over him, soul, body, goods, and chattels, including his two spayed bitches. Satan, then rolling his goggle eyes, belching forth fire and flames from his mouth and nostrils, and lashing his infernal flanks with his tail, thundered out a roar, which shook all the neighbouring lands, and waked all the good people out of their first sleep. The poor recreant knight was, at the next moment, discomfited and slain; when, striding over his fallen enemy, the victorious devil exclaimed, with a voice which shook air, earth, and hell, "be you buried by land or by sea, in church or churchyard, I will have you." Then seizing his club, he threw it five miles, saying, wherever you drop, there Barn Hall shall be built. And behold it came to pass that Barn Hall was built upon the very spot on which the infernal club alighted, and the said club became the main beam of the house. Things thus far settled, with the becoming resignation of the people, it became next an inquiry in what manner to dispose of the body of the fallen knight, so that it might be preserved safe from the claws of Satan; when it was proposed by a sagacious elder, skilled in cheating the devil, to bury it in the church wall, contiguous to which I found its representative, in such armour as no doubt he fought, and his two spayed bitches at his feet. I recollect, however, some discrepancy in the above relation, as so commonly happens in ancient traditions. It is often the case after a poor man's death, and sometimes before, that he has swallowed three black crows, as Smollet well knew. And many persons supposed the story to be relative to building the church itself, instead of the manor house, a supposition which, true or false, can have little effect upon the great truths of the combat. The real ground of the tradition, at last, may be, that in some midnight period of the feudal ages, when landmarks were uncertain, and property insecure, some powerful persons had an interest to prevent a house or church being erected on a certain spot, and so embraced the measures already related, working in part by actual force, and partly upon the superstitious fears of the people. Reasons of state might promote the maintaining the credit of this story, so well countenanced by the tomb-stone adjoining the wall, and the figures of the two spayed bitches; and there is nothing improbable, that the knight there buried might have actually fallen in some such dispute; or that a real tradition, garnished by various and customary additions, may have been handed down through a long series of ages. I do not find in Kirby, or in any history of Essex which has come under my notice, any thing beyond a mere mention of this monument, which seems to be of very high antiquity; nor have I heard of its fate of late years, any further than the information, about three years since, as I passed within three or four miles of the church, that it still exists. How many old stories, in far higher veneration than the above, Mr. Editor, might be traced to the source of reasons of state, had we but permission to use our wits in the research? But hush! hush!-we shall wake the children or their nurses. FARTHER GUESSES AT THE AUTHOR OF JUNIUS. "Sit mihi fas audita loqui." MR. URBAN, April 12, 1813. YOUR correspondent L. R. I., in your Magazine for February last, gives a hint for the Bibliomania, by which it appears probable that the author of Junius might be discovered; and perhaps this would be sufficient for your readers in America, where I am positively informed, upon authority I have no reason to doubt, "Junius's own copy of his letters, bound in vellum with gilt leaves," certainly was before his death, and in all probability is at present; although the possessor, who received it from the hands of Junius, is altogether ignorant, that, when the volumes were presented to him, with a set of Blackstone's Commentaries, some other books, and several prints, &c., he accepted them from an author who had excited so great an interest in the political and literary world. You will undoubtedly be desirous to be informed from what source I received this intelligence, and what induces me to rely upon it. This fact was communicated to me by Mrs. Wilmot Serres, (a lady whose endowments are worthy of the patronymic she bears), a niece of the late Dr. James Wilmot, of Trinity College, Oxford, who has in her possession some MSS. in the doctor's handwriting, proving to demonstration, that he and no other was the author of the letters of Junius.-One of these is a common-place book, in which are scraps of essays and numerous quotations, which correspond so perfectly in the character of handwriting with the fac similes of that of Junius, published by Mr. Woodfall, that they must instantly convince the most incredulous that they were all written by the same hand. In one place, 15 or 20 leaves have been torn out; and on the next page is the conclusion (a few lines only) of one of the let ters, of Junius to the Duke of Grafton. In another part is a memorandum, in the doctor's hand, that on such a day he had finished letter of Junius, "and sent it to Lord S―ne." This is presumed to be Lord Shelburne, with whom he was in habits of intimacy. This memorandum is partly obliterated by a pen. The doctor's situation and connexions enabled him to obtain, with facility, that intimate and early knowledge of state affairs, which is so strikingly displayed throughout Junius's Letters, he being almost constantly living in town, on terms of the greatest intimacy and confidence with the leading political characters of the day; some of whom are now living, and must be aware that Dr. Wilmot's opportunities of obtaining the most interesting and important intelligence, were much greater than was necessary for the author of Junius's public letters, and quite sufficient to account for his almost immediate knowledge of Garrick's visit to Richmond, which he mentions in one of his private communications. I could enter much further into this subject, but am not at present inclined to elucidate, more than I have already, the proofs to be produced of the identity of Junius; and which will put to rest forever the vague conjectures of those who amuse themselves with "guessing at Junius." I shall therefore only further remark, that the MSS. with an inspection of which I have been favoured, have very recently been perused by Mr. Woodfall, who declared his surprise at this discovery, equally accidental and satisfactory; and, although he expressed no decided opinion on the subject, observed, that they were written upon paper of the same size, with the same water-mark, as that used by Junius. An intention is, I believe, entertained of publishing these papers, with a chain of circumstances, forming a mass of evidence; than which, in my opinion, nothing can be desired or conceived more satisfactory or conclusive, that Dr. Wilmot was the real author of the letters of Junius.* Yours, &c. METELLUS. * A pamphlet, by the Rev. J. B. Blakeway, of Shrewsbury, has just been published, professing to disclose the long-concealed secret of "Junius's Letters." A correspondent, who has read it, speaks of it as a very elegant and satisfactory performance, which he thinks will set the question completely at rest by proving that JUNIUS was JOHN HORNE TOOKE.-Edit. POETRY. DIRGE On two young females taking the veil. AN OLD POEM. 1. TO secret walks, to silent shades, Slowly these blooming nymphs we bring, CHORUS. Where nature's wealth, and art's assisting cost, Both in the beams of distant hope are lost. 2. To cloisters where cold damps destroy To pensive prayers, where heaven appears CHORUS. Only in this remote conclusion blest, 3. Then since that such a choice as theirs, Them with their fellow saints to share Celestial joys, for whose desire They freely from the world retire, CHORUS. Go, then, and rest in blessed peace, while we Deplore the loss of such societie. THE SWISS EMIGRANT. [From the New Annual Register.] FAREWEL, farewel, my native land, Once more I view thy valleys fair, Ye vales, with downy verdure spread, Ye lakes that catch the golden beam Scenes on this bursting heart imprest The bliss of childhood's vacant breast, The tears by filial duty shed Say, can Helvetia's patriot child His native home? No home has he; Ye snow-clad Alps, whose mighty mound, In vain opposed its awful bound To check the prone-descending Gaul; |