Others, more merry, as just beginning,
Around on a point of law were spinning;
Or balanced aloft, 'twixt Bill and Answer,
Lead at each end, like a tight rope dancer.-
Some were so cross, that nothing could please

'em ;

Some gulp'd down affidavits to ease 'em ;
All were in motion, yet never a one,

Let it move as it might, could ever move on. "These," said the spirit, "you plainly see, Are what they call suits in Chancery!"

I heard a loud screaming of old and young,
Like a chorus by fifty Vellutis' sung;
Or an Irish dump (" the words by Moore")
At an amateur concert scream'd in score ;-
So harsh on my ear that wailing fell
Of the wretches who in this limbo dwell!
It seem'd like the dismal symphony
Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see;
Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous cook
Cut off and left the frogs in the brook,
To cry all night, till life's last dregs,
"Give us our legs!-give us our legs!"
Touched with the sad and sorrowful scene,
I ask'd what all this yell might mean,
When the spirit replied with a grin of glee,
"Tis the cry of the suitors in Chancery!"

I look'd, and I saw a wizard rise,
With a wig like a cloud before men's eyes.
In his aged hand he held a wand,
Wherewith he beckoned his embryo hand,
And then mov'd and mov'd, as he wav'd it o'er,
But they never got on one inch more,
And still they kept limping to and fro,
Like Ariels' round old Prospero-
Saying," dear master, let us go,"
But still old Prospero answer'd" No."
And I heard, the while, that wizard elf,
Muttering, muttering spells to himself,
While over as many old papers he turn'd,
As Hume e'er moved for or Omar burn'd.
He talk'd of his virtue-though some, less
nice,

(He own'd with a sigh) preferr'd his ViceAnd he said, "I think"-" I doubt"-" I hope"

Call'd God to witness, and damn'd the Pope;
With many more sleights of tongue and hand
I could'nt, for the soul of me, understand.
Amaz'd and poz'd, I was just about

To ask his name, when the screams without
The merciless clack of the imps within,
And that conjurer's mutterings, made such a
din,

That, startled, I woke-leap'd up in my bed-
Found the spirit, the imps, and the conjurer fled,
And bless'd my stars, right pleas'd to see,
That I was'nt, as yet, in Chancery.

For several years before the appear

ance of his solemn "Aids to Reflection" in 1825, Mr. Coleridge had been to the world as though he was not ;" and since

that "Hand-book" of masterly sayings, his voice has ceased from the public. Forgotten he could not be, yet when he was remembered it was by inquiries concerning his present "doings," and whispers of his "whereabout." On a sudden the preceding verses startle the dull town, and dwelling on the lazy ear, as being, according to their printed ascription, "by the author of Christabel." In vindication of himself against the misconception of the wit of their real author, the imputed parent steps forth in the following note.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES. Grove, Highgate, Tuesday Evening. Sir, I have just received a note from a city friend, respecting a poem in “The Times" of this morning ascribed to me. On consulting the paper, I see he must refer to "A Vision," by the author of "Christabel." Now, though I should myself have interpreted these words as the author, I doubt not, intended them, viz., as a part of the fiction; yet with the proof before me that others will understand them literally, I should feel obliged by your stating, that till this last half hour the poem and its publication were alike unknown to me; and I remain, Sir, respectfully yours, S. T. COLERIDGE.

This little "affair" exemplifies that it is the fortune of talent to be seldom comprehended.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature ... 61 · 45.

August 30.

CHRONOLOGY.

August 30, 1750. Miss Flora Macdonald was married to a gentleman of the same name related to sir Alexander Macdonald, bart. This lady is celebrated in Scottish annals for having heroically and successfully assisted the young Pretender to escape, when a price was set upon his head. Her self-devotion is minutely recorded in the late Mr. Boswell's "Ascanius," and Johnson has increased her fame by his notice of her person and character, in his "Tour to the Hebrides."

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 62-95.

August 31.

GRASSHOPPERS.

It was observed at the end of August, 1742, great damage was done to the pastures in the country, particularly about Bristol by swarms of grasshoppers; and the like happened in the same year at Pennsylvania to a surprising degree.*

In 1476, "Grasshoppers and the great rising of the river Isula did spoyle al Poland."+

Grasshoppers are infested by a species of " insect parasites" thicker than a horse hair, and of a brown colour. It consumes the intestines, and at first sight in the body of the grasshopper, has been mistaken for the intestines themselves.

The eminent entomologist who mentions this fact, observes that " insects generally answer the most beneficial ends,

Gentleman's Magazine. ↑ Bateman's Doome.

and promote in various ways, and in an extraordinary degree, the welfare of man and animals." The evils resulting from them occur partially when they abound beyond their natural limits, "God permitting this occasionally to take place, not merely with punitive views, but also to show us what mighty effects he can produce by instruments seemingly the most insignificant: thus calling upon us to glorify his power, wisdom, and goodness, so evidently manifested, whether he relaxes or draws tight the reins by which he guides insects in their course, and regulates their progress; and more particularly to acknowledge his overruling Providence so conspicuously exhibited by his measuring them, as it were, and weighing them, and taking them out, so that their numbers, forces, and powers, being annually proportioned to the work he has prescribed to them, they may neither exceed his purpose, nor fall short of it."

• Kirby and Spence's Entomology.

dred feet; the opposite side is not so bold, but it is, nevertheless, extremely beautiful, being clothed in many places with wood, and has besides a VALLEY, through which you may ascend to Leigh Down. This valley has been named the "Valley of Nightingales," no doubt, in consequence of those birds making it their resort.

In a note, Mr. ELTON informs us that this stanza alludes to the "Valley of Nightingales opposite St. Vincent's rocks at Clifton." The lovers of the picturesque will here find ample gratification. If, in the following poem, the truth in natural history be a little exceeded in reference to a troop of nightingales, it is hoped that the poetical licence will be pardoned.

C. A. Elton's Poems, Disappointment.

The vicinity of the Hotwells has been lately much improved by a carriage drive beneath and around those rocks.

+From "Ornithologia; or the Birds, a Poem, with an introduction to their natural history, and copious notes, by James Jennings, author of Observations on the Dialects of the West of England, &c. &c. This work has been for some time ready for the press, but its appearance is delayed in consequence of the depressed state of trade.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Westbury, Wiltshire, August 8, 1826. Sir, The journal from whence I extract the following scene was written nearly two years ago, during a delightful excursion I made in company with one near and dear," and consequently before your praiseworthy endeavours to perpetuate old customs had been made public. Had my journey taken place during the present harvest month, the trifle I now send should have been better worth your perusal, for I would have investigated for your satisfaction a local custom, that to me was sufficiently delightful in a passing glance. I am, Sir, &c.

I. J. T.

HAWKESBURY HARVEST HOME. September, 1824.--After dinner, at Wotton-under-edge, we toiled up the side and then struck off again towards the middle of the hills, leaving all beauty in the rear; and from thence, until our arrival at Bath the next day, nothing is worth recording, but one little pleasing incident, which was the celebration of a harvest-home, at the village of Hawkesbury, on the top of Cotswold.

As we approached the isolated hamlet, we were aware" of a Maypole-that unsophisticated trophy of innocence, gaiety, and plenty; and as we drew near, saw that it was decorated with flowers and ribands fluttering in the evening breeze. Under it stood a waggon with its full complement of men, women, children, flowers, and corn; and a handsome team of horses tranquilly enjoying their share of the finery and revelry of the scene; for scarlet bows and sunflowers had been lavished on their winkers with no niggard hand. On the first horse sat a damsel, no doubt intending to represent Ceres; she had on, of course, a white dress and straw bonnet-for could Ceres or any other goddess appear in a rural English festival in any other costume? A broad yellow sash encompassed a waist that evinced a glorious and enormous contempt for classical proportion and modern folly in its elaborate dimensions.

During the rapid and cordial glance that I gave this questionable scion of so

three circumstances-that she was goodnatured, that she enjoyed the scene as a downright English joke, and that she had the most beautiful set of teeth I ever beheld. What a stigma on all toothdoctors, tooth-powders, and tooth-brushes. this simple festival, and I felt my heart There was something very affecting in heave, and that the fields looked indistinct for some minutes after we had lost sight of its primitive appearance; however it may now, I thought, be considered by the performers as a "good joke," it had its origin, doubtless, in some of the very finest feelings that can adorn humanity-hospitality, sociality, happiness, contentment, piety, and gratitude.

Our fair correspondent adds :

P. S.-Intelligence could surely be ob tained from the spot, or the neighbourhood, of the manner of celebrating the festival; it is probably peculiar to the range of the Cotswold; and a more elaborate account of so interesting a custom would, doubtless, be valuable to yourself, sir, as well as to your numerous readers. I can only regret that my ability does not equal my will, on this or any other subject, that would forward your views in publishing your admirable Every-Day Book.

The editor inserts this hint to his readers in the neighbourhood of Cotswold, with a hope that it will induce them to oblige him with particulars of what is passing under their eyes at this season every day. He repeats that accounts of these, or any other customs in any part of the kingdom, will be especially acceptable.

Another correspondent has obligingly complied with an often expressed desire on this subject.

HARVESTING ON SUNDAY.

London, August 4, 1826. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,-As you request, on the wrapper of your last part, communications, &c., respecting harvest, I send you the following case of a very singular nature, that came before the synod of Glasgow and Ayr.

In the harvest of 1807, there was a great deal of wet weather. At the end of one of the weeks it brightened up, and a drying wind prepared the cort for