§ IV. The Chicalier.

فرس

The name of this piece, although European, has strictly preserved the meaning of its Eastern original; for the Arabic Pháras, the Persian Asp, the Turkish At, and the Jewish DID Sús, or wD Pharàsh, are precisely similar in signification and movement on the board, to the European Chicalier or Knight.* As this piece has undergone no variation in its power of moving, it is needless to dwell longer on it.

Deinde Elephas ad bellum prodit et accedit,
Ad latus collocatur ipse tanquam insidiator.
Sicut 78 Pherz est incessus ejus; nisi quod sit
Huic præcellentia, eo quod ille sit tantum trifarius.

The restricted movement of this piece to the 3d square only, is what Aben Ezra describes by the Hebrew word

.

MS Sloan. 4029. says,- Secundus Alphinus, qui currit tres punctos; qui sursum et deorsum capiat,' &c. The Morality of Pope Innocent states, that Isti Alphini obliquè transeunt et capiant tria puncta pertranseundo,' &c.; and the poem in the Bodl. Library (quoted by Dr. Hyde) has a very particular allusion to the powers of this piece:

Cædit Calvus per transversum tertiam ad tabulam,
Sedet semper in occulto quasi fur ut rapiat,

Sæpe namque suo furto separat victoriam.

*MS. Bibl. Regiæ, 12 E. rxi:

Miles ab obliquo puncto mediante relicto

Prosilit, et fortem prosternit fortior hostem.

Miles vero in capiendo duo puncta transit directa, et tertium obliquat, in signum quòd milites et domini terram poterunt justè capere redditus debitos et justas emendas à delinquentibus secundum exigenciam, sed tertium punctum obliquat cum talliagia et injustas exacciones extorquent a subditis suis.-Moralitas Inno.centii Papæ.

Out of the town he took a stroll,

Refreshing in the fields his soul

With sight of streams and trees and snowy fleeces,
And thoughts of crowded houses and new pieces.
When we are pleasantly employed time flies;
He counted up his profits, in the skies

Until the moon began to shine,

On which he gazed awhile, and then

Pull'd out his watch, and cried-" Past nine!
"Why, zounds, they shut the gates at ten !"-
Backwards he turn'd his steps instanter,
Stumping along with might and main ;
And though 'tis plain

He couldn't gallop, trot, or canter,

(Those who had seen him would confess it,) he March'd well for one of such obesity.

Eyeing his watch, and now his forehead mopping,

He puff'd and blew along the road,

Afraid of melting, more afraid of stopping,

When in his path he met a clown

Returning from the town.

"Tell me," he panted in a thawing state,

"Dost think I can get in, friend, at the gate?" "Get in !" replied the hesitating loon,

66

Measuring with his eye our bulky wight,—
Why--yes, Sir, I should think you might,
A load of hay went in this afternoon."

The Bank Clerk and the Stable- Keepers.
Shewing how Peter was undone

By taking care of Number One.

OF Peter Prim (so Johnson would have written)
Let me indulge in the remembrance ;-Peter!
Thy formal phiz has oft my fancy smitten,

For sure the Bank had never a completer

Quiz among its thousand clerks,

Than he who now elicits our remarks.

Prim was a formalist, a prig,

A solemn fop, an office Martinet,
One of those small precisians who look big
If half an hour before their time they get
To an appointment, and abuse those elves
Who are not over-punctual, like themselves.
If you should mark his powder'd head betimes,
And polish'd shoes in Lothbury,

You knew the hour, for the three-quarter chimes
Invariably struck as he went by.

From morning fines he always saved his gammon,
Not from his hate of sloth, but love of Mammon.
For Peter had a special eye

To Number One:-his charity

At home beginning, ne'er extends,

But where it started had its end too;

And as to lending cash to friends,
Luckily he had none to lend to.

No purchases so cheap as his,

While no one's bargains went so far,
And though in dress a deadly quiz,
No Quaker more particular.

H.

This live automaton, who seem'd
To move by clock-work, ever keen
To live upon the saving plan,
Had soon the honour to be deem'd
That selfish, heartless, cold machine,
Call'd in the City—a warm man.

A Bank Director once, who dwelt at Chigwell,
Prim to a turtle-feast invited,

And as the reader knows the prig well,

I need not say he went, delighted!

For great men, when they let you slice their meat
May give a slice of loan-a richer treat.

No stage leaves Chigwell after eight,
Which was too early to come back;
So after much debate,

Peter resolved to hire a hack,

The more inclined to this because he knew
In London Wall, at Number Two,

An economic stable-keeper,

From whom he hoped to get one cheaper.
Behold him mounted on his jade,
A perfect Johnny-Gilpin figure,
But the good bargain he had made
Compensating for sneer and snigger,
He trotted on,-arrived-sat down,

Devour'd enough for six or seven,
His horse remounted, and reach'd town
As he had fix'd-exactly at eleven.
But whether habit led him, or the Fates,
To give a preference to Number One
(As he had always done),

Or that the darkness jumbled the two gates,
Certain it is he gave that bell a drag,

Instead of Number Two,

Rode in-dismounted-left his nag,

And homeward hurried without more ado.

Some days elapsed, and no one came
To bring the bill, or payment claim :
He 'gan to hope 'twas overlook'd,
Forgotten quite, or never book'd—
An error which the honesty of Prim
Would ne'er have rectified, if left to him.
After six weeks, however, comes a pair

Of groom-like looking men,

Each with a bill, which Peter they submit to;
One for the six weeks' hire of a bay mare,
And one for six weeks' keep of ditto:
Together-twenty-two pounds ten!

The tale got wind.-What, Peter make a blunder!
There was no end of joke, and quiz, and wonder,
Which, with the loss of cash, so mortified
Prim, that he suffer'd an attack

Of bile, and bargain'd with a quack,

Who daily swore to cure him-till he died;

When, as no will was found,

His scraped, and saved, and hoarded store

Went to a man to whom, some months before, He had refused to lend a pound.

H.

LETTERS ON A TOUR IN SWITZERLAND.*

NO. IV.

Ev'n here where Alpine solitudes ascend,

I sit me down a pensive hour to spend.

GOLDSMITH.

NOTHING Could be more prepossessing than the amiable manners and zealous attentions of these religious hosts. The superior did not appear till supper, at six o'clock. In the mean time we were conducted into the refectory, a spacious sombre saloon, with dark oak wainscotting, and hung round with old pictures of the superiors and other ecclesiastics. A fire was then lighted for us in another large saloon, possessing a chimney-place; where several of the monks joined us, and interested us by their lively and intelligent conversation. Some bread and wine were brought us, and the Paris newspapers which they received regularly, and which were scarcely a week old; and our hosts, who never appear to slumber in body or mind, eagerly entered into discussion on the contest between the Greeks and the Turks; the proceedings against the late Queen; and various other topics of political interest. On these subjects some of them conversed with a degree of knowledge and of interest on passing events which could hardly be exceeded by the active quidnuncs of St. James's-street or the Royal Exchange. Their life is, in fact, passed in a spiritual and temporal activity; and the common reproaches of monkish ease and indulgence would be very ill indeed applied to the little community of St. Bernard. This is no place where "slumber abbots purple as their vines." The climate is so severe that none but young men can support its rigour: of the thirty or thirty-five monks of the establishment, we found about fifteen resident: scarcely three of these were above the age of thirty. The Superior, who is a venerable and dignified old man, was only there by accident: a general Chapter having been held the day before. He ordinarily resides at Martigny in the valley. Even the young men are frequently afflicted with cramps, rheumatisms, and other disorders. The superintendence of the temporal affairs and duties of the establishment finds ample employment for a large number. Their rents (now dreadfully diminished) are to be received-provisions laid in-wood fetched from the forests in the valley: twenty or thirty horses are generally employed in these labours. Strangers are to be lodged and provided for according to their rank and appearance,-seven or eight thousand persons are computed to pass the St. Bernard in a year, the greater part of whom spend the night at the convent; and above all, during seven or eight months in the year, several of the monks and servants of the establishment are employed in the humane and perilous office of exploring the most dangerous and difficult passages among the glaciers and snows in quest of distressed travellers. The celebrated dogs, which they use on these expeditions, are indeed noble animals. We saw two or three stalking about the convent in temporary repose. They are large, strong, and muscular; short-haired, and of a dull sandy colour, with black muzzles and thick heads, resembling both a Newfoundland dog and an English mastiff, with a character of great strength and sagacity. They carry in their perambulations a basket furnished with provisions and woollen clothes, which seasonable com

* Continued from page 26.

forts have often been the means of saving the lives of half-frozen and famished sufferers. They have a quick scent, and are easily attracted to the spot where a human being lies. Their natural sagacity is improved by training; and they either lead their masters to the place, or, where its situation has been quite inaccessible to the monks themselves, they have frequently dragged frozen persons over the snows to their masters, by whose timely care they have been restored to life. A magnificent dog, from the St. Bernard, is preserved stuffed in the Museum at Berne, who is said to have been the means of saving the lives of twenty-eight individuals. Unhappily, these noble creatures suffer, like their masters, from the severity of their life and labours. They are short-lived, and old age soon comes upon them. A dog of seven or eight years old, the Superior informed us, is generally infirm and disabled. At the hour of supper we met all the monks in the refectory, and were presented to the Superior, an interesting man, thin in person, somewhat bowed with years, wearing the collar and cross of his dignity over the ordinary garb of the convent, and whose manners and conversation had a grace and refinement which rendered his good sense and intelligent remarks peculiarly pleasing. A long Latin grace was said before we sat down to table; the Superior leading, and the monks joining in general responses. As our visit happened unluckily on a Friday, we were not able to form a fair estimate of the convent kitchen. Soup, omelettes, and other dishes of eggs and vegetables, formed the bill of fare, which, to say truth, was not of the most satisfactory kind to travellers who had rode ten long leagues on mules, and found themselves, at the end of their journey, in a climate of a most animating rarity. An agreeable wine from the vineyards of the convent in the Vallais, called the St. Bernard wine, was a pleasant accompaniment of our lenten fare; and the conversation of the superior and his brethren agreeably enlivened our potations. About nine o'clock the Superior withdrew, and we presently retired to our chambers, situated in a vast gloomy corridor, running the whole length of the building, divided in the middle by a heavy iron grille, and adorned with old dusty pictures of a long line of superiors, priors, protecting popes, and princely benefactors of the house. My bed-room was a spacious lofty chamber, with double casements, a wainscot hung closely with fresh pictures of mitred, crosiered, and cassocked churchmen, frowning in all the stiff outlines of the sixteenth century; and a lofty bed of nearly the same date, with heavy red maroon hangings and vallances, whose oldfashioned solidity I found extremely serviceable in fencing out the cold of the apartment. A few old Latin volumes of theology were ranged on a shelf, and a fine modern telescope of Dollond's stood on a stand, which appeared from the inscription to have been presented by an English general-officer to the convent. No chamber in the Castle of Otranto could possibly have been, in all respects, a more fitting scene for an encounter with a bleeding nun, or the shade of a deposed prior. As I lay down, and drew the maroon curtains very close round the bed, I could not help thinking-"If ever I am to be gratified with a spiritual visit, for which so many have sighed, this is certainly the time and place-Seven thousand feet nearer heaven than my friends in England-many leagues from the abode of man-under a roof which has weathered the Alpine blast and the avalanche for three centuries-grey