house, set upon and murdered; one of the rogues taken, an Irish fellow. It seems most cruelly butchered and bound. The house will have a great miss of him. Thence visited my Lady Sandwich, who tells me my Lord FitzHarding is to be made a Marquis.

19th March, 1665. After dinner we walked to the King's play-house, all in dirt, they being altering of the stage to make it wider. But God knows when they will begin to act again; but my business here was to see the inside of the stage and all the tiring-rooms and machines; and, indeed, it was a sight worthy seeing. But to see their clothes, and the various sorts, and what a mixture of things there was; here a wooden-leg, there a ruff, here a hobby-horse, there a crown, would make a man split himself with laughing; and particularly Lacy's (a comedian) wardrobe, and Shotrell's. But then again, to think how fine they show on the stage by candle-light, and how poor things they are to look at too near hand, is not pleasant at all. The machines are fine, and the paintings very pretty.

7th December, 1666. To the King's playhouse, where two acts were almost done when I come in; and there I sat with my cloak about my face, and saw the remainder of "The Mayd's Tragedy" (by Beaumont and Fletcher), a good play, and well acted, especially by the younger Marshall, who is become a pretty good actor; and is the first play I have seen in either of the houses, since before the great plague, they having acted now about fourteen days publickly. But I was in mighty pain, lest I should be seen by anybody to be at a play.

23d January, 1667. To the King's house, and there saw "The Humourous Lieutenant" (by Beaumont and Fletcher), a silly play, I think; only the Spirit in it that grows very tall and then sinks again to nothing, having two heads breeding upon one, and then Knipp's singing, did please us. Here in a box above we spied Mrs. Pierce; and going out they called us, and so we staid for them and Knipp took us all in, and brought to us Nelly (Nell Gwynne), a most pretty woman, who acted the great part Coelia to-day very fine, and did it pretty well: I kissed her, and so did my wife; and a

:

4th February. Soon as dined, my wife and I out to the Duke's play-house, and there saw "Heraclius" (a tragedy, by Lodowick Carlell, taken from Corneille), an excellent play to my extraordinary content; and the more from the house being very full, and great company; among others Mrs. Stewart, very fine, with her locks done up with puffes, as my wife calls them: and several other great ladies had their hair so, though I do not like it; but my wife do mightily; but it is only because she sees it is the fashion. Here I saw my Lord Rochester and his lady, Mrs. Mallett, who hath after all this ado married him; and, as I hear some say in the pit, it is a great act of charity, for he hath no estate. But it was so pleasant to see how everybody rose up when my Lord John Butler, the Duke of Ormond's son, come into the pit towards the end of the play, who was a servant to Mrs. Mallett, and now smiled upon her, and she on him. Home, and to my chamber, and there finished my Catalogue of my books with my own hand.

18th. To the King's house to "The Mayd's Tragedy;" but vexed all the while with two talking ladies and Sir Charles Sedley; yet pleased to hear their discourse, he being a stranger. And one of the ladies would and did sit with her mask on all the play; and being exceedingly witty as ever I heard woman, did talk most pleasantly with him; but was, I believe, a virtuous woman, and of quality. He would fain know who she was, but she would not tell; yet did give him many pleasant hints of her knowledge of him, by that means setting his brains at work to find out who she was, and did give him leave to use all means to find out who she was, but pulling off her mask. He was mighty witty, and she also making sport with him very inoffensively, that a more pleasant rencontre I never heard. But by that means lost the pleasure of the play wholly, to which now and then Sir Charles Sedley's exceptions against both words and pronouncing were very pretty.

7th March. To Devonshire House, to a burial of a kinsman of Sir R. Viner's; and

there I received a ring. To the Duke's play-house, and saw The English Princesse, or Richard the Third" (by J. Caryl), a most sad, melancholy play, and pretty good, but nothing eminent in it, as some tragedys are; only little Miss Davis did dance a jigg after the end of the play, and there telling the next day's play, so that it come in by force only to please the company to see her dance in boy's clothes; and the truth is, there is no comparison between Nell's dancing the other day at the King's house in boy's clothes and this, this being infinitely beyond the other. This day was reckoned by all people the coldest day that ever was remembered in England; and, God knows, coals at a very great price.

15th April. Called up by Sir H. Cholmly, who tells me that my Lord Middleton is for certain chosen Governor of Tangier; a man of moderate understanding, not covetous, but a soldier of fortune and poor. To the King's house by chance, where a new play: so full as I never saw it; I forced to stand all the while close to the very door till I took cold, and many people went away for want of room. The King and Queene and Duke of York and Duchesse there, and all the Court, and Sir W. Coventry. The play called, "The Change of Crownes:" a play of Ned Howard's,1 the best that I ever saw at that house, being a great play and serious; only Lacy did act the countrygentleman come up to Court, who do abuse the Court with all the imaginable wit and plainness about selling of places, and doing everything for money. The play took very much. Thence I to my new bookseller's, and there bought "Hooker's Polity," the new edition, and "Dugdale's History of the Inns of Court," of which there was but a few saved out of the fire. Carried my wife to see the new play I saw yesterday: but there, contrary to expectation, I find "The Silent Woman."

16th. Knipp tells me the King was so angry at the liberty taken by Lacy's part to abuse him to his face, that he commanded they should act no more, till Moone2 went and got leave for them to act again, but not this play. The King mighty angry; and it was bitter indeed, but very fine and witty. I never was more taken with a play than I am with this "Silent Woman," as old as it is, and as often as I have seen it. There is more wit in it than goes to ten new plays. Pierce told us

1 A younger son of the Earl of Berkshire, and brother to Sir Robert Howard.

2 Michael Mohun, a celebrated actor belonging to the King's Company; he had served as a major in the royal army.

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the story how in good earnest the King is offended with the Duke of Richmond's marrying, and Mrs. Stewart's sending the King his jewels again. As she tells it, it is the noblest romance and example of a brave lady that ever I read in my life.

16th August. My wife and I to the Duke's play-house, where we saw the new play acted yesterday, "The Feign Innocence, or Sir Martin Mar-all;" a play made by my Lord Duke of Newcastle, but, as everybody says, corrected by Dryden. It is the most entire piece of mirth, a complete farce from one end to the other, that certainly was ever writ. I never laughed so in all my life, and at very good wit therein, not fooling. The House full, and in all things of mighty content to Everybody wonders that we have no news from Bredah of the ratification of the peace; and do suspect that there is some stop in it.

me.

17th. To the King's play-house, where the house extraordinary full; and there the King and Duke of York to see the new play, "Queene Elizabeth's Troubles, and the history of Eighty Eight." I confess I have sucked in so much of the sad story of Queene Elizabeth from my cradle, that I was ready to weep for her sometimes; but the play is the most ridiculous that sure ever came upon stage, and, indeed, is merely a show, only shows the true garbe of the Queene in those days, just as we see Queene Mary and Queene Elizabeth painted: but the play is merely a puppet play, acted by living puppets. Neither the design nor language better; and one stands by and tells us the meaning of things: only I was pleased to see Knipp dance among the milkmaids, and to hear her sing a song to Queene Elizabeth; and to see her come out in her night-gowne with no lockes on, but her bare face and hair only tied up in a knot behind; which is the comeliest dress that ever I saw her in to her advantage.

5th October. To the King's house; and there going in met with Knipp, and she took us up into the tireing-rooms; and to the women's shift, where Nell was dressing herself, and was all unready, and is very pretty, prettier than I thought. And into the scene-room, and there sat down, and she gave us fruit: and here I read the questions to Knipp, while she answered me, through all her part of "Flora's Figarys," which was acted to-day. But, Lord! to see how they were both painted, would make a man mad, and did make me loath them; and what base company of men comes among And how them, and how lewdly they talk.

poor the men are in clothes, and yet what a show they make on the stage by candle-light, is very observable. But to see how Nell cursed, for having so few people in the pit, was strange; the other house carrying away all the people at the new play, and is said now-a-days to have generally most company, as being better players. By and by into the pit, and there saw the play, which is pretty good.

19th. Full of my desire of seeing my Lord Orrery's new play this afternoon at the King's house, “The Black Prince,” the first time it is acted; where, though we came by two o'clock, yet there was no room in the pit, but were forced to go into one of the upper boxes, at 48. a piece, which is the first time I ever sat in a box in my life. And in the same box came by and by, behind me, my Lord Barkeley and his Lady; but I did not turn my face to them to be known, so that I was excused from giving them my seat. And this pleasure I had, that from this place the scenes do appear very fine indeed, and much better than in the pit. The house infinite full, and the King and Duke of York there. The whole house was mightily pleased all along till the reading of a letter, which was so long and so unnecessary that they frequently began to laugh, and to hiss twenty times, that had it not been for the King's being there, they had certainly hissed it off the stage.

28th December. To the King's house, and there saw "The Mad Couple;" which is but an ordinary play; but only Nell's and Hart's mad parts are most excellent done, but especially her's: which makes it a miracle to me to think how ill she do any serious part, as the other day, just like a fool or changeling; and, in a mad part, do beyond all imitation almost. It pleased us mightily to see the natural affection of a poor woman, the mother of one of the children brought on the stage: the child crying, she by force got upon the stage, and took up her child and carried it away off of the stage from Hart. Many fine faces here to-day. I am told to-day, which troubles me, that great complaint is made upon the 'Change among our merchants, that the very Ostend little pickaroon men-of-war do offer violence to our merchant-men and search them, beat our masters, and plunder them, upon pretence of carrying Frenchmen's goods.

December 2, 1668. Abroad with my wife, the first time that ever I rode in my own coach, which do make my heart rejoice and praise God, and pray him to bless it to me, and continue it. So she and I to the King's playhouse, and there saw "The Usurper" (a tra

gedy, by Edward Howard), a pretty good play in all but what is designed to resemble Cromwell and Hugh Peters, which is mighty silly.

3d. At noon home to dinner, and then abroad again with my wife to the Duke of York's play-house, and saw "The Unfortunate Lovers" (a tragedy, by Sir William Davenant), a mean play, I think, but some parts very good, and excellently acted. We sat under the boxes, and saw the fine ladies; among others, my Lady Kerneguy, who is most devilishly painted. And so home, it being mighty pleasure to go alone with my poor wife in a coach of our own to a play, and makes us appear mighty great, I think, in the world; at least, greater than ever I could, or my friends for me, have once expected; or, I think, than ever any of my family ever yet lived in my memory, but my cosen Pepys in Salisbury Court.

Since to my lips I pressed thy brimming bowl;
Since on thy hands my pallid brow I laid;
Since I have breathed the sweet breath of thy soul,
A perfume hidden deep in depths of shade;

Since from thy star I caught one brilliant beam,
Now veiled, alas! for ever from my gaze;
Since fell upon my life's full-flowing stream
One rose-leaf torn from thy young joyous days;
Since I have heard thy murmuring accents, while
Thy heart poured out its wealth of love divine;
Since I have seen thee weep, have seen thee smile,
And felt thy loving lips and eyes on mine;

JONATHAN MOUDIWORT.

[Alexander Bethune, born at Upper Rankeillour, Fife, July, 1804; died at Mountpleasant, Newburgh, 13th June, 1843. His name will always be associated with that of his brother, John Bethune, born 1812, died 1839.

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found him willing to sell whatever he might have, as Esau did his birthright-not, however, for "a mess of pottage," but for a portion of pease or barley bannock, as the case might be. We cannot afford space to narrate more of Jonathan's boyish proceedings; but the specimens already given, it must at once be acknow

Peasantry, and the Scottish Peasant's Fireside (from valuable for their faithful representation of the habits and thoughts of the Scottish peasantry.]

which our extract is taken), two collections of tales

Jonathan Moudiwort was born of very obscure and very poor parents. If our information is correct, his father was a weaver; and Jonathan himself was initiated, at a very early age, into all the mysteries of threads, reeds, haidles, and treadles. But this is anticipating; for it should first be told that the boy had a great deal of natural talent even in his earliest years; and, when at school, or rather before he was old enough to go there, that he frequently contrived to buy up nearly the whole of the toys of which his playfellows were possessed. He would first give them something in exchange for a top, or a knife, or whatever they might chance to have; and then something else in exchange for that-always taking care to give an article of less value at every successive bargain, until he had fairly bartered them out of their last farthing's worth, in the most fair and honourable way. When he found them particularly stubborn, he sometimes tried another expedient: upon these occasions it was his custom first to try to get "a piece" from his mother, and, if he succeeded, his next step was to engage his refractory companion upon some long excursion a little before dinner-time. When he had brought matters thus far, he scarcely ever failed of success, by pushing onward as briskly as possible with the little commercialist, under pretence of some great sight which they were to see, or some fine things which they were to get, till he had got him to a considerable distance from home; and then, when the afternoon was well advanced, and the poor boy had begun to suffer from the extreme of hunger, with still a mile or two of road between him and the prospect of any supply, he, in general,

bargain-making, prospering man, when time should have matured his intellect; and Jonathan's riper years did not belie the promise of his youth. He had tact and talent-an enterprising disposition, and an abundance of ambition; and, with such qualifications, who ever failed to get forward in the world?

As yet, however, he was surrounded by what the poets have been pleased to call "the thick mists of poverty." By his connection with threads, reeds, haidles, and treadles, he could earn a bare subsistence, and very little more; but then he knew that "money makes money, as poor Richard said;" and if he could only save, or in any other way get hold of a few pounds, or even a few shillings, these, in the course of time, might make a few more; and thus he might get forward on the road to fortune and respectability; for the two are always to be found together. He had, moreover, an uncle, the worthy Mr. Mungo Moudiwort, who, from having wriggled himself into a writer's office as an errand-boy when he was a lad, had actually risen to be factor and law-agent for the estate of Lord Crippledonky. "Blood is thicker than water," even at the thinnest: his lordship lived constantly in London; a farm might fall vacant, in the course of time; and Jonathan thought that he already saw through these same "mists of poverty."

Having saved a trifle by rising early and sitting up late—at least he had by some means or other got his hands upon a few pounds-his next proceeding was to take a grass park. It was a very small one, inasmuch as the rent for the season was only £9; but, small as it was, there were people who thought he would never be able to stock it with cattle. Jonathan, however, thought more correctly, and saw farther than they did; and thereupon he went to work in the following highly commendable

manner.

Duncan Toddleben, an old man, and his wife, an equally old woman, who had made their living for some time past by selling milk, had a cow to dispose of. The thing had become indispensable, from the cow not being in calf, as the dealers have it. Now this was the very kind of cow which Jonathan wanted. He accordingly attended two markets to which the

The last of these unpropitious market-days was drawing to a close, and Duncan had no prospect save that of returning home with the "beast," for whose support he was in great want of fodder, when Jonathan, who appeared to be passing the place where he stood by accident, stopped for a little to condole with him upon his ill-luck; and then begged his company to the nearest alehouse, to get a "single bottle of ale," as he phrased it, for auld acquaintance sake." This invitation was accepted; and the "bottle of ale" was followed by "a gill," which had a wonderful effect upon the old man's spirits. Another gill was called in: who would wish to do otherwise than make an old man happy? It was succeeded by a third, which made Duncan as cheery as if he had sold his cow for twice her value; and, in the end, he actually did sell her to his friend Jonathan for three pounds and half a crown, though, on the morning of the same day, he had confidently anticipated getting nearly three times that amount. Nor was this all; for it was stipulated that the half-crown should be returned as a luck-penny!

By such bargains as the foregoing, Jonathan soon succeeded in stocking his grass park to great advantage. The season was a favourable one for the graziers, there being a proper modicum of both warmth and moisture; and, when the animals were well fattened, he sold them to the butchers with a goodly "percentage" of profit upon the prices at which he had bought them. With this percentage it was an easy matter for him to "pay the rent like a gentleman," as the factor said, and even deposit some fifteen or twenty pounds in the Fiddlesticks' Bank.

"Maist things hae a sma' beginning,"

says the poet; here was a beginning to Jonathan, and he did not fail to profit by it. On the following year he took a larger grass park, for which he promised to pay £30; and, by attending regularly and carefully at a number of markets, and making the most fair and honourable bargains with all sorts of simpletons and old men, who had cows or other cattle to sell, he again stocked it in a manner as ad

the proper season arrived, the butchers were once more fain to give him good prices for his "fat cattle;" and at the end of the year, besides "paying the rent like a gentleman," as on the former occasion, he had between sixty and seventy pounds to deposit with the money-changers at Fiddlesticks. Thus did Jonathan from year to year increase in riches, even as he was increasing in knowledge.

But, to proceed chronologically with his history: on the year following that last noticed the harvest was rather late; in the course of it a good deal of rain had fallen, while the weather was, at the same time, warm and smoky," as the country people called it; and much of the grain had begun to grow again before it could be got into the barn-yard. During the earlier part of this period, a considerable rise in the price of corn had been anticipated; but as the weather had at last become dry, and it was supposed that the greater part of the crop had been "secured in excellent order," speculation upon the subject had in a great measure ceased. But Jonathan knew that when grain has once been allowed to sprout, however well dried it may afterwards be, it can never again be made to produce anything like the ordinary quantity of meal, and upon this circumstance he founded his hopes. While the wet weather lasted, and even after the dry weather had come, day after day he might have been seen wending his way through the fields which had been lately reaped, thrusting his hands into the stooks, and "rubbing out" small quantities of the grain, which he winnowed with "the breath of his nostrils," or rather his mouth, and forthwith proceeded to examine carefully. At last his resolution appeared to be taken. As yet, from the farmers being busy in securing their potato-crop, and sowing their wheat, but little of any kind of grain had been thrashed or brought to the market, the deficiency of the season was not much suspected, nor had any rise of prices taken place; and Jonathan invested the whole of his £60 in the purchase of oats-selecting, as a matter of course, the heaviest and the best which he could find, and always buying them "reasonably cheap."

By-and-by prices began to rise a little, and exactly in proportion as they rose, that degree of anxiety which, for some time past, had been visibly depicted in Jonathan's countenance, gradually disappeared. He now regretted that he had not more money to invest in the pur