that a young attorney should never compare deeds within duelling distance of an accomplished bonnet-maker, nor an elderly one divorce a sickly gentleman's wife without securing his costs before he announces his instructions to proceed. No bilious bailiff should cross the Shannon, for it is not every stomach which will digest a stripe of parchment; and exercise, a good thing enough in its own way, may, if taken on a tense blanket, be very inconvenient to persons of sedentary habits.

I have a mighty affection for the army, and, therefore, I supplicate young soldiers never to propose for a lady in a public ballroom the first night they arrive in country quarters, and to shun, as they would the chorea viti, that seductive tune, called "The wind that shakes the barley!"-and, finally, to give no credence whatever to any apology offered for a soiled silk unless they have perpetrated the offence in person, or have seen it committed in their own actual presence.

FAIR HELEN.

PART FIRST.1

O! sweetest sweet, and fairest fair, Of birth and worth beyond compare, Thou art the causer of my care, Since first I loved thee.

Yet God hath given to me a mind, The which to thee shall prove as kind As any one that thou shalt find,

Of high or low degree.

Lord Macaulay regarded this as the finest piece of ballad poetry extant. The legend upon which it is founded is briefly this:-Helen Irving, daughter of the Laird of Kirconnell in Dumfriesshire, celebrated for her beauty, was beloved by two gentlemen. The favoured lover was Adam Fleming of Kirkpatrick; the other is supposed to have been a Bell of Blacket House. The latter's suit was favoured by the friends of the lady; consequently, the lovers were obliged to meet in secret, and by night in the Kirconnell churchyard, a picturesque spot almost surrounded by the river Kirtle. During one of these meetings the despised suitor suddenly appeared on the opposite bank of the stream and fired a carabine at his rival. But Helen, throwing herself before her lover, received the bullet intended for him, and died in his arms. Fleming fought the murderer and cut him to pieces. Other accounts state that Fleming pursued his foe to Spain, and slew him in the streets of Madrid. The first part of the ballad-suspected to be modern-consists of an address to the lady, either by Fleming or his rival; the second part-by far the more beautiful-forms the lament of Fleming over Helen's grave. Several paraphrases of this ballad have been published; amongst them one by John Mayne, author of The Siller Gun, &c.

The shallowest water makes maist din, The deadest pool, the deepest linn; The richest man least truth within, Though he preferred be.

Yet, nevertheless, I am content,
And never a whit my love repent,
But think the time was a' weel spent,
Though I disdained be.

O! Helen sweet, and maist complete,
My captive spirit's at thy feet!
Thinks thou still fit thus for to treat
Thy captive cruelly?

O! Helen brave! but this I crave,
Of thy poor slave some pity have,
And do him save that's near his grave,
And dies for love of thee.

PART SECOND.

I wish I were where Helen lies, Night and day on me she cries; O that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirconnell Lee!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought. And curst the hand that fired the shot. When in my arms burd Helen dropt,

And died to succour me!

O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my love dropt down and spak nae mair
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,

On fair Kirconnell Lee.

As I went down the water side, None but my foe to be my guide, None but my foe to be my guide, On fair Kirconnell Lee;

I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare! I'll make a garland of thy hair, Shall bind my heart for evermair,

Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says, Haste and come to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn ower my een, And I in Helen's arms lying,

On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

For her sake that died for me.

Old Ballad.

ANNE PAGE AND SLENDER.

The comedy of The Merry Wives of Windsor, although rarely now performed on the stage, was regarded by Warton as "the most complete specimen of Shakspeare's comic powers;" and Johnson said: "This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, who exhibit more characters appropriated and discriminated than perhaps can be found in any other play." The ludicrous misfortunes of Falstaff, into which he is betrayed by the "merry wives," Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, form the principal action of the comedy; of the underplot, "Sweet Anne Page," a bright, merry-eyed lass, is the centre. Her mother has decided that she shall marry the wealthy French Doctor Caius, who is in favour at court; her father has decided that she shall marry Slender, the cousin of Justice Shallow; whilst Anne herself has decided that she shall marry Fenton, a gallant cavalier, who finds favour with neither father nor mother. Slender "hath but a little wee face; but he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head." He is urged to the match by pompous Justice Shallow, but he is most awkward in his wooing. He means to show his affection by his indifference to dinner, and remains outside Page's house when all his friends are seated at table. Anne is sent to desire him to join the party:

Anne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir?

Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well.

Anne. The dinner attends you, sir.

Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin Shallow. [Exit Simple.] A justice of peace sometimes may be beholding to his friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead: but what though? yet I live like a poor gentleman born. Anne. I may not go in without your worship: they will not sit till you come.

Slen. I' faith, I'll eat nothing: I thank you as much as though I did.

Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in.

Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruised my shin th' other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence; three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes; and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? be there bears i' the town?

Anne. I think there are, sir: I heard them talked of.

Slen. I love the sport well; but I shall as soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You are afraid if you see the bear loose, are you not? Anne. Ay, indeed, sir.

Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now. I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain; but, I warrant you, the women have so cried and shrieked at it, that it passed: but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill-favoured rough things.

The contrast between Fenton's wooing and Slender's floundering attempts is comically revealed. in the following scene. Fenton and Anne are together:

Fent. I see I cannot get thy father's love; Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. Anne. Alas, how then? Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. He doth object I am too great of birth; And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth: Besides these, other bars he lays before me, My riots past, my wild societies; And tells me 'tis a thing impossible

I

should love thee but as a property.
Anne. May be he tells you true.
Fent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time
to come!

Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne:
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags;

And 'tis the very riches of thyself That now I aim at.

Anne. Gentle Master Fenton, Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir: If opportunity and humblest suit Cannot attain it, why, then-hark you hither! [They converse apart. Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and MISTRESS QUICKLY. Shal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly; my kinsman shall speak for himself.

Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't: 'slid, 'tis but venturing.

Shal. Be not dismayed.

Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that, but that I am afeard.

Quick. Hark ye; Master Slender would speak a word with you.

Anne. I come to him. [Aside] This is my

father's choice.

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year. Quick. And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you.

Shal. She's coming: to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a father!

Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne; my uncle can tell you good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle. Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. Slen. Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire.

Shal. He will maintain you like a gentle

woman.

Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and longtail, under the degree of a squire.

Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure.

Anne. Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself.

Shal. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that good comfort. She calls you, coz:

I'll leave you.

Anne. Now, Master Slender-
Slen. Now, good Mistress Anne--
Anne. What is your will?

Slen. My will 'od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank Heaven; I am not such a sickly creature, I give Heaven praise.

Anne. I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me?

Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my uncle hath made motions: if it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole! They can tell you how things go better than I can: you may ask your father; here he comes.

Enter PAGE and MISTRESS PAGE.

Page. Now, Master Slender: love him, daughter Anne.

Why, how now! what does Master Fenton here! You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house:

I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of.
Fent. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient.
Mrs. Page. Good Master Fenton, come not
to my child.

Page. She is no match for you.
Fent. Sir, will you hear me?
Page.

No, good Master Fenton. Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender, in. Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master

successful; but the lovers triumph at length. Fenton's appeal to the mother is equally unTo frighten and torment Falstaff for his attentions to Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, it is arranged to beguile the knight to the oak of Herne the Hunter in the forest, where all the conspirators will appear in the disguise of fairies and goblins, and play such pranks upon him as will make him glad to escape alive. On the occasion of this frolic Mistress Page has arranged that Anne is to be dressed in green, and to elope with Dr. Caius; Page has arranged that Anne is with to be dressed in white, and is to escape Slender to Eton, where they are to be married. Caius and Slender respectively carry out their parts of the programme, but when in the church each discovers that the companion of his flight is a great lubberly boy. Slender cries:

I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else.

Page. Of what, son?

Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a postmaster's boy!

Page. Upon my life, then, you took the

wrong.

Slen. What need you tell me that! I think so, when I took a boy for a girl.

Dr. Caius is quite as wrathful; and the truth is soon revealed by the appearance of Fenton and Anne as man and wife. Whilst Slender and lovers had been quietly married. Whereupon Caius had been away on their fool's errand, the mother and father philosophically submit to the superior wit of the young folk, and are satisted

that "In love, the Heavens themselves do guide the state; Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate."