modest career in life, as under-librarian of the London Institution: the life below the surface exhibited him as acting under the influence of a singular instinct for the acquisition of documents connected with English history-one of those aids to literature whose names are generally seen only in foot-notes or in sentences of prefaces, while the truth is that, but for them, the efforts and the powers of the most accomplished historians would be vain. Upcott was born in Oxfordshire in 1779, and was set up originally as a collector by his godfather, Ozias Humphrey, the eminent portraitpainter, who left him his correspondence. With this as a nucleus, he went on collecting for a long series of years, till, in 1836, his collection consisted of thirty-two thousand letters illustrated by three thousand portraits, the value of the whole being estimated by himself at £10,000. That this was not an extravagant appraisement may now be averred, when we know that, after large portions of the collection had been disposed of, a mere remnant, sold by auction after the collector's death, brought £412, 178. 6d. It was to Upcott that the public was indebted for the preservation of the manuscript of the Diary of John Evelyn, a valuable store of matter regarding English familiar life in the seventeenth century. The Correspondence of Henry, Earl of Clarendon, and that of Ralph Thoresby, were also published from the originals in Mr Upcott's collection.

This singular enthusiast spent the last years of his useful and unpretending life in an old mansion in the Upper Street at Islington, which he quaintly denominated Autograph Cottage.

NAVAL ENGAGEMENT OFF FLAMBOROUGH

HEAD, SEPTEMBER 23, 1779.

On 23d September 1779, a serious naval engagement took place on the coast of Yorkshire, H.M.S. Serapis and Countess of Scarborough being the ships on the one side, and a squadron under the command of the celebrated adventurer Paul Jones on the other. It was a time of embarrassment in England. Unexpected difficulties and disasters had been experienced in the attempt to enforce the loyalty of the American colonies. Several of England's continental neighbours were about to take advantage of her weakness to declare against her. In that crisis it was that Jones came and insulted the coasts of Britain. Driven out of the Firth of Forth by a strong westerly wind, he came southwards till he reached the neighbourhood of Flamborough Head, where he resolved to await the Baltic and merchant fleet, expected shortly to arrive there on its homeward voyage under the convoy of the two men-of-war above mentioned. About two o'clock in the afternoon of the 23d September, Jones, on board of his vessel the Bon Homme Richard (so called after his friend Benjamin Franklin), descried the fleet in question, with its escort, advancing north-north-east, and numbering forty-one sail. He at once hoisted the signal for a general chase, on perceiving which the two frigates bore out from the land in battle-array, whilst the merchant vessels crowded all sail towards shore, and succeeded in gaining shelter beneath the guns of Scarborough Castle. There was little wind, and, according to Jones's own account, it was nightfall before the Bon Homme Richard could come up

OFF FLAMBOROUGH HEAD.

The

with the Serapis, when an engagement within pistol-shot commenced, and continued at that distance for nearly an hour, the advantage both in point of manageableness and number of guns being on the side of the British ship; whilst the remaining vessels of Jones's squadron, from some inexplicable cause, kept at a distance, and he was obliged for a long time to maintain single-handed a contest with the two English frigates. harvest-moon, in the meantime, rose calm and beautiful, casting its silver light over the waters of the German Ocean, the surface of which, smooth as a mirror, bore the squadrons engaged in deadly conflict. Suddenly, some old eighteen-pounders on board the Bon Homme Richard exploded at their first discharge, killing and wounding many of Jones's sailors; and as he had now only two pieces of cannon on the quarter-deck remaining unsilenced, and his vessel had been struck by several shots below the water-level, his position was becoming very critical. Just then, while he ran great danger of going to the bottom, the bowsprit of the Serapis came athwart the poop of the Bon Homme Richard, and Jones, with his own hands, made the two vessels fast in that position. A dreadful scene at close-quarters then ensued, in which Captain Pearson, the British commander, inflicted signal damage by his artillery on the under part of his opponent's vessel, whilst his own decks were rendered almost untenable by the handgrenades and volleys of musketry which, on their cannon becoming unserviceable, the combatants on board the Bon Homme Richard discharged with murderous effect. For a long time the latter seemed decidedly to have the worst of the contest, and on one occasion the master-gunner, believing that Jones and the lieutenant were killed, and himself left as the officer in command, rushed up to the poop to haul down the colours in the hopelessness of maintaining any longer the conflict. But the flagstaff had been shot away at the commencement of the engagement, and he could only make his intentions known by calling out over the ship's side for quarter. Captain Pearson then hailed to know if the Bon Homme Richard surrendered, an interrogation which Jones immediately answered in the negative, and the fight continued to rage. Meantime the Countess of Scarborough had been engaged by the Pallas, a vessel belonging to Jones's squadron, and after a short conflict had surrendered. The Bon Homme Richard was thus freed from the attacks of a double foe, but was at the same time nearly brought to destruction by the Alliance, one of its companion-vessels, which, after keeping for a long time at a distance, advanced to the scene of action, and poured in several broadsides, most of which took effect on her own ally instead of the British frigate. At last the galling fire from the shrouds of Jones's ship told markedly in the thinning of the crew of the Serapis, and silencing her fire; and a terrible explosion on board of her, occasioned by a young sailor, a Scotchman, it is alleged, who, taking his stand upon the extreme end of the yard of the Bon Homme Richard, dropped a grenade on a row of cartridges on the main-deck of the Serapis, spread such disaster and confusion that Captain Pearson shortly afterwards struck his colours and surrendered. This was at eleven o'clock at night, after the engagement had lasted for upwards of four hours. The accounts of the

ENGAGEMENT OFF FLAMBOROUGH HEAD.
(From a contemporary print.)

could keep longer afloat. With all expedition her crew abandoned her, and went on board the Serapis, of which Paul Jones took the command. The Bon Homme Richard sank almost immediately, with a large sum of money belonging to Jones, and many valuable papers. The prize-ships were now conveyed by him to the Texel, a proceeding which led to a demand being made by the English ambassador at the Hague for the delivery of the captured vessels, and the surrender of Jones himself as a pirate. This application to the Dutch authorities was ineffectual, but it served as one of the predisposing causes of the war which not long afterwards ensued with England After remaining for a while at the Texel, the Serapis was taken to the port of L'Orient, in France, where she appears subsequently to have been disarmed and broken up, whilst the Countess of Scarborough was conveyed to Dunkirk. Meantime, Jones proceeded to France, with the view of arranging as to his future movements; but before quitting Texel, he returned to Captain Pearson his sword, in recognition, as he says, of the bravery which he had displayed on board the Serapis. Pearson's countrymen seem to have entertained the same estimate of his merits, as, on his subsequent return to England, he was received with great distinction, was knighted by George III., and presented with a service of plate and the freedom of their corporations, by those boroughs on the east coast which lay near the scene of the naval engagement. In France, honours no less flattering were bestowed on Paul Jones. At the opera and all public places, he received enthusiastic ovations, and Louis XVI. presented him with a gold-hilted sword, on which was engraved, Vindicati maris Ludovicus XVI. remunerator strenuo vindici' (From Louis XVI., in recognition of the services of the brave maintainer of the privileges of the sea).

It may be noted that the true name of Paul Jones was John Paul, and that he made the change probably at the time when he entered the American service. His career was altogether a most singular one, presenting phases to the full as

OFF FLAMBOROUGH HEAD.

romantic as any of those undergone by a hero of fiction. The son of a small farmer near Dumfries, we find him manifesting from his boyhood a strong predilection for the sea, and at the age of twelve commencing life as a cabin-boy, on board the Friendship of Whitehaven, trading to Virginia. After completing his apprenticeship, he made several voyages in connection with the slave-trade to the West Indies, and rose to the position of master. He speedily, however, it is said, conceived a disgust to the traffic, and abandoned it. We find him, about 1775, accepting a commission in the American navy, then newly formed in opposition to that of Britain. What inspired Paul with such feelings of rancour against his native country, cannot now be ascertained; but to the end of his life he seemed to retain undiminished the most implacable resentment towards the British nation. The cause of the colonies against the mothercountry, now generally admitted to have been a just one, was adopted by him with the utmost enthusiasm, and certainly he contrived to inflict a considerable amount of damage on British shipping in the course of his cruises.

To the British nation, and to Scotchmen more especially, the name of Paul Jones has heretofore only been suggestive of a daring pirate or lawless adventurer. He appears, in reality, to have been a sincere and enthusiastic partisan of the cause of the colonists, many of whom were as much natives of Britain as himself, and yet have never been specially blamed for their partisanship. In personal respects, he was a gallant and resolute man, of romantically chivalrous feelings, and superior to everything like a mean or shabby action. It is particularly pleasant to remark his disinterestedness in restoring, in afteryears, to the Countess of Selkirk, the family-plate which the necessity of satisfying his men had compelled him to deprive her of, on the occasion of his descent on the Scottish coast, and for which he paid them the value out of his own resources. The letters addressed by him on this subject to the countess and her husband, do great credit both to his generosity and abilities in point of literary composition. By the Americans, Admiral Paul Jones is regarded as one of their most distinguished naval celebrities.

money, which I then supposed, by feeling, to be a shilling; but when I had light, I found it a twentyshilling piece of gold. I did a little reflect how it might come there, yet could not satisfy my own thoughts, for I had no client then, it being several years before I was called to the bar, and I had few visitors that could drop it there, and no friends in town that might designedly lay it there as a bait, to encourage me at my studies; and although I was the master of some gold, yet I had so few pieces, I well knew it was none of my number; but, however, this being the first time I found gold, I supposed it left there by some means I Could not guess at. About three weeks after, coming again into my chamber in the dark, and laying down my gloves at the same place in my study, I felt under my hand a piece of money, which also proved a twenty-shilling piece of gold; this moved me to further consideration; but, after all my thoughtfulness, I could not imagine any probable way how the gold could come there, but I do not remember that I ever found any, when I went with those expectations and desires. About a month after the second time, coming into my chamber, in the dark, and laying down my gloves upon the same place, on the table in my study, I found two pieces of money under my hand, which, after I had lighted my candle, I found to be two twenty-shilling pieces; and, about the distance of six weeks after, in the same place, and in the dark, I found another piece of gold, and this about the distance of a month, or five or six weeks. I several times after, at the same place, and always in the dark, found twenty-shilling pieces of gold; at length, being with my cousin Langton, grandmother to my cousin Susan Skipwith, lately married to Sir John Williams, I told her this story, and I do not remember that I ever found any gold there after, although I kept that chamber above two years longer, before I sold it to Mr Anthony Weldon, who now hath it (this being 23d September 1673). Thus I have, to the best of my remembrance, truly stated this fact, but could never know, or have any probable conjecture, how that gold was laid there.'

The relationship that existed between cousin Langton and cousin Skipwith does not seem very clear, according to our modern method of reckoning kindred; but it must be recollected that, in former times, the title of cousin was given to any collateral relative more remote than a brother or sister. Probably, cousin Langton was Mr Bowes's grandmother as well as Miss Skipwith's, and, if she liked, could have solved the mystery. For the writer has known more than one instance of benevolent old ladies making presents of money to young relatives, in a similarly stealthy and eccentric manner.

SEPTEMBER 24.

St Rusticus or Rotiri, bishop of Auvergne, 5th century. St Chuniald or Conald, priest and missionary. St Germer or Geremar, abbot, 658. St Gerard, bishop of Chonad, martyr, 1046.

Born.-Sharon Turner, historian, 1768, London. Died.-Pepin, king of France, 768; Michael III., Greek emperor, assassinated, 867; Pope Innocent II., 1143; William of Wykeham, founder of Winchester

THE FEAST OF INGATHERING.

School, 1404, South Waltham; Samuel Butler, author of Hudibras, 1680, London; Henry, Viscount Hardinge, governor-general and commander in India, 1856, South Park, near Tunbridge.

The Feast of Ingathering.

Wherever, throughout the earth, there is such a thing as a formal harvest, there also appears an inclination to mark it with a festive celebration. The wonder, the gratitude, the piety felt towards the great Author of nature, when it is brought before us that, once more, as it has ever been, the ripening of a few varieties of grass has furnished food for earth's teeming millions, insure that there should every where be some sort of feast of ingathering. In England, this festival passes generally under the endeared name of HarvestHome. In Scotland, where that term is unknown, the festival is hailed under the name of the Kirn. In the north of England, its ordinary designation is the Mell-Supper. And there are perhaps other local names. But every where there is a thankful joy, a feeling which pervades all ranks and conditions of the rural people, and for once in the year brings all upon a level. The servant sympathises with the success of his master in the great labours of the year.

The employer looks kindly down upon his toiling servants, and feels it but due to thiem that they should have a banquet furnished out of the abundance which God has given himone in which he and his family should join them, all conventional distinctions sinking under the overpowering gush of natural, and, it may be added, religious feeling, which so well befits the time.

Most of our old harvest-customs were connected with the ingathering of the crops, but some of them began with the commencement of harvest-work. Thus, in the southern counties, it was customary for the labourers to elect, from among themselves, a leader, whom they denominated their lord.' To him all the rest were required to give precedence, and to leave all transactions respecting their work. He made the terms with the farmers for mowing, for reaping, and for all the rest of the harvestwork; he took the lead with the scythe, with the sickle, and on the 'carrying days;' he was to be the first to eat, and the first to drink, at all their refreshments; his mandate was to be law to all the rest, who were bound to address him as 'My Lord,' and to shew him all due honour and respect. Disobedience in any of these particulars was punished by imposing fines according to a scale previously agreed on by 'the lord' and all his vassals. In some instances, if any of his men swore or told a lie in his presence, a fine was inflicted. In Buckinghamshire and other counties, 'a lady' was elected as well as 'a lord,' which often added much merriment to the harvest-season. For, while the lady was to receive all honours due to the lord from the rest of the labourers, he (for the lady was one of the workmen) was required to pass it on to the lord. For instance, at drinking-time, the vassals were to give the horn first to the lady, who passed it to the lord, and when he had drunk, she drank next, and then the others indiscriminately. Every departure from this rule incurred a fine. The blunders which led to fines, of course, were frequent, and produced great merriment.

In the old simple days of England, before the natural feelings of the people had been checked and chilled off by Puritanism in the first place, and what may be called gross Commercialism in the second, the harvest-home was such a scene as Horace's friends might have expected to see at his Sabine farm, or Theocritus described in his Idylls. Perhaps it really was the very same scene which was presented in ancient times. The grain last cut was brought home in its wagon-called the Hock Cart-surmounted by a figure formed of a sheaf with gay dressings a presumable representation of the goddess Ceres-while a pipe and tabor went merrily sounding in front, and the reapers tripped around in a hand-in-hand ring, singing appropriate songs, or simply by shouts and cries giving vent to the excitement of the day.

'Harvest-home, harvest-home,

We have ploughed, we have sowed,
We have reaped, we have mowed,
We have brought home every load,

Hip, hip, hip, harvest-home!'

So they sang or shouted. In Lincolnshire and other districts, hand-bells were carried by those riding on the last load, and the following rhymes

were sung:

'The boughs do shake, and the bells do ring,
So merrily comes our harvest in,
Our harvest in, our harvest in,
So merrily comes our harvest in!
Hurrah!'

Troops of village children, who had contributed in various ways to the great labour, joined the throng, solaced with plum-cake in requital of their little services. Sometimes, the image on the cart, instead of being a mere dressed-up bundle of grain, was a pretty girl of the reaping-band, crowned with flowers, and hailed as the Maiden. Of this we have a description in a ballad of Bloomfield's:

Home came the jovial Hockey load,
Last of the whole year's crop,
And Grace among the green boughs rode,
Right plump upon the top.

This way and that the wagon reeled,
And never queen rode higher;
Her cheeks were coloured in the field,
And ours before the fire.'

In some provinces-we may instance Buckinghamshire-it was a favourite practical joke to lay an ambuscade at some place where a high bank or a tree gave opportunity, and drench the hock-cart party with water. Great was the merriment, when this was cleverly and effectively done, the riders laughing, while they shook themselves, as merrily as the rest. Under all the rustic jocosities of the occasion, there seemed a basis of pagan custom; but it was such as not to exclude a Christian sympathy. Indeed, the harvest-home of Old England was obviously and beyond question a piece of natural religion, an ebullition of jocund gratitude to the divine source of all earthly bless

ings.

Herrick describes the harvest-home of his epoch (the earlier half of the seventeenth century) with his usual felicity of expression.

'Come, sons of summer, by whose toile
We are the Lords of wine and oile; ;
By whose tough labours, and rough hands,
We rip up first, then reap our lands,

THE FEAST OF INGATHERING.

Crown'd with the eares of corne, now come,
And, to the pipe, sing harvest-home.
Come forth, my Lord, and see the cart,
Drest up with all the country art.
See here a maukin, there a sheet
As spotlesse pure as it is sweet:
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,
Clad, all, in linnen, white as lillies,
The harvest swaines and wenches bound
For joy, to see the hock-cart crown'd.
About the cart heare how the rout
Of rural younglings raise the shout;
Pressing before, some coming after,
Those with a shout, and these with laughter.
Some blesse the cart; some kisse the sheaves;
Some prank them up with oaken leaves :
Some crosse the fill-horse; some with great
Devotion stroak the home-borne wheat:
While other rusticks, lesse attent
To prayers than to merryment,

Run after with their breeches rent.
Well, on, brave boyes, to your Lord's hearth
Glitt'ring with fire, where, for your mirth,
You shall see first the large and cheefe
Foundation of your feast, fat beefe:
With upper stories, mutton, veale,
And bacon, which makes full the meale;
With sev'rall dishes standing by,
As here a custard, there a pie,
And here all-tempting frumentie.
And for to make the merrie cheere
If smirking wine be wanting here,

There's that which drowns all care, stout beere,
Which freely drink to your Lord's health,
Then to the plough, the commonwealth;
Next to your flailes, your fanes, your fatts,
Then to the maids with wheaten hats;
To the rough sickle, and the crookt sythe
Drink, frollick, boyes, till all be blythe,
Feed and grow fat, and as ye eat,
Be mindfull that the lab'ring neat,
As you, may have their full of meat;
And know, besides, ye must revoke
The patient oxe unto the yoke,
And all goe back unto the plough

And harrow, though they 're hang'd up now.
And, you must know, your Lord's word's true,
Feed him ye must, whose food fils you.

And that this pleasure is like raine,
Not sent ye for to drowne your paine.
But for to make it spring againe.'

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