equal to master's, of making a parish pudding for myself and the maid, and there was one pudding of a superior kind, which smelled strong of brandy; I therefore thought I could improve on my master's plan, for his method was to take a little out of each dish, but my present method was to take all the best into my dish, and to give the customers the mixture instead.”

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The next London baker with whom our confessionalist lived, was 'a most singular character,' and said to Mr. Maton, previous to engaging him, if you are honest, you will not suit me.' Maton soon satisfied him on this subject; at least he was a most unconscionable master-baker, if he was not satisfied, for, says Maton, in the first two hours of his employ, I assisted him to defraud five hundred individuals whom I had never seen. As it was customary with my master to take away the fat from all dishes of meat sent to be baked, purchased a knife whose edge was not afraid of the lean; so between the master's perquisite of fat, and his servant's of lean, the customers lost two ounces of every pound of meat baked in the oven. For half a pint of rum, a journeyman baker 'put' Maton up to a trick' of which he knew nothing-it was to take advantage of a woman who could neither read nor write, that kept a chandler's shop, and charge four loaves a week more than she had. This trick,' says Mr. Maton, fully answering my purpose, I thought the purchase of it cheap, at the price of half a pint of rum. The price of bread, at one shilling and ninepence the quartern loaf, made a profit to me of seven shillings per week!"

In these confessions, which are those of Mr. Maton himself, we have confined ourselves to the detail of flagrant rob. beries on the part of masters and journeymen bakers; his pamphlet, however, goes much farther: it details various frauds in the adulteration of bread by means of potatoes, alum, &c. Mr. Maton, who appears to have been an adept in this sort of business, or what he calls being reckoned clever in the trade,' frequently lived with army bakers in the country, and he gives a terrible account of the frauds, adulterations, &c. that took place in these contracts. It appears that the contractor let it to sub-contractors, two or three deep, and that the bread for which government paid eightpence half penny, was only charged sixpence by the actual baker, and even he got a good profit. The bread, which, Maton says, no one could eat, was made of wheat barley, rye, oats, beans, peas,

&c.; and, instead of salt, sea-water was used. Mr. Maton says, one person, who had a contract for the, French prisoners of war, cleared £95,000 in one year, by substituting sea-water for salt. This, it seems, is a common practice. Mr. Maton, from some motive or other, unmasked this system of robbery to the commissary-general, but nothing came of it; he even insinuates that other persons besides bakers and contractors, had an interest in keeping up the system; and what a system it is, is fully shown in Mr. Maton's pamphlet, though in these confessions of a journeyman baker, we have but slightly alluded to them, confining ourselves more particularly to the tricks of the London bakers. X.

HENRY III.

HENRY III. of Castile, was passionately fond of quail shooting, and was so negligent of his finances, and particularly those of his private treasury, that he was often in want of the commonest accessarics. One day, whilst at Burgos, he returned late from his accustomed spork, and very much fatigued. He called for supper, when his domestics replied that there was none prepared. He inquired the reason; and was told with much embarrassment, that the steward of the palace had no money, and could procure none. The king dissembled his astonishment, knit his brows, and sent to borrow money from a pawnbroker, leaving as a pledge the mantle which he had been wearing. This small sum purchased a piece of mutton, which, joined to the quails the king had killed, made a supper he thought delicious. During the repast the king conversed with his steward on several subjects, and the latter could not help pointing out to his master the contrast of his situation with the luxury and opulence of the nobles of the court. Whilst your majesty, said he, makes a supper hardly befitting one of the pages of the palace, the Archbishop of Toledo gives a sumptuous banquet to the Duke de Benevento, the Count de Trastamara, the Count de Medina Celi, and several other noblemen. The king finished his supper, and then, disguised as a domestic, introduced himself into the archbishop's house, whilst he was at table with his friends, and mingled, unknown, with the crowd' of servants in attendance. He was shocked at the wealth he saw displayed in the viands, the wines, and costly plate; but what most astonished him was, the recital which each nobleman made of the ¡ncome he enjoyed, and the pensions he

drew from the public purse. Being resolved to put an end to these abuses, he caused a report to be spread the next morning, that he was dangerously ill, and wished to make his will. Where

upon all the courtiers eagerly hastened to the palace, where, by the king's'order, they were conducted into a hall, until his majesty deigned to communicate his intentions. When they had been three hours in this antichamber, the folding doors were thrown open with violence, and the king entered, armed cap-a-pee, with a drawn sword in his hand. At this unexpected sight the nobles stood petrified. The king, in a tone of severity, asked the Archbishop of Toledo, how many kings he had known in Castile ? The archbishop replied, he had known three. He addressed the same question to each; and each replied two, three, or four; the oldest answered, that he had known five. How is this, said the king, I am younger than any of you, and I know twenty kings in Castile, who are all more powerful and more wealthy than the legitimate monarch. These kings

now

are the dishonest men who are before me; but I will put an end to their reign, and avenge public justice and the insulted majesty of my throne. He then called into the hall the judges whom he had previously assembled, with the sbirri and the executioners. The noblemen, who perceived that the business was taking rather an unpleasant turn, grew pale with fright. The archbishop was the first to throw himself at the feet of the king, and to ask pardon for himself and the rest, offering to restore to the treasury all the sums they had taken from thence, and to place their estates and vassals at the monarch's disposal. The king took care that they should not deceive him; he committed them all to prison until they had made full restitution of all their usurpations, and the strong places of which they had possessed themselves. The news of this act of justice filled Spain with joy, and the king dated from that period the commencement of his reign.

ROSES AND GUNPOWDER.

IT is said that the Norwegians, on the first sight of roses, dared not touch what they conceived were trees budding with fire; and the natives of Virginia, the first time they seized on a quantity of gunpowder, which belonged to the English colony, sowed it for grain, expecting to reap a plentiful crop of combustion, by the next harvest, to blow away the whole colony.

THE ROSE.

From the Greek of Anacreon. With roses twine the goblet round! With roses be the wine-cup crowned! And as we hold the gay carouse," Let roses deck our wreathed brows. Daughter of the balmy spring, Flower of love, to thee I singThee the rulers of the skies And laughter-loving Beauty prize; Thee the lovely graces bear Meet wreath to bind their flowing hair, When upon the smiling green, They dance around the Idalian queen. Then bring me roses, let them shed Rosy fragrance on my head, While with my fairest at my side, In all her beauty's blushing pride, On the fresh turf with roses spread, In mazy measure thus we tread; And 1, while love and wine inspire, Wake to the rose my trembling lyre! When from the bosom of the deep, While summer winds her welcome sung, And summer waves were lulled to sleep,

The goddess-queen of Beauty sprung; Smiling, she came our world to bless, In Nature's simple loveliness; Only the fairest flower that blows Hung on her brow, the new-born rose' White as the forehead where it bloomed, The maiden-flower the winds perfumed, Till Bacchus, as he bent to greet

A guest so welcome-even to Heaven, Pressed to the wreath the nectared sweet, Which to his lip the bowl had given; And eagerly the rose drank up The breath and hues of Bacchus cup! On Beauty's brows still may it blossom, Still rest its head on Beauty's bosom;In varying flashes faintly speak Its tale of love from Beauty's cheek; And lend, for those its balm that sip. Its scented breath to Beauty's lip!

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FROM THE SPANISH. Toll not the bell of death for me, When I am dead;

Strew not the flow'ry wreath o'er me,
On my cold bed:

Let friendship's sacred tear
On my fresh grave appear,
Gemming with pearls my hier,
When I am dead:

No dazzling proud array
Of pageantry display,
My fate to spread.

Let not the busy crowd be near,
When I am dead,

Fanning with unfelt sighs my bier,
Sighs, quickly sped!
Deep let th' impression rest
On some fond feeling breast;
Then were my memory bless'd,
When I am dead.

Let not the day be writ,-
Love will remember it-
Untold unsaid!