He had forgotten his injunction. The moment the word was uttered he felt the silvery ground sliding from under him; and with the swiftness of thought he found himself on the flat of his back, under the very niche of the old church wall whence he had started, dizzy and confused with a measureless tumble. The emancipated ghosts floated in all directions, emitting their shrill and stridulous cries in the gleaming expanse. Some were again gathered by their old conductor; some scudding about at random, took the right hand path, others the left. Into which of them Sir Theodore struck, is not recorded; but as he had heard the direction, let us hope that he made the proper choice. Larry had not much time given him to recover from his fall, for almost in an instant he heard an angry snorting rapidly approaching, and looking up, whom should he see but the gentleman in black, with eyes gleaming more furiously than ever, and his horns (for, in his haste, he had let his hat fall) relieved in strong shadow against the moon. Up started Larry—away ran his pursuer after him. The safest refuge was, of course, the church,—thither ran our hero—and after him—fiercer than the shark, swifter than the hounds—fled the black gentleman. The church is cleared; the chancel entered; and the hot breath of his pursuer glows upon the outstretched neck of Larry. Escape is impossible—the extended talons of the fiend have clutched him by the hair. "You are mine," cried the demon,—"if I have lost any of my flock, I have at last got you." "Oh, St. Patrick!" exclaimed our hero, in horror, —"Oh, St. Patrick have mercy upon me, and save me!" "I tell you what, cousin Larry," said Kinaley, chucking him up from behind a gravestone, where he had fallen—"all the St. Patricks that ever were born would not have saved you from ould Tom Picton, if he caught you sleeping on your post as I've caught you now. By the word of an ould soldier, he'd have had the provost-marshal upon you, and I'd not give two-pence for the loan of your life. And then, too, I see you have drunk every drop in the bottle. What can you say for yourself?" "Nothing at all," said Larry, scratching his head,—"but it was an unlucky dream, and I'm glad it's over."—Literary Souvenir.

Ancient Roman Festivals

NOVEMBER

(For the Mirror.)

The Epulum Jovis was a sumptuous feast offered to Jupiter on the 13th of November. The gods were formally invited, and attended; for the statues were brought in rich beds, furnished with soft pillows, called pulvinaria. Thus accommodated, their godships were placed on their couches at the most honourable part of the table, and served with the rich dainties, as if they were able to eat; but the epulones, or ministers, who had the care and management of the feast, performed that function for them, and no doubt did the part of gastronomic proxies with eclat.

The Brumalia was a feast of Bacchus, celebrated among the Romans during the space of thirty days, commencing on the 24th of November. It was instituted by Romulus, who used, during this time, to entertain the senate. During this feast indications were taken of the felicity of the remaining part of the winter.

P.T.W.

The Gatherer

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."

SHAKSPEARE.

INNOCENT CONFESSION

A Lady at confession, amongst other heinous crimes, accused herself of using rouge. "What is the use of it?" asked the confessor. "I do it to make myself handsomer."—"And does it produce that effect?" "At least I think so, father."—The confessor on this took his penitent out of the confessional, and having looked at her attentively in the light, said, "Well, madam, you may use rouge, for you are ugly enough even with it."

MERCHANT TAILORS

A Clergyman hearing a remark made on the humility of the Merchant Tailors' motto, "Concordiâ parvae res crescunt" replied, "Yes, that is to say, nine tailors make a man."

RABELAIS

A JEU D'ESPRIT

In France they say Lived RABELAIS, A witty wight, and a right merry fellow. Who in good company was sometimes mellow: And, Although he was a priest, Thought it no sacramental sin—to feast. I can't say much for his morality: But for his immortality, Good luck! Why he's bound in calf, and squeezed in boards, And scarcely a good library's shelf But boasts acquaintance with the elf. But now I'll tell you what I should have told before, A grievous illness brought him nigh Death's door. Who, bony wight, Enjoyed the sight— And grinn'd as he thought of the fun there'd be When the jester had joined his company. Rab's friends, good folk! Thought it no joke To the poor joker; they therefore sent around For all the Esculapians to be found; And in a trice (For doctors always haste to give advice— Mind—don't mistake—I mean when there's a fee) They mustered two—to which add three. Now about the bed Is seen each learned head. The patient's pulse is felt—with graver air Each M.D. seats him in a chair. Crosses his legs—leans on his stick, mums—hahs—and hums Pulls out his watch—takes snuff—and twirls his thumbs. At length, The awful stillness broke— As if from silence gathering strength Most lustily they all did croak, Their opinions mingling, In discordant jingling— "A purge"—"a blister"—"shave his head" "Senna and salts"—"a clyster"—"have him bled," "A pill at noon"—"another pill at night," "A warm-bath, sure, would set him right." Thus with purges and blisters, Pills, bleeding, and clysters, The poor patient they threatened Should be deluged and sweatened. Unable to endure the riot, And wishing for a little quiet, The sickman raised his head, And said— Gentlemen, I do beseech ye, cease your pother, Nor any more with me your wise heads bother, Scratching your wigs, Like sapient pigs; Whate'er you may decide is my disease, I humbly do conceive a little ease From your infernal noise and chatter. With which I'm dunn'd And nearly stunn'd, Would greatly tend to mend the matter; And if, perforce, I must resign my breath, For heav'n's sake let me die a NATURAL death.

P.M.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 342, November 22, 1828

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Ancient Roman Festivals

NOVEMBER

(For the Mirror.)

The Gatherer

INNOCENT CONFESSION

MERCHANT TAILORS

RABELAIS

A JEU D'ESPRIT

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