were so taken by surprise that they set up a great shouting, and followed the king until he was met at Islington by a large body of soldiers. 12. The end of this rising was the then usual end. As soon as the king found himself safe, he unsaid all he had said, and undid all he had done. Some fifteen hundred of the rioters were tried, mostly in Essex, with great rigour, and executed with great cruelty. Many of them were hanged on gibbets as a terror to the country people; and because their miserable friends took some of the bodies down to bury, the king ordered the rest to be chained up, which was the beginning of the barbarous custom of hanging in chains. The king's falsehood in this business makes such a pitiful figure, that I think Wat Tyler appears in history as beyond comparison the truer and more respectable man of the two. SPELL AND GIVE THE MEANING EDWIN AND PAULINUS. These verses are founded on an incident in the history of the conversion of Northumberland to Christianity. Paulinus was a companion of Augustine, the missionary to Kent, and was sent to the North, to bring over Edwin, King of Northumbria, to the faith. THE black-hair'd gaunt Paulinus By ruddy Edwin stood:- And worship Christ our Lord!” Again the gaunt Paulinus To ruddy Edwin spake : For His dear Son's own sake! Rose then a sage old warrior; Was five-score winters old; "At Yule-time in our chamber We sit in warmth and light, "Athwart the room, a sparrow We see it come from darkness, And into darkness go:- Alas, that it is so! "But if this pale Paulinus Have somewhat more to tell; Some news of Whence and Whither, The sun of Hope may shine ;- So spake the wise old warrior; The Reverend Sydney Smith, canon of St. Paul's, was born in 1771, and died in 1845. He was a man of the keenest and most kindly humour, which overflowed in all that he wrote, but he was equally admirable for his sinewy common sense, and broad human sympathies. His Essays in the Edinburgh Review, of which he was one of the founders, and his political pamphlets, are his chief literary remains. 1. “A MAN-SERVANT," says my father, 66 was too expensive; so I caught up a little garden girl, made like a milestone, christened her Bunch, put a napkin in her hand, and made her my butler. The girls taught her to read, Mrs. Sydney to wait, and I undertook her morals; Bunch became the best butler in the county. 2. "I had little furniture, so I bought a cart-load of deals; took a carpenter (who came to me for parish relief) called Jack Robinson, with a face like a full-moon, into my service; established him in a barn, and said, ‘Jack, furnish my house.' You see the result! 3. "At last it was suggested that a carriage was much wanted in the establishment. After diligent search, I discovered in the back settlements of a York coachmaker, an ancient green chariot, supposed to have been the earliest invention of the kind. I brought it home in triumph to my admiring family. Being somewhat dilapidated, the village tailor lined it, the village blacksmith repaired it; nay, but for Mrs. Sydney's earnest entreaties, we believe the village painter would have exercised his genius on the exterior; it escaped this danger, however, and the result was wonderful. Each year added to its charms; it grew younger and younger. A new wheel, a new spring; I christened it the Immortal. It was known all over the neighbourhood; the village boys cheered it, and the village dogs barked at it; but Faber meæ fortuna1 was my motto, and we had no false shame. 4. "I left off riding, for the good of my parish and the peace of my family; for, somehow or other, my horse and I had a habit of parting company. On one occasion I found myself prostrate in the streets of York. Another time, my horse, Calamity, flung me over his head into a neighbouring parish, as if I had been a shuttlecock, and I felt grateful it was not into a neighbouring planet. After this, you may suppose, I sold my horse; however, it is some comfort to know that my friend Sir George is one fall ahead of me, and is certainly a worse rider." 5. The horse Calamity was the first-born of several young horses bred on the farm, who turned out very fine creatures, and gained him great glory, even amongst the knowing farmers of Yorkshire; but this first production was certainly not encouraging. To his dismay, a huge, lank, large-boned foal appeared, of chestnut colour, and with four white legs. It grew apace, but its bones became more and more conspicuous. Its appetite was unbounded; grass, hay, corn, beans, food, moist and dry, were all supplied in vain, and vanished down its throat with incredible rapidity. It stood, a large, living skeleton, with famine written in its face, and my father christened it Calamity. As Calamity grew to maturity, he was found to be as sluggish in disposition as his master was impetuous; so my father was driven to invent a patent "Tantalus," which consisted of a small sieve of corn, suspended on a semi-circular bar of iron fixed to the ends of the shafts, just beyond the horse's nose. The corn, rattling as the vehicle proceeded, stimulated Calamity to unwonted exertions; and, under the hope of overtaking his imaginary feed, he did more work than all the previous provender which had been poured down his throat had been able to obtain from him. 2 6. Coming down one morning at Foston, I found Bunch pacing up and down the passage before her master's door, in a state of great perturbation. "What is the matter, Bunch?” “O ma'am, I can get no peace of mind till I've got master shaved, and he's so late this morning; he's not come down yet." This getting master shaved consisted in making ready for him, with a large painter's brush, a thick lather in a huge wooden bowl, as big as Mambrino's helmet, which she always considered as the most important avocation of the morning. 7. "I was coming down-stairs next morning," says |