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From every side a swarming tide of vassals pour amain, And, struggling with each other, the. fatal room they


And quickly entering, they find fair Margaret in a


They cut the lace that holds her

man who'd own

base must be the

That such a garment now exists; with water from Cologne

They sprinkle her, and she revives, and sweetly smiles

once more,

And points to what appears a heap of ashes on the


Alas! 'twas so; the gallant knight, the former "


man of

Is fitted now for naught but dust for Stapleton or


All shrivelled into nothingness a horrid mass he lay, His projects vanished into smoke, himself a yard of clay!

And never from that hour has anything been seen, Except the ruin pointed out to Robinson or Green, That e'er pertained to him of all the Rhenish clans the head,

To him, the hero of my song, Sir Rupert called the Red.

(From “ Mirth and Metre."—F. Warne and Co.)



[Henry Fielding was born at Sharpham Park, near Glastonbury, Somerset, on the 22nd April, 1707. He was of high birth-his father, a grandson of the Earl of Denbigh, being a general in the army, and his mother the daughter of a judge. He received the rudiments of his education at home, under a private tutor, the

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Rev. Mr. Oliver, who is said to be the original of this Parson Trulliber, in "" Joseph Andrews." After studying the law for two years at London, he passed the customary time of probation at the Temple, and was called to the bar. The brilliancy of his wit, the vivacity of his humour, and his high relish for social enjoyment, soon obtained for him a position in society to which his means were by no means adequate. His father allowed him 2001. a year, and it was to augment this stipend that he commenced writing for the stage when about twenty years of age. His first dramatic attempt, "Love in several Masques," was considered a success; but his second, "The Temple Beau," at once stamped his fame, and was admitted to display "a good deal of spirit and real humour." Nearly all his plays and farces appeared between 1727 and 1736. That, like most modern dramatists, he adapted, though not freely, from the French, is proved by his comedy of "The Miser," which was taken from Molière, and long retained possession of the stage. In burlesque, or mock tragedy as it was then called, Fielding was very successful; his "Tom Thumb" is, even now, occasionally represented. It is, however, by his novels that Fielding's great reputation is sus tained. When, in 1742, "Joseph Andrews" appeared, all the world acknowledged a new and original thinker, an apt delineator of character, and a humorist of the first order. With the "History of Tom Jones," published 1749, his mind seems to have attained its highest vigour. In this he has successfully copied the manner and emulated the humour of Cervantes. It is a moot point which -"Joseph Andrews" or "Tom Jones"-is the superior work, but the delineations of character are admirable in both. "Amelia" will not bear comparison with either, although the author received 1000l. for the copyright, and Dr. Johnson, who greatly admired it, read it through without stopping.

Fielding was rewarded with the office of acting magistrate in the Commission of the Peace for Middlesex, and he was very active in his endeavours to restrain the vices of his day. The emoluments of this office (about 300l. a year) were received from fees, which Fielding himself characterized as "the dirtiest money upon earth."

Worn in mind, and shattered in frame by the liberties he had taken with his constitution, he was ultimately obliged to try the more genial climate of Lisbon; but in two months after his arrival he sunk, breathing his last, in the year 1754, in the 48th year of his age.

"A Journey from this World to the Next," "The History of Jonathan Wild," "An Essay on Conversation," "An Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men," two folio volumes on "Crown Law," swell the list of his writings; while the periodicals called "The Champion" and "The True Patriot" were chiefly supported by the efforts of his pen.]

PARSON ADAMS came to the house of Parson Trulliber, whom he found stript into his waistcoat, with an apron on, and a pail in his hand, just come from serving his hogs; for Mr. Trulliber was a parson on Sundays, but all the other six might more properly be called a farmer. He occupied a small piece of land of his own, besides which he rented a considerable deal more. His wife milked his cows, managed his dairy, and followed the markets with butter and eggs. The hogs fell chiefly to his care, which he carefully waited on at home, and attended to fairs; on which occasion he was liable to many jokes, his own size being with much ale rendered little inferior to that of the beasts he sold. He was indeed one of the largest men you should see, and could have acted the part of Sir John Falstaff without stuffing. Add to this, that the rotundity of his belly was considerably increased by the shortness of his stature, his shadow ascending very near as far in height when he lay on his back, as when he stood on his legs. His voice was loud and hoarse, and his accents extremely broad; to complete the whole, he had a stateliness in gait, when he walked, not unlike that of a goose, only

he stalked slower.

Mr. Trulliber being informed that somebody wanted to speak with him, immediately slipt off his apron, and clothed himself in an old night-gown, being the dress in which he always saw his company at home. His wife, who informed him of Mr. Adams's arrival, had made a small mistake; for she had told her husband, "she believed here was a man come for some of his hogs." This supposition made Mr. Trulliber hasten. with the utmost expedition to attend his guest. He no sooner saw Adams, than not in the least doubting the cause of his errand to be what his wife had imagined, he told him, "He was come in very good time; that he expected a dealer that very afternoon; and added, "they were all pure and fat, and upwards of twenty score a-piece." Adams answered, "he believed he did not know him." "Yes, yes," cried

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Trulliber, "I have seen you often at fair; why, we have dealt before now, mun, I warrant you; yes, yes," cries he, "I remember thy face very well, but won't mention a word more till you have seen them, though I have never sold thee a flitch of such bacon as is now in the stye." Upon which he laid violent hands on Adams, and dragged him into the hogs-stye, which was indeed but two steps from his parlour window. They were no sooner arrived there than he cry'd out, "Do but handle them; step in, friend, art welcome to handle them whether dost buy or no." At which words opening the gate, he pushed Adams into the pig-stye, insisting on it, that he should handle them, before he would talk one word with him. Adams, whose natural complacence was beyond any artificial, was obliged to comply before he was suffered to explain himself; and laying hold on one of their tails, the unruly beast gave such a sudden spring, that he threw poor Adams all along in the mire. Trulliber instead of assisting him to get up, burst into a laughter, and entering the stye said to Adams with some contempt, why, dost not know how to handle a hog? and was going to lay hold of one himself; but Adams, who thought he had carried his complacence far enough, was no sooner on his legs, than he escaped out of the reach of the animals, and cried out, "Nihil habeo cum porcis: I am a clergyman, Sir, and am not come to buy hogs." Trulliber answered, "he was sorry for the mistake; but that he must blame his wife; adding, "she was a fool, and always committed blunders." He then desired him to walk in and clean himself; that he would only fasten up the stye and follow him. Adams desired leave to dry his great coat, wig, and hat by the fire, which Trulliber granted. Mrs. Trulliber would have brought him a basin of water to wash his face; but her husband bid her be quiet like a fool as she was, or she would commit more blunders, and then directed Adams to the pump. While Adams was thus employed, Trulliber conceiving no great respect for the appearance of his guest, fastened

the parlour door, and now conducted him into the kitchen; telling him he believed a cup of drink would do him no harm, and whispered his wife to draw a little of the worst ale. After a short silence, Adams said, "I fancy, sir, you already perceive me to be a clergyman." "Ay, ay," cries Trulliber, grinning; "I perceive you have some cassock; I will not venture to caale it a whole one." Adams answered, "It was indeed none of the best; but he had the misfortune to tear it about ten years ago in passing over a stile." Mrs. Trulliber returning with the drink, told her husband, "she fancied the gentleman was a traveller, and that he would be glad to eat a bit." Trulliber bid her hold her impertinent tongue; and asked her if "parsons used to travel without horses?" adding, "He supposed the gentleman had none by his having no boots on." "Yes, sir, yes," says Adams, "I have a horse, but I have left him behind me." "I am glad to hear you have one," says Trulliber; "for I assure you, I don't love to see clergymen on foot; it is not seemly nor suiting the dignity of the cloth." Here Trulliber made a long oration on the dignity of the cloth (or rather gown) not much worth relating, till his wife had spread the table and set a mess of porridge on it for his breakfast. He then said to Adams, "I don't know, friend, how caale on me; however, as you are here, if you think proper to eat a morsel, you may." Adams accepted the invitation, and the two parsons sat down together, Mrs. Trulliber waiting behind her husband's chair, as was, it seems, her custom. Trulliber eat heartily, but scarce put anything in his mouth without finding fault with his wife's cookery. All which the poor woman bore patiently. Indeed she was so absolute an admirer of her husband's greatness and importance, of which she had frequent hints from his own mouth, that she almost carried her adoration to an opinion of his infallibility. To say the truth, the parson had exercised her more ways than one; and the pious woman had been so well edified by her husband's sermons that she

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