representing 659 works, 
 but these are not at present accessible to the public; and 
 the Library at the Ipswich Museum, which is only for 
 reference. 
 
Spett^^^'- 
 
 THE EEFOEM STEUGGLE AT IPSWICH IN 1820 ; 
 
 OB. THE HISTOET OP 
 
 LENNAKD AND HALDIMAND'S ELECTION*. 
 
 Thb political triumpli gained by the Reformera at Ipswioli in 1820, 
 and popularly known as " the Lennard and Haldimand election," will 
 ever be memorable in the political history of the Borough. Nearly 
 half-a-century has elapsed since that event took place, and as the 
 passions and prejudices then excited are allayed, and the principal com- 
 batants, as well as the vast majority of those who fought under their 
 leadership, have thrown off this mortal coil, we may now endeavour to 
 place before our readers a sketch of the greatest political conflict that 
 ever occurred within the precincts of Ipswich. Indeed, with the ex- 
 ception of the contest of Barnardiston and Parker against the son of Sir 
 Roger North, in 16i0 ; that of Staunton and WoUaston, against the son 
 of the Earl of Dysart, in 1764 ; and that of Dundas and Kelly against 
 Morrison and Wason^ in 1835, there is nothing in the political annals of 
 the Borough that will bear any comparison with the conflict of 1820. 
 Thomas Carlyle has in his inimitable manner given us a picture of the 
 election at Ipswich for the Long Parliament, in 1640, when the struggle 
 was between Puritan and Royalist : be it our more humble task to 
 attempt a rough sketch of an election in times within the memory of 
 many now living, when the struggle may be said to have been between 
 the aristocracy and the people — or Conservatism and Progress. 
 
 A consideration of the causes which led to the strong claas-antagonism 
 which largely prevailed thi-oughout the country belongs to the province 
 of the general historian. The local circumstances under which the con- 
 flict referred to took place, was to a certain extent peculiar to Ipswich, 
 and may therefore properly claim our attention. The Corporate Body, 
 according to the charter and constitution of the Borough, consisted of 
 two Bailiff's, twelve Portmen, twenty-four Common-councilmen, and an 
 indefinite number of Freemen. The Portmen and Common-councilmen 
 ■were self-elected, each by a majority of their respective bodies, and, 
 singularly enough, the Portmen were by this means all Reformers, and 
 the Common-councilmen all Tories, or Blues. The two parties being 
 politically opposed. Bailiffs were chosen from that party which happened 
 to have the ascendancy among the Burgesses. Under these circum- 
 stances. Chief Magistrates were sometimes appointed who enjoyed neither 
 the respect nor the confidence of the inhabitants. The freedom of the 
 Borough was acquired by birth, apprenticeship, purchase, and gift. 
 
 There were about 1000 Freemen, but more than half of them were 
 non-resident. A considerable majority of those who resided in the Town 
 were journeyman mechanics and labourers. A few years after this 
 
436 APPENDIX TO 
 
 event it was found that of the whole of the riOgistered Freemen of 
 Ipswich, only 1^8 occupied houses of the value of £10 and upwards; 
 and of these 138, only 28 were rated at £10 and upwards; and of the 
 28 one-half were members of the Common Council. Jfo less than 43 
 of 'the number were excused payment of rates. There were about 50 
 merchants and manufacturers in the Town, but only 7 of them were 
 Freemen, There were 22 medical practitioners, but only 3 of them were 
 Freemen. Still further, to prove that the Burgesses were among the 
 Tjoorest of the inhabitants, we mention that in the parish of St. Margaret, 
 there were 92 inhabitants rated at £10 and upwai-ds. There were 33 
 Free Burgesses rated, but only 3 were rated at £10 and upwards. In 
 St. Clement's there were 75 Burgesses on the E.ate-book, but the whole 
 of their Assessments amounted only to £229 Ss. ; while the total Assess- 
 ment of the parish was £3,721 3s. It will thus be seen that those 
 inhabitants of the Town who were best qualified by their education and 
 station in society to promote the interests of the Borough, had no voice 
 in the management of its aifairs; while a body of Freemen, whose con- 
 dition in life exposed them to the influence of corruption, and disquali- 
 fied them for the performance of official duties, were entrusted with the 
 election of Chief Magistrates, and were themselves exclusively eligible 
 for the Municipal ofBces of the Borough. The Blues had possessed the 
 lead in the Town for many years, and some of the most influential men 
 of the Town belonged to that party. These gentlemen regarded the 
 Kevolution of 1688 as a dangerous innovation, and they exhibited their 
 attachment to the principles of the Stuart family by displaying -oak 
 bouo-hs at their doorways, on each successive 29th of May. A " Pitt" 
 Club was formed, and held its annual dinner in commemoration of the 
 great man's birth; and the men who would not sport "true blue" 
 colours or drink deep potations to the memory of the " Heaven-born 
 Minister " were expelled from the society of their ultra-loyal fellow- 
 townsmen. Anv man who professed Radical principles was looked upon 
 by the Tories "with suspicion, and regarded as one who was continu- 
 ally plotting to overturn the constitution of society by pushing the 
 respectables from their stools, and plundering them of their property ; 
 and to show the extent to which party-feeling prevailed, we mention 
 that at one of the public dinners given by the Bailifi's, the following 
 toast was given with applause: — "May the types of every Jacobin 
 printer be converted into musket-balls, and every Democrat receive a 
 proof impression ! " , 
 
 Tliese causes seem quite sufficient to account for the unexampled zeal 
 and activity manifested by the Reformers at the contest in 1820. But 
 there was another cause which, perhaps more than any other, stimulated 
 them on this particular occasion. The Borough had long been considered 
 as under the influence of the Government, and that, in fact, the minis- 
 ters nominated the members, as the Marquis of Hertford did for the 
 Borouo-h of Orford, and the Marquis Cornwallis for the Borough of Eye. 
 The Reformers had long desired to wipe off this reproach, but they felt 
 themselves unable to do so. At the election, however, in 1818, Mr. 
 Henry Baring, of the firm of Baring and Co, London, without being 
 solicited, offered himself as a candidate on the Reform side, in opposition 
 to Messrs, Criokitt and Newton. This gentleman came into the Town 
 a perfect stranger ; and though he only came the day before the election, 
 alter six days' polling and registering more than 800 voters, he was 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 437 
 
 only defeated by 32. This showed to the Reformers their real strength, 
 and prepared them better than anything else for the struggle in 1820. 
 Mr. Baring was so pleased with the exertions of the friends in Ipswich 
 who laboured for him on that oooasion, that, before leaving them, he 
 declared that as long as health permitted him, they should never want a 
 candidate to support their cause. When, therefore, the decease of George 
 III., in 1820, led to a dissolution of Parliament, the Reformers of Ipswich 
 naturally looked to Mr. Baring to redeem his pledge, by becoming once 
 more their leader in a political struggle. Mr. Baring, however, felt 
 himself physically unable to bear the fatigue which, as he said, must 
 necessarily be undergone by any candidate who would struggle at the 
 approaching election to rescue the Borough from ministerial bondage 
 and domestic thraldom. But though unable to do battle himself, he 
 promised to use his utmost endeavours to introduce two gentlemen to the 
 electors, upon whose exertions they might rely. 
 
 Thus assured of a contest, the Reformers immediately commenced 
 working operations. Many of the leading inhabitants of the town, who 
 were continually reminded of the necessity for Reform in Parliament 
 by their exclusion from Corporate offices and consequent inability to take 
 part in the management of Corporate affairs, joined with the Portmen 
 and the Free Burgesses on the "Whig side. IVo Committees were 
 for.ned on the plan of a deliberative and executive assembly ; and their 
 meetings were held at the " Golden Lion." Among the members of the 
 first Committee, were Benjamin Brame, Frederick Francis Seekamp, 
 William Bernard Clarke, William Hammond, Henry Alexander, Thomas 
 Green, William Pearson, Jeremiah Head, and H. Buchanan, Esqrs. The 
 other Committee consisted chiefly of younger and less influential men, 
 who were more likelv to do the real work of the election. On this Com- 
 mittee were Messrs. John Head, Alfred Head, William Stephenson Fitch, 
 John May, William May, Charles Cowell, Thomas Crawley, and Robert 
 Gill Ranson. None of these were Free Burgesses ; and, indeed, it was 
 remarked that the most active canvassers at this election were those who 
 had not the privilege of voting. A London Committee was formed, who 
 sat daily at the " Four Swans," Bishopgate Street, and the energetic 
 H. Buchanan, Esq., of Stowmarket, was made Chairman. 
 
 On the 18th of February, the Reformers issued a placard stating that 
 Thomas Barrett Lennard, Esq., son of Sir Thomas B. Lennard, Bart., 
 of Bell House, in Essex, would on the following day address the electors 
 at the Assembly Rooms, at seven o'clock in the evening, for the purpose 
 of offerin" himself as a Candidate for Representing the Borough in 
 Parliament. This gentleman arrived at William Pearsoa's, Esq-^ Solici- 
 tor, about noon, on the 19th, and, accompanied by that gentleman, 
 immediately proceeded to call upon the Portmen and other leading 
 supporters of the cause. At the meeting in the evening, he was most 
 enthusiastically received by the Free Burgesses. On the following 
 Thursday, another public meeting was held, to introduce William 
 Haldimand, Esq., one of the Directors of the Bank of England, to the 
 electors of the Borough. A band of music preceded the gentleman to the 
 place of meeting, and a large number of influential supporters accom- 
 panied him. Gratified at their enthusiastic reception, Messrs. Lennard 
 and Haldimand repaired to London for the purpose of canvassing such of 
 the Free Burgesses of Ipswich as were residents of the great Metropolis 
 and its vicinity' ^ ^^^ ^^y^ °"^y ^'^^ elapsed before they declared that 
 
438 APPENDIX TO 
 
 their success was unprecedented, and that if the Electors of Ipswich only 
 manifested the same spirit of independence, the triumph of the cause was 
 certain. As these gentlemen were to return to Ipswich on the third of 
 March, to prosecute with vigour the canvass in the Borough, their friends 
 resolved upon getting up a procession to escort them into the Town. This, 
 which was the prelude to the magnificence afterwards exhibited, surpassed 
 all former processions, and, in point of display, comprised all that was 
 calculated to command a triumphant success. The Candidates were met 
 at Copdock Elm by a numerous body of gentlemen on horseback, and the 
 " Ipswich Journal" says that " at the ' Royal William Inn,' and at the 
 entrance to St. Matthew's Street, so great was the concourse of spectators 
 that it seemed as if the entire population of the Town was assembled." 
 In the procession, a banner of immense size, of orange silk trimmed 
 with purple fringe, profusely decorated with favours, and bearing the 
 Arms of the Town, emblazoned and surmounted by the British Lion, 
 was borne by 16 men on a frame, while a large body of horsemen, and a 
 number of carriages, including those of Sir William Middleton, and 
 other gentlemen, and containing Sir William himself, R. M. Raikes, 
 Esq., a Bank Director, the nephew of Mr. Haldimand, Mr. Luard, the 
 well-known friend of Mr. Baring, the Rev. Charles Ponnereau, of Christ 
 Church, and other gentlemen, escorted the Candidates. 
 
 In the meantime, it must not be supposed that the Blues were inactive. 
 Mr. Newton, who had in conjunction with Mr. Crickitt been elected in 
 1818, "felt induced, from private circumstances, to decline going again 
 into a contest," and Mr. Round, who had previously been elected as 
 Member for the Borough, upon being solicited by a section of the Free 
 Burgesses, agreed to become a candidate in his stead. Mr. Crickitt 
 having been sent by the Burgesses of Ipswich as their representative in 
 three successive Parliaments, " felt quite confident of again experienc- 
 ing a repetition of those favors that had placed him in so proud and 
 envied a position." A Committee was formed, who sat daily at the 
 White Horse Hotel, James Wenn, Esq., being Chairman. On this 
 Committee, and aiding the Committee, were many staunch Tories who 
 were not Free Burgesses. There was also a London Committee, who held 
 their sittings in the Metropolis, and the late Mr. Simon Jackaman, a 
 great tactician in electioneering matters, was one of its most active 
 members. On the 26th of February, these gentlemen were escorted into 
 the Town by a large procession with flags, banners, and music, and a 
 cavalcade of horsemen, and each of them addressed the electors. 
 
 Tuesday, March 7th, was the day fixed for the Election. The Bailiffs 
 were John Eddowes Sparrowe, and James Thorndike, Esqrs. The business 
 of the day was opened by Mr. Thorndike, the Senior Bailiff, and the 
 routine of business having been disposed of, Robert Alexander Crickitt, 
 Esq., w^s proposed by the Rev. Thomas Reeve, and seconded by the 
 Rev. Fred. Loathes ; John Piound, Esq., was proposed by Major Broke, 
 and seconded by Major Stisted; Thomas Barrett Lennard, Esq., was 
 proposed by Mr. Wm. Barnard Clarke, and seconded by Mr. Hammond ; 
 William Haldimand, Esq., was proposed by Mr. Brame, and seconded by 
 Mr. Seekamp. The Blues, whose watchword was, " Church and State," 
 selected the supporters of the Candidates from the Church and the Army; 
 the Yellows selected four Portmen for the distinguished honour. Imme- 
 diately after the conclusion of the Nomination, between two and three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, polling commenced. The first three votes were 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAllLAND. 439 
 
 for Crickitt and Round, viz. : Nathaniel Lee Acton, Esq., Mr. "William 
 Clarke, and Major Broke. The fourth man was a Free Burgess on the 
 Yellow side, well-known for his bounce and splutter, Mr. Gregory Mulley, 
 who afterwards kept the "Crown and Sceptre" Inn. More than 300 
 voters polled before 5 o'clock, when the books closed for the first day; and 
 to show how vigorously the predominant party had laboured, we only need 
 mention that among those on the Blue side were Burgesses from Wol- 
 verhampton, Plymouth, London, Greenwich, Chatham, Woolwich, and 
 Maldou. The Yellows also had some voters from London and Bury St. 
 Edmund's. Among the Townsmen who voted that day, on the Yellow 
 side, were "Tom Harrison," a poor victim of election iniquity, well- 
 known to those of a later generation as " the Blessed Man;" Joseph Bird, 
 a poor man, whom the Rev. G. H. Greene, in his fiery and unchristian 
 zeal afterwards publicly stigmatized as the Robespierre of Ipswich ; 
 " Tony Breckles," "Bobby Bird," and Sir William Middleton. Among 
 those who gave their maiden votes on this day, was a gentleman who 
 has now for many years been elected as one of the Representatives of 
 this Borough— John Chevallier Cobbold, Esq., who voted for Crickitt 
 and Round. Mr. Cobbold obtained his freedom by being articled for 
 seven years to a Reformer, William Hammond, Esq., one of the Portmen; 
 and we believe we are right in stating th^t this was not simply Mr. Cob- 
 bold's first vote for Members of Parliament, but it was also the first time 
 that any member of his family had the power of voting in the Borough 
 of Ipswich, At the close of the first day's Poll the numbers were 
 
 Lennard Haldimand Crickitt Round 
 
 157 156 121 120 
 
 One voter, Mr. William Brooks, had voted for Lennard and Crickitt. 
 
 The arrival of voters in the Blue interest by the evening coaches was 
 hailed with joyous exultations ; the Yellows also had ^ great accession 
 of numbers by special coaches, and the exertions made by both parties 
 indicated a protracted contest. On the Wednesday morning, a number 
 of the personal friends of Messrs. Lennard and Haldimapd arrived in 
 five carriages and four, and so great was the excitement, that nothing 
 less than a procession through the principal streets, with flags and music, 
 would suit the small fry of partisans, and to this the gentlemen submit- 
 ted, amidst the shouts of an immense throng of people. During the day 
 the out- voters kept coming into the town, some of them from long 
 distances ; and whilst on the first day of the election, the value of a vote 
 was only about ten shillings, it had risen before the close of the second 
 day's poll to twenty pounds, and Mr. Buchanan, we understand, has 
 mentioned that as much as fifty pounds was given to some of the 
 London voters. The Blues polled the largest number of voters, but the 
 Reformers still maintained a majority. Nearly 650 voters had polled 
 at the close of the second day's proceedings. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great exertions made on the previous day, the 
 Blues succeeded in bringing 110 votes to the poll on the tjiird day, and 
 the Yellows no less than 117. Among the voters this day on the Blue 
 side, were the Rev. Sterling Westhorp, George Schulen (of the Pottery), 
 and Captain James Hallum ; and on the Reform side, Stephen Abbott 
 Notcutt, Charles Chambers Hammond, John Parish Hammond, Esqrs., 
 and Messrs. Robert Ralph, Benjamin Hainblin, Stephen King, and 
 George Gooding, Sen, The " Copping of "Voters " was now exemplified. 
 
440 APPExnix TO 
 
 ilen who had been carried away, or confined in some puhlic-house, and 
 stupeiied by drink, were now brought up just sensible enough to give 
 the names of the candidates. Some voters were taken to Walton Ferry, 
 others as far as eighteen miles from the town ; but even at that distance 
 rescues were sometimes attempted, and all sorts of stratagems were put 
 in force. 
 
 During the fourth day, the polling dragged on very slowly, fifty- nine 
 names were entered on the Poll Book ; but the diflBculty now felt by both 
 parties is shown by the fact that several who voted that day were 
 afterwards struck off the poll as " not a Free Burgess," or " not of age." 
 Mr. George Pooley (Alexanders' Bank), Mr. John Spooner Manning 
 (wine merchant), Mr. Thomas Frost Goward (the father of Mrs. Keeley), 
 voted that day on the Reform side ; and Edward Bacon, Esq., Captain 
 "WoUaston, three members of the ' ' Tuffnell " family, Mr. Anthony Dorkin, 
 and Mr. Matthew Wing, on the Blue side. One of the candidates (John 
 Round, Esq.) helped up the number by voting for himself, and Mr. 
 Crickitt and Jacob Frost gave one of the few split votes, " Criokitt and 
 Haldimand." As Mr. Crickitt polled thirty votes, and Mr. Round 
 twenty-nine, whilst Mr. Haldimand obtained only eighteen, and Mr. 
 Lennard seventeen, the Blues were in high spirits this evening, and 
 paraded the town in great triumph. The expectation of ultimate suc- 
 cess was greatly heightened by the assurances of Messrs. Crickitt and 
 Round, who, after the procession, declared from the windows of 
 Mr. Bacon's residence their most confident hopes of carrying the 
 election. 
 
 The energetic assurances of their candidates on the previous evening 
 seemed to have inspired additional spirits into the Blue party, and 
 throughout Saturday, the fifth day of the Poll, they manifested increased 
 activity. Their band and flags were almost constantly parading the 
 streets. The polling, however, went on very languidly until late in the 
 afternoon, when several Blue voters came up in brisk succession. Among 
 those, was Mr. Crickitt himself. At the election in 1818, this gentleman 
 had voted, but modestly enough, for his friend Mr. Newton only ; on this 
 occasion, however, he voted for " Crickitt and Round." The Reformers 
 found that they had run nearly the length of their tether, and they 
 polled only Uvo votes this day. Their musicians and flagmen stood idly 
 about, drinking at those public-houses that were " open " on the Yellow 
 side. Voters, with their wives and daughters even, were staying at the 
 " Golden Lion," and other principal inns in the town, having whatever 
 they pleased to call for, at the expense of the party. To what extent 
 this system of treating was carried, may be judged by the fact that the 
 bill for tavern e.vpenses at the " Golden Lion " Inn, amounted to nearly 
 eight hundred pounds ! Between four and five in the afternoon, a party 
 of about three hundred persons, many of them of the first respectability 
 of the town and neighbourhood, in the Blue interest, formed the most 
 striking procession that had been witnessed during the election. The 
 Poll closed at six o'clock with an addition of eleven to the numbers on 
 the Blue side, and two only on the Yellow side. The Pieforraers, still 
 determined to bring up voters, sent Mr. Alfred Head, this Saturday 
 evening, to Bristol, after a voter ; but, although no expense was spared, 
 that gentleman was unable to reach Ipswich on his return until after the 
 poll was finally closed on the Monday evening. 
 
 Wiien the time arrived on Monday morning for opening the Poll, both 
 
THE SUFFOLK GAELAXP. 441 
 
 parties felt the difficulty of obtaining voters. Every nook and corner of 
 the kingdom where a voter was known to live, had been ransacked by 
 either the Blues or the Yellows. The Government had brought its influ- 
 ence to bear, and the Treasury, the Army, the Navy, and the Dockyards 
 had been made to yield fruit for the support of the Ministerial candi- 
 dates. Each party found on the sixth day that their strength was spent ; 
 a larger number of voters had polled than had ever been previously 
 known. The Blues did not seem so sanguine of success as they did on 
 Saturday. Still, hopes were entertained that, if they did not absolutely 
 triumph by numbers, the majority of their opponents would not be more 
 than two or three ; and they had, doubtless, already determined upon 
 demanding a scrutiny. During the day, the Yellows polled 14, and the 
 Blues 13 ; but of the 13 votes for the Blues, 7 were given by members of 
 the Common Council. One voter, Sir. Thomas Hobson, was brought 
 from Holland to vote for the Blues ; and another, Mr. George Gooding, 
 Jun., was fetched from Paris to vote for the Yellows. Late in the day, 
 both parties agreed to close the Poll. About five o'clock, the unpolled 
 Common Counoilmen, who generally remained as a corps de reserve of 
 the Blue party, came up to Poll. These were Mr. Richard Gooding, 
 Mr. Robert Tayer, Mr. B. B. Catt, Mr. John Denny, Mr. William Calver, 
 and Mr. Simon Jackaman. They were immediately followed by three 
 of the Portmen on the Whig side : Mr. William Hammond, Mr. Ben- 
 jamin Brame, and Mr. F. F. Seekamp. The Bailiffs, Messrs. James 
 Thorndike and John Eddowes Sparrowe, then voted for Criokitt and 
 Round, and finally closed the poll. The numbers were — 
 
 Lennard Haldimand Criokitt Round 
 
 482 483 474 468 
 
 The contest at the poll was thus ended, but the struggle was not over. 
 Upon the numbers being declared. Major Broke (the gentleman who on 
 the day of nomination proposed Mr. Round) demanded a scrutiny oa 
 behalf of Messrs. Cricliitt and Round. This excited the enthusiasm and 
 indignation of the respective parties, but the demand being seconded by 
 Major Stisted, was granted by the Bailiffs. This move was at first sup- 
 posed to be a mere feint of the Blues to break the violence of their 
 overthrow ; but, contrary to the expectation of the Yellows, it was 
 prosecuted with extreme activity. Major Broke said that he understood 
 there were 70 bad votes on the Yellow side, and only twenty or twenty- 
 five on that of the Blues, and the striking these off would give his friends 
 a decided majority on the poll. Mr. Crickitt, however, felt it necessary 
 to declare that it was instituted at the desire of his supporters, "not- 
 withstanding the unwillingness of my brother candidate, Mr. Round, 
 and myself." The Yellows, though not disposed to relinquish their 
 vantage ground, knew that there were bad votes on both sides ; but, 
 though they knew that the numbers would be reduced, they did not 
 think it likely that their majoritxj on the poll would be disturbed. 'I'hcy 
 therefore met the proposition with cheerfulness, and immediately pre- 
 pared for the struggle, Mr. Prinsep, an eminent barrister, being engaged 
 to conduct their case. 
 
 The election closed on the 13th of March. The scrutiny commenced 
 •pro forma the next morniiig, and was then adjourned till the following 
 Monday. It dragged on slowly, and it was not until April 14th, that it 
 
442 APPENDIX TO 
 
 ■was finally closed. During the first few days, the numbers struck oS 
 on both sides were about equal ; but, as it proceeded, the friends of Mr. 
 Crickitt became tilled with enthusiasm. By a series of decisions which 
 the Yellows declared were illegal, and exhibited the partiality of the 
 liailifli's, the majority of Mr. Lennard and Mr. Haldimand was gradually 
 diminished, and the returning officers finally declared the numbers to 
 stand thus — 
 
 Crickitt Haldimand Lennard Round 
 
 430 428 4i7 424 
 
 They thus took off fifty-five votes from the numbers polled for "W. 
 Haldimand and T. B. Lennard, Esqrs., and forty-four from R. A. 
 Crickitt and J. Round. Esqrs. 
 
 Of the objections advanced by the Blues to the Yellow votes, three 
 only -were overruled by the Bailiff's, while of those advanced by the 
 Yellows, thirteen were dismissed. The Yellows desired a professional 
 assessor to be appointed, as the Bailiifs who were the judges had both 
 voted and acted in the opposite interest. This reasonable request was 
 refused. At the election in 1818, Philip Bannocks voted for the 
 Yellows, and was struck off the poll because he held a place in the 
 Custom House, at Harwich. At Lennard and Haldimand's election he 
 voted for the Blues, and although on his own confession he held the same 
 identical office in the Customs for which he was on the former scrutiny 
 struck off by the Bailifts of that year, of whom Mr. Sparrowe was one, 
 his vote was allowed to be good ! This and some other partial decisions 
 determined Mr. Lennard, after consulting with the friends who had 
 laboured for him at the election, to appeal to a superior tribunal, and 
 have an investigation before a committee of the House of Commons. 
 This movement of his gratified his friends. Mr. Haldimand took his 
 seat in the House of Commons on the 25th of April, but he declined to 
 be chaired until the validity of Mr. Crickitt's return had been determined. 
 
 One of the episodes connected with this scrutiny is worthy of particular 
 notice. Information was obtained by the committee of Messrs. Lennard 
 and Haldimand that three Freemen who had voted for their opponents 
 received relief from the parish of Sudbourne, near Orford, and appli- 
 cation was in consequence made for the production of the parish accounts. 
 Some persons in that parish and the adjoining borough, who espoused 
 the cause of Messrs. Crickitt and Round, among whom, it was said, was 
 the steward of the Marquis of Hertford, concerted measures to prevent 
 the fact from coming to light, and the application for the production of 
 the parish accounts met with a refusal. The parties, however, fearing 
 that they might be compelled to produce them, consulted together as to 
 what was best to be done, and they resolved to take a step which, it was 
 conceived, would have set the question beyond the reach of discovery in 
 any shape. An old book, belonging to the parish, in which there were 
 blank leaves, was procured, and the person employed to make out the 
 overseer's accounts was ordered to copy the correct account of expenses 
 into this book, but whenever the names of the pauper voters occurred, 
 he was to substitute the names of other persons. The man began his 
 work on the following morning, but information was again sent to 
 Lennard and Haldimand's committee of the imposition which was in 
 preparation to delude them. They, in consequence, set a stratagem on 
 toot which in the end completely counteracted the whole plot, and its 
 
THE SUFi'OLK GARLAND. 443 
 
 execution was confided to Mr. Oliver, an ironmonger (who resided on 
 the Cornhill, where Mr. Ridley now lives), an enthusiast in the Yellow 
 interest. The gentleman went to Orford, and, as the Overseer said, 
 waited upon him, under the assumed name of "Goose," wearing a blue 
 watch-ribbon, and introduced himself as an agent of Messrs. Crickitt 
 and Hound. At the time of Mr. Oliver's arrival, the assistant was en- 
 gaged in transcribing the very accounts, and Mr. Oliver's tact had so 
 far disarmed the suspicions of the Overseer, that he was permitted to 
 assist in completing the surreptitious entries. He then prevailed on the 
 Overseer to accompany him to Ipswich to substantiate the proof, and to 
 take the original book with him. When brought before the Returning 
 Officer, the oath was administered to the Overseer, and he produced the 
 book in which the false entries had been made, and denied that any 
 relief had been afforded to the three voters. He also denied that any 
 false entries had been made in the book. The Yellows then called in Mr. 
 Oliver to he confronted with the witness, and contradict the evidence, 
 and the original book was drawn from the pocket of the Overseer, 
 handed to the Bailiffs, and completely exposed the fraud that had taken 
 place. 
 
 We have mentioned that Mr. Haldimand took his seat in the House of 
 Commons, but resolved not to undergo the ceremony of chairing until it 
 was finally determined by a committee of the House of Commons 
 whether his friend, Mr. Lennard, should share in his triumph, Mr. 
 Crickitt did not, however, manifest equal prudence. Elated with the 
 result of the scrutiny, though they were aware of the rotten foundation 
 on which Mr. Criokitt's small majority was erected, his friends de- 
 termined to celebrate their triumph by a chairing, and afterwards to 
 have a convivial dinner in honour of the event. To make the display 
 the more effective, the ladies of Ipswich resolved to take the matter in 
 hand : and under the leadership of Mrs. Cobbold, of Holywells, a 
 subscription was at once opened for the purchase of a set of colours 
 worthy of the event. The Dowager Countess of Dysart, the Countess of 
 Linsingen, Mrs. Edgar, Mrs. Broke, of Henley, Mrs. Caroline Acton, 
 Mrs. Trotman, and Mrs. Cobbold, headed the subscription-list ; and the 
 Blues were thus presented with a most superb set of ten colours a,nd u, 
 banner, all of which were beautifully ornamented with silver fringe. 
 On them the following devices were inscribed : — 
 
 " The Established Church Triumphant." 
 "A Constitutional King George IV. and the House of Brunswick." 
 "A Loyal Population — the truly Independent Freemen of Ipswich." 
 " Order, Good Government, and the Laws of England." 
 "Prosperity to the Blues." 
 ' ' Fidelity to the Cause. " 
 "Be firm." "Be just." "Be united." "Be vigilant." 
 
 On the largest centre-colour, or banner, was inscribed : " In honour 
 of those True Blue Principles which support the Throne and Constitu- 
 tion of Great Britain, these Colours are presented by the Ladies of 
 Ipswich and its vicinity, 1820." These colours were consigned to the 
 care of Edward Bacon, Esq , and were accompanied by a letter from 
 Mrs. Cobbold, which shews the spirit of this energetic female party- 
 
444 APPENDTX TO 
 
 leader. Mr. Bacon acknowledged the receipt of the " sacred banners " 
 in very flattering terms, "trusting that the few individuals who have 
 been artfully deluded from their party, will again rally round the stand- 
 ard of loyalty, consecrated on the present happy occasion by Female 
 Patriotism." 
 
 Wednesday, April 26th, was the day fixed for the chairing of R. A. 
 Crickitt, Esq., and soon after twelve o'clock on that day, that gentleman 
 and his lady were met at the " Royal William " Inn, by a respectable 
 assemblage of his friends, both horse and foot. A procession was 
 formed, and preceded by heralds sounding trumpets, and a band of music. 
 Mr. Crickitt made his triumphal entry into the town from the London 
 Road, amidst the shouts of the multitude and the joyous greetings of 
 numerous ladies, who had placed themselves wherever a view of the 
 procession could be had. The procession was of a very imposing cha- 
 racter, and in the course of it, a Regal Crown, in proper colours, was 
 borne aloft by two men, and on an oval wreathed with laurel beneath 
 the crown, was the following inscription : — 
 
 " "VVe hail our Crickitt's fourth return, 
 And George the Fourth cm' King." 
 
 Another novelty was a group of sailors as Morris dancers ; while the 
 carriages of Admiral Page, Captain Kortwright, Mr. Kortwright, George 
 Round, Esq., Wm. Deane, Esq., Dr. Williams, Mrs. Kerridge, etc., and 
 a line of gentlemen on horsebaolc wearing blue favors, closed the pro- 
 cession. Mr. Crickitt alighted at Mr. Bacon's Bank, and very little time 
 was lost in preparing for the grand ceremony of the day. About twenty 
 minutes past two, the honourable gentleman ascended a very tastefully 
 decorated chair of blue silk, encircled with laurels. The procession 
 then went, in nearly the same order as before, with the addition of a 
 group of female Morris dancers in blue ribbons, three times round the 
 Cornhill, through Tavern Street, Brook Street, St. Peter's, and St. 
 Nicholas, to the Cornhill again, and thence to Mr. Bacon's, where Mr. 
 Crickitt left the chair and appeared at the window, cordially thankiu"- 
 his friends for the high honour that had a fourth time been conferred 
 upon him. 
 
 At five o'clock, Mr. Crickitt met a party of his friends to dine together 
 at the Assembly Rooms. The tickets were los. 6d. each, and the com- 
 pany numbered about 170. Amongst them were Charles Berners, Esq., 
 Major Broke, Admiral Page, Captain Kortwright, Mr. Kortwrip-ht the 
 Rev. E. H. Green (Lawford), Mileson Edgar, Esq., Rev. Mileson G. 
 Edgar, Charles Round, Esq., Rev. J. C. Cooke, Rev. W. Howorth lie v. 
 W. Aldrich, Dr. Williams, Edward Bacon, Esq., J. JT. Theobald,' Esq. j 
 and many other influential gentlemen ; Mr. Round, the collea-^ue of Mr. 
 Crickitt, was, however, not present. Copies of the following son"- 
 " respectfully inscribed to the True Blue Ladies of Ipswich and its 
 vicinity, in commemoration af the return of R. A. Crickitt, Esq., as one 
 of the Representatives in Parliament of that Borough," were distributed 
 over the tables before the dinner was set out : — 
 
 True Blue Ladies ! mark how bright, 
 
 How pure the bumper flows to you ! 
 Ladies, mark what gay delight 
 
 Crowns the bumper now in view ! 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 445 
 
 True Blue Ladies ! blithe and fair, 
 
 To you the song of joy we raise ; 
 Sweet for j^ou the vernal air 
 
 "Wafts the grateful note of praise. 
 
 True Blue Ladies ! whilst we sing 
 
 The song your gen'rous loves inspire, 
 Every bosom, on the wing, 
 
 Glows with all a patriot's fire. 
 
 True Blue Ladies ! take our hearts. 
 
 All warm and free they beat for you : 
 Each to each its bliss imparts — 
 
 Loyal hearts are ever true. 
 
 In the after-dinner speeches, almost rabid heat of feeling was mani- 
 fested by the speakers against the Quakers, Dissenters, and Reformers 
 in general ; and in a copy of verses recited by Mr. Harral on the occa- 
 sion, they were denounced as — 
 
 ' ' That recreant tribe — defilement of our land — 
 That worthless, heartless, soul-polluted band ! 
 Whose aim is plunder, anarchy, and death. 
 Blasting and withering, like the siroo's breath." 
 
 On the 2nd of May, Mr. Crickitt took his seat in the House of Com- 
 mons, and seven days afterwards, Mr. Haldimand presented a petition 
 to the House on Mr. Lennard's behalf, against Mr. Crickitt's return. 
 On the 11th, Mr. Crickitt presented a counter petition from some of the 
 Conservatives in Ipswich against the return of Mr. Haldimand. The 
 petition was signed by James Hamblin, Edward Ablitt, Robert Tayer, 
 and Richard Bruce. The petitions were ordered to be taken into conside- 
 ration on the 13th of June, As the time for balloting for a Committee 
 of the House of Commons drew nif^h, the most intense excitement pre- 
 yailed in Ipswich among the supporters on both sides. It was customary, 
 at that period, in all electioneering cases brought before the House of 
 Commons, to exchange lists of the objections urged by both parties, at 
 least five days previous to balloting for the Committee by which they 
 were to be decided. The lists being duly presented on Wednesday, the 
 7th, were made known in Ipswich on the following Friday, and ap- 
 peared to throw great gloom oyer the spirits of those by whom Mr. 
 Crickitt was supported. On the Saturday evening, a select number of 
 the Blue partisans met to consider the prospect of their affairs, and when 
 they separated, the most unfavourable reports were circulated as to the 
 course they felt it necessary to pursue. A communication was received 
 by the Reformers on the Sunday morning, which they disclosed on the 
 following day. The contents of this was, that Messrs. Hamblin, Ablitt, 
 Bruce, and Tayer would withdraw their petition against the return of 
 Mr. Haldimand, and that Mr. Crickitt would relinquish his seat in 
 favor of Mr. Lennard. The effect of this intelligence on the minds of 
 all parties was electric, and a more striking exhibition of exhilaration 
 and despondency was not often witnessed in Ipswich. The notice 
 alluded to having been given, the business in the House of Commons 
 became a mere matter of form. The ballot took place on June 1 3th, and 
 fifteen members of the House were selected for the Committee. On the 
 next day, the Committee met, and Lord Althorp was chosen nominee 
 for Mr, Lennard, and ilr. B. Wilbraham for Mr. Crickitt. ' Mr. Selwyn, 
 
446 APPENDIX 10 
 
 Counsel for the Reformers, briefly introduced the subject. He then 
 disclosed to the Committee the notice delivered on the part of Mr. 
 Criokitt and his friends, which would terminate the proceedings in a 
 very short time, by leaving him to pefofm the easy task only of striking 
 off four votes from Jlr. Crickitt's number, so as to restore the majority 
 to Mr. Lennard. Mr. Harrison, Counsel for Mr. Crickitt, then stated to 
 the Committee that in inspecting the lists which had been delivered 
 into the House, it was found that the return of Mr. Criokitt could not 
 be supported ; his advice, therefore, had been asked as to the proper 
 course to be pursued by his clients, and under that advice the notice 
 already detailed had been given to the gentlemen on the other side. 
 The Committee then proceeded to strike off the names of four voters for 
 Messrs. Crickitt and Round, viz. : William Dobins, no such Freeman ; 
 Horatio Fuller, not of age at the time of voting ; William Hewitt, 
 not a Free Burgess, and Robert Kedglet, liahle to the same objection. 
 The Committee shortly afterwards prepared their report, in which they 
 declared that Robert Alexander Crickitt and John Round, Esqrs., were 
 not duly elected to serve in Parliament, but that Thomas Barrett Len- 
 nard and William Haldimand, Esqrs., were duly elected to serve in 
 Parliament for the Borough of Ipswich. 
 
 Mr. Haldimand having, with true courtesy, determined to postpone 
 his chairing untU. his colleague could join him hand-in-hand in the 
 expected triumph, the friends of Reform now resolved to celebrate the 
 triumph of both members in a manner worthy of their cause. Monday, 
 July 8rd, was the day fixed for the chairing, and the preparations for 
 the fHe were admirably suited to the importance of the occasion. All 
 that taste, ingenuity, and invention could supply, was devoted to 
 celebrate it with becoming splendour. During the preceding week, 
 the county round was big with anticipation, of the approaching day of 
 festivity. 
 
 On the eventful morning, before the dawn of day, the town was all 
 bustle and life. The bells rang merrily, the cannons roared, and other 
 signs of joy and exultation were manifested. Such of the inhabitants 
 as belonged to the Reform party were seen at an early hour busily 
 decorating their houses. Amongst the most conspicuous of the decora- 
 tions on the Cornhill, were those at the " Golden Lion " ; the house 
 dedicated to the personal accommodation of the Hon. Members and 
 their immediate friends. The front of the house was adorned by a tem- 
 porary alcove, tastefully adorned with olive branches, flowers, and orange 
 ribbons, with the word "Victory" in the centre. The next object of 
 attention was the house of Mr. Oliver, the Ironmonger, where Mr. J. R, 
 Ridley now resides, in front of which, on the first floor, was projected a 
 convenient balcony, for the convenience of numerous Ladies. The whole 
 of the balcony was covered with festoons of flowers intermixed with olive 
 branches, tastefully arranged, and the whole front between the railing 
 at the top and the platform at the bottom was covered with an inscrip- 
 tion on an orange ground, " Lennaed and Haldimand Triumphant." 
 On the house of Mr. Ranson, next door, was a banner with the words, 
 " Ipswich is Free," inscribed in letters of gold, the whole surmounted 
 with a wreath of flowers in season, the predominant of which was the 
 Orange Lily. At Mr. Oldaore's, where Mr. Limmer now resides, commodi- 
 ous arrangements were made for the convenience of the numerous ladies 
 that graced his house on the occasion. On the opposite side of the way, 
 
THE SIJFI'OI.K OAKLAND. 447 
 
 the Corn Exchange was made an object of singular attraction and of in- 
 terest, by a oironmstanoe in itself trifling. Upon this building the figure 
 of the goddess " Ceres" was transformed into the statue of " Justice," 
 with the sword in one hand and the scales in the other, as she stood on the 
 Old Market Cross, which was pulled down in 1812. To complete her 
 attire, a bandage of yellow silk was now placed over her eyes, symbolical 
 of her purity and impartiality. 
 
 The accommodation provided for the Ladies consisted of an extensive 
 range of hustings in the centre of the Market-place, so constructed as con- 
 veniently to accommodate above 400 Ladies, who were admitted by tickets 
 to witness the procession. The goddess " Flora" contributed her fragrant 
 treasures to the embellishment of this interesting stage, which was con- 
 secrated to a splendid assemblage of females, amongst whom were 
 Ladies of the first rank and distinction in the county. The whole front 
 of the building was tastefully bedecked with flowers. On entering the 
 Town from the London Puoad, the most conspicuous object which met the 
 eye was a well-constructed|arch thrown across St. Matthew's Street, from 
 Mr. De Carle's house to the opposite building, which was profusely 
 decorated with laurels, flowers, and ribbons, with the inscription 
 "Welcome." As the spectator proceeded, he saw on each side of the 
 street various devices, and other symbols of enthusiasm in the cause of 
 Independence ; flags, wreaths, waving ribbons, and a profusion of laurels 
 expressed the joy and sympathy of a large portion of the inhabitants 
 throughout the route destined for the procession. One common feeling 
 seemed to pervade all that were embued with Reform principles, and 
 each of them seemed emulous to signify the occasion with every mark 
 of enthusiasm. 
 
 It had been announced by public advertisement that the procession 
 would assemble at half-past nine o'clock, on Crane Hall Hill, on the 
 London E,oad, as a place of rendezvous, whence it was to proceed 
 through the town. Long before that hour, the leading streets of the 
 town were thronged with thousands of anxious spectators. Every hour 
 brought in fresh groups of visitors from the country in all directions, 
 and by twelve o'clock an impervious mass filled every vacant space 
 through which it was announced that the procession would pass. Soon 
 after twelve o'clock, the whole order of the procession being arranged 
 and marshaled, a discharge of artillery announced to the expecting 
 throng assembled in the town, that the pageant had commenced its 
 march. It would be impossible to describe the enthusiasm which the 
 imposing spectacle everywhere excited in its progress. The waving of 
 handkerchiefs from windows, thronged with groups of women, the shouts 
 of applause which resounded from the countless multitude, the clangour 
 of the trumpets, and the cheering melody of the bands of music which 
 accompanied the procession, all tended to raise a fervour of delight. To 
 give some conception of the nature of the arrangements, we state that 
 the procession in its train occupied the whole length of the ground 
 from the Barrack Corner to the top of Crane Hall Hill, being more than 
 a mile in length. The following was the order in which it moved : 
 
 MAN IN AEMOUR, 
 
 on a Grey Horse ; 
 
 TWO MARSHALMEN, 
 
 one on each side, on Grey Horses ; 
 
44:8 APPJ.XDIX TO 
 
 SEVEN TRUMPETERS 
 
 on Grey Horses, the men's jackets and caps of purple, trimmed with orange, 
 white trowsers, trimmed with the same, and orange scarfs, trimmed witli 
 
 purple ; 
 
 LARGE BANNER 
 
 of orange silk, trimmed with purple fringe. The Arms of the Town em- 
 blazoned, surmounted by the British Lion, and inscribed, "The Improvement 
 and Prosperity of the Town." 
 
 SEVENTY GENTLEMEN, 
 
 All on Grey Horses, in columns of five, each attended by two Stewards. 
 
 THE PORTJilEN", 
 
 In a Carriage with four Horses. 
 
 Part of the Committee, in a Carriage with four Plorses. 
 
 A CARAVAN 
 
 with a Canopy of Green and Orange fringe, drawn by six Grey Horses, with 
 the Committee and other Gentlemen. 
 
 THE BAND. 
 
 EIGHT SILK FLAGS 
 
 with the following Mottoes : 
 
 " Liberty and Freedom;" "Baring and Independence;" " Haldimand and 
 the Constitution of 1688;" "Harwich Invincibles ; " "Portmen and 
 Independent Freemen ; " " The Independence of the Borough asserted 
 1818;" "London Inflexibles ; " "The Independence of the Borough 
 established 1820." 
 
 Amongst these Flags was also one brought by the Manningtree Freemen . 
 
 motto, " The Progress of Public Opinion," and also another, borrowed from 
 
 the Blues, "Be Just." 
 
 A LARGE BANNER 
 
 of the Members' Arms united ; above the Arms, on one side a Lion, on the 
 other a Unicorn, and on a scroll under the names, the motto, "Union of 
 Patriots." Two Ionic columns formed the sides, with the inscription, 
 " Nothing is Difficult to the Brave and the Faithful." At the top of the 
 Banner was a ship, to which motion was given, as in full sail, and above all, 
 the figure of Justice, supported by handsome scroll irons. [The height of 
 this Banner was fourteen feet, and the width nine feet ; it was designed and 
 executed by the worlcmeu of Mr. Launcelot de Carle, and presented by 
 them for the occasion.] 
 
 A BUGLBMAN 
 
 on a Grey Horse, on each side a Man on Horseback carrying a Banner with 
 the Arms of the respective Members. 
 
 MR. H. ALEXANDER 
 
 in a Curricle drawn by Four Beautiful Eoans. 
 
 THE MEMBERS 
 
 in a Carriage with four Horses. 
 
 Mr. Baring, accompanied by Mr. Lenxard, in a Carriage and Four. 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 440 
 
 Sir Thomas Lennakd and Family 
 
 in a Carriage and Four Horses. 
 
 Sixty Horsemen, 
 
 in columns of five eacli, attended by two Stewards. 
 
 BAND. 
 
 EIGHT FLAGS. 
 
 GENTLEMEN'S CARRIAGES, Viz., 
 
 Sir W. Middleton's, Mr. Grigby's, Mr. Steward's, Mr. J. B. Smyth's, and 
 
 the Rev. C. Fonnereau's. 
 
 SIXTY HORSEMEN 
 
 In columns of five each, attended by two Stewards. 
 
 SEVEN OAKEIAGES AND FOUR, 
 
 with Gentlemen and their Families. 
 
 ONE HUNDRED AND TEN HORSEMEN 
 
 In columns of five each, attended by two Stewards. 
 
 A numerous Train of Carriages. 
 
 WOODBRIDGE FREEMEN 
 
 In a Van, attended by a Band. 
 
 Upwards of 
 
 THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY HORSEMEN. 
 
 The procession in this order marched in stately measure through St. 
 Matthew's, Tavern Street, Brook Street, Tacket Street, Orwell Place, 
 back of St. Clement's Church, St. Clement's Fore Street, Orwell Place, 
 Foundation Street, College Street, St. Peter's Street, Queen Street, 
 Butter Market, Brook trtreet, Tavern Street, to Mr, Pearson's, St. 
 Matthew's. This circuit took nearly two hours to perform, and about 
 two o'clock the Honorable Members alighted to dress preparatory to the 
 ceremony of chairing. Every arrangement for this purpose being com- 
 pleted, this imposing spectacle commenced its route from the house of 
 Mr. Pearson, where the Honorable Gentlemen mounted their triumphal 
 cars. Nothing could exceed the taste and magnificence of the splendid 
 preparations for this purpose. It is difficult adequately to describe the 
 beauty and elegance of the chairs. Each oar consisted of a cupola, sup- 
 ported by eight pillars, raised upon a platform of spacious dimensions, 
 and borne upon the shoulders of about twenty men. The pinnacle con- 
 sisted of a beautiful oast of Britannia in an erect posture. The body 
 of the machine was covered with orange silk, occasionally interspersed 
 round the frieze of the cupola with knots of purple, and the word 
 "Victory "was appropriately conspicuous ; the supporting pillars were 
 entwined with ribbons of the same color, exquisitely combined with 
 laurel leaves and flowers ; the platform was covered with scarlet cloth, 
 which admirably contrasted with the prevailing tints already mentioned ; 
 the chairs appropriated for the convenience of the principal actors in the 
 scene, were on the model of a Greek curule, and each was covered with 
 purple satin, fringed with crimson lace. Both the Honorable Members 
 were dressed in elegant ball-room costume, each wearing on his breast 
 
450 ATT'EXDIX TO 
 
 rich farors, composed of silver rosettes aod orange and purple tissues. 
 As soon as the gentlemen bad placed themselves in the chairs, they were 
 borne aloft amidst the cheers of the surrounding multitude, and a choir 
 of trumpeters, mounted on horseback in front of the procession, an- 
 nounced their approach by an appropriate flourish. As the gentlemen 
 advanced, they were greeted with the most enthusiastic expressions of 
 popular regard. The procession went once round the Cornhill, and 
 thence proceeded through Tavern Street, Brook Street, College Street, 
 St. Peter's, St. Nicholas, the Butter Market, Brook Street, Tavern Street 
 again, back to the Cornhill. As soon as it reached Tavern Street on 
 its return, fresh objects of wonder and admiration were presented to the 
 view of the spectators, namely, a remarkably fine figure on a pedestal of 
 Justice, six feet high, with sword and scales. This noble figure was 
 accompanied by a splendid white flag and silver letters, motto " Justice 
 has triumphed." There were also The Temple op F,4ME, a. grand and 
 imposing device, which rose twenty-two feet in height from the shoul- 
 ders of the bearers. It was three-storied. Each story was supported by 
 eighteen Tuscan columns of brass, with silver capitals and bases. The 
 form of the stories was not circular, but octagonal ; the diameter of the 
 lower story was eleven feet, and its height five feet ; of the centre story 
 eight feet, and its height three feet ten inches ; and of the upper story 
 four and a half feet, and its heiglit three feet. The body inside the 
 pillars was of orange moreen, and the inscription on the lower story 
 " Haldimand," on the second " Lennard," and on the upper " Baring;." 
 The tablets bore the names of distinguished persons, friends to the cause 
 of Independence. Those on the lower story were " Sussex," " Kent," 
 "Chatham," "Nelson," "Anson," " Lansdowne," " Erskine," " lius- 
 sell," " Fitzwilliam," "Devonshire," "Milton," "Newport," "Ta\is- 
 tock," "Folkstone," "Norfolk," " Holland," " Albemarle," and " Grey." 
 On the second story, "Fox," "Sheridan," "Komilly," " Ponsonby," 
 "Whitbread," "Grattan," " Coke," "Tierney," "Smith," "Macintosh," 
 "Bennet," " Brougham," " Wood," " Denman," " Dundas," " Darnley," 
 " Macdonald," and " Pddley." The cornices were decorated with rosettes 
 over each pillar ; the lower cornices had silver and purple fringe, and 
 pine apples ; the middle cornices had three rings with tiie motto 
 " Unanimity " between each of them, and the npper cornices had in the 
 interstices two palm branches and a cable, emblems of strength and 
 victory. Above the cornice a bust and vase alternately. There were 
 busts of George IV., supported by those of Prince Leopold and Princess 
 Charlotte, and those of Fox, Nelson, Wellington, Milton, Shakspeare, 
 and Cowper. The vases were tilled with laurels and flowers. The 
 dome of lutestring — as was all the silk nsed as well in the temple as in 
 the flags — was alternately orange and purple. On the top was a beauti- 
 ful bronze vase, two feet in height, surmounted by an elegant figure of 
 I'ame, two and a half feet high. On each side were two profile paint- 
 ings of Fame, five and a half feet high, in flying posture, bearing white 
 flags, with the motto "Ipswich is Free." At the corners of the plat- 
 form were placed four young gentlemen. Masters Hammond, Notcutt, 
 Goward, and Coe, each of whom waved an orange banner as the Temple 
 majestically moved along. This grand and elegant edifice was designed 
 and executed by Messrs. Hare and Son, of the Old Butter Market. About 
 five o'clock the ceremony of chairing was concluded. As soon as the 
 Members approached the Cornhill, they were invited to alight at the 
 
THE SUFFOLK CAPa. VXD. 4.jl 
 
 liousc of ilr. Oliver; and they asoeiiiled to the drawing-room, and i;i a 
 few moments preseated themselves ia the balcony, and each of theiu 
 addressed the assembled multitude. Thus ended the ceremony of chair- 
 ing, the variety, the taste, and ma,s;aificenoe of which surpassed almost 
 everything of a similar kind. Much of the splendour of the scene was 
 attributable to the Gentlemen of the Committee, at whose expense most 
 of the jjageant was provided. 
 
 A novelty in processions of this description added much to the in- 
 terest of the scene, namely, a horseman clad in a splendid suit of mail. 
 This was provided by a subscription among; a number of young men in 
 the town. The armour was procured from Mr. Marriott, the Ironmonger 
 of Fleet Street, London. The suit in C[uestion was composed of highly 
 polished brass, and when glittering in the sun, had the appearance of 
 Ijurnished gold. The horse, the finest grey that could be found in the 
 district, was the property of Mr, Robert Bowman, of the "Falcon" Inn ; 
 and the rider, a man of Herculean form, was a Mr. Chenery, who dying 
 not many months afterwards, was said to have lost his life through 
 wearing the armour. Considerable life and interest were given to too 
 scene from the introduction into the procession of a group of Morris 
 dancers who were dressed with great propriety, and whose activity 
 e.'ccited a good deal of admiration. 
 
 The dinner was got up upon a scale of taste and elegance not infer- 
 ior to anything of a similar kind. In order to provide ample accommo- 
 dation for the number of gentlemen who were expected to dine, ap])lica- 
 tion was made for the use of the Free Grammar School Room in Foun- 
 dation Street, there being in fact no other room in the town adapted for 
 a numerous assemblage. Accommodation was provided for nearly 400 
 guests. The Gothic arches of the roof were adorned with festoons of 
 laurel, alternately variegated with wreaths of flowers. At the upper end 
 of the room, a table elevated upon a platform was provided exclusively 
 for the most distinguished of the company. The rest of the room was 
 ooGupied by three parallel rows of tables, which reached from the plat- 
 form above mentioned, almost to the very entrance of the apartment, 
 leaving space only for the ingress and egress of waiters. The dinner 
 was served by Mr. Lappage, of the " Golden Lion," in a sumptuous style, 
 every delicacy of the season being provided. Sir William Middleton , 
 Bart., in the chair, supported on his right by Mr. Lennard, and on the 
 left by Mr. Haldimand, At the same table were Sir Thomas Lennard, 
 Bart., Mr. F. Baring, and other gentlemen of high rank. The news- 
 papers of the day gave reports of the proceedings, and it is interesting to 
 learn that Thomas Clarkson was present, and in acknowledging the 
 compliment of the toast proposing his health, said in the course of Ids 
 speech : " Nor is it the least of our pleasures that, when we contemplate 
 this victory, we have in view the manner in which it has been achieved. 
 We have never mutilated parish books to obtain it." 
 
 A song being called for from the Chair, a gentleman present sang 
 with good taste an appropriate effusion, " The Standakd of Okange." 
 The words of the song were — 
 
 The battle is fought, and the vict'ry is won ! 
 
 Lift the Standaki) or Orange on high ! 
 And let it, emblazon'd by Liberty's sun, 
 
 Unfold itself now to each eye. 
 
452 APPENDIX TO 
 
 The emblem of Freedom, ! let it be fann'd 
 
 By the fetterless winds as they sweep ; 
 And fearlessly float o'er its uplifting band, 
 
 Like Albion's own flag o'er the deep. 
 
 Over stormier waves than the mariners tread. 
 The bark which hath borne it has plough'd ; 
 
 And the tale of her voyage, if rightly 'twere read, 
 Is a record more gloriously proud. 
 
 She was launched in the port of Good Hope ; she set sail 
 "With the soft sigh of Freedom to fan her ; 
 
 Her Captain was Courage, who never turu'd pale, 
 And hrave were the crew found to man lier. 
 
 O'er the billows of Faction's tempestuous seas, 
 
 Though thwarted, she held on her way ; 
 Her canvas caught Public Opinion's calm breeze, 
 
 And she steer'd straight for Victory's bay. 
 
 As she near'd her proud haven, Corruption, aghast, 
 
 Her destiny mutely deplor'd ; 
 She anchor'd off Liberty's beacon at last, 
 
 And the Pilot, Success, came on board. 
 
 Then here's to the Standard of Orange ! and ne'er 
 
 May it quail to its rival of Blue ; 
 Though its tint may unlovely to Tories appear. 
 
 Yet honoured by us be its hue . 
 
 A glimpse of blub sky may be all very well, 
 
 But blue, and all blue, is quite frightful ; 
 Let tlie French and Italians its loveliness tell. 
 
 Unto us England's clouds are delightful ! 
 
 They may sometimes seem dark, but while Liberty's beam 
 
 Can cleave them like lightning asunder. 
 Her bright orange tints through the opening shall gleam, 
 
 And her voice shall be heard in the thunder ! 
 
 This song was written by Bernard Barton, and it is especially interest- 
 ing, as it shows how heartily the Quaker Poet entered into the spirit of 
 the Whig movement at that period. 
 
 "Writing to his dear friend, William Pearson, Esq., of Ipswich, to 
 whose care this song was entrusted, he said, " I am informed that the 
 advocates of the good old cause among you are meditating a dinner. 
 Whether the annexed can be turned to any account on so interesting an 
 occasion, you can determine better than I can suggest. I do not know 
 how far they are capable of being sunt/, but at any rate they may be 
 said ; and as I suppose the event of your dining will get into the papers, 
 the insertion of them in such a record of your proceedings may not hurt 
 the cause . My entire ignorance of music renders it difficult for me to 
 decide on what is or is not sufficiently lyrical to be capable of musical 
 adaptation ; but the annexed, read to me as if they would sing • * * 
 As to the Ballad itself, I think it is a cut above a common election 
 Bquib; but on that I am, perhaps, hardly the best judge." 
 
 Thus terminated this most extraordinary contest. To the Reformers 
 it was indeed a triumph, but the triumph was gained at a terrible cost. 
 The Burgesses were hj this election so largely corrupted that evil 
 
THE SUFFOLK GARLAND. 453 
 
 sprang up on all sides. At the time the events occurred which we have 
 endeavoured to depict, the Tories resorted to Bribery most frequently, 
 and probably to the greatest extent, because they had then the amplest 
 means, and their existence, as a party, depended upon the continuance 
 of these practices. But the Whigs retaliated whenever they could, and 
 political fury and universal partizanship was so strong, that there was 
 hardly a single individual possessing influence of any description, who 
 scrupled to employ it in the most etfeotual manner. The actual cost of 
 this Election will probably never be known, but Thomas Green, Esq., who 
 ■was an energetic member of the Election Committee says in his " Diary," 
 " Mr. Lennard states in a letter, that his expenses here had amounted to 
 £12,000; at this rate the party here, including Mr. Baring, must have 
 expended not much short of £40,000 ! " We have been told that a 
 friend of Mr. Haldimand told the late Edward Bacon, Esq., that 
 Mr. Haldimand declared that he had paid upwards of £aO,000 for Elec- 
 tion expenses at Ipswich. 
 
 Mr. Criokitt never afterwards made his appearance as a candidate at 
 Ipswich ; and not many years passed before he had to avail himself of 
 the beneiit of the Court of Bankruptcy. Some of his documents by 
 that means passed into other hands, and from them we will now give a 
 few items of his Election expenses. The following are abstracted from 
 an account sent to Mr. Crickitt by his Ipswich Election Committee 
 when he was first returned as Member for this Borough. The account 
 was signed by five members of the Common Council. 
 
 Sums paid to Ipswich voters 
 
 ,, Harwich vOters 
 
 , , Country voters 
 
 ,, distant voters 
 
 Expenses of Country voters 
 
 ,, distant voters 
 
 Loss of voyages, &c. 
 Expenses upon the Election days 
 Publicans' Bills 
 Incidental Expenses 
 Paid Mr. Freeman, on account 
 
 N.B. — Mr. Freeman claims a Balance of £275 17s., which remains unsettled, 
 as the Committee deems his charges exorbitant. 
 
 The " Expenses on the Election day " include the Admission Fees "of 47 
 Freemen in the Blue interest." 
 
 The sum paid to Ipswich voters was distributed among 93 resident 
 Freemen, of whom 92 received £2 12s. 6d. each, and the remaining one 
 £1 Us. 6d. for a half vote. Harwich voters received £4 4s. each, 
 and country voters, in most instances, the same. The distant voters 
 £5 5s. each, which was paid to 119 Freemen. Their expenses were also 
 paid. 
 
 In addition to the expenses incurred at the Election, the local current 
 expenses were very heavy. Among the papers of Mr. Crickitt was an 
 account of these expenses for two years, amounting to £1,382 19s. The 
 account, which was signed by a gentleman who had filled the office of 
 Bailiff, discloses the following payments at the bank of Messrs. Bacon 
 and Co. 
 
 £ s. 
 
 d. 
 
 243 1 
 
 6 
 
 94 10 
 
 
 
 209 1 
 
 6 
 
 721 1 
 
 
 
 361 13 
 
 7 
 
 914 4 
 
 1 
 
 62 10 
 
 6 
 
 474 3 
 
 2 
 
 1,112 9 
 
 6 
 
 1,620 18 
 
 6 
 
 150 
 
 
 
4-31: Arp];.\uix. 
 
 
 £ 
 
 s. 
 
 d. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 Electitin Expenses 
 
 
 
 
 6,617 19 2 
 
 Two years' Current Expenses . 
 
 
 
 
 1,382 19 
 
 Loans, viz : — 
 
 
 
 
 
 Osborne 
 
 60 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 G. E. Clarke 
 
 50 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Beestou 
 
 40 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 150 
 
 The partisans on both sides made such repeated calls for money that 
 the representation of Ipswioh. was found to be very expensive, and when 
 in 1826, preparations were made for another election, Mr. Lennard re- 
 tired, in consequence, it was said, of a resolution passed by his local com- 
 mittee that he and his colleague should defray the expenses of the 
 contest for Bailiffs. Mr. Haldimand, who had subscribed large sums for 
 various municipal contests, required as a colleague in 1826 some gen- 
 tleman who could depobit £5,000. On the Blue side it was'proposed to 
 Mr. Mackinnon, who made his first appearance as a candidate in 
 Ipswich in 1826, to deposit £7,000. This expensive system going on, 
 the corruption of the Ipswich constituency became so notorious that at 
 last gentlemen declined to allow themselves to be put in the nomination. 
 
 'We have not much to be proud of in the conduct of our Parliamentary 
 elections at the present day, but at least they are better ordered, and 
 the corruption lasts for a much shorter period. Generally speaking, 
 men have 3'et to learn that the elective franchise is a sacred trust, and 
 tliat it is their duty to let no consideration interfere with its proper dis- 
 charge. Tradesmen, too, often sell tlieir souls for the smile of a carriage 
 patron, or exhibit their weakness and their servility by refraining from 
 exercihiug their franchise for fear of offending their customers. We 
 shall have no honest elections whilst this timid and time-serving spirit 
 prevails. Whether Whig, or Tory, or lladical, electors should be 
 manly and independent, ready to point the finger of scorn at those wl.o 
 sell their birthright for a mess of pottage, and equally ready to award 
 social honor to those who make sacrifices in order to vote according to 
 the dictates of their conscience. An employer has no right to tempt 
 any man in his employ to swerve from the path of duty; and a baronet 
 or a squire would be as much justified in ordering his tenant to believe 
 in the Pope, as in ordering him to vote for his noroinee. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Acton, Eliza, 376 ; Poems, 377 
 
 A^h-L'i'tisement for a "Wife, 24 
 
 An Example for Widows, 110 
 
 Anniversaries of Bishop Blaize and 
 St. Crispin, 279 
 
 A Suffolk Female Artist, 56 
 
 Auction, Extraordinary Sale by, 26S 
 
 Aylmer, Bishop, 13 ; his bluutness, 
 50 ; fond of playing at Bowls, 148 
 
 Bacon, Lord, a Juvenile Conrtier,68 ; 
 a Mart}T to Experiments, 67 
 
 Bacon, Sir Nicholas, 30 ; Praise of, 
 60 ; Queen Elizabeth's visits to 
 hira, 49 
 
 Ballads and Songs : — 
 
 A Merry Song on the Duke's 
 Giorious Success over the Dutch, 
 231 
 Dick Delver, 255 
 Good Ale, 329 
 Song-book of an Ipswich Minstrel, 
 
 207 
 The Melford Disaster, 234 
 The Suffolk Wonder, 216 
 The Suffolk Comedy, 220 
 The Lawyer Outwitted, 224 
 The King and Lord Bigod, of 
 
 Bungay, 214 
 The Lamentation of Beckles, 228, 
 230 
 
 » The Foundling of Shoreditch and 
 the Ixworth Doctor, 253 
 The Loyalty of Woodhridge, 240 
 The Monday Night's L'lub at Ips- 
 wich, 239 
 The Lamentation of the Brandes- 
 
 ton Post Boy, 254 
 Upon a Wedding, 331 
 
 Barbauld, Mrs., 349 ; pious friend- 
 ship, 349 
 
 Barmby's, Rev. Goodwyn, Poems, 
 388 
 
 Barnardiston, Sir Nathaniel, Elegy 
 on, 261 
 
 Barton, Bernard, 361 ; his dream, 
 64 ; love of Humour, 140 ; Poli- 
 tics, 6 ; and the Players, 28 ; to a 
 very young Housewife, 361 ; Win- 
 ter Evening Ditty, 362 ; Valley of 
 Fern, 365 
 
 Bedell, Bishop, 11 
 
 Bidden, Mrs., the Old Foundry, 373 
 
 Births, 426 ; Deaths, 426 
 Birth-places and Sligration of the 
 
 people of Suffolk, 419, 420 
 Bird, James, 354; youthful exploits, 
 
 126 ; the Village, 355 ; Woman's 
 tongue, 356 ; rural view of Suf- 
 folk, 356 : Woman's heart, 357 ; 
 the site of Dunwich, 357 ; Wo- 
 man's faith, 357 
 
 Blind in SuffoUc, 421 
 
 Blomfield, Bishop, and the Quaker, 5; 
 his opinion of Rowland Hill, 148 ; 
 his rise, 85 ; and the Reform Bill, 
 146 ; and the Duke of Clarence, 
 
 127 ; and Newmarket Races, 14 ; 
 perseverance, 35 
 
 Bloomfleld, Robert, 338 ; the Hor- 
 
 key, 246 ; Richard and Kate, 242 ; 
 
 Sale of his effects, 310 ; a Far- 
 mer's Wife in old times, 338 ; 
 
 Harvest Home, 340 ; Suffolk 
 
 Cheese, 339 
 Bloomfleld, Nathaniel, Honington 
 
 Green, 342 
 Broome, Rev. William, 334 ; Lines 
 
 to the Misses Harland, 335 
 Broke, Sir Philip, a Naval Duel, 
 
 42, 252 
 Bunbury, Sir Charles, and the Jewels, 
 
 110; and George IV., 154 
 Bunbury, Lady Sarah, 13 
 Burials, Anglo-Saxon, in Suffolk, 
 
 290 ; Heart burial in Holbrook 
 
 Church, 289 
 Bury St. Edmund's, Fairs at, 272 ; 
 
 Advertisements in connection 
 
 with, 274 ; Royal Visitors to, 
 
 277 
 Calamy's Reproof to General Monk, 
 
 57 
 Candler, Mrs. Ann, 335 ; Reflections 
 
 on my own Situation, 336 
 Chedworth, Lord, 17 ; his mean 
 
 Appearance, 77 ; his singular Will, 
 
 182 
 Clarkson, Thomas, and Poetry, 9 ; 
 
 Perseverance, 128 ; and Haydon, 
 
 89 
 Clergymen on duty, 28 ; 
 Cobbold, Mrs. Elizabeth, 346 ; her 
 
 Valentine to her Husband, 18 ; the 
 
 Po^ipy and the_ Corn, 34S 
 
450 IN 
 
 Cock Fishting in Suffolk, 2S2 
 
 Coke, Sir Edward, as a Judge, 71 ; 
 as a Rioter, 105 ; as a Student, 72 ; 
 as Attorney-* ieneral, lii7 ; upon 
 Littleton, 124 ; second Marriage', 
 143 ; dislike of Doctors, 145 
 
 Constable, John, the Handsome Mil- 
 ler, 7 ; Habits, 39 ; Generosity, 7 ; 
 and the Field Mouse, 23 ; his 
 Opinion of his Art, 46 ; and Italian 
 Music, 122 ; love of Humour, 7C ; 
 his notions of the liuform Bill, 
 120 ; and Chantrey, 151 ; and Sir 
 William Beechy, 120 ; a very par- 
 ticular Person, 99 
 
 Cowell, Mrs. E. B., Chronicle of 
 Castel Framlingham, 396 
 
 Crabbe, Rev. George, 35 ; as a Youth, 
 8 ; Simplicity of Character, 27 ; 
 and the Conjuror, 150 ; his Courage, 
 116 ; wretched condition in Lon- 
 don, 86, 122; andhisM;i.ster,100; 
 Dreams, 125 ; Generosity, 85 ; 
 love of Punctuality, 76 ; Chari- 
 table disposition, 130 ; description 
 of Aldborough a Century ago, 352 ; 
 the Author Rector, 354 
 
 Crime, 431 
 
 Dancing in a Hog's Trough, 177 
 
 Daye, John, the Printer, 61 
 
 D'Ewes, SirSimonds, love letter, 305 
 
 Deaf and Dumb in Suffolk, the, 421 
 
 Death by Burning, Punishment of, 
 285 
 
 Ducking Stool at Ipswich, the, 288 
 
 Edwards, Miss Betham, The Golden 
 Bee, 382 
 
 Elwes, Sir Harvey, the Miser, 21 ; 
 his Dress and Furniture, 33 ; rob- 
 bing a Miser, 47 
 
 Elwes, John, an Indepenent M.P., 
 59 ; Epitaph on, 264 
 
 Exton, Rev. R. B., Sonnets, 377 
 
 Folk Lore, 165 ; Weather prognosti- 
 cation, 166 ; remedies for Com- 
 plaints, 169 ; Omeus connected 
 with Matrimony, 175 ; dancing in 
 a Hog's trough, 177 ; Custom at 
 the birth of a child, 177 ; a Child's 
 Prayer, 177; Various beliefs and 
 superstitions, 178 
 
 Ford, Rev, James, 93 ; his funeral, 
 22 
 
 Ford, Mrs., 358 ; To the Swallow, 
 359 ; The Skylark, 360 
 
 Fulcher, Mr. G. W., 367 ; The Dying 
 Child, 368 ; The Stepmother, 369 
 
 Fox, W. J., 379 ; as an Orator, 37 ; 
 Praise to the Heroes, 379; Stabat 
 Mater, 380 ; Let us be Indepen- 
 dent of Foreigners, 100 
 
 Funeral of a Clerical Rationalist, 22 ; 
 of Chief Justice Holt, 123 
 
 Gainsborough, Thomas, and Reynolds, 
 29, 146 ; and the Alderman, 135 ; 
 love of Music, 83 ; his Forgery, 129; 
 his Girl and Pigs, 8 ; his Blue Boy, 
 29 ; impulsive, 5 ; his daughter 
 Margaret and Queen Caroline, 89 ; 
 that " Fellow " Gainsborough, 14 ; 
 a Painter's eye, 125 
 
 Gardener, the Historian of Dunwich, 
 308 
 
 Garrett's Iron Works, 1765 and 1865, 
 311 
 
 Generosity of Lord Brome, 69 
 
 Gissing, Mr. T. W., Poems, 400 
 
 Gower, John, 221 
 
 Grey Horses for a Judge, 59 
 
 Grafton, Duke of, and the Curate, 92 
 
 Grog, 49 
 
 Habits of a Country Sr^uire in 1790, 
 302 ; of a Lady of Quality in the 
 last Century, 299 
 
 Hamilton, the Duchess of, 79 ; the 
 Duke of, 135 
 
 Hanmer, Sir Thomas, 15 ; Lady 
 Hanmer, 299 
 
 Henslow, Professor, "a common in- 
 former," 138 
 
 Hertford, the late Marquis of, 80 
 
 Holt, Chief Justice, domestic bliss, 
 124 ; and false prophets, 103 ; 
 battle with the Crown, 119 ; refuses 
 the Great Seal, 119 ; and a pri- 
 soner, 31 ; Wisdom and humanity, 
 lis ; popularity, 117 
 
 Hatton, Sir Christopher, 138 ; his 
 love of Dancing, 152 
 
 Houses and Families, 418 
 
 Hughman, Mr. Robert, The Farmers' 
 Club, 391 
 
 Illegal Carpenters threatened, 306 
 
 Independents, The Earliest Congre- 
 gation of the, 292 
 
 Inchbald, Mrs,, her destitute con- 
 dition, 39 ; her politics, 45 ; gene- 
 rosity, 77 
 
 Inscription on the Foundation Stone 
 of Wolsey's College, 307 ; Curious 
 in Bramfield Church, 309 ; in 
 Gippeswyck Hall, 316 
 
 Ipswich, tlie Humble Address of the 
 Bellmen of, 237 
 
INDEX. 
 
 457 
 
 James I. in Suffolk, 91 
 
 Jemmy Chambers and the Ladies, 6 
 
 Keeping a Promise, 41 
 
 Layton, Eev. "William, 20 
 
 Lennard and Haldimand's Election, 
 
 435 ; the Chairing, 446 
 Literary Institutions, their Condition 
 
 in 1865, 432. 
 Literary Handkerchiefs, 70 
 Lofi't, Mr. Capel, 348; Struck off 
 
 the List of Magistrates, 52 ; Poems, 
 
 348. 
 Lying goes by Districts, 28 
 Lying on Both Sides, 152 
 Lydgate, John, 323 ; The London 
 
 Lyokpenny, 324 
 Margaret Cutting, of Wickham Mar- 
 ket, 296 
 Marriages, 424 ; a Century ago, 315 
 Mitford, Eev. John, 374 ; Poem on 
 
 Archbishop Sancroft, 375 
 Monsey, Dr. Messenger, 107 
 Moor, Major, On Popular Errors, 
 
 87 ; His Pet Snake, 129 
 Moodie, Mrs., A Canadian Song, 405 
 Mole, John, the Algebraist, 50 
 Nelson, Lord, Humanity of, 114 ; 
 
 A Warm Anxiety, 109 ; Punctu- 
 ality, 111 
 Noble Conduct of Lord Eochford, 36 
 Norfolk, Philip, Duke of. Moral 
 
 Courage of, 74 
 Occupations of the People, 421 ; in 
 
 which there was an iiwrease, 422 ; 
 
 in which there was a decrease, 423 ; 
 
 of Male Juveniles, 423 ; of Female 
 
 Juveniles, 423 ; in each of which 
 
 above 200 females were employed, 
 
 424 
 Oliver Cromwell's Granddaughter, 19 
 One Quaker Cook, 32 
 Pauperism, 428 ; Dietary Table, 429 ; 
 
 Comparative Weekly Cost, 430 ; 
 
 Cost per Head of Population, 
 
 430 
 Petty Sessions for Hiring of Servants, 
 
 284 
 Poems : — 
 
 A Farmer's Wife in Old Times, 388 
 
 Aldborough a Century ago, 352 
 
 A Canadian Song, 405 
 
 A Voice from the Milliner's Work- 
 Room, 410 
 
 Chronicle of Castel Eramlingham, 
 396 
 
 Death of the Prince Consort, 309 
 
 Episode of Rosiphele, 321 
 
 Poems : — 
 Elegy on the Enclosure of Honing- 
 
 ton Green, 342 
 Eyes of Brown, 399 ; Epitaph on 
 
 Clere, 327 
 Forgive Thee ! Yes, 377 
 Good Ale, 329 
 Genius, 388 
 
 Gleaning Time in Suffolk, 408 
 Harvest Home, 340 
 Harvest Cart in Sulfolk, 406 
 Lines to the Misses Harlaud, 335 
 My Own Fireside, 395 
 Mosses, 401 
 Pious l?riendship, 349 
 Praise of His Love, 326 
 Praise to the Heroes, 379 
 Eeflections on My Own Situation, 
 
 336 
 Ehyme of St. Edmundsbury Abbey 
 
 seven hundred years ago, 265 
 Rural View of Suffolk, 356 
 Richard and Kate, 242 
 Sonnets to a Young Mourner, 
 
 Widowed ere Wedded, 378 
 Sonnet to the River Orwell, 408 
 Stanzas on a Child's First Birthday 
 
 400 
 Stabat Mater, 380 
 Suffolk Cheese, 339 
 The Old Foundry, 373 
 The Farmers' Club, 391 
 The Golden Bee, 382 
 The Author Rector, 354 
 The Horkey, 246 
 The Dying Child, 368 
 The Stepmother, 369 
 The Valley of Fern, 365 
 The Hand of Friendship, 389 
 The Outlaw's Wife to her Husband, 
 
 372 
 The Soldier's Bride to her Husband, 
 
 376 
 The London Lyckpenny, 324 
 The Poppy and the Corn, 346 
 . The Sunflower, 350 
 The VUlage, 355 
 The Site of Dunwich, 357 
 To a Very Young Housewife, 361 
 To Shakspeare, 348 ; The Skylark, 
 
 360 
 To the Memory of Robert Bloom- 
 field, 364 
 To Priscilla Wakefield, 381 
 To the Swallow, 359 
 Tribute to Sir Henry E . Bunbury, 
 
 Bart., 412 
 
458 
 
 Poems : — 
 
 AViiiter Evening Ditty for a 
 
 Little Girl, 362 
 Woman's Tongue, 356 ; Vv'oniiin's 
 Heart, 357 ; Woman's Faith, 
 357 
 
 Population, 417 
 
 Posies on Kings, 317 
 
 Pratt, Mrs., The Outlaw's Wife to 
 her Husband, 372 
 
 Priestly, Di'., at Needham Market, 
 62 ; his portrait, 63 
 
 Pulpit, The Smallest in Suifolk, 318 
 
 Puljiits, Hour Glasses in, 286 
 
 l!eli!,'ious Condition of the People, 
 426 
 
 Reverence for Images, 151 
 
 Eincters' Jugs, 294 
 
 Poyal Travelling in Suffolk in 1736-7, 
 297 ; Eoyal Ingratitude, 38 ; 
 Eoyalty and Conscience, 81 
 
 Saint Edmund's Oak, 277 
 
 Saint Dunstan's Clock, 124 
 
 Bancroft, Archbishop, 81 ; lines on 
 his retirement, 374 
 
 Scogan the Court Pool, 65, 82 
 
 Self-deuial of an East Anglian King, 
 142. 
 
 Selling a Wife, 286 
 
 Shawe, Mrs., of Kesgrave, 87 
 
 Song Book of an Ipswich Min.strel, 
 207 
 
 Solemn League and Covenant, 315 
 
 Spilling, Mr. James, Poems, 409 
 
 Stanley, Bishop, and his Rooks, 83 
 
 Strickland, Miss Agnes, Lilies of 
 Jerusalem, 403 
 
 Suckling, Sir John, 331; his Penny 
 A\'edding, 331 
 
 Suffolk Words and Phrases, 271 
 
 Surrey, Earl of, 325 ; Poems, 326 
 
 Still, John, D.D., 329; Good Ale, 
 330 
 
 Taylor, Dr. Rowland and Bishop 
 Bonner, 141 
 
 Tillotson, Archbishop, 69 
 
 The Glorious Fight olf Boston Light- 
 house, 252 
 
 Tlie Bishop of C'loyne, 7 
 
 Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, start in 
 life, 26 ; and Ci-abbe, 66 ; and 
 Lord Loughborough, 10 ; habit of 
 swearing, 55 ; and the Duchess, 
 121 ; and the Bishop, 64 ; at 
 Warren Hastings' Trial, 147; and 
 
 Grorgf the III., 150 ; and the 
 Curate, 75 ; reply to the Duke of 
 Grafton, 94 
 
 Thurlow, Lord Edward, 350 
 
 Tithe Reckoning, 69 
 
 Town (.'riers' Registers, 281 
 
 Trimmer, j\Irs., an early riser, 70 
 
 Trying to bribe a Judge, 48 
 
 Tusser, Thomas, 10 ; Description of 
 t'hristmas Husbandly Fare, 267 ; 
 the Farmers' Daily Diet, 270 
 
 Vannecks, Sir Gerard, Election, 152 
 
 Vernon, Admiral, 78 
 
 Wakefield, Mr,s. Priscilla, Lines to 
 her Memory, 381 ; the originator 
 of Savings Banks, 60 
 
 AMiiston, Rev. William, 88 ; and 
 Queen Caroline, 30 
 
 Whately, Archbishop, his odd way.s, 
 3 ; on the ticket-of-leave system, 
 73; Opinion of AVomen, 104; "u 
 Theology, 73 ; his Conversation.o.l 
 Powers, 148 ; his Dogs, 46 ; Cure 
 for a headache, 36 ; love of 
 Phrenology, 131 ; in the Pulpit, 
 46 ; on Gaming, 41 ; habits, 153 ; 
 The sense of the Parish, 25 ; and 
 the King of Belgians, 145 ; Your 
 wife and your lady, 74 ; and the 
 Aide-de-camp. 2G; Hospitality and 
 wit, 95 ; and Beggars, 85 ; and 
 Music, 121 ; charitable disposition, 
 136 ; excuse my preaching, 74 ; one 
 of the first men of the age, 134 
 Wills, Singular, and Bequests, 180 ; 
 Wliimsical one of Mr. Ruifell, 180 ; 
 Lord Chedworth's, 182 ; TheTliel- 
 luson Will, 186 ; The eccentric 
 William Jennens, 187 ; E.^tracts 
 from the wills of John Cornwallis 
 and Philip Thicknesse, 190 
 Witchcraft in Suffolk, 191 ; at Bran- 
 deston, 204 ; trial of the Lowes- 
 toft Witches, 192 ; Confes.sion of a 
 AN'itch at Ipswich, 201 ; Charms 
 against, 205; a Witch and a Wizard, 
 92 ; an end to trials for, 102 
 Woodbridge, The Loyalty of, 240 
 Wollaston, William Hyde, 54, 
 
 Habits and Manners, 155 
 Yeomanry Cavalry Corps, 142 
 Young, Arthur, Honors paid to, 115 
 Youngnran, Mr. T. G,, Tribute to 
 tlie Aiemory of Sir Henry E. Bun- 
 bury, Bart., 412 
 

 ill 
 
 
 "^f 
 
 )^i-:4;7 
 
 R. GARRETT AND SONS, 
 
 AGRICULTURAL ENGINEERS, 
 LEISTON WORKS, SUFFOLK, 
 
 Solicit a visit from Agriculturists, Buyers, and Users of Machineiy gene- 
 rail}', to their extensive "Works, of which description will be found at page 
 301 of the Illustrated Olficial Guide to the Great Eastern Eailway (Colchester 
 Line). 
 
 R. GARRETT AND SONS' 
 PortaWe, Traction, and fixture Steam Engines 
 
 ARE THE MOST ECONOMICAL, POWERFUL, AND DURABLE. 
 
 Tlieir Patent Combined Thrashing Machines 
 
 THE SIMPLEST AND MOST EFFICIENT. 
 
 The lew Patent " Ilniversai " Corn and Seed Drills 
 
 AND HORSE HOES 
 
 ARE WORTHY THE ATTENTION OF EVERY FARMER. 
 
 They are one-third lighter in draught, more durahle in wear, and cheaper ia 
 price than any other Implements of the kiad ever introduced, 
 
 The PaUnUe, Mr. John Sainty, of Burnham, ohtaimd all the First Prizes at the last Meeting 
 of the Royal Agricultural Society of England at Plymouth, for which he competed. 
 
 CHAMBERS' PATENT MANURE DISTRIBUTORS 
 
 Are now made with the Barrels made of a metal which will not corrode by the acids and 
 salts contained in artificial manures. 
 
 Illustrated Lists of every kind of Agricultural Machinery upon application to 
 B. GARKETT & SONS, LEISTON WORKS, SXJTFOLK. 
 
 y.B. — Plough Shares and Caslings ma<U of most durable mclal. 
 
MY 1®¥41 mWM&MW. 
 METALLIC PEN-MAKER TO THE QUEEK 
 
 JOSEPH GILLOTT 
 
 KespectfiiUy invites the attention of the public to the following Numbers of his 
 
 PATENT METALLIC PENS, 
 
 Which, for quality of mateeial, east action, and gkeat dukabilttt, 
 will ensure universal preference. 
 
 For L.tDiEs' Use, for fine, neat writing, especially on thick and highly- 
 finished papers. — Nos. 1, 173, 303, 604, in Extra-Fine Points. 
 
 For General Use.— Nos. 3, 164, 166, 168, 604, in Fine Points. 
 
 For Bold, Free Wkiting. — Nos. 8, 164, 166, 168, 604, in Medium 
 Points. 
 
 For Gentlemen's Use, for large, free, bold writing. — The Black Swan 
 Quill, Large Barrel Pen, No. 808. The Patent Magnum Bonum, No. 263 
 in Medium and Broad Points. 
 
 For General Writing. — No. 263, in Extra-eine and Fine Points. 
 No. 810, New Bank Pen. No. 262, in Fine Points, Small Barrel. No! 
 840, the Autograph Pen. 
 
 For Commercial Purposes. — The celebrated Three-hole Correspondence 
 Pen, No. 382. Four-hole ditto, No. 202. The Public Pen, No. 292. Ditto, 
 with Bead, No. 404. Small Barrel Pens, fine and free, Nos. 392, 405, 603. ' 
 
 To be had of every respectable Stationer in the world. 
 
 Wholesale and for Exportation, at the Manufactory, "Victoria Works, 
 Graham Street, and at 96, New Street, Birmingham ; 91, John Street, New 
 York ; and at the London Depot, 37, Gracechurch Street, E.C. 
 
^a:§t-|^n5Iian ^tth\d%' Institute, 
 
 GOTERNESSES', TEACHERS', NUESES', 
 
 AND 
 
 ST. MATTHEW'S STREET, IPSWICH. 
 
 Established for the security of Families, and to assist competent 
 persons of known good character in 2:>rocuring sitiuxtions. 
 
 PATRONISED BY THE LEADING FAMILIES IN THE DISTRICT. 
 
 SERVANTS' DEPARTMENT. 
 
 The names of Ladies and Gentlemen wanting Domestic Servants are 
 entered Free on the Books of this Institute, and if suited through this 
 Agency, the charge to them is varied according to the amount of wages 
 given, thus adapting the Servants' Institute to all classes of employers. If 
 at the rate of £5 per annum, the charge is one shilling ; if above £5 and 
 under £10 10s., the charge is one shilling and sixpence; if £10 10s. and 
 under £20, the charge is two shillings and sixpence ; if £20 and up to 40 
 guineas, the fee is five shillings ; but if the wages are more than 40 guineas a 
 year, the charge is ten shillings. 
 
 As extra trouble and correspondence devolves upon the Conductor when- 
 ever Servants are sent to distant places, the Fee is in all such cases two 
 shillings and sixpence, when the wages are under twelve guineas a year ; five 
 shillings, if that amount and under twenty guineas ; and ten shillings, if 
 twenty guineas and above. 
 
 ^GOVERNESSES' DEPARTMENT. 
 
 Private families supplied with Governesses, Companions, and Teachers of 
 good character and of various degrees of ability and amount of salary. The 
 aim of the Conductor will be to keep a Eegistered List of persons whose 
 abilities will range from the simple Nursery Teacher to the Educated Lady, 
 whose proficiency in the higher branches of education and fluency in the 
 modern languages give her a claim to the title of Superior Governess and 
 Intellectual Companion. 
 
 No charge to Ladies and Gentlemen unless an engagement is made through 
 the agency of the "Institute," when the Fee is five shillings if the salary 
 is above £20 per annum, but only two shillings and sixpence if the salary 
 is £20 or less. All applications are to be accompanied by Postage Stamps 
 fo rcorrespondence. 
 
 FARM BAILIFFS. 
 
 A List of such Farm Bailiffs as are seeking situations, and can be recom- 
 mended by Practical Agriculturists, will be kept. Fee to Farmers and 
 Gentlemen, two shillings and sixpence. 
 
 LETTER RECEIVING DEPARTMENT. 
 
 Letters received in reply to Advertisements or Private Epistolary Corres- 
 pondence . Terms, one shilling per week. 
 
 WAirma eooms for ladies kst) seetmts. 
 
 All Letters of Inquiry must enclose a Postage Stamp for a reply. 
 
EIST^BX^ISHE^D 1844. 
 
 6. ORESSWELL, 
 
 SixVm ^ ifHtlcmew's "§m Suiter -^ ^xmn, 
 
 AXD 
 
 ORNAMENTAL HAIR MANUFACTURER, 
 
 (next door to the great white horse hotel, tavern street). 
 
 The only licensee in tlie County for C'AJir's Patent Rotatory Hair 
 Brushing Apparatu.s. 
 
 EespedahJe and First Class Assistants always hi atteiulanci . 
 Families and Schools attended at their own Residences. 
 
 AGENT EOK ATKINSON'S, HEXDRIE's, AND LTJBIN's PERFUMERY. 
 
 "qfiwsn AeiHfiT mwwMm 
 
 mwm&m mmmi 
 
 AISTD EEGISTEY OF APARTMENTS TO LET, 
 
 ST. MATTHEWS, IPSWICH. 
 Fidem i^roraittens, res secundas spero. 
 
 John Clyde, Junr., respectfully informs Proprietors of Houses in tlie 
 Town of Ipswich that he places House Property on his " Register to Let " 
 free of expense. There is no Registration Fee ; no Withdrawal Fee. No 
 charge of any kind is made unless the Property is Let through the Agency 
 of tliis Office, when the payment is according to the annexed moderate 
 
 SCALE OF COMMISSION. 
 
 For Houses Let at Weekly Rents . The First Week's Rent. 
 
 For Houses Let at Annual Rents . 2.^ per cent, on the First Year's 
 
 up to £50 . . Rental. 
 
 Above £50 .... 2 J per cent, on the first £50, and 
 
 1^ per cent, on the remainder. 
 
 A REGISTER OF APARTMENT.? TO LET IN IPSWICH AND ITS IMMEDIATE 
 KEIGHBOURHOOD may be consulted, FRI5E OF EXPENSE, AT 
 
 eiiik'.'i ^mn ©ffirc, 35, St^Hattliflw's Strwt. ipWi 
 
■"■(" ,' II rf ■ ; I *rl II li 
 
 IMEB SlMif M1141T. 
 
 ST. MATTHEW'S STREET, 
 IPSWICH. 
 
 Clyde's Select Library was established in 1856, in order to place within the 
 reach of the Reading Public in the County of Suffolk, the best Works in 
 Historj', Biography, Religion, Philosophy, Travel, and the higher class of 
 Fiction, the Quarterly Reviews, and Monthly Magazines. 
 
 Great care has been taken to render the Library in every way worthy of 
 the cordial support of all classes of readers. Books on all subjects of public 
 interest have been added, and of the most popular books several copies are 
 provided for the use of Subscribers. Such arrangements are made with the 
 leading London Libraries that enable the Proprietor to ensure a good supply 
 of all books of merit and general interest. 
 
 The collection of Standard "Works, to which all Subscribers have ready 
 access, is being constantly augmented by additions from the Works of the 
 best authors that continue in demand. 
 
 FIEST CLASS SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 Two vols, at a time of the newest works, One Guinea per annum and upwards, 
 commencing at any date. 
 
 SECOXL) CLASS SUBSCBIPTION. 
 
 For vols, six months after publication, four vols, at a time for One Guinea 
 per annum. Magazines one month after publication . 
 
 Two or three friends in any neighbourhood may unite in one Subscription to 
 
 GLYDS^S SELECT LIBRARY, 
 
 and thus obtain a constant succession of the best books, on liberal terms. 
 
 All the best Boo of the season are constantly in 
 circulation. 
 
 ^WBl'S SIMCT Llllllf, 
 
 ST. MATTHEWS STREET, IPSWICH. 
 

 W. COBB'S 
 
 Fl§f®glAFHlS llSflfl 
 
 FOE 
 
 FIRST-CLASS PRODUCTIONS ONLY, 
 
 LONDON EOAD AND CLAEKSON STREET, IPSWICH. 
 
 Photography in all its Branches. 
 
 " Very clever Photographs from the life. Mr. Cobb possesses artistic 
 taste and feeling." — AH Student, January, 1865. 
 
 "Mr. Cobb possesses all the elements of the artist. The pictures before 
 us are graceful and effective in their arrangement and perfect in their photo- 
 graphic manipulation. They leave nothing to be desired." — British Journal 
 of Photography, March, 1S65. 
 
 ELDRED H. GIRDLESTONE, 
 
 TAILOR & WOOLLEN DRAPER, 
 
 30, ST. MATTHEW'S STREET, IPSWICH, 
 ^abal antr ilflitarj) 3Hniformg, 
 
 LADIES' RIDING HABITS. 
 
 mm 
 
 I ii®is 
 
 Cutting Taught Privately, or in Classes, 
 
 N.B.-THE NOTED SHREWSBURY WATERPROOF CLOAK FOR 
 
 LADIES. 
 
CAUTION. 
 
 VICE-CHANCELLOR SIR AV. P. WOOD stated that Dr. J. Collis 
 Browxe was undoubtedly the Inventor of Chlorodyne ; that the state- 
 ments of the Defendant Freeman were deliberately untrue, and he regretted 
 to say they had been sworn to. Eminent Hospital Physicians of London 
 stated that Dr. J. Collis Browne was the discoverer of Chlorodyne ; that 
 they prescribe it largely ; and mean no other than Dr. Browne's. — See 
 Times, July 13, 1864. Subsequently confirmed by the trade at large. 
 See the Lancet, April 8, 1865. The public therefore are cautioned against 
 using any other. 
 
 DR. J. COLLIS BROWNE'S 
 
 ©HlilOll'll. 
 
 THIS INVALUABLE EEMEDY produces quiet, refreshing sleep, relieves 
 pain, calms the system, restores the deranged functions, and stimulates 
 healthy action of the secretions of the body, without creating any of those 
 unpleasant results attending the use of opium. Old and young may take it 
 at all hours and times, when requisite. Thousands of persons testify to its 
 marvellous good effects and wonderful cures, while medical men extol its 
 virtues most extensively, using it in great quantities in the following 
 diseases : — 
 
 Consumption, Astluna, BroncMtis, "Whooping-Cougli, leuralgia, 
 Diarrlicea, Eieumatism, etc. 
 
 o h: o n. E i^ ^^ - 
 
 EARL RUSSELL has graciously favored J. T. DAVENPORT with the 
 following :— Extract of a despatch from Mr. WEBB, H.B.M.'s Consul at 
 Manilla, dated September 17, 186i.— "The remedy most efficacious in its 
 effects (in Epidemic Cholera) has been found to be Chlorodyne, and with a 
 small quantity given to me by Dr. Burke, I have saved several lives." 
 
 IMPORTANT TESTIMONIALS FEOM NUJIEKOUS MEBIOAL 
 MEN ACCOMPANY EACH BOTTLE. 
 
 Serious Results have arisen from tlie use of Spurious CMorodyne. 
 
 CAUTIOK—Always^askfor "Dr. J. COLLIS BMOJFNE'S 
 C'SLOMOD YNE," and see. that his name is on the Government Stamp. 
 Sold only in bottles at 2s. 9d. and 4s- 6d., by all CUcmists. 
 
 SOLE MANUFACTtTKEn ; 
 
 J. T. DAVENPORT, 33, GREAT RUSSELL-STREET, 
 BLOOMSBURY-SQUARE, LONDON. 
 
iast-|^n0Iia;n Institute 
 
 FOR 
 
 (3-o"\rE]i?.nsrEissES, 
 
 35, ST. MATTHEW'S STREET, IPSWICH. 
 
 CONDUCTED BY JOHN OLYDE, JuN. 
 
 The undersigned have pleasure in recommending the East-Anglian 
 Institute to the favorable notice of the public : — 
 
 Hek Gkaoe the Duchess of Gkafton. 
 Hee Gkaoe the Duchess or Hamil- 
 ton. 
 The Countess of Stradbroke. 
 The Countess Jermtn. 
 The Lady Arthur Hervey. 
 The Lady Alfred Paget. 
 The Lady Emily Capel. 
 The L\dy Frances Pettiward. 
 The Lady Florence Baenardiston. 
 The Lady Geoegiana Gurdon Eebow. 
 The Lady Henniker. 
 The Lady Rayleigh. 
 The Hon. Mes. Mills. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Anstruther. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Bedingfield. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Dashwood. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Charles Du Cane. 
 
 Lady Bunbury, 
 
 Lady Parker. 
 
 Lady Blake. 
 
 Lady Affleck. 
 
 Lady Broke Middleton. 
 
 Lady de Ceespigny. 
 
 Lady R. Shafto Adair. 
 
 L.ADY Rowley. 
 
 Lady Clay. 
 
 Lady Seaton. 
 
 Lady Cliffoed. 
 
 Lady Ceossley. 
 
 Lady Kelly. 
 
 Mes. Charles Austin, Brandeston Hall. 
 
 Mrs. Berners, ■\Voolverstone Park. 
 
 Mrs. Corrance, Parham Hall. 
 
 ]\rR8. Hunter Rodwell. Ampton Park. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Grey Round, Birch Hall. 
 
 The aim of the Conductor of the East-Anglian Institute will be to keep a 
 Registered list of Governesses whose abilities will range from the simple 
 Nursery Teacher to the Educateil Lady, whose proficiency in the higher 
 branches of education and fluency in the modern languages gives her a claim 
 to the title of Superior Governess and Intellectual Companion. He will thus, 
 he trusts, be enabled to supply Private Families and Ladies' Schools in this 
 district with such Governesses of good character^ and of such a degree of 
 ability as they may requu-e . 
 
 No charge to ladies unless an engagement is made through the agency of 
 the " Institute, " when the Fee is 5s. if the salary is twenty pounds per 
 annum or above, but only 2s. 6d. if the salary is less than twenty pounds. 
 All applications are to be accompanied by Postage Stamps for correspondence. 
 
 In thus bringing before Ladies and Gentlemen the nature of the business 
 transacted at the " East- Anglian Institute " for Governesses, John Gltde, 
 Jun ., trusts that his readers will bear in mind that this Agency cannot fairly 
 be placed on the same level with the "Eegister Offices" in this district. 
 The endeavour has been to supply a want that was much needed, and to 
 base the business that should supply that want on equitable principles. 
 And it will be seen from the details above given, that the remuneration is 
 entirely dependent upon the Conductor being instrumental in suiting Ladies, 
 Gentlemen, and Applicants. In many cases, where he is unsuccessful in his 
 endeavours, an actual loss will occur. 
 
 WAITING EOOMS FOR LADIES AND APPLICANTS. 
 
 All Letters of Inquiry must enclose Postage Stamps for Replies. 
 
 REES AND GEIPPER, PRINTERS, IPSWICH.