Great Britain and Ireland, by the title of Ruglen, daughter of John, seventh Earl of || and, on the 4th of November, 1806, he was Cassillis, assumed the title of Earl of Cas- || created a Baron of the United Kingdom of sillis; founding his right on the entail mentioned in the note below. In this he was opposed by Sir Thomas Kennedy, who claimed under the entail of 1759. The case went before the House of Lords byter of John Erskine, of Dun, in the county petition; and, after various proceedings, it was, on the 27th of January, 1762, "Resolved and adjudged, that the petitioner, Sir Thomas Kennedy, hath a right and title to the honour and dignity of the Earl of Cassillis, as heir-male of the body of David, the first Earl of Cassillis; and that he hath also a right|| and title to the honour and dignity of Lord Kennedy, as heir-male of the body of Gilbert, the first Lord Kennedy." Sir Thomas Kennedy, who thus became ninth Earl of Cassillis, derived his descent from the Hon. Sir Thomas Kennedy, second son of Gilbert, third Earl of Cassillis. He was chosen one of the sixteen representatives of the Scottish peerage at the general election of 1774. He died unmarried, in 1775, and was succeeded by his brother, David, tenth Earl of Cassillis. He died unmarried in 1792, having previously executed a deed of entail of the estates of Cassillis and Cullean, in favour of Captain Archibald Kennedy, R.N., who succeeded him as eleventh Earl of Cassillis. This nobleman was descended from Alex of Forfar, Esq. (by Margaret, daughter of William Baird, of Newbyth, Esq.), by whom he has issue:-1. Archibald, Lord Kennedy, born in 1794, married, in May, 1814, Eleanor, only daughter and sole heir of Alexander Allardyce, of Dunnottar, Esq., by whom he has a son, born in April, 1818; 2. Anne, married, August 15, 1821, Captain David Baird, of the Third Guards, eldest son of Robert Baird, of Newbyth, co. Haddington, N.B., Esq., and nephew of General Sir David Baird, Bart., K.C., Governor of Kinsale; 3. Mary; 4. Margaret, married November 14, 1817, Thomas, Viscount Kinnaird, eldest son of Francis, Earl of Newburgh; 5. John; 6. Alicia Jane, whose marriage to Captain Peel is stated at the commencement of this memoir. As we hope for another opportunity, at no very distant period, of offering some particulars relating to the family of Peel-a family which, in future ages, may be expected to shed lustre on the annals of the British Peerage—we shall, in the present instance, by way of completing our sketch, merely transcribe from Debrett's Baronetage (with corrections) as follows:— ford, in 1790, 1796, 1802, 1806, 1807, 1812, and 1818, a Sir Robert Peel, Bart., M.P. for Tamworth, co. Staf Governor of Christ's Hospital, and Vice President of the Yates, of Bury, co. Lancaster, and has issue: 1. the ander Kennedy, of Craigoch, second son of Sir Alexander, of Cullean. He married, first, Miss Schuyler, a lady of great fortune in New Jersey, by whom he had no issue; secondly, Anne, daughter of John Watts, of New York, Esq. By this lady, who died at Edinburgh, in 1793, he had four children :—1. Archibald; 2. John, an officer in the army; 3. Robert, married Miss Macolm, sister of the celebrated American July 1819, Jane Elizabeth, 2d daughter of the Eari of General of the same name; 4. Anne, married, July 21, 1795, William Henry Digby, 1823. 3. Edmund, b. 8 Aug. 1791; m. 2 Jan. 1812, Emily, of Twickenham, Esq. His Lordship died on the 30th of December, 1794, and was succeeded by his son, Literary Fund; married, 1st. Ellen, daughter of William Right Hon. Robert, M.P. for the University of Oxford, and a Privy Councillor in Ireland, and Secretary of State for the Home Department; b. 6 Feb. 1788, m. 8 June 1320, Julia, youngest daughter of the late Sir John Floyd, Bart., and has issue, a daughter, b. 30 April, 1821; a son, b. 1 March, 1822, and another son, b. 26 Oct. 1823. 2. William Yates, M.P. for Tamworth, b. 3 Aug. 1789, m. Mount Cashell, and has issue, a daughter, b. 10 March, 1821; a son, b. 9 Feb. 1822; and another son, b. 19 June 2d daughter of John Swinfen, of Swinfen, co. Stafford, Esq. 4. John, b. 22 Aug. 1798, m. May 1824, Augusta, 5th daughter of John Swinfen, of Swinfen, co. Stafford, Esq.; 5. Jonathan, b. 12 Oct. 1799; 6. Mary, b. 17 June Dawson, co. Londonderry, Esq.; 7. Elizabeth, b. 13 April Eleanora, b. 25 March 1794, d.; 9. Anne, d. young; 10. Archibald, twelfth and present Earl of 1784, m. 9 Jan. 1816, George Robert Dawson, of Castle Cassillis. His Lordship, in 1790, raised an independent company of Foot; in 1793, he was Lieutenant-Colonel of the West Lowland Fencible Regiment; at the general election of 1802, he was chosen one of the representatives of the Scottish Peerage; Charles, 4th Duke of Richmond; 11. Harriette, m. March 1824, the Hon. Henley Eden, eldest son of Lord Henley.— Sir Robert, m. 2dly, 18 Oct. 1805, Susannah, youngest sister of the Rev. Sir William Henry Clerke, of Bury, co. Lancaster, Bart., by whom he has no issue. EUONOMY; OR, THE ART OF NOVEL WRITING. In Reference to Names, Professions, and Places; in a Series of Hints to Young Authors. You cannot be too particular about || fidential secretary-a modest youth of names. The reader must be sufficiently aware that the common names to be found in the Directory, such as Jones, Brown, Smith, Tomkins, Jenkins, Perkins, &c., are perfectly unsentimental; and the only way to avoid so fatal an error as the use of them, is to ring the changes on such names as Melville, Belville, Delville, after which, by an exchange of the last note, you may form another set, such as Belford, Melford, Delford. Or, if you require foreigners to figure in your story, refer to some of the old rolls in the French language, when you will find the names of the great men who came across the channel with William the Norman; such as Mandeville and Dandeville, Oufreville and Domfreville, Bouteville and Estouteville, Mohun and Bohun, Biset and Basset, Malin and Malvoisin, &c. Always while you live, attend to names. Juliet says What's in a name?-that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet. || Quite wrong. Juliet was in love, and therefore somewhat égarée in her ideas. The christian name of a novel hero must be Charles or Henry. But I prefer Charles; so do all the French novelists and dramatists of the least taste in euonomy: there is no name so sweet and mellifluous in all the volumes of circulating inspiration. || John manifestly belongs to a footman or coachman. Convert it into Jack, and observe the result; the metamorphosis is luce clarius; you instantly conjure up without further trouble the personification of a sailor. Again: combine it with the prefix Sir, and you represent a gouty old || 'Squire, who is at the same time a justice of the peace, and intimately acquainted with the game laws, and the art of brewing strong October. Affix the diminutive ny,|| and make the name Johnny, while you drop the prefix Sir, and hi presto you create a tall petted family booby. Something of a similar process occurs in the name of William. Plain William is a conNo. 9.-Vol. II. strict integrity. With the prefix Sir, that is to say, Sir William, you indicate old age, good ale, blood hunters, an excellent pack of hounds, and an unencumbered estate. James and Thomas must take their portion in the kitchen; and Robert, when the young lady takes an airing, may take his gold-headed cane and place himself demurely in the rear. Francis is a good name, provided it be spelt Frank; because Frank vividly suggests the idea of a young rattle-brained rake, with a fund of redeeming good qualities. But, oh! my worthy pupils in the mystic art of novel writing, carefully, most carefully avoid the names of Peter, Nathaniel, Joseph, and Job. Obadiah is a quaker, as Hezekiah cannot avoid being a methodist. As to Christopher, you might as well admit Beelzebub to the privilege of a novelist hero as him. Again, there is Jeremiah; who, out of Bedlam, would dare to think of Jeremiah for a hero? Better were it to dissolve Nicodemus in fine emotions, and melt Moses or Mordecai in sentimental sorrows. The same direction holds good with regard to female names. Betty is an intriguing chambermaid: make the name Betsy, and you convert the character into a smart, pert little grisette. Eliza is a sentimental heroine, while Elizabeth wants only the prefix Lady to make her an Earl's daugh ter. The same graduated ascent of dignity may be traced from Dolly, the dairy-maid, through Dorothy, the maiden aunt, up to Dorinda the heiress and fine lady. As to Susan, you can make nothing of the wench, whatever, above the rank of a laundrymaid. But Lucy is of higher grade; something between cousin and poor companion. Make the name Lucinda, and the girl may pass for a third-rate heroine, and do in an under-plot. ble only as a maiden aunt. Grace, Temperance, and Prudence might be kept at a proper distance by any one who knows what's what. Polly, Jane, Sally, and Rebecca-confine them all without mercy to ♦ Deborah is passa 66 the servants' hall. No person who has the to the sentimental. Let Newington Butts, feelings of sentiment above a cheesemonger, Islington, and Somers' Town, still continue a butcher, or a blacking-maker, could think to receive to their sheltering bosom the of weeping over the vulgar woes of such retired tallow-chandler, dry-salter, and anti-sentimental names. ham-and-beef-man of Tooley Street and its But, oh! what tears, what tender ago- | vicinity. But how would it sound in any nies, what weeping, wailing, and gnashing || novel pretending to sentimentality, that the of teeth-what handkerchiefs are steeped, lovely Rosina resided near the pump in and what pillow-cases are drenched with Aldgate that Sir George's carriage stopped the delicious sorrows of Clara, Annabella, at a house on Saffron Hill, or that the Rosa-Matilda, Henrietta, and, though last generous captain A-, or accomplished not least in love, Maria! Oh, my pupils, Captain B, had his residence in Mutthose heart-rending appellations defy the ton Lane? Faugh! the offence is rank." iron heroes of barbarity itself to withstand. Nothing east of Temple Bar has sentiment An eastern nabob, a black flesh-dealer, a enough for a genuine lover. Who could hungry usurer, a Smithfield drover, nay, be reduced to weep for the distresses of even a scalping Mohawk or New Zealand Clerkenwell, or the sensibility of Houndscannibal, would drop the exercise of his ditch? Who could sympathize with the profession, to weep and melt and sympa- petty agonies of Little Britain ? Who thize with prænomens such as these. They could bow down to a goddess of CrippleI would draw "iron tears" a second time gate, or die from love of a lady from down "Pluto's cheek." Whitechapel? Who could melt in sentimental sorrows amidst the bellowings of Smithfield, or the judaical clamours of Rag Fair? Fie, fie! the thing is impossible. The science of EUONOMY extends to place and profession, as well as name. A considerable part of the west end of the town is sentimental. Grosvenor Square, Again: nothing can furnish more unsenBerkeley Square, St. James's Square, are timental materials than trade. Trade, as remarkably so. To give some general idea politicians affirm, may be of infinite use to of the analogy which ought to exist between the nation, but it cannot be introduced into places and individuals-Portland Place is a novel for what has a novel to do with calculated for a foreign ambassador or the good of the nation, or with any good potentate; Portman, Hanover, Manchester, but the good of a circulating library, or the or Grosvenor Square, for any Englishman morality of a lady's boarding-school? A of rank; Wimpole, Welbeck, Wigmore, or woollen-draper may be an honest man, but Curzon Street, for a gentleman of landed he can have none of the stuff of sentiment property. Bedford Square is very fit for a || in his composition. A tallow-chandler may bishop, or a judge; and Brunswick for an have a reputation as clear as the flame of M.D. Merchants may live in Russell and his candles, but he never can melt in senFinsbury Squares. The Exquisite must, of timental sorrows. A tobacconist may procourse, lodge in Bond Street, Piccadilly, cure meat, drink, and clothing for his Pall-Mall, or St. James's Street. A novelist family, but they never can inherit tender must always take care to make his lovers, susceptibilities from his shag and pigtail. when in town, take up their quarters in Nothing behind a counter can be allowed a some of these places; as there must be place in a novel. Were you mad enough something very sentimental in the manners to attempt the introduction of any thing so of the heroes and heroines, so there must alien to the tender feelings, the world be something very sentimental in the names would swear that you intend to dramatize of certain parts of the town which obtain the Directory, sentimentalize Kelly's Booktheir preference. Never allow your lovers keeping, or introduce Chesterfield's graces to reside in the City: Pudding Lane, Pie among the bulls and bears of the Stock Corner, Garlick Hill, are the very antitheses Exchange. FOUNTAINS AND JETS D'E A U. THE subjoined communication, addressed to the editor of LA BELLE ASSEMBLEE by a gentleman of acknowledged taste and scientific judgment, we regard as eminently entitled to consideration. The idea, that a heavy expense must necessarily be incurred by the construction of fountains, jets d'eau, &c., has, we apprehend, prevented many persons, even of rank and opulence, from making the experiment in their gardens and pleasure-grounds. This idea, however, is erroneous: great, and striking, and beautiful effects may be produced by comparatively slight means, judiciously employed. In a public view-when vast improvements are projecting and carrying into effect in the grounds of Buckingham House, in St. James's Park, in Pall-Mall, at Charing Cross, and in many other parts of the metropolis-the present moment is particularly favourable for trial. Our friend " AQUARIUS,” however, expresses himself more clearly than we can. SIR-Amongst your elegant readers, I am sure I shall find many admirers of fountains and jets d'eau; and I am really grieved that in England we should be behind our tasteful neighbours, in this or any other beauty. Water is capable of being thrown into such various forms, that I am astonished at the almost total neglect of it as an ornament: with the exception of Chatsworth and Blenheim, I believe we have not a fountain worth looking at in the island; yet how simply could we adorn our squares, and streets, and gardens, and conserva tories! In London, where the pressure of the engines is great, nothing could be more easy. I would merely have a plain pipe, or adjutage, in the middle of a basin, on which I would fix, every day, a new jetnow straight, now revolving-now a fan, and now a globe-and now the Spanish fountain falling from three circular plates, each above the other, like streams of silver. Thus we should have the carbonic acid gas of the atmosphere absorbed, the water as a beverage greatly improved, and, in case of fire, a reservoir always ready at a moment. In the country may be found twenty modes of producing the same effect from an artificial head of water-from a cistern, pond, or even garden-engine. At Cambridge, nature does the work by merely boring, and at Tooting, Tottenham, &c., I see the same thing; though the pillars through which the fountains flow are in the worst possible taste. I cannot but think that the Arcadian scenes of the Opera, or even at Vauxhall, might be highly improved by this hint. Yours, Sir, AQUARIUS. P.S.-I have a temple about four feet high, with five pillars, standing on a circular base of six inches, on which rests a fishglass. Water, being poured in at the top, falls through one of the pillars, and by a pipe cemented into the bottom of a glass, plays a jet for hours together. Nothing can look more beautiful than our gold and silver fish, in constant motion, as the temple stands amongst our flowers, and particularly at night, cooling the air. Portman Square, 21st July, 1825. THE COURTENAYE FAMILY. IN TWO PARTS.-PART I. Ar a small inn in a small village, little frequented except by those gentlemen of the road who are styled by courtesy commercial ambassadors, a young man, above the order of such guests, had taken up his abode. There was nothing, however, of mystery about this visitor: he was a stu dent of one of the inns of court in London; and, possessing a taste for the picturesque, and moreover not being overburthened with money, he had chosen this retired spot for his sojourn during the long vacation. A few volumes, selected from the works of the best authors, a flute, and a choly Jacques: then would spring up the bold outlaw Robin Hood, and his merry train of foresters, and, to crown all, legends of wild jagers, the wood kings and the Wehr wolves of the Hartz and the Odenwald. Attracted by a vague report that there were pictures to be seen in a deserted manor-house belonging to Sir Arthur Courtenaye, our student, one beautiful morning, determined to make an excursion beyond the boundary of his usual walks. Furnish sketch-book, were his sole companions; he lived all day in the open air, "under the shade of melancholy boughs," amusing himself with carving the name of Rosalind upon the trees. The curate of the parish, the only person in the hamlet at all acquainted with Shakspeare, immediately concluded that the poor youth was in love: but he was wrong-Francis Mervyn had not as yet felt the influence of woman's smile; nevertheless he was quite ready to lose his heart upon the first favourable opportunity; and it was this predispositioned with a pencil and sketch-book in one towards the tender passion, which led him to forsake the gaieties of a crowded watering place, for a romantic solitude, where, stretched for hours on the banks of a gentle rivulet, he would indulge in delicious reveries. pocket, and a few biscuits in the other, he lingered so long at every spot which commanded a pleasing prospect, that the sun was beginning to descend ere he reached the park paling which skirted the demesne belonging to the ancient mansion he proposed to visit. The entrance-gate opened into a fine avenue of stately elms; it swung idly on its hinges, and Mervyn, not being able to find any one in the porter's lodge, which seemed rather the abode of one of the villagers than that of the hired servant of a great family, strolled up the green and vaulted aisle of nature's cunning work. It led directly to the great gate of the edi Delighted to escape from the dust and gloom of a set of narrow chambers in Gray's Inn, and deeply imbued with that spirit of poetry which finds in the bud of the wild flower " thoughts that lie too deep for tears," the lonely quietude of the village and its sylvan scenery afforded inexhaustible sources of pleasure. Sometimes he would seek a rustic dell, thickly spangled with that simple star, by shep-fice: the stranger gazed with mingled awe herds called the daies-eye, "the Danae of flowers, with gold up-hoarded in its virgin lap," and listen to the murmur of the glad bee as it came humming by, and the bubbling music of the running brook. and admiration upon the grey walls of the building, which presented a castellated front, flanked on each side by a square tower. The oaken folding doors, studded with iron, were closed; and though the former drawbridge, now a flight of steps, extending over a moat drained of its circling waters, invited his approach, he felt unwilling to lift the massy knocker for the purpose of gaining admittance. No person appearing at any of the windows, which consisted only of a few panes of glass, deeply set in heavy frames of stone-work, he determined to seek some other mode of entrance. All was profoundly still; a few cattle were grazing quietly under the trees, and some vagrant sheep had descended into the dry moat, and were cropping the grass in its green channel. Turning the angle of the southern tower, the building assumed a more modern appearance-the windows were enlarged, the moat was filled up, and a low battlemented wall enclosed plots of flowers, cut into curious forms, and edged with box. Still there was no sign of a hu though the neatness and order The church-yard was another of his favourite haunts. Resting upon the broken tomb of some departed warrior of elder times, green with the distillations of the mournful yew, he loved to recal the memory of ages past, the splendour of the feudal Baron, whose armorial bearings, carved in stone, were now fast crumbling into dust; and the hardihood of his stout retainers, who came to these dismal evergreens for the tough material of their murderous weapon, the English bow. But the deepest recess of a neighbouring wood, a spot which he could almost fancy the heart of Ardennes, presented the strongest charm to his romantic imagination. Seated upon the wide-spreading roots of a knotted and gnarled oak, he passed the sultry hours in a Midsummer day's dream, in visions of the vanished Duke and the scornful shepherdess, of the fair Rosalind and the melan-man being, |