the deciduous trees, -tearing down wholesale (rude bailiffs as they are to bankrupt nature!) their gorgeous tapestry, and threatening to split their noble trunks in shivers, the hermit yew tree seenis to rise in murky magnificence to salute the gale, to open all his leafy chambers to the savage, and to welcome him as a guest congenial and beloved. The yew tree is always connected with the romantic and the horrible. If the glimmering fire light in the nursery, that flashes on the large papered walls, till old Deborah's shadow seems an ogress, the tongs a lengthy skeleton, and the chest of drawers a huge coffin,-if this is made the scene of a legend of ghosts or fairies, you may be sure the yew holds a conspicuous place in it. If a traditionary ballad thrills us with some deed of blood, the yew tree was its monument-the owl, that nested in the branches, its witness.When antique story points out the haunt of the wizard and his dæmon slave and enslaver, was it ever far from the yew? If the grave of a suicide is hymned in fourteen jangling rhymes, was it ever complete without the yew tree? What was the sorcerer's wand but of yew?what the grand ingredient in the witches' cauldron, but "slips of yew, Silver'd in the moon's eclipse ?" Familiar too with deeds of bloodshed, as with imaginary horrors, the illustrious yew has figured for centuries in the van of battles. The fields of France and Scotland viewed with wonder "Such length of shaft, such mighty bows; There are two gigantic yew trees at Megginch Castle, in Perthshire, relics of a grove of the same warlike tree, originally planted there for making cross-bows. Indeed, from some of the ancient statutes, it appears that every Englishman, while archery was practised, was obliged to keep in his house either a bow of yew or some other wood. It should seem, therefore, that yews were not only planted in church-yards to defend the churches from the wind, but on account of their use in making bows; while, by the benefit of being secured in enclosed places, their poisonous quality was kept from doing mischief to cattle. But the chief interest of the yew tree, in my eyes, is the mutual connection between it and some of the most stirring recollections of the past, and the most endearing circumstances of the present. How can I forget those twin Titans, superb in the blackness of their vivid foliage, that towered and waved over the red holloway near Lichfield! It was a little hamlet that, lying midway between the city and the old Benedictine Convent of Fairwell, was called Cross-in-hand, doubtless from the frequent monastic processions between the Nunnery and the Minster, or from some rustic image enshrined by the roadside. The houses, nested under high banks, scarce revealed themselves by the smokewreathes among their orchards; and the orchards themselves just raised their coloured raiment of blossom or fruit to a level with the smooth green uplands, which the holloway so deeply bisected. But the two yews, justly entitled Gog and Magog, upheaved their funereal forms and surgy branches into the free sky, for miles the cynosure of this little caverned village. There were also some old-fashioned gardens in the vale to the east of Lichfield, abounding in pleasant walks and arbours; the largest of these last, called the black arbour, was entirely of great yew trees, -the haunt of my childish days, and the regret of my more advanced manhood. The old songs that noble bower has echoed to when A could be induced to sing!-the stories that have beguiled the summer's eve!-the yellow sunlight struggling through its matted wall, or flooding through its ample entrance, (for this arbour was as large as a spacious parlour), and the steeples of the Minster and St. Mary seen through its single western loophole, comes to my imagination, in all their native freshness, from the years that have no brighter moments than they! But the yew tree has higher claims than these-its name is laid up for ever in the archives of history-it claims rank with the castles, the abbies, the tapestries, and all the treasured associations of Mary Stuart! The yew of Crocstoun, a colossal tree that stood in the pleasure grounds of that picturesque castle, witnessed the only happy hours that smiled on the bridal of Mary and Darnley; and the image of the noble tree was stamped on the reverse of the coin struck on the occasion, *-it was decorated with a crown, and distinguished by the motto-" Dat Gloria vires." (To be continued.) CONVERSATION is the daughter of reasoning, the mother of knowledge, the breath of the soul, the commerce of hearts, the bond of friendship, the nourishment of content, and the occupation of men of wit. * Bp. Nicholson's Scot. Lib. • EXHIBITION AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY. (For the Olio.) : at all), when he sees inferior works occupying places to the exclusion of more : worthy work; or, if admitted, so placed as not to be seen, at least to advantage.* The thing is monstrous. For instance, we will point at No. 1, The expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. Dubufe. It is quite an outrage upon the taste and decency of the public. Either the Council, in accepting it, must have been blind, or guided by stronger partiality than we give them credit for. Then there are about six wooden heads, by a Mr. Oliver, an Associate of this "most reverend" and Ir is agreed on all hands, by every periodical of the day, that this year's display at the Royal Academy is superior to its predecessors for some years past. Now it is an old saying, that when every body is "unanimous," as O'Slash says, the thing must be right indeed; and bold must that person be who should attempt to "turn awry" from the current opinion. But it should be borne in mind, that critics are but men, and as such as liable to take offence, or be pleased with a bauble, as other people; and it may happen, peradventure, that these learned personages are in a better humour this year than the last or preceding years, or may be some may never have seen an exhibition before. Be it as it may, we will dare to fly in the face of public opinion, and we will fight our ground inch by inch, and support our opinion by the clearest evidence. But let it not be un derstood that when we say it does not merit the high encomiums this year lavished upon it, that it is worse, or not so good as preceding exhibitions. Praise moderately, if not, it is like the thanks, or pretended devotedness of an hypocrite, who, by his fulsomeness, betrays his heart, and causes his sincerity to be doubted. There is nothing strikingly new in the attempts, character, or colouring of the different artists, with the exception of Wilkie. Sir Thomas has his usual quantum, eight, painted in his usual style; and there is one, of which more anon, when we enter into detail. Phillips slightly improved; Pickersgill cooler than usual; Howard's daughter, or daughters, figure in as many coloured dresses as Harlequin or Punch. Jackson as bold; Briggs still sticking to affectation; but enlightened Academy. But no more of this, it would take a pen of adamant, and as much ink or gall as would drown Academicians, Associates and Students altogether, to be able to censure sufficiently. Apropos, for a while they never will have a perfect exhibition, so long as Haydon and Martin are not of the number. We will now endeavour to pick out the gems which lie scattered among this mass of rubbish. First, then, is Etty's No. 16. Benaiah. "He slew two lion-like men of Moab." 2 Sam. 23. 20. This specimen of Mr. Etty's powers is more wonderful than pleasing: as an academical study, it is a fine example; as the painting of an Englishman, it deserves our warmest praise, and draws the tribute of admiration, nay, almost gratitude, that we can shew to the world such a master. We will not stop to cavil about faults, faults there are, but they are "trifies light as air," when compared to its beauties. - His next is No. 31. Hero, having thrown herself from the tower at the sight of Leander drowned, dies on his body. This is an excellent production, if good painting and good drawing, can constitute one. Among the finest specimens of the English School of Portrait Painting, we must place two of Shee's in this year's exhibition. Nos. 47 and 167. The first Shee is transcendant-Wilkie totally dif- is, Portrait of Sir Thomas Strange, ferent. J. M. W. Turner as fiery and yellow as ever; Etty as grand, and Calcott improved mightily. And there is the usual host of wooden heads, stringy and flowery landscapes, enamelled faces, pouting lips of ladies wishing to look pretty, and grave looks of gentlemen, wishing to be considered thinking men. As long as the present system of favouritism and partiality is pursued, as long as the learned Council admit works unworthy even of a sign-painter, so long will there be a most wretched and motley mixture. What can we expect? How can we imagine that any young man of talent will send his paintings a second time (or late Chief Justice of the Supreme Court at Madras. Painted for Christ Church College, Oxford. Shee has in this instance availed himself of an opportunity, of which the English style of costume very rarely admits, of producing in every respect a most finished and masterly painting. It represents the learned judge in his scarlet robes, lined with. ermine, which produces a most picturesque effect by the skilful manner in which it is managed, While the beautiful painting of the head, which, thanks to Shee's good taste, is divested of that most unsightly and incongruous and poodle-dog like appendage-an English judge's wig, combine to make this one of the most celebrated of his portraits. The next is, Portrait of the late Major-General Sir Thomas Monro, K.C.B. Governor of Madras. Painted for the townhall of the Presidency. Sir Thomas is here represented in full uniform, in a corridor or hall, resting his left hand on a table, his right holding his sword; and truly he has a warlike appearance. It is in every respect as well painted as the other... We wish it a good and safe voyage, for it is too good a thing to be shut up in Davy's locker. Shee has three other portraitstwo ladies, and one gentleman, all excellently painted. No. 57. Portrait of H.R. H. the Duke of Clarence. Sir T. Lawrence, P.R.A. Taken as a work of art, it possesses merit, but as to likeness, we must say, with Cassio, "No offence to the general or any man of quality," but 'fore heaven" we must say, Sir Thomas has here flattered with a vengeance: we presume he paints in anticipation, not as we really are, -excepting when we need not embellishment, but as we ought to be. The hat under the arm, with a white pocket handkerchief in it, is bad taste a hat should not be made a pocket of, especially by a prince of the blood. : It passed unheeded by, And now all people seek My council and opinion; Why! none will buy my book, To have a thriving nation! They will not try my corn, Let 'em take the consequences. See the base Aristocrat The loaves and fishes carving; No. 97. Portrait of Miss Macdonald. The same. We have no doubt Miss Macdonald is perfectly satisfied with this illustration of her charms. It is executed in Lawrence's best manner: his heads are better than his whole-lengths.-Above this is No. 102. Portrait of the Duchess of Richmond. We agree with the "Literary Gazette," that the attitude is evi- THE MILLER OF WINKLEIGH; dently a transcript of Vandyke's. We could swear to the curve of the head, which, by an attentive observer, will be found to distinguish many of that great master's portraits. As we have not the "honour" of being personally acquainted with this noble dame, we cannot speak as to the correctness of the likeness, or whether the Duchess really has so small -we mean thin-neck as is here represented. The back ground is picturesque; but the yellows are too strong. We fear, friend Thomas, that thy friend Turner has enchanted thee with his red and yellows. Oh, beware of "villanous company!" (To be continued.) Expunge that horrid debt, À DEVONSHIRE LEGEND. 1 ; : It was not without regret that he quitted Alice, but then he consoled himself with the reflection that he should reap advantage by a visit to London, and appear more refined and polished when he returned. On arriving there, they put up at one of the best inns in Fleet Street, and Buckland was soon the gayest of the wild gallants who frequented that celebrated part of London. Herrick mingled with the polish of a courtier, the recklessness and careless bearing of a sailor, and ere a week had passed, Roger under his guidance had drank deep at the dark and inky fountain of vice. His appearance soon altered; His face lost its healthy and sunburnt hue, and his languid eye told too plainly that dissipation had done its work upon him. His step was much like that of the gallants of London-he turned out his toes so as to show the rosets on his shoes, or, when booted, to show his spur leathers; but it wanted that firmness and elasticity. which was once the pride of Winkleigh. * Blackwood's Mag. The heartless and sensual miscreant, Charles, held, at this time, his court at Whitehall, and London was crammed with all the gay and thoughtless in England. Every one knows, or, at least, ought to know, what society was in this reign; a reign in which Oates, Dangerfield, Blood, and other such ruffians were not only allowed to live, but were even patronized and sheltered by the court. This was the age in which the witty and talented, but depraved Rochester roamed about; at one time amusing the rabble in the guise of a Charlatan; -at another, frightening the credulous out of their wits in the garb of an astrologer; and not unfrequently obtaining by the latter means, secrets from those by whom he was surrounded at court, which gave him a fearful ascendancy over them. The civil wars had made many needy and desperate, and many who had once lived in affluence, were content to exist upon the bounty of the powerful and vicious. Licentiousness and vice had reached their utmost height, and to be virtuous was to be an object of ridicule and contempt. It would, then, have been wonderful indeed, if Roger had remained three weeks in London without contamination; more especially in the company of Herrick, Those who have reflected on the life and actions of this king, will not, we are sure, 'think these epithets misapplied; -for a more base and worthless character than Charles never disgraced the throne of England, or England herself. It is not a little curious, that two sovereigns who are known by the endearing names of good Queen Bess," and "the Merry Monarch," were without their equals in perfidy. Even those who are loudest in their praises of Elizabeth, cannot conceal her vices; while the frightful enormities of Charles the Second are winked at by none. This wretched man was, from his youth, profligate and abandoned; and, after putting many to death for professing the catholic faith, he received in his dying hour, the sacrament from the hands of a catholic priest, and turning his back upon a minister of that church he had supported during his reign, he breathed out his soul surrounded by the depraved mi whose manners were as loose as his wealth was boundless. Unaccustomed to a life of riot and debauchery, Roger soon began to feel the effects of indulging in such excesses, and having been confined to his chamber one day by indisposition, he retired to bed early; but not to sleep, for his fevered brain forbade it. He lay till long after he heard the midnight chimes; it was then that he slept, but dreams of a dark and fearful kind haunted his slumbers. He beheld, as if reflected in a mirror, the churchyard of his native village, and he looked and saw a newly formed grave, on which some friends of the departed had scattered a profusion of wild flowers, now fast fading in the noon-day sun-and anon, the scene changed, and a dark cloud rolled before him, and as it dissolved, an awful scene was disclosed. He beheld a figure like himself bow before a throne of dazzling brightness, on which sat one whose countenance shone like the face of the prophet when he descended from Mount. Sinai, and ten thousand celestial beings gathered round. Suddenly, a voice loud and fearful pealed through the vault of heaven, and one of giant-size and height appeared, and claimed the soul of him who had thus humbled himself. Then came forth one arrayed in white, and low she bowed, and in meek and piteous accents supplicated for the soul of him who knelt. And the figure was that of his deserted love, his fondly devoted Alice! He started from his couch with a deep groan of anguish; cold drops of moisture stood on his brow; he essayed to pray, but his tongue moved noiselessly, his parched lips quivered with agony, and he sunk back in a swoon. When he recovered, the first rays of the morning sun gleamed on the latticed window of his chamber. Throwing himself on his knees, he implored mercy for his numerous sins, and prayed with an intensity like that of a criminal who is about to be sacrificed to the offended laws of his country. Tears, bitter, scalding tears, such as he had never shed before, rolled down his hectic cheek, and his faltering tongue poured forth the anguish of his troubled spirit. He was aroused by a gentle tap at the door, and quickly rising from his recumbent posture, he opened it, and Herrick entered in his gown and slippers. "Good morrow, Bully Buckland," said he, "what has troubled ye so much, my good friend? You look scared." "Oh, Herrick!" replied Roger, "I am sick at heart; this night has disclosed nions of his court! This is a frightful pic. to me such awful-" ture, but it is a true one. "Pshaw!" interrupted Herrick, "then you have been only dreaming-by this light I thought so; for as I lay in the next chamber, I could hear you mutter and exclaim in your sleep. Why, thou art not cast down because thou hast had a dreum. Courage, man, what will the gallants of Fleet Street say to thee if it should come to their ears?" "Peace," said Buckland, hastily, "I have had such a warning in that dream, that I would not stay another day in London, were it to obtain the treasures of the east-no, Herrick, no earthly power shall keep me here; to-day I set off for Winkleigh. If thou art still my friend, thou wilt bear me company." It was in vain that Herrick attempted to turn him from his determination; he was alike insensible to reasoning or ridicule; and ere the morning was far advanced, they quitted London, and were on their road to Winkleigh. Nothing worthy of relation occurred during their journey, which was one of some difficulty in those days. Roger was moody and thoughtful, and at times a prey to the deepest melancholy, which all the jokes and witticisms of his friend could not dispel. Day had began to dawn when they arrived in sight of the village of Winkleigh. A faint streak of light appeared in the east, but not a single chimney as yet sent forth its wreath of smoke, so grateful to the eye of the weary traveller. Every window and door was fastened, and Roger beheld with a moistened eye his house and mill, which reared its long vanes high above the surrounding houses. Old Dorcas, aroused from her slumbers by the arrival of her young master and his friend, immediately set about preparing breakfast; but, as she did so, the miller could perceive that she was unusually dejected. He dreaded to ask after Alice when he first entered, as many do who are prepared for the worst, yet are loth to have their fears confirmed; but he could now no longer delay the question. How shall we describe his feelings upon receiving the news of the maiden's death? There are some living who have been thus stripped of all they loved in this world, but can they describe their agony at the harrowing moment which makes them acquainted with their loss? No. All that poets wrote or minstrel sung would fall short of the description;-how then shall we describe the anguish of the soul-struck lover ? His first torrent of grief being over, the young miller enquired when and how she died. especially the cruel letter you sent her, that” "Ha!" cried Roger, starting on his feet, and staring wildly, "what letter?a letter, say ye?-I wrote none-where is it?" Here Herriek interposed. """Twas the vile art of some cursed rival, my good friend," said he. "Now, as I wear a sword, it shall drink his base blood." """Twill not bring her back again, poor innocent," said the dame; "a fairer maid or one more gentle, never sun shone on; but she is gone they buried her yesterday. Alas, that I should ever live to see this day !" Roger quitted the room at this moment, with a hurried step, threw his cloak around him, and strode towards the churchyard. He soon discovered the grave, the likeness of which he had beheld in his dream. There was the fresh turned earth, and the scattered flowers, now withered and loveless, but newly placed. He had scarcely reached the spot, when he was conscious that he had been followed, and turning quickly round, he beheld Herrick. He saw before him the author of his sufferings, and giving vent to his indignation, he upbraided him in bitter terms. Herrick heard him with a smile, and tauntingly bade him remember that he alone was the cause of all. This reproach stung him to the soul, and he groaned bitterly as Herrick with a malicious satisfaction ran over a list of his excesses while in London. "So!" said he, folding his arms, and looking on the wretched young man, as the basalisk is fabled to look upon his victim; -" So this is my reward for having treated you like a noble. Was it I who introduced ye to that pretty wench with whom you were so taken, and who drew so largely on your purse, that you were fain to come to me for a supply?Or was it I alone who helped to fleece the young Templer whose money burthened him?-Was it I?" "Peace, peace, malicious fiend," cried Buckland, "had'st thou the heart of a man thou would'st pity my distress-get thee gone from my sight-would I had been laid in my grave ere I had met with thee!" A wild laugh was Herrick's only reply, but it stung Roger to the soul, and he clutched the handle of his sword, which, however, with all his strength, he could not draw from its scabbard. "Desist," said Herrick, "take thy hand from thy toasting iron, or I will paralize thy frame and make thee as helpless as an aged man." "Alas!" replied Dorcas, " she took Buckland knew too well the power of your leaving her so much to heart, and Herrick, by whose means his sword had |