- 128 Diary and Chronology. Tuesday, Feb. 14. A'D. 270. St. Valentine, p. and mar. High Water, Oh. 0. m. Morn. Oh. 32m. Aftern. The rites of this day remind us of the old custom of guessing sweethearts and of drawing lots for girls; a practice reprobated by St. Francis of Sales, who was aware that Valentine customs originated in the rites instituted in honour of Hymen and of Februato Juno by the Romans. Herrick, the most playful of poets, to his mistress has addressed the following billet-doux : Choose me your Valentine: Next let us marry; Promise and keep your vows Or vow ye never; You have broke promise twice Sun rises 4m aft 7-Sets 57m aft 4. The Lupercalia may be considered a yearly festival held by the Romans in honour of the god Pan. Many absurd ceremonies took place during the Lupercalia: among others, two goats and a dog were sacrificed, and the blood from the knife was sprinkled on the heads of certain young persons. The skins of the beasts were cut into thongs with which whips were made, and employed for the festive castigation of persons of both sexes, who considered themselves honoured by the stripes. Processions of young people, quite naked, took place in the Roman streets; and many other rites, too disgusting to be detailed, were performed. Cicero wrote a philippic against Antony for running about with his clothes at this feast. The Priests who officiated were called Luperci, and were esteemed an ancient and most honourable order. Thursday, Feb. 16. St. Juliana Vir, mart. A.D. 309. Full Moon 19m. after 3 Morn. Now hard frosts, if they come at all, are followed by sudden thaws; and now, therefore, if ever, the mysterious old song of our school days stands a chance of being verified, which sings "Three children sliding on the ice All on a Summer's day!" Now the labour of the husbandman recommences; aud it is pleasant to watch (from your library window) the plough-team moving almost imperceptibly along, upon the distant upland that the bare trees have disclosed to you. And now by the way if you are wise you will get acquainted with all the little spots that are thus by the bareness of the trees laid open to you, in order that when the summer comes, and you cannot look at them, you may be able to see them still. Friday, Feb. 17. St. Finstan Abbt. in Ireland. High Water 57m, aft. 2 Mor.-22m, aft."3 after. FEBRUARY 17, 1781.-On this day a violent storm of thunder, lightning, and hail is recorded in a journal kept at Walthamstow; the storm proved very destructive from the size of the hailstones, the weather had been previously very showery, and Aurora Borealis often seen. Saturday, Feb. 18. St. Simeon B. of Jerusalem, Mart. A.D. 116. Sun rises 58m. aft. 6-Sets 3m, aft. 5. DIIS MANIBUS SACRA FERALIA.-Rom. Cal. Ovid notices this day sacred to the mames of departed parents and friends. It seems to correspond to the All Souls Day of more recent times. The feralia lasted eleven days and was a sort of fast during the whole time; presents used to be carried to the tombs of the dead, marriages were not solemnized, and the temples of the gods were shut, and it was believed that the spirits or ghosts of dead persons hovered over their graves, and that during this period their punishments in the infernal regions were suspended. Sunday, Feb. 19. SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. Lessons for the Day, 1 chap. Genesis Morn. 2 chap. Genesis, Even. This Sunday is dependant upon Lent as that season is upon Easter. It is to be considered as the commencement of, or rather the preparation for the great and solemn fast of Lent, and its observation was instituted by Pope Gregory the Great, insensibly to withdraw the minds of the Christians from the festivities of Christmas, and by degrees to qualify them for the fasting and humiliation enjoined duirng Lent. Monday, Feb. 20. St. Mildrid, virg, abb, A.D. 670. High Water 3m, aft 5. Mor.-22m. aft. 5 Even. The Roman calendar records to-day the cele bration of the Terminalia, a festival beld; in honour of Terminus, the God of Bounds, represented as having a head, but no limbs, nor orgaus of motion, indicating thereby that the limits of property being once fixed were immoveable.The worship of this deity was first introduced hy Numa Pompilius in order to make the people respect the landmarks of each other. Terminus had a temple on the Tarpeian rock, where, as fable goes, he refused to resign the scite of it to Jove himself, who desired a temple there, and was at length forced to build it collaterally. The Romans used to assemble near the bounds of their property, and trace them similar to the pa rochial perambulations which now take place on Holy Thursday. Tuesday, Feb. 21. St Severianus, bp. of Scythopolis, m. A.D. 452. Sun rises 52m, aft. 6 Morn.-Sets 9m. aft. 5. FEBRUARY 21 1831. Died, the Rev. Robert Hall. A.M., Etat. 68. This eminent Baptist Minister was the son of the Reverend Robert Hall, Minister of the Particular Baptists at Arnsby, in Leicestershire. In 1791 he succeeded the Reverend Robert Robertson as Minister at Cambridge. Here he became known to some of the most distinguished scholars of the age, by whom he was much admired. Among them was Dr. Parr, who said "Mr. Hall, like Bishop Taylor, has the eloquence of an orator, the fancy of a poet, the acuteness of a schoolman, the profoundness of a philosopher, and the piety of a saint." In 1804, he removed from Cambridge to Leicester, where he was Pastor of the Meeting in Harvey Lane.Here he remained until 1826, when he was invited to succeed Dr. Ryland at Bristol, where his earthly labours terminated, and where his remains now lie in a small burying ground, attached to the chapel in Broad-mead. We thank our kind contributor for " The Changes of Life," it will appear in our next. "Annette of St. Perau" is in the hands of our artist. A few complete sets may be had in volumes and Parts. See p. 131 grandeur on the verge of the hill. The oak and the pine have driven their roots slowly but irresistibly into the fissures of the ruined pile, which yawns upon the passing traveller, threatening every moment to bury him in its fall. This tower is the only remnant of the once magnificent castle of Jaromirz, a gloomy monument of the feudal power and atrocity of its lords. Fifteen skeletons may still be seen in its dungeon, in their frightful collars and leg and arm-irons, as if they had there lived and died, hideously grinning at the intruding stranger. About four hundred years ago, and long before the reign of the Huniades, the haughty counts of Jaromirz held rule over this castle and the appertaining territory. Three thousand serfs acknowledged their supremacy, and 231 twenty-five knights owed their fair estates to their vassalage. The fiercest of these warriors trembled at the frown of the old count, for implacable and deadly was his enmity. No song, no harp, no laughter, ever resounded within his halls. For twenty years woman had not crossed his threshold; the stillness that encircled him was only interrupted by the clattering of spurs, the clanging of sabres, and the neighing of horses. It was on the first of May, in the year 1306, that fifty noblemen, as many knights, and twice as many squires, had assembled from the vast plains of Upper Hungary, to celebrate the return of Count Stephen Jaromirz. A hundred boars, and thrice that number of stags, had been slaughtered in the great hunt which the old count had given in honour of the unexpected return of his son, the greatest heir in the most powerful empire of eastern Christendom. Ofthe guests, only the lord magnates enjoyed the honour, according to the custom of the country, of being admitted to the same table with their noble entertainers. The knights dined in a second hall; in a third their squires; and six different tables (the larger in size the humbler those who were to occupy them) were spread in the halls of the menials. The noble magnates sat round the festive board, which was loaded with the sumptuous fare of baronial hospitality. A boar entire, boiled in milk, graced the upper end; a stag dressed in vinegar and French oil, the lower. There were swans, and herons, and falcons, covered with the costliest spices to whet the appetite. Behind each of the illustrious guests stood two pages; one holding a large silver knife and fork, the other a goblet sparkling with Tokay. Joy-exciting as the sumptuous entertainment was, there presided a heavy spirit over the assembly. Scarcely a word was spoken; a hollow murmur creeping at intervals through the vast banquetting-hall, not unlike the voice of a distant tempest, was all that was heard. When the noble guests had sat for about an hour, the aged host arose, and elevating the pockall, or golden goblet, gave the toast,-"Death to the assassins, and revenge, bloody revenge!" "Death," repeated the guests, imitating his gesture,-"death to the race of Naples !" Bowing deeply round, the old count emptied the pockall, and set it upon his plate, a sign that the banquet was at an end. Of all the members of the illustrious party, the young Count Jaromirz had been the most melancholy. The habitual sternness of his countrymen, but seldom relieved by a smile, was gaiety compared with the deep gloom which overspread his manly and beautiful countenance. Much cause had he for sadness. He had returned from Naples, conveying the tidings of the murder of the King of both Sicilies, the brother of the King of Hungary, the friend of his bosom. He was come with the call of revenge to his king and countrymen, and with them he was to return to the lovely but treacherous Naples. The table was no sooner deserted, than Count Stephen hastened to the court yard, and throwing himself on his horse, dashed into the forest, which stretched from the base of the hill down to the banks of the Theiss. Under the quiet shade of Jaromirz' oak he hoped to find repose. But hark! what sound was that close to his side amidst the underwood? It was the growl of a gigantic boar, wounded in yesterday's hunt. The animal raised its head; its eyes flashed furiously, and retreat was too late. The savage beast was rushing upon Stephen, whose Damascus blade made but a feeble impression upon its grizzled and matted hide. A moment longer, and the hope of the house of Jaromirz, the pride of his country, would fall beneath its tusks. "Stephen!" said a soft, child-like voice, and a javelin, darted from unseen hands, pierced the animal to the heart. "Stephen," repeated the same soft voice, "follow!" A light silvery cloud arose and flitted swiftly through the mazes of the forest. It brightened as he advanced, and then melted into three blue stars that sparkled before him, and receded into a grotto, the entrance of which was supported by four massy columns of granite. "Follow" continued the voice-and "follow my son!" echoed another voice, which resounded from the interior of the grotto. The youth paused. Fiery and threatening glances darted from shapeless monsters crawling on the ground, but the child-like voice again exhorting him to follow, he obeyed. He glided rapidly through a corridor hewn in the rock, the surface of which sparkled in the blue light like the starry vault of hea ven. Ever as he advanced the corridor became wider, and the walls of greater altitude, and all at once a flood of light streamed towards him. He stood before a portal of dazzling whiteness: six lofty columns of snowy marble supported a gorgeous architrave composed of sapphires and rubies. "Follow !" cried the voice in a loud er tone. "Not before I know whither my steps are to lead." "Our mistress waits for you," returned three voices, issuing from the blue stars, which enlarged and melted into as many ethereal forms, arrayed in radiant robes of white; their girdles glittered with costly sapphires, their tresses in curls long and beautiful depended to their feet, on which were sandals flaming with gems. Their buoyant forms floated in air. "Where am I?" exclaimed the youth. The fairies laid their fingers on their lips; the portal flew wide open, and they entered with him. Celestial harmony gave him welcome; but no musicians were to be seen; ambrosial odours perfumed the air; his eyelids involuntarily drooped; his senses became spell-bound; and he was borne unconsciously along. When he recovered from the delicious trance, he found himself in a capacious saloon, which softly swung to and fro in this subterranean paradise. It was an octagon, the columns of which were, strange to say, of the purest water-its roof of the same material; the walls and ceiling seemed one immense diamond. In the centre was a basin wrought in virgin gold, and luminous with precious stones.. The richest odours of every zone, the blossoms and flowers of the most distant climes perfumed the air. Upon an ottoman, the frame of which was of coral and gold, reclined a female, whose dazzling loveliness alone appeared superior to the unearthly charms of her abode. A wreath of laurel cinctured her forehead; a robe of ethereal blue undulated around her; pearls of surpassing beauty were disposed in clusters through her hair, an agraffe, formed of a single diamond, clasped her girdle. The youth stood in respectful silence before the splendid vision. "Why has Stephen Jaromirz forgotten the cottage of Koswara?" said the reclining figure, with royal dignity. "Not forgotten, august lady.-It is only four times twenty-four hours since I returned from Naples." "Jaromirz! Thou must follow thy king and thy brother lords, to whom thou hast brought the message of the murder of a scion of the royal house of Hungary. In two hours the trumpet will sound and the beacon fires burn, to summon the avengers before Buda's walls. In six times twenty-four hours, fifty thousand Hungarians will speed on their swift horses to avenge the death of their sovereign's brother. The Count of Jaromirz, the descendant of the great Bela, must not stay behind. Few are the hours, send thy vassals to Buda, and be at the cottage of Koswara when the sun reaches the meridian." A burst of music pealed on his ears, a silvery cloud hovered before him, he felt himself uplifted by an invisible power; and ere he was aware, he found himself by the side of his neighing charger. Thoughtful he vaulted into the saddle, and galloped towards the castle of his sires. As he issued from the forest he beheld the seven lights flaming on the battlements of his seven towers, summoning the vassals and warriors to the service of the sword and the axe. "Has Count Stephen Jaromirz forgotten the duties of a noble entertainer towards his guests? Why has he absented himself?" said the haughty father, when the son entered the hall, where the magnates were assembled in grave deliberation. "The loss of a dear and royal friend, it is humbly hoped, may serve as my excuse," replied Stephen, reverently. He passed that night with the grim company, who separated on the morning to put themselves at the head of their warriors. Count Stephen was awakened by the clashing of swords and the clattering of spurs. Twenty-five knights and a thousand horsemen were assembled before the castle, awaiting the arrival of their lords. Father and son mounted their chargers and rode down the valley. The knights and warriors alighted and uncovered their heads. The old count drew his sword, the hilt of which was He fashioned in the form of a cross. lifted it high, and said in a solesan tone "Receive, my son, this sword, the blade of which was wrested from the Sultan of the Saracens; the hilt from the King of Bulgaria. Receive it, and along with it the oath of allegiance and fidelity from our vassals." Each of the knights now advanced, knelt down, laid his right hand on the cross hilt, and swore in his own name and the names of his followers, to defend the young lord to the last gasp of his breath. When the twenty-five knights had made their declaration, the chaplain of the castle extended his hands and gave them his benedicite. "Remember, Stephen Jaromirz," said his father, "the unstained honour of our house," were the old count's last words. He laid his hands on the head of his kneeling son, then turned round, and rode swiftly back to the castle, followed by his attendants. Count Stephen, at the head of his vassals, moved towards the forest; but when the road turned from Tokay towards Buda, he struck into a byepath which led into the interior of the vast Carpak forest, leaving his gallant troop under the command of the loyal Sir Andreas Uorimir. On a hill of a conical form, the base of which was washed by the stately Danube, stood the cottage of Koswara, hidden to the traveller's 'eye by a clump of enormous oaks and limes, which spread their gnarled branches over the roof and walls. Grecian art had constructed the cottage-Eastern magnificence had decorated its four apartments. Its walls were of red Carpathian marble, its tapestry from Damascus, its carpets from Persia, and its silks from the Indies. Into the last and most secluded chamber, the young count was led by the maiden who stood waiting for him at the entrance. 66 "Stephen!" said a voice, whose sound thrilled through the inmost recesses of his heart, "I have waited long, long years for thy arrival." "Duty to a royal friend held me fast at Naples." "Only friendship?" A shower of brilliant light suddenly illumined the room, and the youth saw himself standing before the vision of the preceding day; she had risen from the ottoman. "Jaromirz, beware of the holy man -beware of the nearest blood of thy fathers! Thou lovest a high, but a dangerous prize. She whom thou lovest is condemned to die. At this moment her death doom is pronounced." "Matilda die !" exclaimed the youth. "Jaromirz, thy king dreads thee; he has won thy father's and thy mother's brother." "Impossible!" "Thou hast never beheld the face of thy mother, of the Countess Borozin. She died in the dungeon!" "In the dungeon? dared” "Thy father. And who has Thon wast not two hours old when he was called upon, by the voice of his country, to lead an army against its enemies. He vanquished them, and was wounded. During his lingering illness, he was seized by the demon of jealousy. Thy mother was imprisoned in the central tower, with all her servants, maids, and pages. Next to her was chained to the cold dampy wall, he whom thy father's dark soul suspected. He and she, with thirteen of her menials, were starved to death. Twenty years have not ⚫ quenched the fire of revenge which burns in the bosom of thy uncle, and he has sworn to inflict a deadly wound on thy father's heart. Jaromirz! know'st thou who it is that speaks to thee? It is Lida." "Lida!" exclaimed the youth, sinking on his knee. "Yes;" said the august form, "it is Lida, whom thou see'st before thee; the unfortunate daughter of king Bela, whom the pious zeal of her father forced into the nunnery he had founded. Alas! under the veil trembled the fruit of love. The child was saved-I died. But I now exist as the guardian genius of my house, of my fair Hungary, of my proud and noble people. To-day thou hast attained thy twenty-first year. Jaromirz, take this."-She beckoned him to approach, and hung a gold chain with three acorns round his neck. "When thy need is greatest, then call Lida. When the sword hangs over thy head, then put these golden acorns into the mouth of Lida's palfrey. Farewell; when the full moon has shone six times over-" She hesitated; the next moment she was swathed in a light silvery cloud, and blended with ether. The neighing of his impatient charger aroused Stephen from his musing, and admonished him of the necessity of speed. To be concluded in our next. CONUNDRUMS. Why is a tallow-chandler the most vicious and unfortunate of men? All his works are wicked and all his wicked works are brought to light. In what respect does a bad governess chiefly differ from a good one? The one guides miss; and the other miss guides. Why is an egg over done, like one under done? Because it is hardly done. |