But some friends I've consulted, -much given to watch

one's

Apparel-do say It's by far the best way,

And the safest, to do as Lord Brougham does-buy

Scotch ones!

I might now volunteer some advice to a King, -
Let Whigs say what they will, I shall do no such thing,
But copy my betters, and never begin

Until, like Sir Robert, "I'm duly CALLED IN!"

In the windows of the great Hall, as well as in those of the long Gallery, and the Library at Tappington, are, and have been many of them from a very early period, various "storied panes" of stained glass, which, as Blue Dick's exploits did not extend beyond the neighbouring city, have remained unfractured down to the present time. Among the numerous escutcheons there displayed, charged with armorial bearings of the family and its connections, is one in which a chevron between three eagles' cuisses, sable, is blazoned quarterly with the engrailed saltire of the Ingoldsbys. Mr.

* Richard Culmer, parson of Chartham, commonly so called, distinguished himself, while Laud was in the Tower, by breaking the beautiful windows in Canterbury Cathedral, "standing on the top of the city ladder, near sixty steps high, with a whole pike in his hand, when others would not venture so high." This feat of Vandalism the cærulean worthy called "rattling down proud Becket's glassie bones."

Simpkinson from Bath, whose merits as an antiquary are so well known and appreciated as to make eulogy superfluous, not to say impertinent, -has been for some time bringing his heraldic lore to bear on these monumenta vetusta. He pronounces the coat in question to be that of a certain Sir Ingoldsby Bray who flourished temp. Ric. I. and founded the Abbey of Ingoldsby, in the county of Kent and diocese of Rochester, early in the reign of that monarch's successor. The history of the origin of that pious establishment has been rescued from the dirt and mildew in which its chartularies have been slumbering for centuries and is here given. The link of connection between the two families is shown by the accompanying extract from our genealogical tree.

Peter de Ingoldsby, Lord of Tappington,
temp: Stephen, killed at the battle of
Lincoln ex parte regis.

=

In this document it will be perceived that the death of Lady Alice Ingoldsby is attributed to strangulation superinduced by suspension, whereas in the veritable legend annexed no allusion is made to the invention of a halter. Unluckily Sir Ingoldsby left no issue, or we might now be "calling Cousins" with (ci-devant) Mrs. Otway Cave, in whose favour the abeyance of the old Barony of Bray has recently been determined by the Crown. To this same Barony we ourselves were not without our pretensions, and, teste Simpkinson, had "as good a right to it as anybody else." The "Collective wisdom of the Country" has, however, decided the point, and placed us among that very numerous class of claimants who are "wrongfully kept out of their property and dignities-by the right owners.'

I seize with pleasure this opportunity of contradicting a malicious report that Mr. Simpkinson has, in a late publication, confounded King Henry the Fifth with the Duke of Monmouth, and positively deny that he has ever represented Walter Lord Clifford (father to Fair Rosamond), as the leader of the O. P. row.

THE INGOLDSBY PENANCE !

A LEGEND OF PALESTINE-AND WEST KENT.

"I'll devise thee brave punishments for him!"

OUT and spake Sir Ingoldsby Bray,

A stalwart knight, I ween, was he,

-Shakspere.

"Come east, come west, Come lance in rest,

Come faulchion in hand, I'll tickle the best

Of all the Soldan's Chivalrie!"

Oh! they came west, and they came east,
Twenty-four Emirs and Sheiks at the least,

And they hammer'd away At Sir Ingoldsby Bray,

Fall back, fall edge, cut, thrust, and point, -
But he topp'd off head, and he lopp'd off joint;

Twenty and three, Of high degree,
Lay stark and stiff on the crimson'd lea,
All-all save one-and he ran up a tree !

"Now count them, my Squire, now count them and

see!"

"Twenty and three! Twenty and three!

All of them Nobles of high degree;
There they be lying on Ascalon lea!"

Out and spake Sir Ingoldsby Bray,

"What news? what news? come, tell to me!
What news? what news, thou little Foot-page?-
I've been whacking the foe, till it seems an age
Since I was in Ingoldsby Hall so free!
What news? what news from Ingoldsby Hall?
Come tell me now, thou Page so small!"

"Oh, Hawk and Hound Are safe and sound, Beast in byre, and Steed in stall;

And the Watch-dog's bark, As soon as it's dark,

Bays wakeful guard around Ingoldsby Hall!"

-"I care not a pound For Hawk or for Hound,

For Steed in stall, or for Watch-dog's bay:

Fain would I hear Of my dainty dear;

How fares Dame Alice, my Lady gay?"

Sir Ingoldsby Bray, he said in his rage,

"What news? what news? thou naughty Foot-page!"

That little Foot-page full low crouch'd he,
And he doff'd his cap, and he bended his knee,
"Now lithe and listen, Sir Bray, to me:
Lady Alice sits lonely in bower and hall,
Her sighs they rise, and her tears they fall :

She sits alone, And she makes her moan;
Dance and song She considers quite wrong,
Feast and revel Mere snares of the devil;
She mendeth her hose, and she crieth 'Alack!
When will Sir Ingoldsby Bray come back?""

"Thou liest! thou liest, thou naughty Foot-page, Full loud dost thou lie, false Page, to me!

There, in thy breast, 'Neath thy silken vest, What scroll is that, false Page, I see?"

Sir Ingoldsby Bray in his rage drew near,
That little Foot-page he blench'd with fear;

"Now where may the Prior of Abingdon lie? King Richard's Confessor, I ween, is he,

And tidings rare To him do I bear, And news of price from his rich Ab-bee!"