care that prevails to the present day among English housemaids, to put their kitchens in order before they go to bed. I have said, too, that these fairy superstitions seemed to me to accord with the nature of English scenery. They suit these small landscapes, which are divided by honeysuckled hedges into sheltered fields and meadows, where the grass is mingled with daisies, buttercups, and hare-bells. When I first found myself among English scenery, I was continually reminded of the sweet pastoral images which distinguish their fairy mythology; and when for the first time a circle in the grass was pointed out to me as one of the rings where they were formerly supposed to have held their moonlight revels, it seemed for a moment as if fairy land were no longer a fable. Brown, in his Britannia's Pastorals, gives a picture of the kind of scenery to which I allude: Which in the meadows makes such circles green A hillock rise, where oft the fairy queen And there is another picture of the same, in a poem ascribed to Ben Jonson. 66 By wells and rills in meadowes green, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies." Indeed it seems to me, that the older British poets, with that true feeling for nature which distinguishes them, have closely adhered to the simple and familiar imagery which they found in these popular superstitions, and have thus given to their fairy mythology those continual allusions to the farm-house and the dairy, the green meadow and the fountainhead, that fill our minds with the delightful associations of rural life. It is curious to observe how the most beautiful fictions have their origin among the rude and ignorant. There is an indescribable charm about the il plating them, that he did who considered them the abode of elves and fairies. I feel convinced that the true interests and solid happiness of man are promoted by the advancement of truth; yet I cannot but mourn over the pleasant errors which it has trampled down in its progress. The fauns and sylphs, the household sprite, the moonlight revel, Oberon, Queen Mab, and the delicious realms of fairy land, all vanish before the light of true philosophy; but who does not sometimes turn with distaste from the cold realities of morning, and seek to recal the sweet visions of the night? THE CULPRIT. From fire, from water, and all things amiss, THE WIDOW. THE serenity of the Hall has been suddenly interrupted by a very important occurrence. In the course of this morning a possé of villagers was seen trooping up the avenue, with boys shouting in advance. As it drew near, we perceived Ready Money Jack Tibbets striding along, wielding his cudgel in one hand, and with the other grasping the collar of a tall fellow, whom, on still nearer approach, we recognised for the redoubtable gipsy hero, Starlight Tom. He was now, however, completely cowed and crest-fallen, and his courage seemed to have quailed in the iron gripe of the lionhearted Jack. The whole gang of gipsy-women and children came draggling in the rear; some in tears, others making a violent clamour about the ears of old Ready Money, who, however, trudged on in silence with his prey, heeding their abuse as little as a hawk that has pounced upon a barn-door hero regards the outcries and cacklings of his whole feathered seraglio. He had passed through the village on his way to the Hall, and of course had made a great sensation in that most excitable place, where every event is a matter of gaze and gossip. The report flew like wildfire, that Starlight Tom was in custody. The aledrinkers forthwith abandoned the tap-room; Slingsby's school broke loose, and master and boys swelled the tide that came rolling at the heels of old Ready Money and his captive. The uproar increased as they approached the Hall; it aroused the whole garrison of dogs, and the crew of hangers-on. The great mastiff barked from the dog-house; the staghound and the greyhound, and the spaniel |