determination of never returning. Being abroad for several years, his nearest relations supposed him dead, and began to take the necessary steps of obtaining his estates, when, roused by this intelligence, he returned privately to England, and for a time took obscure lodgings in the vicinity of his family mansion.

While he was in this retreat, the young king (Henry the Eighth,) who had just buried his father, was one day hunting on the borders of Hampshire, when he heard the cries of a female in distress in an adjoining wood. His gallantry immediately summoned him to the place, though he then happened to be detached from all his courtiers; when he saw two ruffians attempting to violate the honour of a young lady. The king instantly drew on them; a scuffle ensued, which roused the reverie of Charles Brandon, who was taking his morning's walk in an adjoining thicket; he immediately ranged himself on the side of the king, whom he then did not know; and by his dexterity soon disarmed one of the ruffians, while the other fled.

The king charmed with this act of gallantry so congenial to his own mind, inquired the name and family of the stranger; and not only repossessed him of his patrimonial estates, but took him under his immediate protection.

It was this same Charles Brandon,* who afterwards privately married Henry's sister Margaret, Queen-dowager of France; which marriage the king not only forgave, but created him Duke of Suffolk, and continued his favour towards him to the last hour of the duke's life. He died before Henry; and the latter showed in his attachment to this nobleman, that notwithstanding his fits of caprice, he was capable of a cordial and steady friendship. He was sitting in council when the news of Suffolk's death reached him; and he publickly took that occasion, both to express his own sorrow, and to celebrate the merits of the deceased. He declared that during the whole course of their acquaintance his brother-in-law had not made a single attempt to injure an adversary, and had never whispered a word to the disadvantage of any one; "and are there any of you, my lords, who can say as much?" when the king subjoined this word (says the historian) he looked round in all their faces, and saw that

*See Vol. I. of this work, page 406,

confusion which the consciousness of secret guilt naturally threw upon them.

Otway took his plot from the fact related in this pamphlet; but to avoid perhaps interfering in a circumstance which might affect many noble families at that time living, he laid the scene of his tragedy in Bohemia.

There is a large painting of the above incident now at Woburn, the seat of his grace the Duke of Bedford, and the old duchess-dowager, in shewing this picture a few years before her death to a nobleman related all the particulars of the story.

The character of Antonio in the above play, (an old debauched senator, raving about plots and political intrigues,) is supposed to have been intended for that celebrated character, Anthony, the first Earl of Shaftesbury-The Drama.

A HINT TO CRITICS.

A SAILOR, who had been many years absent from his mother, who lived in an inland county, returned to his native village, after a variety of voyages to different parts of the globe, and was heartily welcomed home by the good old woman, who had long considered him as lost. Soon after his arrival, the old lady became inquisitive, and desirous to learn what strange things her son John had seen upon the mighty deep. Amongst a variety of things that Jack recollected, he mentioned his having frequently seen flying fish. "Stop, Johnny," says his mother," don't try to impose such monstrous impossibilities on me, child; for, in good truth, I could as soon believe you had seen flying cows; for cows, you know, John, can live out of the water. Therefore, tell me honestly what you have seen in reality, but no more falsehoods, Johnny."

Jack felt himself affronted; and turning his quid about, when pressed for more information, he said, prefacing it with an oath, Mayhap, mother, you won't believe me, when I tell you, that casting anchor once in the Red Sea, it was with difficulty we hove it up again; which was occasioned, do you see, mother, by a large wheel hanging on one of the flukes of the anchor. It appeared a strange old Grecian to look at, so we hoisted it in; and our captain, do ye mind me, being a scholar, overhauled him, and discovered it was

one of Pharaoh's chariot wheels, when he was capsized in the Red Sea." This suited the meridian of the old lady's understanding. "Ay, ay, Johnny," cried she, "I can believe this, for we read of this in the bible; but never talk to me of flying fish.”

THE LOUNGER'S PIC NIC.

No. VI.

"Dulce est desipere in loco."-HOR. """"Tis sweet to trifle now and then."

ECCENTRICITIES OF THE LATE REV. TIMOTHY PRIESTLEY.

THIS reverend gentleman was brother to the celebrated Dr. Priestley, and formerly minister of the dissenting chapel in Canon Street, Manchester, from the pulpit of which he uttered many eccentricities, which have been attributed erroneously to other preachers. Observing one of his congregation asleep, he called to him (stopping in his discourse for this purpose,) "Awake, I say, George Ramsey, or I'll mention your name." He had an unconquerable aversion to candles which exhibited long wicks; and often, in the midst of his most interesting discourses, on winter evenings, he would call out to the man appointed for that purpose, "Tommy, Tommy, top these candles." He was a man of great humour, which he even carried into the pulpit. He was the preacher, though others have borne the credit or odium of the circumstance, who pulled out of his pocket half-a-crown, and laid it down upon the pulpit cushion, offering to bet with St. Paul, that the passage where he says "he could do all things" was not true; but reading on "by faith," put up his money, and said, "Nay! nay! Paul, if that's the case, I'll not bet with thee." It is known that his principles were decidedly Calvinistic, of course diametrically opposite to those of his brother, who was a Unitarian. He once paid him a fraternal visit at Birmingham, and, in the course of it, wished to preach in room of the Doctor, who objected, in consequence of their difference of opinion, and the principles of the congregation. Mr. Priest

ley, however, overcame these scruples, by promising to keep clear of doctrinal points, and to confine himself to the general duties of Christianity. However, when he mounted the pulpit, he laid by his promise, and commenced thus:"I have been guilty of an honest fraud to gain your attention, which I was determined to have at any price. My brother Joseph's pulpit has never had the gospel of Christ preached from it; for once, however, having possession of it, I am determined you shall hear it; so here goes!" and he preached a furious sermon, in which he insisted on all the peculiar tenets of Calvinism, and his own views of the Christian dispensation. He left Manchester many years ago, to reside and preach in the metropolis, where he was very popular, as minister of the independent chapel in Jewin Street. He published a work, entitled "The Christian's Looking-Glass, &c. &c." against which the late Reverend William Huntingdon published "The Barber, or Timothy shaved a second time;" in which he says, "the title of Timothy's book should have been, Opium for foolish Virgins!"

THE UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY.

Contained in a Letter from a Young Lady at Brighton to her Cousin in London.

Dear Jenny,

ON parting I gave you my word to write an account of whatever occurred at Brighton, deserving your ladyship's ear, and thus I begin :-In the first place, my dear, if you mean to come down, book your place in the DART ; a coach which is not only dashing and smart in its look, but exceeds every one on the road in quickness of going. So much for the mode. Now as to the friends and acquaintance you'll meet when once you come down, I should never complete a list of them all; however, your friend, fat Deputy Dump, and his wife, from Mile-end, are both of them here; and, of course, such a pair are sure to occasion a general stare; for there is not a soul in the place who beholds this corpulent dealer in rushlights and moulds, without being struck by his little chip hat-his stomach rotunda-his coloured cravat -his apple-green frock, drawn carefully in at the back, that his beautiful shape may be seen-his Wellington trowsers, and bootlings provided with spurs. You will certainly

fancy, as I did at first, that the tale of his spurs is invention, but I have seen him accoutred in all that I mention. His equestrian deeds, I was perfectly sure, were confined to a chamber-horse, kept as a cure for the gout; so I made a fine quiz of his spurs. So much for the deputy's dress: as to her's, imagine her elephant waist (if you can) screwed and rivetted down in stays a la Diane; an Oldenburgh bonnet, and carbuncle face, like a coal-skuttle holding a melon —a brace of fat fubsy arms, all pucker and puff-her petticoats scolloped with flounces enough to cover her kneeand, to finish the whole, conceive an umbrageous red parasol, with a fringe of pea-green.

But Brighton appears to level all ranks, all distinctions of years; the black-leg and rustic, the peer and the cit, all gladly conspire to exhibit their wit in killing the general enemy time. To accomplish this object, some cheerfully climb up the neighbouring hills in the heat of the day; some, mounted in donkey-carts, listlessly stray to the villages round; some, sweltering, ride on Jerusalem ponies, and all coincide that, when they have toiled to the object in view, it was not worth seeing. An indolent few lounge the whole of their morning away on the Steyne-or skim a romance in a bathing machine-or wager at billiards-or lollop about in the library rooms, whence they seldom come out till they have got all the papers by heart.

Thus it is clear (at least to my judgment) that pleasure is here the greatest of torments: the tyrant ennui throws a gloom over all. It is easy to see that the killers of time (as they vainly conceive) are themselves being killed, and indeed I believe there is a great deal of truth in the common remark, that the busiest people are always the--but, hark!--the ringing of bells, and the firing of guns, proclaim that the king is come down, and, for once, his Majesty is welcomed with shouts of applause. A reception like this is an adequate cause for my breaking off short, as you know such a sight may never return. Perhaps I may write another epistle to-morrow, till when, always,

Yours, faithfully,

W.N.

P.S. O! such a discovery, Jenny! just now brother Tom (who is a bit of a poet, you know), looking over my letter, exclaimed with an oath, that it was written in num