considered as a far better arbiter of disputes than the long knife of his brethren over the frontier. On the present occasion the injury sustained by the beaten party was considered of no importance, and did not in the slightest degree interrupt the hilarity of the assembly. Everything was now prepared for the race, and the competitors, in number about two dozen, being drawn up in line, and the signal for starting given, off they went in fine style. One of the hunters had been posted on a rising ground, about five hundred yards distant; round him those engaged in the race were to turn, and G- had taken care that in placing this individual, no attention should be paid to the state of the ground over which the racers should pass. For the first hundred yards the race was neck and neck, all in line, and no one jostling the other. This, however, was the only level part of the course. A hollow, with a brook running through it, was now to be passed, and we could distinguish a very considerable derangement in the ranks of the little band as they passed it. Still all held on, and one after another passed the pivot without accident of any kind. Some there were now who had gained considerably on the others; these were mostly running together, each determined to win and as, among those who were behind them, each was determined not to be last, the utmost vigour and activity of the party were put forth. As the competitors approached, the shouts of the spectators were incessant. "Pierre le gagnera! Joseph le gagnera!" resounded as the heads of one or other of the "favourites" first appeared above the unequal surface of the course: and, as they descended into the hollow which we have noticed, it was apparent that either one or other of the favourites would prove the victor. This time, however, the brook was not so easily crossed; and, by one mishap or other, several were left in it, some of whom had hitherto been among the foremost, so that when the others topped the bank near the winning-post, they formed nearly as compact a body as when they started. Neither the whip, nor spur, nor the betting-book were in requisition, yet the contest now became really animating. There was not nearly so great a disparity of fleetness as might have been expected among such a number; and it was very evident that whoever gained the race would not have a great superiority to boast of. On they came over the level piece of sward, amid the redoubled shouts of the spectators. In a few seconds it was crossed, and Joseph was the victor by a few feet. found it necessary Of course, on the presentation of the prize G to say something; but, being unaccustomed to "public speaking," and still less capable of speaking in French, he bethought him that some of his schoolboy recitations might avail him on the occasion. The address of Sempronius to the Roman senate was the first which came to mind, so, turning towards Joseph, and commencing with 'My voice is still for war: Gods! can a Roman senate long debate," &c. he delivered a portion of it with all the action and energy which a eulogium on the merits of the successful racer might be supposed to require. Shouts followed every cadence of the speaker, and the scene concluded amid "thunders of applause." 508 THE ABBOT'S OAK. A LEGEND OF MONEY-HUTCH LANE. "In the parish of Redgrave, skirting the park, is a narrow bye-road, which has from time immemorial borne the name of Money-Hutch Lane. Tradition says that it derived its appellation from a treasure buried in its immediate neighbourhood, at the time of the suppression of the monasteries, one of which, a small offshoot from the great parent stem of St. Edmondsbury, stood in its vicinity. It is added, that though deposited under the guardianship of spell and sigil, it may yet be recovered by any one who bides the happy minute."— Collect. for Hist. of Suffolk. THE Abbot sat by his glimmering lamp, His brow was wrinkled with care, And his anxious look, was fix'd on his book, And ever anon, As the night wore on, He would slowly sink back in his oaken chair, On that Abbot's brow the furrows were deep, And his glassy eyes had known no sleep His lips so thin had let nothing in Save brown bread, and water untemper'd by gin, His hopes of succeeding at all with his reading One would think, from the pains which he took with his diet, he His fasting, in short, equall'd that of those mighties, On that black-letter book Had a sad and a mournful air. But oh! what pleasure now gleams from his eyes, The Abbot springs up in delight and surprise, Out, for some one to bring His best suit of robes, and his crosier and ring, With a hint that he'd something important to say, "Unaccustom'd, my brethren, as I am to speaking, Where to hide our riches vast, I've found the spell that binds them fast. Will search all in vain, If they hunt for them over and over again. Was tarnish'd, I fear, By some trifling faux pas in our Patron's career; When fails our Saint's protecting power, Then, and then only, may burst the bands, Our treasures may win, if their patience but lets them; As for Harry the Eighth, I'm-"-he cough'd-" if he gets them. And now, my brethren, all to bed; We'll consider our early matins as said; A better device or more feasible plan To bother that corpulent horrid old man, And that rascally renegade Cromwell, than this come; Then let me know it. I'm sleepy just now-so good night-Pax vobiscum!" It's pretty well known in what way the Eighth Harry, Which not being granted As soon as he wanted, The hot-headed monarch right solemnly said, To Jericho, And, instead of saluting his Holiness' toes, Things being thus, Without any fuss He kicks out the monks from their pleasant locations; His most intimate friends, And bestows their domains on his needy relations; VOL. VI. 2 N And, sad to relate, As we are bound to confess it is, For his private necessities: And whenever his Majesty finds a fresh dun arise, Put all notions of dress Instanter to flight by its terrible warning. Though you'll probably guess That no gentlemen deck'd in gold, scarlet, and blue, Pay more than a penny, No matter how great the dimensions or distance. For this levelling bill, Which will make, by the aid of the Whigs, its abettors, As it's everywhere voted remarkably rude As not to let out What this note was about, Or what it was stagger'd an Abbot so stout. The result's all we care to make public in this story, On the night of that ill-omen'd day They bore three "hutches,” In Suffolk such is The word they use, as lately I've read In Johnson, for boxes in which folks make bread. The aged men totter'd with toil and with pain, As to carry their burthen they strove might and main. The Sexton brought up the rear. Near a newly-made vault They came to a halt, With no unequivocal symptoms of pleasure, With its three patent locks, They buried, and filled up the hole at their leisure. Fell on the Abbot's silvery hair, (I allude to his beard-his head was bare,) I believe not a soul of his auditors knew, And it matters but little to me or to you, If you read Sandivogis', A learn'd old fogie's Dissertation "De Goblinis, Ghostis, et Bogis." ""Tis done-'tis done," Cried the Abbot; 66 now run We need some refection. And, hark! it strikes one! King Harry may come; but he'll ne'er, in good sooth, pick Up enough plate for a decent-sized toothpick." It does so run, It's very soon done, Like ladies, they say, Who have their own way, It dwindles as snow on a very warm day; But so mournful a fate Seems not to await The lovers whose griefs I'm about to relate. One wondrous fair, One manly, tall, and debonair, Are whispering their vows in the evening air. Hapless twain! The Lady of Bottesdale ne'er may be Mate to a squire of low degree! Ralph of Redgrave is stout and true, As he stands in his stockings without a shoe; |