Maria, attained a reputation as prolific writers of prose fiction. There had been such a thing before as a panorama, or picture giving details of a scene too extensive to be comprehended from one point of view; but it was not a work entitled to much admiration. With marvellous enthusiasm this boy artist began to cover a canvas of two hundred feet long with the scenes attending the capture of the great Indian fort; and, strange to say, he had finished it in six weeks. Sir Benjamin West, President of the Royal Academy, got an early view of the picture, and pronounced it a miracle of precocious talent. When it was arranged for exhibition, vast multitudes both of the learned and the unlearned flocked to see it. I can never forget,' says Dr Dibdin, its first impression upon my own mind. It was as a thing dropped from the clouds,-all fire, energy, intelligence, and animation. You looked a second time, the figures moved, and were commingled in hot and bloody fight. You saw the flash of the cannon, the glitter of the bayonet, and the gleam of the falchion. You longed to be leaping from crag to crag with Sir David Baird, who is hallooing his men on to victory! Then again you seemed to be listening to the groans of the wounded and the dying-and more than one female was carried out swooning. The oriental dress, the jewelled turban, the curved and ponderous scimitar-these were among the prime favourites of Sir Robert's pencil, and he treated them with literal truth. The colouring was sound throughout; the accessories strikingly characteristic. . . . . The public poured in thousands for even a transient gaze.'

THE BEGGAR's Opera.

In the spring and early summer of 1728, the Beggar's Opera of Gay had its unprecedented run of sixty-two nights in the theatre of Lincoln'sInn Fields. No theatrical success of Dryden or Congreve had ever approached this; probably the best of Shakspeare's fell far short of it. We learn from Spence, that the idea of a play, with malefactors amongst its characters, took its rise in a remark of Swift to Gay, 'What an odd, pretty sort of thing a Newgate pastoral might make. And, Gay proceeding to work out the idea in the form of a comedy, Swift gave him his advice, and now and then a correction, but believed the piece would not succeed. Congreve was not so sure-he said it would either take greatly or be condemned extremely. The poet, who was in his fortieth year, and had hitherto been but moderately successful in his attempts to please the public, offered the play to Colley Cibber for the Drury Lane Theatre, and only on its being rejected there took it to Mr Rich, of the playhouse just mentioned, where it was presented for the first time on the 29th of January, 1727-8. Strange to say, the success of the piece was considered doubtful for the greater part of the first act, and was not quite determined till Polly sang her pathetic appeal to her parents,

'Oh, ponder well, be not severe,
To save a wretched wife,
For on the rope that hangs my dear
Depends poor Polly's life.'

* Reminiscences of a Literary Life, i. 145.

THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.

Then the audience, completely captivated, broke out into an applause which established the success of the play. It has ever since been a stock piece of the British stage, notwithstanding questionable morality, and moderate literary merit both in the dialogue and the songs; the fifty beautiful airs introduced into it being what apparently has chiefly given it its hold upon the public. It is to be remarked, that in the same season the play was presented for at least twenty nights in succession at Dublin; and even into Scotland, which had not then one regular theatre, it found its way very soon after.

The author, according to usage, got the entire receipts of the third, sixth, ninth, and fifteenth nights, amounting in the aggregate to £693,13s. 6d. In a letter to Swift, he takes credit for having pushed through this precarious affair without servility or flattery; and when the play was published, Pope complimented him on not prefacing it with a dedication, thus deliberately foregoing twenty guineas (the established price of such things in those days). So early as the 20th of March, when the piece had only been acted thirty-six times, Mr Rich had profited to the extent of near four thousand pounds. So it might well be said that this play had made Rich gay, and Gay rich. Amongst other consequences of the furore for the play was a sad decline in the receipts at the Italian opera, which Gay had all along meant to rival. The wags had it that that should be called the Beggars' Opera.

The king, queen, and princesses came to see the Beggar's Opera on the twenty-first night of its performance. What was more remarkable, it was honoured on another night with the presence of the prime minister, Sir Robert Walpole, whose corrupt practices in the management of a majority in the House of Commons were understood to be glanced at in the dialogues of Peachum and Lockit. Sir Robert, whose good humour was seldom at fault, is said to have laughed heartily at Lockit's song:

'When you censure the age,
Be cautious and sage,

Lest the courtiers offended should be;
If you mention vice or bribe,
'Tis so fit to all the tribe,

Each cries-That was levelled at me;' and so he disarmed the audience.

We do not hear much of any of the first actors of the Beggar's Opera, excepting Lavinia Fenton, who personated Polly. She was a young lady of elegant figure, but not striking beauty, a good singer, and of very agreeable conversation and manners. The performance of this part stood out conspicuous in its success, and brought her much notice. Her portrait was published in mezzotint; there was also a memoir of her hitherto obscure life. Her songs were printed on ladies' fans. The fictitious name became so identified with her, that her benefit was announced as Polly's night. One benefit having been given her on the 29th of April, when the Beaux Stratagem was performed, the public were so dissatisfied, that the Beggar's Opera had to be played for a second benefit to her on the 4th of May. The Duke of Bolton, a nobleman then in the prime of life, living apart from his wife,

Ascension Day, or Holy Thursday, is a festival observed by the Church of England in commemoration of the glorious ascension of the Messiah into heaven, triumphing over the devil, and leading captivity captive; opening the kingdom of heaven to all believers.' It occurs forty days after Easter Sunday, such being the number of days which the Saviour passed on earth after his resurrection. The observance is thought to be one of the very earliest in the church-so early, it has been said, as the year 68.

WELL-DRESSING AT TISSINGTON.

Still, Dovedale, yield thy flowers to deck the fountains

Of Tissington upon its holyday;

The customs long preserved among the mountains
Should not be lightly left to pass away.
They have their moral; and we often may

Learn from them how our wise forefathers
wrought,

When they upon the public mind would lay

Some weighty principle, some maxim brought Home to their hearts, the healthful product of deep thought.'

Edwards.

Such was our feeling when our kind landlady at Matlock reminded us that on the following day, being Holy Thursday, or Ascension Day, there would take place the very ancient and well kept-up custom of dressing the wells of Tissington with flowers. She recommended us on no account to miss the opportunity, for the festivity draws together the rich and poor for many miles round,' said she; and the village looks so pretty you cannot but admire it.' It was one of those lovely May mornings when we started on our twelve miles drive which give you the anticipation of enjoyment; the bright sun was shining on the hills surrounding the romantically situated village of Matlock, the trees were already decked with the delicate spring tints of pale browns, olives, and greens, which form even a more pleasing variety to the artist's eye than the gorgeous colours of the dying autumn; whilst the air had the crispness of a sharp frost, which had hardened the ground during the night, making our horses step merrily along.

We were soon at Willersley, with its woods and walks overhanging the Derwent, and connected in its historical associations with two remarkable but very different characters, having

WELL-DRESSING AT TISSINGTON.

been formerly a possession of the Earl of Shrewsbury, the husband of that 'sharpe and bitter

HE IS GONE TO GLORY WHERE WE HOPE TO GO

THE HALL WELL, TISSINGTON, AS DRESSED FOR ASCENSION DAY.

shrewe,' as the Bishop of Lichfield calls her, who figured so prominently in the reigns of Mary and Elizabeth. Married no less than four times, she was the ancestress of some of the most noble families in England. At the early age of fourteen she became the wife of Robert Barley, Esq., the union not lasting much more than a year. Sir William Cavendish then aspired to her hand, by which the fine old seat and lands of Hardwicke Hall, of which she was the heiress, came into the Devonshire family. Sir William was a man of eminent talent, and the zeal he displayed in the cause of the Reformation recommended him highly to his sovereign. He was better fitted to cope with his wife's masculine understanding and violent temper than her last husband, the Earl of Shrewsbury, who gives vent to some very undignified remonstrances in a letter to the Earl of Leicester, dated 1585. The queen had, it seems, taken the part of her own sex, and ordered the earl an allowance of five hundred a-year, leaving all the lands in the power of his wife:

Sith that her majestie hathe sett dowen this hard sentence againste me, to my perpetual infamy and dishonour, to be ruled and oberaune by my wief, so bad and wicked a woman; yet her majestie shall see that I obey her commandemente, thoughe no curse or plage in the erthe cold be more grievous to me. It is to much to make me my wiefe's pencyoner, and sett me downe the demeanes of Chatsworth, without the house and

other landes leased.' From this time the pair lived separate; whilst the restless mind of the countess still pursued the political intrigues which had been the terror of her husband, and the aggrandizement of her family. She bought and sold estates, lent money, farmed, and dealt in lead, coals, and timber, patronized the wits of the day, who in return flattered but never deceived her, and died at the advanced age of eightyseven, immensely rich, leaving the character behind her of being a proud, furious, selfish, and unfeeling woman.' She and the earl were

for some time the custodians of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, who passed a part of her imprisonment at Chatsworth, and at the old Hall at Hardwicke, which is now in ruins.

Very different from this has been the career of the present proprietor of beautiful Willersley, whose ancestor, Richard Arkwright, springing from a very humble origin, created his own fortune, and provided employment for thousands of his fellow-creatures by his improvements in cotton spinning. A history so well known needs no farther comment here, and we drive on through the Via Gellia, with its picturesque rocks and springing vegetation, gay with

The primrose drop, the spring's own spouse,
Bright daisies, and the lips-of-cows,

Jonson.

The garden star, the queen of May, The rose, to crown the holyday.' We cannot wonder that the Romans dedicated this lovely season to Flora, whom they depicted as strewing the earth with flowers, attended by her spouse, Zephyr; and in honour of whom they wove garlands of flowers, and carried branches of the newly-budded trees. From the entire disappearance of old customs, May comes upon us unwelcomed and unnoticed. In the writer's childhood a May-pole carried about in the hand was common even in towns; but now no children understand the pleasures of collecting the way. side and garden flowers, and weaving them into circle. magic Still less applicable are

the
L. E. L.'s beautiful lines:

'Here the Maypole rears its crest,
With the rose and hawthorn drest;
In the midst, like the young queen
Flower-crowned, of the rural green,
Is a bright-cheeked girl, her eye
Blue, like April's morning sky.
Farewell, cities! who could bear
All their smoke and all their care,
All their pomp, when wooed away
By the azure hours of May?
Give me woodbine-scented bowers,
Blue wreaths of the violet flowers,

Clear sky, fresh air, sweet birds, and trees, Sights and sounds, and scenes like these.' We could not but notice, in passing through the meadows near Brassington, those singular limestone formations which crop out of the ground in the most fantastic forms, resembling arrows and spires, and which the people designate by various names, such as Peter's Pike, Reynard's Tor. Then came the village of Bradbourne, and the pretty foot-bridge, close by the mill, crossing Bentley Brook, a little stream mentioned by Walton as 'full of good trout and grayling.' This bridge is the direct foot-road to

WELL-DRESSING AT TISSINGTON.

Tissington, at which village of the holy wells' we soon arrived, and found it decked out in all its bravery. It has in itself many points of attraction independent of the ornaments of the day; the little stream that runs through the centre, the rural-looking cottages and comfortable farmhouses, the old church, which retains the traces of Saxon architecture, and, lastly, the Hall, a fine old edifice, belonging to the ancient family of the Fitzherberts, who reside there, the back of which comes to the village, the front looking into an extensive, well-wooded park.

When we drove into the village, though it was only ten o'clock, we found it already full of people from many miles round, who had assembled to celebrate the feast: for such indeed it was, all the characteristics of a village wake being there in the shape of booths, nuts, gingerbread, and toys to delight the young. We went immediately to the church, foreseeing the difficulty there would be in getting a seat, nor were we mistaken; for, though we were accommodated, numbers were obliged to remain outside, and wait for the service peculiar to the wells. The interior of the church is ornamented with many monuments of the Fitzherbert family, and the service was performed in rural style by a band of violinists, who did their best to make melody. As soon as the sermon was ended, the clergyman left the pulpit, and marched at the head of the procession which was formed into the village; after him came the band; then the family from the hall, and their visitors, the rest of the congregation following; and a halt was made at the first of the wells, which are five in number, and which we will now attempt to describe.

The name of 'well' scarcely gives a proper idea of these beautiful structures: they are rather fountains, or cascades, the water descending from above, and not rising, as in a well. Their height varies from ten to twelve feet; and the original stone frontage is on this day hidden by

a wooden erection in the form of an arch, or some other elegant design: over these planks a layer of plaster of Paris is spread, and whilst it is wet, flowers without leaves are stuck in it, forming a most beautiful mosaic pattern. On one, the large yellow field ranunculus was arranged in letters, and so a verse of scripture or of a hymn was recalled to the spectator's mind; on another, a white dove was sculptured in the plaster, and set in a groundwork of the humble violet; the daisy, which our poet Chaucer would gaze upon for hours together, formed a diaper work of red and white; the pale yellow primrose was set off by the rich red of the ribes; nor were the coral berries of the holly, mountain ash, and yew forgotten; these are carefully gathered and stored in the winter, to be ready for the Mayday fete. It is scarcely possible to describe the vivid colouring and beautiful effect of these. favourites of nature, arranged in wreaths, and garlands, and devices of every hue; and then the pure, sparkling water, which pours down from the midst of them unto the rustic moss-grown stones beneath, completes the enchantment, and makes this feast of the well-flowering one of the most beautiful of all the old customs that are left in merrie England.'