that the Hon. William Byron, of Bulwell Wood Hall, had a daughter who clandestinely married one of her father's dog keepers, by whom she had several children; and it was further added that the mysterious "White Lady," who some years ago haunted the grounds of Newstead Abbey, sprang from this illassorted match.

A NOTTS. CLERICAL NOTORIETY.

The Rev. Dr. Edward Calamy records the doings of a Nottinghamshire clerical black sheep. Mr. Francis, of Staunton, in Nottinghamshire, a gentleman who had the free run of several country houses, in which he played the part of buffoon by turns to the “quality” in the dining room, and to the menials in the servants' hall. "He was a drunken profane wretch," says Calamy, who tells farther how this cassock-wearing scapegrace “One Sunday, in the evening, in the summer season, called at the house of a certain baronet on his return from Grantham Market to Staunton. He happened to come in when the servants were at supper in the hall. They desired him to sit down with them, which he did. When supper was ended, they desired him also to return thanks, which he did in the following words:—

"The Lord be blessed for all his gifts,

The Devil be hanged for all his shifts."

"Methinks a number of such worthies as these," adds the pious Calamy, "would not have recommended any cause in Christendom."

THE NOTTS. CLERGYMAN AND THE LONDON PICKPOCKET.

Dr. Bigsby used to relate an anecdote about an old friend of his, a Nottinghamshire clergyman, who, being in London, went one evening to the pit of Drury Lane Theatre to see some famous actor of the day-Kemble or Kean. There was a great rush for admittance at the entrance, and, while sorely pressed by the crowd, he felt somebody's hands busy with his watch pocket. Searching to see if his watch was safe, he found his fob was empty; whereupon, seeing a suspicious-looking fellow immediately in advance of him, he promptly charged him, but in a whisper only. "You've got my watch," said he. At the next moment a watch was slipped into his hands by the party addressed, with the words, "Say nothing about it, here it is." The clergyman conveyed the article to a more secure place of deposit, and thought

F

little more of the matter until his arrival at his inn, after the close of the performance. On going up to his bedroom at the "Bull and Mouth," the first object he saw was the black ribbon, with the seals appendant, of his own watch; and on examining his coat pocket, he found a most magnificent watch, of the value of some forty or fifty pounds, that had doubtless been stolen a short time before it had been handed to himself by the thief in question. He repeatedly advertised the watch in the newspapers, but it was never claimed; and he used afterwards to exhibit it to his friends, and tell its story to them, with a comic expression at the idea of having fleeced an "Arab" of his spoil in so unconscious a manner. Apropos of watch stealing, we are reminded of a silver hunting-watch that belonged to one of the "whippersin" of Lord Middleton's foxhounds in Nottinghamshire. It had the name of the owner, "Jack Stevens," on its face instead of the Roman numerals, the letters representing eleven figures, and in lieu of the twelfth figure was a fox's head. Such an arrangement might, in many instances, save a watch from being stolen.

A NOBLE STOCKING WEAVER.

A good story is told illustrating the aptitude for business displayed by the Duke of Buccleuch and his brother, Lord John Scott, in early life. About forty years ago, when there had been severe distress in the manufacturing districts, and among other places in Hawich, where the Duke possessed a large property, this nobleman and his brother went from one weaving shop to another, making enquiries as to the wages paid for this and that bit of work. At last they came to a shop where the men were weaving woollen hose; these assured his Grace that they could only make threepence a pair, or about ninepence a day.

"That

"Will

is little," said Lord John to the man sitting at the loom. you allow me to try my hand at the loom, and see if I can't make more than you?" "Your lordship will make little of this," said the man. Lord John, however, sat down, took up the shuttle, and worked away, the men all the while looking on in wonder. After a short time he pitched off one hose, then took out his watch and worked another, and at last exclaimed, "I could make fifteenpence a day at this work " It was then explained that Lord John had been brought up good deal with his uncle, Lord Montague, near Nottingham, one of the conditions of his staying there being that he should visit that town

every Saturday in order to learn weaving. The consequence was that unlike many fairly educated people of his station in society, this noble earl could, at the outset of his career, do one thing really well.

A RASH VOW FULFILLED.

A man named Wass, a singular character, resident in North Muskham, and who died about the year 1805, made a vow thirty years before he threw off his mortal coil that, in consequence of a dispute betwixt him and a neighbour, he would never stir out of the house; and, notwithstanding the entreaties of his family and friends, he scrupulously adhered to his vow until his decease.

WONDERFUL FULFILMENT OF A WISH.

A farmer, named Crabtree, many years a resident at Colston Bassett, Nottinghamshire, but more recently of Shardlow, Derbyshire, and who was very fond of fox hunting, had often been heard to express a desire that the hounds should run in full cry past the churchyard at the time of his burial. The wish, singularly enough, was fulfilled on the 21st of December, 1868. Mr. Francklin's hounds were in the neighbourhood of Colston Basset that day, and finding a fox, Reynard ran past the churchyard with the hounds close after him, as the clergyman uttered the words, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," over the remains of Crabtree.

PUTTING SALT ON THEIR TAILS.

At a temperance meeting held, in Nottingham, during the early history of this important movement, a gentleman was called upon by the chairman to address a few words to the meeting, which he essayed to do. He commenced, "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking I rise to address a few words to you," but here he stopped short, and having somewhat collected his confused ideas, he continued, "My thoughts are like birds-they fly away when they are wanted," to which a wag exclaimed, "You should put some salt on their tails."

A CONCEITED CLERGYMAN AND THE AUTHOR.

Thomas Ragg, the author of Creation's Testimony to its God, and other works, was at one time an assistant at the shop of

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Mr. Dearden, (now Mr. Bell), bookseller, Carlton Street, Nottingham. One of his books having been recently reviewed very favourably by the press, a pompous customer in the shop walked up to the counter, and in a patronising manner, made some allusion to its merits. Ragg mistook the compliment for one of generous appreciation, and afterwards showed some recognition of the party paying it as they passed each other in the street, but was given the go-bye with an air of contempt. Subsequently, the person who had thus behaved, being in conversation with one who knew him, said, Haw, that Ragg at Dearden's; do you know him?" "Yes," was the answer; "why do you Haw, why, you see, he has written a book, and I thought I would slightly compliment him on it; but what do you think the fellow was afterwards-haw-impudent enough to do? He positively bowed to me in the street, as if we were acquainted." "Did he indeed?" gravely rejoined the other; "well, that was very remarkable, considering that when you and I are dead, buried, rotten, and forgotten, his name will probably be much more honoured than yours or mine is now."

ask?" 99 66

NOTTINGHAM PLUCK.

During the burning of the Nottingham Exchange on the 26th of November, 1836, it was made known that in a room where the fire was quickly extending was a barrel containing five hundred rounds of ball cartridge and three pounds of gunpowder, and a reward of £5 was offered to any person who would fetch them away, when a man named John Sharpe, a bricklayer, volunteered his services. A ladder was speedily reared against the shop of Mr. Attenborough, butcher, in Exchange Alley, which he mounted, and when he had reached the roof of that house he drew up the ladder after him, and replaced it at the back of the corn inspector's office. By this means he effected an entrance through a window adjoining the powder room, forced open the door, and succeeded in bringing away the barrels without injury, the flames having reached to within a few yards of the room.

The "Old General's" propensity for acting the General seems to have displayed itself in early life, for when but a young man he was in the habit of drilling a number of boys in the market

place as soldiers. On one of these occasions, while actively engaged in regulating the "awkward squad," he attracted the attention of a group of officers, just as one of the boys was more than usually intractable. "Well, Ben," said one of the officers, "what shall you make of that one; he's not fit for the ranks." "You'll see," he said, with more than his usual archness, at the same time telling the awkward youth to leave the ranks. Then regulating the others to his mind, he turned to the one who had been laid aside, and putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, exclaimed, "There then, I'll make you an officer." The bystanders greeted this satire with much applause. It was remarkable to notice the manner in which the "General" in his declining years would evade the oft-repeated question, "How old are you, Ben ?" In one instance an individual, knowing his aversion to declare his age, and also his love for a drop of Nottingham ale, thought he would see whether the aversion or love were strongest; and offered him half-a-pint of ale if he would say how old he was. He consented, but would drink the ale first. Afterwards, when pressed to fulfil his part of the contract, he said, "Why you know where they fate the battles abrode over yonder,” at the same time pointing at random. "Yes," was the reply. "Well, there's a church there, and that church and me's just of a age." Then, breaking into one of his droll, chuckling laughs, he would be delayed no longer, and started off. During the greater part of his career, the subject of this narrative was invariably seen without any covering to his head. Rain, wind, or snow mattered little to him; and it was not until he had attained his sixtieth year that he began to wear a sort of military cap. His remarkably crooked legs were finished off with coarse stockings and rough quarter-boots. His locomotive powers were good, considering the malformation of his legs. One leg being much bent, his body had an up-and-down motion, especially observable when he ran. Another peculiarity was, that when he had any fresh papers to sell, he would never stop to take money till quite out of breath, and until he had arrived at the extremity of the town.

A WITTY NOTTINGHAM LAWYER.

Sitting in the county criminal court at Nottingham, the jury being sworn, and waiting only the arrival of council engaged in the case, Judge Alderson, his glass to his eye (his usual custom),