My master, finding how profitable I was likely to be, resolved to carry me to the most important cities in the kingdom. Having, therefore, provided himself with all things necessary for a long journey, and settled his affairs at home, he took leave of his wife, and on the 17th of August, 1703, about two months after my arrival, we set out for the metropolis, situate near the middle of that empire, and about three thousand miles distance from our house. My master made his daughter ride behind him. She carried me in a box tied about her waist. The girl had lined it on all sides with the softest cloth she could get, well quilted underneath, furnished it with her baby's bed, provided me with linen and other necessaries, and made everything as convenient as she could. We had no other company but a boy of the house, who rode after us with the luggage. My master's design was to show me in all the towns by the way, and to step out of the road for fifty or a hundred miles to any village or person of quality's house where he might expect custom. We made easy journeys of not above seven or eight score miles a day--for Glumdalclich, on purpose to spare me, complained she was tired with the trotting of the horse. She often took me out of my box at my desire to give me air and show me the country; but always held me fast by a leadingstring. We passed over five or six rivers, many degrees broader and deeper than the Ganges; and there was hardly a rivulet so small as the Thames at London Bridge. We were ten weeks in our journey, and I was shown in eighteen large towns, besides many villages and private families. On the 26th October we arrived in the metropolis, called in their language Lorbulgrud, or Pride of the Universe. My master took a lodging in the principal street of the city not far from the royal palace, and put out bills in the usual form containing an exact description of my appearance. He hired a large room, between three and four hundred feet wide. He provided a table sixty feet diameter, upon which I was to act my part, and palisaded it round three feet from the edge and as many high, to prevent my falling over. I was shown ten times a day, to the wonder and satisfaction of all people. I could now speak the language tolerably well, and perfectly understood every word that was spoken to me. Besides, I had learnt their alphabet, and could explain a sentence here and there; for Glumdalclich had been my instructor while we were at home, and at leisure hours during our journey. She carried a little book in her pocket, not much larger than Samson's Atlas-it was a common treatise for the use of young girls, giving a short account of their religion. Out of this she taught me my letters and interpreted the words. The St. Alban's Miracle, (Enter an Inhabitant of St. Alban's, crying "A Miracle!") Gloucester.-What means this noise? Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? Inhabitant.-A miracle! a miracle! Suffolk.-Come to the king and tell him what miracle. Inhab.-Forsooth, a blind man, at Saint Alban's shrine, Within this half hour, hath received his sight: A man that ne'er saw in his life before. King Henry. Now, God be praised! that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! (Enter the Mayor of St. Alban's and his brethren; and Simpcox, borne between two persons in a chair; his Wife and a great multitude following.) Car. Here come the townsmen in procession, To present your highness with the man. A. Henry.--Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sins be multiplied. Glo.-Stand by, my masters; bring him near the king; His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. K. Henry. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, What, hast thou been long blind, and now restored? Wife.—Ay, indeed, was he. Suf.-What woman is this? Wife. His wife, an't like your worship. Glo.-Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told. K. Henry. Where wert thou born? Simp.-At Berwick, in the north, an't like your grace. K. Henry.-Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to thee: Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done. Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance, Or of devotion to this holy shrine? Simp.-God knows of pure devotion: being called By good St. Alban, who said, "Simpcox, come; Car.-What, art thou lame? Ay, God Almighty, help me! Simp.- Simp. A fall off a tree. Wife.-A plum tree, master. How long hadst thou been blind? Simp.-O, born so, master. What, and would'st climb a tree? Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. Wife.—Too true; and bought his climbing very dear. Glo.-Mass, thou lovedst plums well, that would venture so. Simp.-Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, And made me climb with danger of my life. Glo.-A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve. Let me see thine eyes. Wink now; now open them. In my opinion, yet thou seest not well. Simp.-Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God and Saint Glo.-Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of? Glo.-Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of? K. Henry.-Why, then, thou knowst what colour jet is of? Glo.-Tell me, sirrah, my name? Simp.-Alas! master, I know not. Simp.-I know not. Glo.-Nor his? Simp.-No, indeed, master. Glo.-What's thine own name? Simp.-Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master. Glo.-Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightest as well have known all our names, as thus to name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly to nominate them all, it is impossible. My lords, St. Alban here hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his cunning to be great that could restore this cripple to his legs again? Simp.-O, master, that you could! Glo.-My masters of St. Alban's, have ye not beadles in your town, and things called whips? May.-Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. Glo. Then send for one presently. May.-Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. (Exit an Attendant.) Glo.-Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. (A stool is brought out.) Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping leap me over this stool. Simp.-Alas! master! I am not able to stand alone. about to torture me in vain. (Re-enter Attendant with the Beadle.) Glo.-Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap o'er that same stool. You go Beadle. I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah: off with your doublet quickly. Simp.-Alas! master! what shall I do? I am not able to stand. (After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away, and the people follow and cry "A miracle!") K. Henry.-O God, seest thou this, and bear'st so long? Gio.-Let them be whipped through every market town till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. (Exit Mayor, Beadle, and Wife.) FROM SHAKESPERE'S "KING HENRY VI.," Part 2. Alcuin as a Teacher. LCUIN was a native of York, who was born about A.D. 735, was educated in England, and became one of the most eminent teachers of his day. He resided during the latter part of his life at the Court of Charlemagne, Emperor of France and Germany, and was head master of what was called the School of the Palace. His pupils were Charles, Pepin, and Louis, the three sons of Charlemagne, with other young nobleThe following is a specimen of teaching in those early times : men. Pepin.-What is speech? Alcuin. The interpreter of the soul. Alc.-The tongue. Pep.-How does the tongue give birth to speech? Alc.-By striking the air. Pep.-What is the air? Alc. The preserver of life. Aic.-An enjoyment for the happy, a grief for the wretched, a waiting-time for death. Pep.-What is death? Alc. An inevitable event, an uncertain voyage, a subject of tears for the living, the time that confirms wills, the thief that makes the prey of man. Pep.- What is sleep? Alc.-The image of death. Pep.-What is liberty for? Pep.- What is that waking sleep of which I have heard you speak? Alc.-Hope, a waking dream, cheering our toil, though it lead to nothing. Pep.-What is friendship? Alc. The likeness of souls. Alc.-The certainty of marvellous things and things unknown. At other times he would exercise the wits of his young scholars in answering riddles, as follows: Alc.-I have seen a dead man walking-one that was never alive. Pep.-How can that be? Explain. Alc.-It was my own reflection in the water. Pep.-Why could I not guess it, having myself so often seen the like? Alc.-Well, you have a good wit. I will tell you some more extraordinary things. One whom I never knew talked with me without tongue or voice; he had no life before, nor will he live |