Rush'd Ayala, whose hearty psho! psho! psho!

Took the cranes off one leg,—discovering two,

As up they rose, on rustling, sullen wing:

"Well cook?" "Why, body of my soul, sir, there's the thing,

Had you said psho! psho! to your roasted crane,

Belike you'd seen its hidden leg again!"

M.L.B.

SPOONS.

Spoons are objects of great antiquity, and our forefathers bestowed great pains in enriching them with masterly workmanship. So much did taste and fashion rule the time then, that spoons were distinguished as it were by so many devices. It was, and is still with some persons, a custom to present spoons at christenings, or on visiting "the lady in the straw;" and in both cases they were adorned with suitable imagery. A gentleman with whom I am acquainted, and who "keeps a cabinet of curiosities," lately showed me two very curious silver spoons, which he informed me had remained in his family many years; but how they became possessed of them, he could only say that he attributed it to the custom of presenting spoons on certain occasions. One was beautifully wrought; the bowl was very large, and its edges carved with exquisite workmanship. In the middle of the bowl was a representation of "the nativity," carved in so masterly a manner, that, although it was considerably defaced, it must have required the ablest artists to accomplish. The handle, which was likewise superbly carved, ended in a figure of the Virgin Mary, with our Saviour in her lap. The other spoon was so much injured, that we could trace out nothing decisive; although here and there we could perceive it had been richly ornamented.

The same gentleman also showed me a set of Apostle-spoons, which, although objects of curiosity, had, in conformity with the prevailing fashion, undergone the alteration of the silversmith. There were twelve of them, each of which represented an Apostle, boldly carved on the handle; a large round hat is placed on each of their heads, which was probably to save the features from being injured. They are standing on the stem of the spoon, which is carved somewhat like a Doric pillar. The bowls are very large and deep, and are rather awkwardly turned in at the sides. A complete set, in good condition, is very rare and valuable; and it is to be regretted that so many of these relics have fallen into the silversmith's furnace, merely for the sake of their silver.

Apostle-spoons were presented by sponsors or visiters at christenings and at marriages; and those who could not afford a complete set, gave one or two, as their circumstances might permit. Some presented a spoon with the figure of the saint after whom the child was baptized, or to whom it was dedicated. In his "Bartholomew Fair," Ben Jonson has a character to say, "And all this for a couple of apostle-spoons and a cup to eat caudle in." Likewise in the "Noble Gentleman," by Beaumont and Fletcher,

In "The Gossips," a poem, by Shipman, in 1666, there is the following mention of the custom of presenting apostle-spoons at christenings, which it appears was then on the decline:—

On St. Paul's, or any other apostle's day, it was usual for persons of quality to send round a present of a spoon with the figure of such apostle to their friends. In some Catholic families these and the before-mentioned customs are still retained, though I question whether the spoons are enriched with such superb workmanship.

W.H.H.

THE TOPOGRAPHER.

HORSHAM, SUSSEX.

The town of Horsham is pleasantly situated on the liver Arun, in the county of Sussex, about 36 miles S. by W. of London. It is a borough, and contains the county gaol. The spring assizes are likewise held here. Horsham is of considerable antiquity. It was founded by Horsa, the Saxon, about the year A.D. 450, to employ his soldiers while he was enslaved by the captivating chains of a lovely country girl, the daughter of a woodman in the forest. The town was named after himself, Horsa, and the Saxon word Ham, signifying a home. Horsa was killed in Kent, in a battle fought between the Britons and the Saxons, and was buried at Horsted, named also after him, Horsa, and Sted, signifying a place. The foundation of the church is uncertain; but it can be traced as far back as the reign of Henry I. A.D. 1100. The oldest tombstone in the church is to the memory of Robert Hurst, of Hurst Hill, in this county, who died 1483.¹ The church is at the southern extremity of the town, at the foot of Denne, or Dane Hill, on the summit of which is an artificial mound, raised by the Danes after the death of Guthrum, their chief, to defend themselves from Alfred the Great. The top of this mound commands an extensive view, a most prominent feature of which is a part of the forest of St. Leonard, called Mike Mills' Race, a beautiful avenue, a mile and a quarter long, containing about 15,000 full-grown trees. There is a legend connected with this "race," viz. that this part of Horsham Forest was the haunt of Mike Mills, a noted smuggler, whom his Satanic Majesty had often endeavoured to carry off in vain. He therefore determined on attacking him in his strong hold; and accordingly met Mike one night accompanied by other more congenial spirits, when old Nick challenged Mike as his property. Mike, nothing daunted, set down his tubs, took advantage of Nick's old age, and challenged him to a race. "If you can catch me, Nick, before I get to the end of the avenue, you shall have me; if not, you'll have nothing more to do with me."—"Agreed," says Nick. Away ran Mike—away ran Nick. Nick being of too hot a temperament was soon knocked up, and Mike won the race by half a mile; from which circumstance the place was named, and Mike Mills rendered immortal.

W. BERGER.

THE SELECTOR,
AND
LITERARY NOTICES
OF NEW WORKS

DEATH OF CAPTAIN CLAPPERTON AT SOCCATOO.

Agreeably to our promise at the close of the Memoir of Captain Clapperton, prefixed to Vol. XI. of THE MIRROR, we subjoin the following very interesting narrative of the death of this enterprizing traveller, as narrated by Richard Lander, his servant. It forms, perhaps, the most attractive portion of the Journal of the Second Expedition, just published; and to the readers of the foregoing memoir, will afford still further illustration of all that we have there said of the high character of Clapperton, and his faithful attendant, Lander.

On the 12th of March 1827, I was greatly alarmed on finding my dear master attacked with dysentery. He had been complaining a day or two previously of a burning heat in his stomach, unaccompanied, however, by any other kind of pain. From the moment he was taken ill he perspired freely, and big drops of sweat were continually rolling over every part of his body, which weakened him exceedingly. It being the fast of Rhamadan, I could get no one, not even our own servants, to render me the least assistance. I washed the clothes, which was an arduous employment, and obliged to be done eight or nine times each day, lit and kept in the fire, and prepared the victuals myself; and in the intermediate time was