II.

WE left our account of Edward I. and Queen Eleanora at the period of their progress through their French dominions on their way to assume the English crown. They landed at Dover, August 2, 1273, and were received with every demonstration of joy. In London the rich merchants showered gold and silver on the royal retinue as they passed under the windows of "the Chepe;" while both houses of parliament assembled to do honour to their king and his admired consort. The coronation took place on the 19th of the same month, when the most lavish hospitality was exercised. Successions of banquets were prepared in the Old and New Palace yards for the entertainment of all who chose to partake of them; and one feature of the coronation, as VOL. XXII.

recorded in a MS. preserved by Sir Robert Cotton, is too remarkable to be omitted. At the royal feast which succeeded the coronation of Edward and his queen, King Alexander of Scotland came to do the king service, and with him came a band of a hundred knights, horsed and arrayed. "And when they were light off their horses, they let their horses go whither they would, and they that could take them had them for their own behoof." In like mauner also it is said that the Earl of Pembroke and the Earl of Warren came each of them leading a horse by their hand, and a hundred of their knights did the same. "And when they were alight off their horses they let them go wherever they would, and they that could take them had them still at their liking." 681

The king of Scotland and the duke of Bretagne were present at the coronation of Edward and Eleanora; but Llewellyn, prince of Wales, absented himself, refusing to do homage to the English king. Five years of warfare followed this slight to the authority of Edward; and the contest was still farther embittered by the capture of the bride of Llewellyn. The vessel which was conveying this youthful lady from France, was seized by some Bristol merchantmen; but though she was the daughter of Simon de Montfort, Edward's mortal foe, whom he had slain in battle, he received her with kindness and courtesy, and consigned her to the care of his queen, with whom she resided at Windsor Castle. On her account Llewellyn at last submitted to the required homage, and his marriage with the lady Elinor Montfort took place at Worcester cathedral, where Edward gave away the bride, and the queen supported her at the altar.

The peace with Wales was, however, of short continuance. A prophecy of Merlin asserted that a prince born in Wales should be acknowledged king of the whole British island, and the bards of that land were constantly urging on Llewellyn the ignominy attending his homage paid to Edward for that which was his lawful right, and inciting him to endeavour, in his own person, to accomplish the prophecy. Taking advantage of the absence of Edward and Eleanora, who went to take possession of the provinces devolving on the latter by the death of the queen of Castile, Llewellyn suddenly invaded England, and won two or three brilliant victories at the first onset; but the return of Edward, and the fatal result of the skirmish in which the brave Llewellyn met his death, soon altered the state of things. Edward remained among the Welsh, to keep down the spirit of the people; and Eleanora, as usual, followed him in all his campaigns. In the spring of 1284, Edward took his queen to the strong fortress of Caernarvon, which he had just completed. Edward exhibited his skill and judgment in profiting by the natural advantages of this spot, which was an admirable situation for a curb on the newly conquered country. The castle and fortifications were built within the space of one year by the labour of the peasants, and at the cost of the chieftains of the country, on whom the hateful task was imposed by the conqueror. Pennant, writing in 1781, speaks of the external state of the walls and castle, as being exactly what they were in the time of Edward 1. The walls are defended by a number of round towers, and have two principal gates; the east, facing the mountains: the west upon the Menai. The entrance into the castle is very august, beneath a great tower, on the front of which appears the statue of the founder, with a dagger in his hand, as if menacing his newly-acquired and unwilling subjects. The gate has four portcullises and every requisite of strength. The court is oblong. The towers are very beautiful; none of them round, but pentagonal, hexagonal, and octagonal. The Eagle tower is remarkably fine, and has the addition of three slender angular turrets, issuing from the top. To this celebrated castle did Edward bring his Eleanora; and there, in a little dark room of the Eagle tower, measuring not quite twelve feet long, by eight broad, was born Edward of Caernarvon, prince of Wales. The gate by which Queen Eleanora entered is at a vast height from the ground, and could only be approached by a drawbridge supported on masses of rock. The accommodations of the castle were probably but little suited for the entertainment of such a guest; but Eleanora could lay aside the splendid accompaniments of her royal dignity when her husband's interests demanded the sacrifice: she had already become inured to privations during her expedition to the Holy Land, and she was therefore the better fitted for her sojourn in the Eagle tower. No doubt she put in use her newly-introduced custom of hanging the walls with tapestry, indeed it is said that

some marks of tenters still appear on the walls of her dreary apartment. This was the more necessary in this instance, for the chamber has no fireplace, and notwithstanding the smallness of the apartment, we may conclude that it was a chilling abode in the month of April At the time when when the young prince was born. Grose wrote his Antiquities of England and Wales, the cradle of the unfortunate prince was in the possession of the Rev. Mr. Ball, of Newland in Gloucestershire; to whom it descended from one of his ancestors, who attended that prince in his infancy, and to whom it became an honorary perquisite. A drawing of the cradle was made for the London Magazine in 1773, which appeared in the following year, together with this description.

This singular piece is made of heart of oak, whose simplicity of construction and rudeness of workmanship are visible demonstrations of the small progress that elegancy had made in ornamental decorations. On the top of the uprights are two doves; the cradle itself is pendent on two staples driven into the uprights, linked by two rings to two staples fastened to the cradle; and by them it swings. The sides and ends of the cradle are ornamented with a great variety of mouldings, whose junctions at the corners are not mitred, but cut off square without any degree of neatness, and the sides and ends fastened together by rough nails. On each side are three holes for the rockers to secure the uprights from falling; and the whole is rendered steady by cross-pieces for feet, on which it stands. Its dimensions are three feet two inches long, one foot eight inches wide at the head, and one foot five inches wide at the foot; one foot five inches deep; and from the bottom of the pillar to the top of the birds, is two feet ten inches.

The unsettled state of Wales at this period points to the reason why Eleanora was thus immured. The walls of Caernarvon Castle are about seven feet nine inches thick, and have within their thickness a convenient gallery with narrow openings for the discharge of arrows. The walls of the Eagle Tower are near two feet thicker. From its summit is a noble view of the Menai, Anglesey, and the nearer parts of the British Alps.

Edward I, was at Rhuddlan Castle when the muchdesired prince was born, a native of Wales, and as it was hoped, the future recognised heir of that land. The joy with which he received the tidings, was shown by his munificent treatment of the bearer of them, Griffith Lloyd, a Welsh gentleman, whom he knighted on the spot, and presented with a most liberal donation of lands. The king immediately hastened to Caernarvon, and three days afterwards he assembled thither all the chiefs of North Wales, who came to make their final submission, and to intreat that the king would appoint them a prince who was a native of their own country, and whose native tongue was neither French nor Saxon, which they said they could not understand. Edward told them that he would immediately appoint them a prince who could neither speak French nor Saxon. This gave great satisfaction to the assembled chiefs, and they declared they would instantly accept him, provided that his character was free from reproach. Edward then presented to them his infant son, assuring them that he was just born a native of their country, that he could not speak a word of English or French, and if they pleased, the first words he uttered should be Welsh. It was with an ill grace, no doubt, and with a disappointed air that the mountain chiefs of Wales vowed fealty to this babe, instead of to a descendant of their own royal line, whom Edward's ambiguous words had led them to expect as their future ruler. Nevertheless they submitted to the appointment as best they could, and kissed the tiny hand which was to sway their sceptre. At this important era in the life of Edward and Eleanora, when by a concurrence of events, together with a bold political manœuvre on the part of Edward, the unqualified submission of the Welsh nation had been obtained, we now pause in their history to notice the illustration of the present article.

THE CROSS AT NORTHAMPTON

It would be inappropriate here to enter on the details connected with the erection of this cross. These will

have their place in the narrative above entered on; but we may remark concerning its situation that it stands at the meeting of four roads, on a rising ground, at about half a mile from the town of Northampton, in the parish of Hardingston. The Society of Antiquaries give the following description of this monument :

It is divided into three stories; the first octagonal, fourteen feet high. The sides divided by purfled finials are charged with arches of two compartments under a pointed purfled pediment. Under the arches of the compartments are hung, on foliage of different patterns, shields of arms. On the south and east sides, those of Castile and Leon, quarterly, and of Ponthieu in Picardy, single. On the north Castile and Leon, quarterly, the arms of her father, and England, single. On the north-east side, England and Ponthieu, the arms of her mother, each single. The arms on the west, south-west, south-east, and north-west sides, are entirely obliterated. From the centre mullion of each of these compartments projects in high relief an open book lying on a desk. The second story, shaped like the former, is but twelve feet high. In every other face, within a niche, under a projecting and insulated canopy with a purfled pediment terminating in a bouquet, stands a figure of the queen, about six feet high, crowned and royally habited. There remain traces of a sceptre in her right hand, while the left, perhaps, held a globe or lay on her breast, as on her monument. The habits of each figure differ from the other. The figures and ornaments are in good repair. The upper story is square, eight feet high, the sides adorned with arches, with quarterfoils in their points in relief, and under them a sun-dial, put up in 1713.

It appears that the cross, six feet in height, which crowns the monument, was added by order of the bench of justices, when the whole was under repair in 1713. The base of this beautiful structure is formed of an ascent of eight steps, each about a foot broad, and nine inches high. In the execution of this cross, the architect and the sculptor are almost equally concerned, and it has been supposed that at the time of its erection both professions were combined in the same individual. The design and execution have been ascribed by Vertue and Walpole to Peter Cavallini, a Roman sculptor, to whom they likewise give the merit of the crosses at Geddington, Waltham, &c.; but this opinion is disputed by other writers. While it must remain a matter of conjecture, who was the architect of these truly interesting structures; the peculiar styles of sculpture and architecture displayed in them are universally admitted to be admirable in their respective classes. The cross at Northampton, when perfect, must have been a beautiful and picturesque object, as it still remains to a high degree in the present day. Unfortunately it has been much disfigured by the repairs executed by officious and ignorant individuals. A large white marble tablet has been affixed to it with a long Latin inscription to commemorate a restoration of the cross, carried on by the magistracy of Northampton in 1713. They have thus injured the design and masonry of the building they professed to restore, and have spoiled the effect of the whole structure, by giving undue prominence to the account of their own performances.

EARLY GRAY HAIRS.

O'ER my head, e'en yet a boy,
Care has thrown an early snow;

Care, begone! a steady joy

Soothes the heart that beats below.

Thus, though Alpine tops retain

Endless winter's hoary wreath; Vines, and fields of golden grain, Cheer the happy sons beneath,-PENROSE.

LESSONS FROM NATURE. ON entering a gallery of original paintings, figures of wonderful excellence strike us with powerful attraction. Every person of taste and sensibility perceives instantaneously their paramount distinction; and the first emotion produced thereby in well-informed minds, is some degree of solicitude about the author; for nothing has so direct a reference to its cause, as merit of execution. Much laudable ingenuity is displayed in discriminating the different masters, ascertaining their respective eminence, pointing out the peculiar beauties of the several schools to which they belonged, the amateurs under whose auspices they studied, the correctness of their designs, their colouring and their costume. In all this minute investigation, what should we think of the critic or connoisseur who could gravely allege that all the diversified apparatus around us originates in no cause, that not one of those masterly pictures is the work of any artist whatever, and that the whole resulted, not from intelligence or design, but from blind impulse or lawless chance? So, they who survey the magnificent machinery of Nature, and more especially the wonderful phenomena of the skies, and yet can harbour a doubt or the invisible Creator, or indeed are not impressed, whereever their eyes wander or their meditations rest, with a deep sense of the ever present God, either have not the faculty of reason, or pervert it to gratify their passions, or to strengthen their impiety.

The hopes and fears which alternately expand and depress the human heart, evince our connexion with another state of being, and that our destiny is not confined to the narrow precincts of mortality. Our present condition is not stationary or in a circle, but is obviously progressive; it begins, indeed, amidst the manifold frailties of flesh and blood, but terminates in the consummations of a world to come.

The most untutored of the species is more or less conscious of a principle, an impulse or power within him, which occasionally lifts him above the sphere of his senses, and by which he endeavours to solve the phenomena, both above and about him, in a way the most obvious to his understanding. The pageantry of the Indian's idolatry, gross and sordid as it may appear to more enlightened minds, is as much an object of reverence to him, as our religious institutions are to us. piety of Nature's uninstructed child, indeed, has this in its favour, that he adores the effect, only by a mistaken substitution of it for the cause. But our habitual inattention to the one indicates a criminal indifference to the other. He would do his duty, but he is ignorant of its nature; we know ours, but leave it undone.

The

It is a maxim, founded on experience and the history of the species, that in no state of the human intellect, improved or unimproved, is it ever maturely disposed, ultimately at least, to rest in present appearances. From the highest eminence of science that man ascends, another, still higher, catches the eye, and tempts his pursuit. Hope springs eternal in the human breast, Man never is but always to be blest.

There is a propensity in all our motions and exertions which bears an affinity to a higher system, which is not in unison with any known properties of matter, and which, abstracting our affections from things evanescent and momentary, is continually propelling them to such as are superior and invisible,

By man's natural turn for investigation, any object that excites his attention or stimulates inquiry is the means of improving our knowledge of the Deity. He is known by his works as certainly as any human artist can be by his. These are uniformly expressive of most important information concerning Him. From them we know much of his character, and many of his perfections. They are universal, intelligible, and unequivocal documents of who he is, what he can do, and

the relation in which he stands, as well to us as to them. And here his attributes, his intentions, his energies, and the whole character of his Divine government, are everywhere so legible, that he who runs may read his power, wisdom, and goodness.

It has, indeed, been much, and plausibly, questioned whether the discovery of one supreme intelligent Cause of all things, be the induction of reason or the result of instruction. The chief considerations on which the solution turns, are now so completely involved, and run into each so intimately, that it may not perhaps be easy to say on which side the truth lies. But the Christian dispensation has put us in possession of a clue which happily frees our minds from all the difficulties and embarrassments into which ignorance and temerity had plunged them; which has led us to the fountain-head of all true knowledge, by the guidance of which we can be no longer at any loss to account for phenomena otherwise inexplicable.

The material world has in consequence emerged from the palpable darkness in which superstition had involved it, and presents us with a striking image of its Maker, by the light reflected from that which is invisible. We henceforth regard it as a theatre on which the agency and attributes of the Almighty are conspicuously displayed, and by the simple means of which, he holds uninterrupted correspondence with the whole of his family, in all the various ways of which they are capable. Nature thus interpreted, is susceptible but of one construction. Her language, always simple and direct, is everywhere the same; and there is no nation or country on earth unfurnished with those means, by which it may be equally and clearly understood.

This we call the Theology of Nature, as the elements of it, at least, are perspicuously detailed in her works. Whatever we know of the Divinity, apart from the positive instructions he vouchsafes, is from the contrivance and design manifested in systems with which we are acquainted, the disposition and motions of the heavenly bodies, the nature of the planet we inhabit, the processes of the vegetable world, and the animal organization or mechanism.

What are these, separate or combined, but an expressive picture of their Author? and the more they are considered and comprehended, his power, wisdom, and benignity will be better understood, and will become more illustrious and impressive. It is the steady and solid conviction that he is, and that his attention to the greatest and best of his creatures is unmerited, which constitutes the basis of our hopes, and gives beauty, harmony, and interest, to the universe. Take Him out of it, and chaos comes again; but replace Him at its head, where from everlasting to everlasting He is God, then nature resumes her sweetness, and all creation smiles with joy.

Nothing but the Almighty's presence preserves all the parts of creation in unison, and gives energy and effect to that mysterious agency which connects, consolidates, and binds them into one vast comprehensive whole. It is the strength of his unseen arm which hangs them upon nothing, and by which they perpetually circulate as on invisible springs. His power protects and upholds them in their respective situations, and enables them to sustain their relations with propriety. It is by the breath of his mouth that the whole beautiful assemblage of shining worlds exists, and when he withdraws it, they are extinct. What, then, is the spacious and magnificent creation, but an expressive and majestic representation of his infinite power and exuberant love, who surveyed everything that he had made with complacency, and, behold, it was very good?

Is not immeasurable space crowded with columns to the honour of the Divine Artist? These are one and all inscribed to his name, illustrate the excellence of his perfection, and perpetuate his praise. The vast canopy of heaven may be considered more particularly

as an immense area where the matchless wonders of his skill and contrivance mark an eternal exhibition, through all their spheres and evolutions, before an intelligent and astonished universe. A variety of worlds, exceeding all comprehension in number and magnitude, in which our terrestrial globe is but an atom, are stationary in their order, destiny and rotation. When, therefore, we seriously reflect how the Creator of all these things hath placed and balanced our earth in the midst of the air, and the universe as it were in the midst of nothing; how he hath hung for so many important uses those glorious lights of heaven, the sun, the moon, and the stars, and made paths in the sky for their courses;-instituted the regular circle of the seasons, summer and winter, seedtime and harvest;-how he hath stocked our earth with inhabitants, and rendered it fertile for their sustenance and accommodation; and laid the sea in heaps, that though it may overlook, yet cannot overflow the land;-who can possibly doubt the exceeding greatness of his power, the infinite resources of his wisdom, the plenitude of his goodness, and the bounty of his providence?

[Abridged from BASELEY'S Glory of the Heavens.]

THE art of governing the passions is more useful, and more important, than many things, in the search and pursuit of which we spend our days. Without this art, riches and health, and skill, and knowledge will give us little satisfaction; and whatsoever else we be, we can be neither happy, nor wise, nor good.-JORTIN.

TO A SNAIL.

WHERE art thou roaming to, wonderful snail,
With thy beautiful house on thy back?
Leaving behind thee a silvery trail,

On the emerald hue of thy track.
Slow is thy march, for thou needest not wings
From thy journeyings homewards to fly;
A cosmopolite, roaming yet ever at home,
Like thy wild sons of waste Araby.
Lark, that in raptures soars singing at morn,
When fatigued returns home to his nest;
Rabbit, that wanders through clover or corn,
Seeks again for his burrow to rest.
Gipsy of nature! thou wanderest free,
Not a localized being art thou;
Pitching thy tent in the lane 'neath a tree,
On the moor or the lone mountain's brow.
I meet thee at morn in my favourite walk,
By the riv❜let or rose-scented hedge;
Tasting in quiet each delicate stalk,

Or careering sublime on a sedge!
Rich is the hue of thy elegant home,

Purest amber and deep glossy brown:
Pearly and smooth as a fair maiden's comb,
Where thou glidest, or upwards or down.
Beetle with burnished mail, golden and green,
And the butterfly splendidly bright-
Feeding beside thee all rare things are seen,
And the glow-worm doth lend thee a light.
In days of my childhood I've gathered thy bields,
And watched thy slow patient motion ;-
Much musing if thou wert a native of fields,
Or palmer, foot-sore, from far ocean.
Oft when the summer-blooms, beauteous, are gone,
Scared away by the bleak wintry weather-
'Mong the dry leaves I find ye, or by an old stone,
Like a hamlet cemented together".

Man, of his knowledge and skill all too proud,
Deepest lessons might gather from thee;
Feelings of thankfulness, heart calmly bowed,
To our gracious Creator's decree:

Might learn to confide in that wisdom sublime,
That goodness unbounded and pure,
Which launched the vast orbs on the ocean of time,
Gave the Snail a retreat so secure. -J. W.

This is true only of the larger species of shell snail; the smaller and more beautiful species pass the winter singly