in which they kept live lobsters and other fish
for sale; and it was resolved that one of us
who was least known should go round to the
front, and feign a desire to purchase some of
these. Meanwhile the remainder of our
party drew aside. Soon afterwards we heard
the bolts of the door withdrawn, and
presently saw our companion come out,
accompanied by old Bater holding a candle, which
he was shading from the wind with his hand.
They went down the long garden together,
leaving the door open, and we immediately
entered the house. Before the old man had
perceived our trick, we had discovered a man
in one of the upper rooms, whom my uncle
at once recognised as Jem Bater. The officer
bound him after some resistance, and
proceeded to search the place. The room in
which we found him had a bed, and had
evidently been fitted up for him as a place of
close concealment, in which it was probable
that he intended to remain till the affair had
blown over. The house was searched; and
in a cellar were found the pistols and cutlass,
with other things that were known to have
belonged to the murdered man, besides several
packs of smuggled goods.

Mr. Cutts was soon afterwards set at
liberty: the woman had been found shortly
before, working under an alias in some brick-
fields in an adjoining county. Jem Bater was
found guilty on the evidence, and sentenced
to death. He subsequently confessed his
guilt, and the truth of the tinker's last story
It appeared that he had only returned from
transportation a few days before the murder,
and that he had returned at once to his old
occupation of smuggling, or rather of
purchasing smuggled goods; which were
deposited for him by the smugglers in the ruins
of the old church. He denied that he had
any thought of murdering Martin; but
stated that, being attacked by him in the
churchyard, and finding that he was his old
enemy, he had used his utmost endeavours to
overcome him: that he accordingly grappled
with the old man, who stumbled in the
struggle over one of the graves: and that as
he was falling he had struck him on the head
with the life-preserver. The murderer was
hung soon afterwards at Bury. The
circumstance afforded me great satisfaction, and
appeared to my youthful and uninstructed
mind to be a subject for congratulation to
society generally.

CHOOSING A FIELD-FLOWER.

LET me choose a wilding blossom,
   Ere we quit the sunny fields;
Fittest for my Lucy's bosom,
   Hill, or brake, or meadow yields.

Flag or Poppy we 'll not gather,
   Briony or Pimpernel,
Scented Thyme or sprouting Heather,
   Though we like them both so well.

Purpling Vetches, crimson Clover,
   Pea-bloom winglets, pied and faint,
Bluebell, Windflower, pass them over;
   Sober Mallow, Orchis quaint;

Striped Convolvulus in hedges,
   Columbine, and Mountain Pink;
Lily-nymphs among the sedges,
   Violets nestling by the brink;

Creamy Elder, blue Germander,
   Betony that seeks the shade;
Nor where Honeysuckles wander,
   May that luscious balm persuade.

Sad Forget-me-not's a token
   Full of partings and mishaps;
Leave the Foxglove spire unbroken,
   Lest the fairies want for caps.

Crimson Loose-strife, Crowfoot, Pansy,
   Golden Gowan, golden Broom,
Eyebright cannot fix my fancy,
   Nor the Meadow-sweet's perfume.

Azure, scarlet, pink, or pearly,
   Rustic friends in field or grove,
Each of you I prize full dearly,
   None of you is for my Love.

Wild Rose! delicately flushing
   All the border of the dale,
Art thou like a pale cheek blushing,
   Or a red cheek turning pale?

Do not shed a leaflet slender,
   Keep awhile thy fragant zest;
Fair and sweet, bring thoughts as tender
   To a balmier, fairer breast!

HOUSE-TOPS.

PISISTRATUS CAXTON, in one of the
philosophical moods which he had inherited from his
glorious father, thus apostrophises the house-
tops of London:—" The house-tops! What
a soberising effect that prospect produces on
the mind! But a great many requisites go
towards the detection of the right point of
view. It is not enough to secure a lodging in
the attic; you must not be fobbed off with a
front attic that faces the street. First, your
attic must unequivocally be a back attic.
Secondly, the house in which it is located
must be slightly elevated above its neighbours.
Thirdly, the window must not be slant on the
roof, as is common with attics—in which case
you only catch a peep of that leaden canopy
which infatuated Londoners call the sky—but
must be a window perpendicular, and not half
blocked up by the parapet of that fosse called
the gutter. And lastly, the sight must be so
humoured that you cannot catch a glimpse of
the pavements: if you once see the world
beneath, the whole charm of the world above
is destroyed. Taking it for granted that you
have secured these requisites, open the
window, lean your chin on both hands, the
elbows propped commodiously on the sill, and