relieve his embarrassment, went up to speak to him, but himself feeling rather shy, merely said, “Mr. Foote, your handkerchief is hanging out of your pocket." Whereupon, Foote, looking round suspiciously, and hurriedly thrusting the handkerchief back into his pocket, replied, "Thank you, my lord, thank you; you know the company better than I do."

At one of Macklin's absurd Lectures on the Ancients, the lecturer was solemnly composing himself to begin, when a buzz of laughter from where Foote stood ran through the room, and Macklin pompously said to the laugher, "Well, sir, you seem to be very merry there, but do you know what I am going to say now?" "No, sir," at once replied Foote; "pray, do you?”

"A well-beneficed Cornish rector was holding forth at the dinnertable upon the surprising profits of his living, much to the weariness of every one present; when happening to stretch over the table hands remarkable for their dirt, Foote struck in with, “Well, doctor, I for one am not at all surprised at your profits, for I see you keep the glebe in your own hands."

What exquisite humour is there in this boast of horse-flesh: "My horse, sir! Why, I'll wager it to stand still faster than yours can gallop!"

Dining at a house where the Bishop of was present, Foote was in high spirits, and talked immoderately; when the bishop, being angry at the entire usurpation of the talk by Foote, after waiting with considerable impatience, said: "When will that player leave off preaching?" Oh, my lord," replied Foote, "the moment I am

made a bishop."

Having dined at Merchant Taylors' Hall, he was so well pleased with the entertainment that he sat till most of the company had left the dinner-table. At length, rising, he said, " Gentlemen, I wish you both very good night.” "Both!" exclaimed one of the company, "why, you must be drunk, Foote; here are twenty of us." "I have been counting you, and there are just eighteen; and as nine tailors make a man, I am right-I wish you both very good night."

Foote had attacked some pretentious person for his characteristic foible. "Why do you attack my weakest part?" asked the assailed. "Did I ever say anything about your head?" replied Foote.

Hugh Kelly was mightily boasting of the power he had as a reviewer of distributing literary reputation to any extent. "Don't be too prodigal of it," Foote quietly interposed," or you may have none for yourself."

A conceited young fellow was attempting to say fine things before Foote, who seemed unusually grave. "Why, Foote," said the small man, "you are flat to-day-you don't seem to relish wit." Hang it, you have not tried me yet," was the caustic reply.

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Mrs. Macaulay, who wrote a sensible and trustworthy "History of England," was less fortunate in the title of a pamphlet which she also published, entitled, "Loose Thoughts." The infelicitous choice was objected to in the presence of Foote, who dryly observed that he did

U

not himself see any objection to it, for that the sooner Mrs. Macaulay got rid of her loose thoughts the better.

"Why are you for ever humming that air?" Foote asked a man without a sense of tune in him. "Because it haunts me." "No won

der," said Foote; "you are ever murdering it."-Book of Days.

BEAUTIFUL BOOKS.

AMONG the books collected by Horace Walpole, and sold at the famous Strawberry Hill sale, was a magnificent missal, perfectly unique, and superbly illuminated, being enriched with splendid miniatures by Raffaelle, set in pure gold and enamelled, and richly adorned with turquoises, rubies, etc. The sides were formed of two matchless cornelians, with an intaglio of the crucifixion and another Scripture subject; the clasp was set with a large garnet, etc. This precious relic was executed expressly for Claude, Queen of France; it was bought by the Earl Waldegrave at 115 guineas. Another curious and costly specimen of bibliography was a sumptuous volume, pronounced by the cognoscenti as one of the most wonderful works of art extant, containing the Psalms of David written on vellum, embellished by twenty-one inimitable illuminations by Don Julio Clovio, surrounded by exquisite scroll borders of the purest arabesque, of unrivalled brilliancy and harmony. Its binding was of corresponding splendour. Its date was about 1537.

Antoine Zarot, an eminent printer at Milan, about 1470, was the first on record who printed the missal. Among other works, his execution in colours of the celebrated Missale Romanum, in folio, afforded a beautiful specimen of the art. The MS. copy seems to have been of a most dazzling description, its original date was MCCCCX.; every leaf is appropriately ornamented with miniatures surrounded with exquisitely elaborated borders; and its almost innumerable initials, which are richly illuminated in gold and colours, render it unsurpassed by any known production of its class. It has been estimated

at 250 guineas. The Complutensian Polyglott, otherwise known as Cardinal Ximenes, deserves a passing notice among the renowned books of bygone times. This prodigious work was commenced under the auspices of the above-named prelate in 1502, and for 15 years the labour was continued without intermission; its entire costamounted to 50,000 golden crowns! Arnas Guillen de Brocar was the celebrated printer of this stupendous work. Of the four large vellum copies, one is said to be in the Vatican, another in the Escurial, and a third was bought by Herbets, at the sale of the M'Carthy library, for 600 guineas.

About 1572 we meet with another splendid production—the Spanish Polyglott, printed by Cristopher Plantin. A most magnificent copy upon vellum, in the original binding, was sold in London some fiveand-twenty years since for one thousand guineas! and enormous as was this price, the copy was actually wanting three out of the ten volumes those being in the Bibliothèque Royale.

Amongst the numerous rare and costly relics contained in the library of the Vatican, is the magnificent Latin Bible of the Duke of Urbino; it consists of two large folios, embellished by numerous figures and landscapes in the ancient arabesque, and is considered a wonderful monument of art. There are also, by the way, some autograph MSS. of Petrarch's "Rime," which evince to what an extent he elaborated his versification. The mutilated parchment scroll, thirtytwo feet in length, literally covered with beautiful miniatures, representing the history of Joshua, ornamenting a Greek MS., bearing date about the seventh century, is, perhaps, the greatest literary curiosity of the Vatican. The Menologus, or Greek Calendar, illustrated by four hundred rich and brilliant miniatures, representing the martyrdom of the saints of the Greek Church; with views of the churches, monasteries, and basilicas, is also curious, as presenting specimens of the painting of the Byzantine school at the close of the tenth century. It contains also a fine copy of the Acts of the Apostles, in letters of gold, presented by Charlotte, Queen of Cyprus, to Innocent VIII.; an edition of Dante, exquisitely illuminated with miniature paintings by the Florentine school; these pictures are of about the ordinary size of modern miniatures on ivory, but far surpassing them in delicacy of finish.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.
An Old Ballad.

AN ancient story I'll tell you anon,

Of a notable prince that was called King John;
And he ruled England with main and with might,
For he did great wrong, and maintained little right.
And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,
How for his house-keeping and high renown,
He rode post for him to fair London town.
An hundred men, the king did hear say,
The Abbot kept in his house every day;
And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.
"How now, father Abbot, I hear it of thee,
Thou keepest a far better house than me,
And for thy house-keeping and high renown,
I fear thou work'st treason against my crown."

My liege," quoth the Abbot, "I would it were known,

I never spend nothing but what is my own;

And I trust your Grace will do me no dere [harm],
For spending of my own true-gotten gear."

"Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high,
And now for the same thou needest must die;
For except thou canst answer my questions three,

Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.

"And first," quoth the king, "when I'm here in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head,

Among all my liege men so noble of birth,

Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,

How soon I may ride the whole world about ;

And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think."

"Oh, these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
And I cannot answer your Grace as yet;
But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
I'll do my endeavour to answer your Grace."
"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,
And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me."

Away rode the Abbot, all sad at that word,
And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;
But never a doctor was there so wise,

That could with his learning an answer devise.
Then home rode the Abbot, of comfort so cold,
And he met the shepherd a-going to fold:
“How now, my lord Abbot, you are welcome home,
What news do you bring us from good King John?"

"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,
That I have but three weeks more to live;
For if I do not answer him questions three,
My head shall be smitten from my body.
"The first is to tell him there in that stead,
With his crown of gold so fair on his head,
Among all his liege men so noble of birth,
To within one penny of what he is worth;
"The second, to tell him, without any doubt,
How soon he may ride this wide world about;
And at the third question, I must not shrink,
But tell him there truly what he does think.”
"Now cheer up, sir Abbot, did you never hear yet,
That a fool he may learn a wise man's wit?
Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,
And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.

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Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me, That I'm like your lordship as ever may be ;

And if you will but lend me your gown,

There is none shall know us at fair London town."

"Now horses and serving men thou shalt have,
With sumptuous array, most gallant and brave;
With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,
Fit to appear 'fore our father the Pope."

"Now welcome, sir Abbot," the king he did say,
"Tis welcome thou'rt come back to keep the day;
For an if thou canst answer my questions three,
Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.

"And first, when thou see'st me here in this stead,
With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
Among all my liege men so noble of birth,
Tell me to one penny what I am worth."

"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold,
Among the false Jews, as I have been told ;
And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,

For I think thou art one penny worser than He."

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittle,
"I did not think I had been worth so little.
Now secondly, tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride this whole world about?"

"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
Until the next morning he riseth again;
And then your Grace need not make any doubt,
But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.”

The king he laughed, and swore by St. John,

66 I did not think it so soon could be done.
Now from the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think."

"Yea! that shall I do, and make your Grace merry :
You think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury,

But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,
That am come to beg pardon for him and for me!"

The king he laughed, and swore by the mass,
"I'll make thee Lord Abbot this day in his place."
"Now, nay, my liege, be not in much speed,
For, alack! I can neither write nor read."

"Four nobles a week then I will give thee
For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;
And tell the old Abbot, when thou comest home,

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John !”