plans had been agitated, Catesby proposed a secret mine under the Upper House of Parliament.

Matters being thus resolved upon, a house was hired by Thomas Percy, adjoining the parliament-house, where the mine was constructed, the 11th of December, 1604, by the five conspirators above enumerated, who soon after admitted Christopher Wright a member of the plot, as well as Robert Winter. It was Christmas when they perforated the mine to the wall, which was three yards thick; and about Candlemas they had worked the wall half through; Guy Fawkes being uniformly stationed as sentinel, to descry anyone who might approach. While occupied in this manner, a rush was suddenly heard in an adjoining cellar, caused by the removal of coals deposited there; upon which Fawkes dreaded a discovery, and having stayed the operations of his coadjutors, he repaired to the cellar in question, when he ascertained that the coals were being sold off, and that the cellar was to be let. Percy, the conspirator, immediately went and hired the cellar at a yearly rent.

Previous to this incident, the conspirators had provided and conveyed to the house which had been first taken, twenty barrels of gunpowder, which were removed into the cellar, and there covered with billets and faggots provided for that purpose.

About the Easter following, parliament being prorogued until October, these associations dispersed, when Guido Fawkes returned to the low countries, according to the advice and direction of the rest, who were fearful that his longer stay in England might give rise to suspicions.

During this lapse of time, Percy, having the key of the cellar, caused more powder and wood to be deposited there, and at the beginning of September, Guido Fawkes returned, when he received the key from Percy, and a fresh supply of powder and billets was conveyed thither; after which Fawkes repaired to the country, where he continued till the 30th of October.

According to the statement of Thomas Winter, in his confession, it appears that the conspirators met in Clement's - lane, behind the church; for long prior to this period, and even before the Norman con

quest, the ancient church was built close to Clement's-lane. But we will quote Winter's own words :-" So we met behind St. Clement's, Mr. Catesby, Mr. Percy, Mr. Wright, Mr. Guy Fawkes, and myself; and having, upon a primer, given each other the oath of secresy, in a chamber where no other body was, we went after into the next room and heard mass, and received the blessed sacrament upon the same."

In order the better to conceal himself, Guido Fawkes took the name of Percy's servant, assuming, according to some, the appellation of Guy Johnson, whereas others state John Johnson. In the confession made by Winter, he states that, "towards the beginning of the term, Mr. Fawkes and I came to Mr. Catesby, at Moorecroft's, where we agreed, that now was time to begin, and set things in order for the mine. So as Mr. Fawkes went to London, and the next day sent for me to come over to him; when I came, the cause was, that the Scottish lords were appointed to sit in conference of the Union, in Mr. Percy's house." These words of Winter "come over to him," obviously referred to his crossing the water to the residence of Fawkes, an old house situate in Lambeth, as may be inferred by the following paragraph in Winter's confession:

"It was thought convenient to have a house, that might answer to Mr. Percy's, where we might make provision of powder and wood for the mine, which being there made ready, should in the night be conveyed by boat to the house by the parliament, because we were loath to soil that with often going in and out. There was none that we could devise so fit as Lambeth."

It appears that Thomas Winter and Guy Fawkes, suspecting that the first powder might be damp, procured a quantity of new, and conveyed it into the cellar, placing it in the order it should stand: at which period the parliament was prorogued anew untill the 5th of November.

Two days prior to the above date, Catesby and Fawkes were at a house called "White Webbs," by Enfield Chace, where they were joined by Thomas Winter, and the latter was informed of the well-known letter forwarded to the Lord Mounteagle,

recorded in history, and which led to the discovery of this horrible plot.

Guido Fawkes was arrested near the entrance of the cellar, about midnight, by Sir Thomas Knevett (a gentleman of his majesty's privy-chamber, and a justice of the peace in Westminster), who instantly conducted the delinquent to the privy-council; before whom he boldly declared, "that had he been within the door at the period of his apprehension, he would have blown himself up, with all those about him at the time."

After this he underwent an examination at Whitehall, where no man of whatsoever rank he might be, was denied access to, or conference with him; yet notwithstanding the incessant teazing and impertinent questionings to which he was subjected, he neither changed countenance, nor lost his temper during the whole of the day; treating the better sort with contemptuous scorn, and mocking the rest with taunts and jesting. Being afterwards conducted to the Tower, no threats, nor the exposure upon the rack, could urge him to divulge his secret. He was afterwards tried and convicted.

Guy Fawkes being very emaciated and ill at the time of execution, suffered in company with Thomas Winter, his original associate, Ambrose Rookwood, and Robert Keies, within the boundary of Old Palaceyard, Westminster, and close to the parliament-house, on the 31st of January, 1606.

COMBING THE PERUKE.-Combing the peruke at the time when men of fashion wore large wigs was even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs for this purpose were of a very large size, of ivory or tortoise- shell, curiously chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pocket as constantly as the snuff-box. At court, on the mall, and in the boxes, gentlemen conversed and combed their perukes. There may now be seen a fine picture, by the elder Laroon, of John, Duke of Marlborough, at his levee, in which his grace is represented dressed in á scarlet suit, with large white satin cuffs, and a very long white peruke, which he combs, while his valet, who stands behind him, adjusts the curls after the comb has passed through them.

THE SUMMONER.

A HUNGARIAN TRADITION, BY MISS PARDOE.

AMONG the lofty Carpathians, where they mirror their stern and solemn beauty in the clear waters of the Wáag, linked together in a long chain, like the giant guardians of the fair valley at their feet, may be seen a detached and sterile rock, almost inaccessible, totally devoid of vegetation, and laved by the rapid river, which hurries from beneath its heavy shadows to dance again in brightness in the sunlight beyond.

The Count Stibor was as brave as he was high-born, and riches had poured in upon him until he had become one of the wealthiest nobles in the empire. It chanced that one day he hunted with a great retinue among the mountain fastnesses; and glorious was the sport of that gallant hunt. The light-footed chamois, the antlered deer, the fierce wolf, and the grisly bear were alike laid low; when, as the sun was about to set, he formed his temporary encampment on the pleasant bank of the Waag, just where, on the opposite side of the channel, a lone and precipitous rock turned aside the glancing waters.

The heart of Stibor was merry, for the sport had gone well throughout the day, and when his rude tents were raised, the savoury steam of the venison, and the sparkles of the wine-cup brightened his humour, and he listened, with a smile upon his lip to the light sallies of the joyous company.

As they talked idly of the day's hunting, however, one wished that the deer had taken another direction; a second that he had not missed a certain shot; a third that he had not lost his couteau-de-chasse in the underwood: in short, there was not an individual among them who had not some regret blent with his triumph, like a drop of gall in a cup of honey.

"Hear me," said the magnificent noble, during a transient pause in the conversation; "I seem to be the only hunter of the day to whom the sport has been without a blemish. It is true that all your misfortunes are light enough: but I will have no shadow cast upon my own joy; and therefore to compensate to you for

these alleged mishaps, each of you is free to form a wish, and if it be within my power to grant it, I pledge my knightly word that it shall be fulfilled."

A murmur of admiration ran through the astonished circle; and the work of ambition soon began. Gold was the first thing asked for, for avarice is ever the most greedy of all passions; and then revenge upon an enemy, for human nature will often sacrifice personal gain to vengeance; and then power-authorityrule over their fellow-men: the darling occupation and privilege of poor, weak, self-misjudging mortals. In short, there was no boon within the reach of reason which had not been asked and promised, when the eye of Stibor fell upon his jester, who was standing apart playing with the tassels of his vest, and apparently quite uninterested in a subject which had made all around him eager and excited.

"And thou, knave," said the noble, "hast thou nothing to ask? Thou must bestir thyself, or thy master will have little left to give, if the game go on thus."

"Fear not, fear not," replied the fool; "the claimants have been courteous, for they have not touched upon that portion of thy possessions which I covet. They have demanded gold, blood, dominion; the power to enjoy themselves, and to render others wretched-they are welcome to all they want. I ask only for stones." A loud laugh ran through the circle. "Stones, Betzko!" echoed the astonished Stibor: "thou shalt have them to thy heart's content, where and in what shape thou wilt."

"I take thee at thy word, Count Stibor. I will have them yonder, on the crest of the bold rock that stands out like a braggart daring the foot of man; and in the shape of a good castle in which I may hold my own, should need be, the unlooked-for reply.

was

"Thou hast lost thy chance, Betzko;" cried a voice amid the universal merriment that ensued.. "Not even Stibor can accomplish thy desire."

"Who dares to say that Stibor cannot grant it, if such be his will?" demanded the chieftain in a voice of thunder, as he rose proudly from the earth where he had been seated on a couch of skins. "The castle of Betzko shall be built!"

And it was built, and within a year a festival was held there: and the noble became enamoured of his own creationfor it was beautiful in its strength, and the fair dames admired its courtly halls as much as the warriors prized its solid walls and its commanding towers. And thus Count Stibor bought off the rockfortress from his jester with gold, and made it the chief place of his abode; and he feasted there with his guests, and made merry with music and dances, until it seemed as though life was to be for him one long festival. Men often walk over the same spot which afterwards opens to afford them sepulture.

Little by little the habit of self-indulgence grew upon the luxurious noble; yet still he loved the chase beyond all else on earth, and his dogs were of the fleetest and finest breed.

He was one day at table, surrounded by the richest viands and the rarest wines, when one of his favourite hounds entered the hall howling with pain, and dragging after him his wounded foot, which dropped blood as he moved along. Terror seized upon the hearts of the vassals, even before the rage of their lord burst forth; and, when it came, terrible was the storm as he vowed vengeance against the wretch who had dared thus to mutilate an animal that he valued.

An aged slave flung himself at his feet. "Mercy! my lord, mercy!" he exclaimed, piteously. "I have served you faithfully for years,-my beard is gray with time, and my life has been one of hardship. Have mercy on me, for he flew upon me, and would have torn me, had I not defended myself against his fury. I might have destroyed him, but I sought only to preserve myself. Have mercy upon my weakness!"

The egotistical chieftain, however, heeded not the anguish of his gray hairs; and pointing to a low balcony, which extended across the window of the apartment and hung over the precipice, he commanded that the wretched old man should be flung from thence into the river which flowed beneath, as an example to those caitiffs who valued their own worthless lives above those of his noble hounds.

As the miserable tools of an imperious will were dragging the unhappy victim tr

his fate, he raised his voice, and cursed the tyrant whom they served; and having done so, he summoned him to appear at the tribunal, which none can escape, to answer for this his last crime, on its first anniversary. But the powerful chief heeded not his words."

"Away with him!" he said, sternly, as he lifted his goblet to his lips ;-and there was a struggle, a shriek of agony, and then a splash upon the river wave, and all was silent!

A year went by in festival and pride; and the day on which that monstrous crime had been committed returned unheeded. There was a feast in the castle, and Stibor, who month after month gave himself up yet more to self-indulgence, gradually became heavy with wine, and his attendants carried him to a couch beside the same window whence the unfortunate slave had been hurled twelve months before.

The guests drank on for a time, and made merry at the insensibility and helplessness of their powerful host; and then they departed, each to his business or his pleasure, and left him there alone.

The casement had been flung back to admit the air freely into the heated apartment; and the last reveller had scarcely departed, when a raven-the sombre messenger of Nemesis-flew thrice round the battlements of the castle, and then alighted on the balcony. Several of the guests amused their idleness by watching the evolutions of the ill. omened bird; but once having lost sight of it, they turned away and thought of it no more.

Meanwhile, a work of agony and death had been delegated to that dark-winged messenger. It rested but an instant from its flight ere once more it hovered over the couch of the sleeping Stibor; and then, darting down, its sharp beak penetrated at one thrust from his eye into his brain! The agony awoke him, but he awoke only to madness from its extent. He reeled to and fro, venting imprecations to which none were by to listen, and writhed until his tortured body was one convulsion. At length, by a mighty effort, striving to accomplish he knew not what, he hurled himself over the balcony, at the selfsame spot whence the slave had been flung by his own command; and as he

fell, the clear waters of the Wáag for a time resisted the impure burthen, and threw him back shrieking from their depths. But he sank at last; and when his parasites sought him on the morrow, they found only the couch on which he had lain, and a few drops of blood to hint that he had died a death of violence and vengeance.

They searched for him carefully on all sides; and then, when they were quite assured that he had passed away never to return, whispers grew of the gray-headed slave, and the mysterious raven, until by degrees the fate of the famous Stibor was fashioned into form, and grew into a legend throughout the country; scaring the village maiden in her twilight walk, and the lone shepherd in his watch upon the hills.

FASHION.

BY MRS. HALE.

WHAT a variety of changes there has been in the costumes of men and women from the earliest periods we have recorded. And these millions of changes have, each and all, had their admirers, and every fashion has been, in its day, called beautiful. It is evident, therefore, that the reigning fashion, whatever it be, comprehends the essence of the agreeable, and that to continue one particular mode or costume, beautiful for successive ages, it would only be necessary to keep it fashionable. Some nations have taken advantage of this principle in the philosophy of dress, and have, by that means retained a particular mode for centuries; and there is no doubt the belles of these unfading fashions were, and are, quite as ardently admired, as though they had changed the form of their apparel at every revolution of the moon.

In some important particulars these fixed planets of fashion certainly have the advantage over those who are continually displaying a new phasis. They present fewer data for observation, and consequently, the alterations which time will bring to the fairest person are less perceptible, or, as they always seem the same, less noted. There are few trials more critical to a waning beauty, than the appearing in a new and brilliant fashion. If it becomes her, the whisper instantly

runs round the circle, "How young she looks!"-a most invidious way of hinting she is as old as the hills;-if it does not become her, which is usually the case, then you will hear the remark, "What an odious dress!" meaning, the wearer looks as ugly as the Fates.

The contrast between a new fashion and an old familiar face instantly strikes the beholder, and makes him run over all the changes in appearance he has seen the individual assume; and then, there is danger that the antiquated fashions may be revived-and how provoking it is to be questioned whether one remembers when long waists and hoops, and ruffled-cuffs were worn!-A reference to the parishregister, or the family record, would not disclose the age more effectually.

Nor are the youthful exempted from their share in the evils of change. It draws the attention of the beholder to the dress, rather than the wearers; and it reminds bachelors, palpably and alarmingly, of the expense of supporting a wife who must thus appear in a new costume every change of the mode.

Now, as it is fashion which makes the pleasing in dress, were one particular form retained ever so long, it would always please, and thus the unnecessary expense of time and money be avoided; and the charges of fickleness and frivolity entirely repelled. We have facts to support this opinion.

Is not the Spanish costume quite as becoming as our own mode? and that costume has been unchanged, or nearly so, for centuries; while the French, from whom we borrow our fashions, (poor souls that we are, to be thus destitute of invention and taste!) have ransacked Nature, and exhausted art, for comparisons and terms by which to express the new inventions they have displayed in dress.

We are aware that a certain class of political economists affect to believe that luxury is beneficial to a nation-but it is not so. The same reasoning which would make extravagance in dress commendable, because it employed manufacturers and artists would also make intemperance a virtue in those who could afford to be drunk, because the preparation of the alcohol employs labourers, and the consumption would encourage trade. All

these views of the expediency of tolerating evil are a part of that Machiavellian system of selfishness which has been imposed on the world for wisdom, but which has proved its origin by the corrupting crimes and miseries men have endured in consequence of yielding themselves dupes or slaves of fashion and vice.

We do hope, indeed believe, that a more just appreciation of the true interests and real happiness of mankind will yet prevail. The improvements, now so rapidly progressing, in the intellectual and civil condition of nations must, we think, be followed by a corresponding improvement in the tastes and pursuits of those who are the élite of society. Etiquette and the fashions cannot be the engrossing objects of pursuit, if people become reasonable. The excellences of mind and heart will be of more consequence to a lady than the colour of a riband or the shape of a bonnet. We would not have ladies despise or neglect dress. They should be always fit to be seen; personal neatness is indispensable to agreeableness-almost to virtue. A proper portion of time and attention must scrupulously be given to external appearance, but not the whole of our days and energies. Is it worthy of Christians, pretending to revere the precepts of Him who commanded them not to take thought what they should put on," to spend their best years in studying the form of their apparel?

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It is not necessary to elegance of appearance, nor to the prosperity of trade, that changes in fashion should so frequently occur. Take, for instance, the article of shoes. What good consequence results from a change in the fashion of shoes?

If we have a becoming and convenient mode, why not retain it for centuries, and save all the discussions about square-toed, round, or peaked-and all the other ad infinitum changes in cut and trimmings? And if the hours thus saved were devoted to reading or exercise, would not the mind and health be more improved than if we were employed in deciding the rival claims of the old and new fashion of shoes to admiration?

Such portions of time may seem very trifling, but the aggregate of wasted hours, drivelled away thus by minutes, makes a large part of the life allotted us.