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and is another strong proof of the superiority of our heathen forefathers in this important but neglected branch of Art.

THE C. L. A.-At a meeting of the Central Literary Association last night, a most interesting discovery was brought under the notice of the members. It seems that a few days ago, one of the clerks in the British Museum happened to take down an old-fashioned volume from a top shelf, where it had probably lain for ages. It was a work upon the State Establishment of the Church, printed in 1879, and in curiously turning over its leaves he discovered some papers, musty and time-stained from their long immurement. They turned out to be:-(1) A copy of a circular giving notice of a subject for debate at a meeting of the Central Literary Association on November 3, 1882. (2) Some rough notes seemingly made by a speaker at that meeting. The authorities at once courteously forwarded an exact copy of these documents to the President of the C. L. A., who was thus enabled to make the discovery public at the meeting last night. Having recounted this story of the manner of their finding, the learned President went on to say that he must profoundly congratulate his fellow-members upon it, for they now had incontestable evidence that their Association had a great and an eminent past. (Loud applause.) Upon the present condition of their Association it did not become him, or any of them, to descant, but they were proud to feel that it was a power and a leading light in the land. They were proud to number great men within their ranks, such as many whom he could now see before him. * But he need not remind them that of the first days of their Society they knew very little ; and they, and, he might add, the cultured portion of England with them, would feel a patriotic or a sympathetic thrill at being assured that the dim past of their earliest infancy once shone with a lustre not less resplendent than did their present. (Loud cheers.) The paper he held in his hand was a copy of the circular referred to, calling a meeting of their Association for November 3, 1882, and the question for debate was that the clergymen and curates of the Church of England were unfit for their office. He might note, in passing, that the wording of this question established the fact that there had once been some distinction between a clergyman and a curate, the former existence of which was not now suspected. But he would keep them no longer from the interesting discovery which it was his pleasure and his duty to communicate to them. The names of the principals upon the affirmative side were Pardoe and Ireland; upon the negative side, Crane and Lawson. He had been at a very considerable amount of trouble, during the scant time given him, to discover what was known of these, as he might call them, Association ancestors of theirs. He had ransacked such records of the 19th Century as were at his disposal, and his labours had not gone unrewarded. (Cheers.) Pardoe, he found, was the author of a work of great magnitude and research upon the interiors of the ancient kingdoms of Persia and Arabia. A lady of the same name, perhaps a rela

* The absence of applause at this and similar points would seem to prove that an audience of these days (at any rate, of the C.L.A.) is not so noisily caught, either by the statements of pleasant truth or by the allurements of flattery-even though this last is laid on with a trowel.

tive, had also written an exhaustive life of Marie de Medicis. The second of these men, Ireland, was a man of such learning and ingenuity that he produced some plays and documents, purporting to be by Shakespeare, which went by the name of the Shakespeare Forgeries, and which roused a storm of controversy at the time. (Applause). The third, Crane, was a celebrated illustrator of books-several volumes with his illustrations having been published by Macmillan's, one of the first publishing firms of the time; and, indeed, he believed that stories "done into pictures by him where still extant. As to Lawson, he was not in a position to give them such definite information; but there were grounds for concluding that he afterwards became the Mr. Justice Lawson who was still remembered in history as the man who subjected Gray, a High Sheriff of the city of Dublin, to fine and imprisonment. (Renewed applause). Such, then, were the men who introduced this debate; and might they not with reason suppose that their deliberations would have some weight in the country, and may have helped to invigorate the Church, and to place her in the great and beneficent position she now occupied? For himself, he confessed that it was an easy matter for him to believe so. (Cheers). He could not sit down without again expressing his enthusiastic pleasure at the discovery he had had the good fortune to bring before them.There was loud and continued applause as the President resumed his seat, and various references to the subject were made during the course of the evening's business.

I do not know that it is particularly odd that these two singular discoveries should have been chronicled in the same day's issue. It is not unfrequently that curious things are to be met with in the Satellite. any of my readers who were not aware of this fact, I cannot do better than recommend that they have an occasional eye upon that paper.

To

C. F. G.

The Plucky Tailor of Worcester.

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A SIMPLE STORY.

INETY years ago, or nearly,

Dwelt in Worcester's faithful city,

Near the bank of sedgy Severn,

Close against the old cathedral,
Master Garner, master tailor.

Famed was he for buckskin breeches,
Bedford cord for stalwart farmer,
Scarlet coat for mighty hunter;

All his goods were strong and honest,
Rara avis, honest tailor.

Master Garner had a daughter,

Lovely daughter, modest daughter,
Maggie was the name he gave her ;
Prudent was she, and a gentle,

Winsome, handsome, bright-eyed maiden.
Maggie ruled her father's household,
Ruled with love and careful forethought,
She no suitor e'er encouraged;
And the neighbours were impressed by
Beauty hand-in-hand with duty.
Though no suitor she encouraged,
Still she viewed with silent favour
One among her father's workmen ;
One well known as Billy Walton,
Merry, curly Billy Walton.

Short of stature, broad of shoulder,
Stout of heart and blithe was Billy;
Singing in the early morning,
Singing as he stitched the buckskin,
Free from care, yet workful, mirthful.
Billy loved his master's daughter,
Fondly loved the gentle Maggie;
Bashful, still he feared to woo her,
For he scarce could hope to win her;
One should wealthy be to win her.
Fickle fortune oft rejoices

Loving hearts to keep asunder,
Still she counsels meagre caution;
Counsels caution, while imprudence
Tempts with bread-and-cheese and kisses.

Fickle Fortune, blind old beldame,
Blind to love, to merit scornful,
Hath a pleasing smile for courage;
'Tis the brave that Fortune favours,
'Tis the valiant heart that conquers.
On a sunny day in summer

Chance led Billy down the Foregate,
Foregate, famed resort of beauty;
There he spied the gentle Maggie,
Flushed with fear and righteous anger.
For a scoundrel dogged her footsteps,
Smart his dress, but still a scoundrel,
And by wicked, vile suggestions
Clothed her cheek with modest blushes,
Blushes born of truth and pureness.
Loud as thunder, thus spake Billy,
"Why dost thou molest the maiden?"
"Leave her bide, or else I'll make thee;"
Rapid blows then, fearful struggles,
Billy gasped upon the gravel.

Beaten down by strength o'erpowering,
Strength, though bad the cause, resistless,
Sore of limb, all maimed and bruised,
Dark his eye, his nose ensanguined
Piteous to behold was Billy.

From the fray they gently led him,
Led him to the pump and sponged him,
Led him shame-faced to his mother;
She with open arms received him
Fondly pressed him to her bosom.
By the water's brink at Kempsey,
Where old Severn runneth swiftly,
Billy's mother dwelt, a widow,
A forlorn and frugal widow ;
Frugal she and honest hearted.

With a mother's love she cheered him,

Healed his wounds and cured his bruises;

All unfelt was mother's kindness,

For his heart was hot with fury

And his soul was steeped in vengeance.
Chafing, cursing, sadly sighing,
Billy strayed beside the river;
River loved from early boyhood,
In whose stream he oft had boldly
Proved his prowess as a swimmer.
Bitter shame and grief o'ercame him,
Shame that he in fight was vanquished,
Grief that Maggie ne'er would love him;
"For," cried he, "she deems me coward,
She condemns my lack of courage."

Stung to verge of gloomy madness,
Madness hinting self-destruction,
Sudden screams arrest his hearing;
Screams of terror from the river,
Screams of fear and helpless frenzy.
From his coat in haste divested
Billy sprang into the water;
Sprang with eager haste to rescue
From the stream of cruel Severn
One in danger, one near drowning.
'Twas a maiden who was drowning,
Drowning in the deadly Severn;
Billy swam full swift and caught her,
Caught her just as she was sinking,
Safely brought her to the margin.
She he saved was winsome Maggie,
Maggie fair, his heart's dear idol:
To his mother's cot he bore her,
In his mother's care he left her,
All unconscious there he left her.
Meanwhile, seized by friendly boathook,
Clinging to the keel upturned,

Towed ashore by sturdy bargeman,
Saved from awful fears of dying,

Drenched, but saved, was Master Garner.

Thankful then was Master Garner,

Showers of thanks he poured on Billy;
Doubly grateful now that Maggie
From her swooning had recovered;

"Thank him daughter, for he saved you.” Gratitude with love contending,

Made the gentle maiden speechless ;

All she felt her eyes declared,

Fondest glance she cast on Billy,

Clasped him round the neck and kissed him.

Happy once again was Billy,

Merry, Curly, Billy Walton;

Happy now that Maggie loved him,
Merry now that grief had vanished ;
'Tis the brave that fortune favours.
Billy's master soon advanced him,
To a place of trust advanced him,
Maggie's hand he fain would give him,
But he longed for satisfaction,
Longed for signal proof of valour.
"Now, my lad," said stout old Garner,
"Let not want of gold restrain thee,
If you'd wed my daughter Maggie
Do a deed of sterling courage,
Pluck shall stand instead of money

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