marble effigy, designed to show that she died by poison.

Malone remarks of Matilda that this lady was poisoned by king John, at Dunmow priory, and Brand is of the same opinion.

There are good reasons for the ignorance of the contemporary chroniclers. It is little likely that Marian, fleeing from a vindictive tyrant, would have disclosed the place of her retreat; neither would king John have cared to increase his unpopularity by publishing his barbarous orders.

The recluses (probably awed or bribed into silence) caused the monument to be erected over the grave of the victim, and Robert Davenport may have been the first person who noticed it.

Another correspondent, in the Every Day Book, denies the authenticity of Robin Hood's epitaph, "Hear undernead dis laitel stean," &c.; whereas, Ritson, the most cautious and fastidious of antiquaries, seems inclined to admit its genuineness.

Among an odd collection of MS. songs in my possession, I find the following, which asserts (though without foundation) that the outlaw was poisoned by his sister, the prioress of Kirklees. Here it is:

LE MORTE DE ROBIN HODE.

To Kerklees stately priorie
Came an old time-worn man,
And for food and shelter prayed he,
Ye chief of a noble clan

He was who in Burnsdale and merrie Sherwood

Sported blithely in time agone,

And albeit full could crept his sluggish blode,
Yt ye step was firm and ye bearing proud,
Of Robin, ye outlawed one.

And ye prioress gave him a brimming bowle,
And bade him drink deep therein,
""Twould solace" she said, "his fainting
sowle;"

And her's was a deadlie sinne.

For, although he called her his sister dear,
And she smiled when she poured for him
Ye sparkling wine, there was poison there,
And herself had mingled ye druggs with care;
And she pledged her guest, with a thrill of
fear,

Though she touched but ye goblet's brim,

Fearful and long was his dying groan,
As his spirit to Hades fled,
And ye prioress stood like a rooted stone
When she saw that ye erle was dede:

And her eyes grew glazed, and she uttered a yell

Too horrid for mortal ear,

And laughter rang-'twas the mirth of hell-
Through that pile so lone and drear.

On ye self-same night ye murdress died,
But she rotted not alone,

For they laid her carcase side by side
With Robin of Huntingdon.

And they placed a fayre stone on ye mossy bed

Of that brave but erring one,

And many a pilgrim hath wept when he read What is written that stone upon.

Next follows his epitaph.

The pedantry of the last stanza but one savors strongly of the monastery, but no monk would have called the outlaw's company "a noble clan," neither would any of the earlier minstrels have stolen ideas from the pagan mythology. It may have been first composed in the sixteenth century.

June 16, 1831.

I am, &c.,

J. F. R.

P. S. Some of your readers may have other versions of the above ballad; if so, they would do well to forward them to the Year Book.

July 7.

This is the anniversary of the death of St. Thomas a Becket, at whose tomb Henry II. submitted to the penance of flagellation.

FLAGELLATION.

Among instances of correction bestowed by saints upon persons who did not ask them for their advice, none can be quoted more remarkable than that of St. Romuald, who severely flagellated his own father. Cardinal Damian greatly approves this action, and relates that after St. Romuald had received permission from his superiors to execute his purpose, he set out upon his journey, barefooted, without either horse or cart, and only with a stick in his hand; and, from the remotest borders of France, at last reached Ravenna, where, finding his father determined to return to the world, he put him in the stocks, tied him with heavy chains, dealt hard blows to him, and continued using him with this pious severity till he had diverted him from his intention.

De Lolme says that an instance of a sovereign submitting to a flagellation, may

be seen in our own days, at every vacancy of the see of Wurtzburgh, a sovereign bishopric in Germany. It is an ancient custom in the chapter of that church, that the person who has been elected to fill the place of the late prince bishop, must, before he can obtain his installation, run the gantlope, naked to the waist, between the canons, who are formed in two rows, and supplied with rods.

Among the sovereigns who were publicly flagellated was Raymond, count of Toulouse, whose sovereignty extended over a very considerable part of the south of France. Having given protection in his dominions, to the Albigenses, pope Innocent III. published a crusade against him; his dominions were in consequence seized, nor could he succeed in getting them restored, until he had submitted to receive discipline from the hands of the legate of the pope, who stripped him naked to the waist, at the door of the church, and drove him up to the altar, in that situation, all the while beating him with rods.

Henry IV., of France, was a sovereign who submitted to flagellation from the church. It was inflicted upon his being absolved of excommunication and heresy; and it proves the fact that the most comfortable manner of receiving a flagellation is by proxy. Henry IV. suffered the discipline which the church inflicted upon him, through Messrs. D'Ossat, and Du Perron. During the ceremony of the king's absolution, and while the choristers were singing the psalm, Miserere mei Deus, the pope, at every verse, beat with a rod, on the shoulders of the two proxies. As an indulgence to the king, his proxies were suffered to keep their coats on during the discipline. It had been reported, out of envy towards them, on account of the commission with which the king had honored them, that they had been made actually to strip in the church, and undergo a dreadful flagellation. This report M. D'Ossat contradicts in one of his letters, which says that the flagellation was performed to comply with the rules set down in the Pontifical, but that "they felt it no more than if it had been a fly that had passed over them, being so well coated as they were.' The proxies of Henry IV. were made cardinals, and, though express mention of the above discipline was entered in the written process drawn up on the occasion, yet the French ministers would not suffer it to be inserted

On the 8th of July, 1726, died John Ker, of Kersland, of the ancient family of Crawfurd, of Crawfurdland, in Scotland. He was born at Crawfurdland-house, August 8, 1673, and took the surname of Ker from having married, in 1693, a daughter of the head of the powerful clan of Ker. His father, Alexander Crawfurd, esq., a lawyer, was courted by James II., but, as a firm presbyterian, who rejected all toleration under a sovereign professing the Roman catholic religion, he refused to receive court employment. His son, John Ker, became a spy under queen Ann, to defeat the designs of the friends of the Stuarts. Like other spies, when he had porformed his despicable office, he was despised and neglected by those whom he had served, and reduced, in his old age, to supplicate the government for support, while he acknowledged the degradation of his employment. What he received for all his patriotic pains, besides two gold medals of the electress dowager, and George I., does not appear. He published memoirs of himself, in which

he says, "I confess, the public would be at no loss if I were dead, and my memory buried in oblivion: for I have seen too much of the villany and vanity of this world to be longer in love with it, and own myself perfectly weary of it." He was long confined for debt in the king's bench prison, where he died in distress, ten years after the publication of his work.*

The policy of Elizabeth and Burleigh devised the first genuine newspaper, the English Mercurie, printed during the Spanish armada. The earliest number in the British Museum is marked 50; it is dated the 23d of July, 1588, and contains the following curious article:

"Yesterday the Scotch ambassador had a private audience of her majesty, and delivered a letter from the king, his master, containing the most cordial assurances of adhering to her majesty's interests, and to those of the protestant religion and the young king said to her majesty's minister at his court, that all the favor he expected from the Spaniards was the courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses, that he should be devoured the last."

:

These publications were then, and long afterwards, published in the shape of small pamphlets; and are so called in a tract by one Burton, printed in 1614: "If any one read now-a-days, it is a playbook or a phamphlet of newes."

From 1588, to 1622, and during the reign of James I., few of these publications appeared; but the thirty years' war,

and the victories of Gustavus Adolphus, having excited the curiosity of our countrymen, a weekly paper, called The News of the Present Week, was printed by Nathaniel Butler, in 1622, which was continued afterwards, in 1626, under another title, by Mercurius Britannicus. These were succeeded by the German Intelligencer, in 1630, and the Swedish Intelligencer, in 1631, which last, compiled by William Watts, of Caius college, gave the exploits of the Swedish hero in a quarto pamphlet.

The first regular newspaper, in the present form, was the Pubtic Intelligencer, published by sir Roger L'Estrange, Aug. 31, 1661.

The first daily paper, after the revolution, was called the Orange Intelligencer. From an advertisement in a weekly paper, called the Athenian Gazette, Feb. 8, 1696, it appears that the coffee-houses in London had then, exclusive of votes week; but there seems not to have been, of parliament, nine newspapers every in 1696, one daily newspaper.

In 1709, eighteen newspapers were published; of which, however, only one was a daily paper, the London Courant.

daily, six weekly, and ten evening papers In 1724 there was published three

three times a week."

From days unnumber'd hath the custom been To shear, in summer months, the loaded sheep, And keep the jocund feast: so still remains The festival among the rustic race.

Behold, with joy the grazier sees his flock, Loaded with wool, drop to the board prepar'd, Where round attend the sturdy sons of toil, With cleanly shears, well whetted, to divide The fleece from off the loaded, panting, flock. Penn'd in the fold, and all hands fit for work, Lo forth the boarder brings each man his sheep,

And then the glass goes round; a health all

drink

To him who owns the flock, and wish success May crown the honest master's care and pains. All hands to work; the perspiration flows Fast trickling down the shearers' weather'd

faces;

But, us'd" to toil and sweat," they labor on,
Unheeding the fatigue. The master sends
Oft round the board the strength-reviving
ale,

To cheer his lab'rers; while the ruddy boy
Hands out the sheep to the delighted owner,
For him to use the brand. See how he smiles,
While on the well-shorn back he sets his
mark,

And softly whispers, "go, for thou art mine!"
Oft looks he, pleas'd, upon the weighty fleece,
The pile of wool, and the plump, well-fed sides
Of his fat flock; revolving in his mind
The needful gain, to pay him for his care.
Uudaunted, then, he thinks him of the day
When rent is due, nor fears the landlord's

face;

But hears of seizures, gaols, and blant discharge,

With mind unhurt, and honest indignation.

But, lo! the huddling flocks are nearly
shorn,

And the kind, hospitable, mistress now
Hastes to prepare the well-provided feast.
The table's set, and all acquaintance come
To share the healthful food and smiling ale.
The shearers put aside the fleccing-blade,*
And join in cheerful chat. The young and
-strong

In rural pastime spend the joyous hours;
Jump o'er the board, or toss the heavy bar;
Grapple each other, give a harmless fall;
And show their vigor and activity,

In feats well-pleasing to the rustic throng. The evening comes; and then the master's house

Is fill'd with guests. The neighb'ring poor attend,

Right welcome to the board: the nut-brown ale

Briskly goes round, till all have had enough;
Then stops the pitcher; for the prudent host
Will have no drunkards to pollute the feast.
The signal understood, the throng retires,
Praising the author of the friendly treat,
And wishing him success for many years.
His friends remain to pass another hour,
Then part in peace; and wish the owner may
Long share the blessings of increasing flocks,
Feed oft the needy poor, and round diffuse
The gifts with which kind heaven hath fill'd
his hand.

So may each honest grazier e'er be graced
With every earthly good, while he bestows
Upon the
poor a charitable share,

And aids the sons of poverty and want!

And be the friend with whom we now regale,

A kind approver of my hasty tale;

May he thus act, and ever thus be crown'd,
Until his years have run their posting round:
When they are ended, and he takes his leave
Of all the blessings heaven below doth give,
May he, in better worlds, be ever bless'd,
And, labor ended, share eternal rest!
JOSEPH PROUD.

July 6, 1778.

LADY IN THE STRAW.

This expression is derived from beds having been anciently stuffed with straw, and signifies "the lady in bed."

BEDSTRAW.

In old herbals, and among country people, mention is made of a plant called "the ladies bed-straw. Gerard describes and figures, "yellow ladies bed-straw,' and "ladies bed-straw with white flowers," besides another with red flowers; the two latter being used as 'cheese-renning," or rennet, having the vrtue of turning milk to cheese. He says, the second is "like unto cleavers, or goose-grass, yet nothing rough, but smooth and soft,-the whole plant rampeth upon bushes, otherwise it cannot stand."