Shegashie never more returned to his native
village. Parting from his relatives at the
grave, he returned to me, and remained with
me—a gentle, unobtrusive, faithful friend,—
until consumption, the bane of his race, took
him from me a few years ago.

TOUCHING THE LORD HAMLET.

MANY persons are aware that the story of
Hamlet is taken from the Danish historian
Saxo-Grammaticus. At the same time, few
persons have read so much as a line of Saxo-
Grammaticus, for he wrote in Latin, and his
book is a folio. By writing in Latin a man
secures immortality at the expense of
popularity. What he gains in duration he loses
in extension. Nor are folios opened with
avidity at the present day. People like to
read in an easy position, possibly with legs
horizontally placed, and to hold a light
volume in their hands. A folio, resting
against a reading-desk, defies every attempt
at luxurious indolence.

Under these circumstances, it is probable
that many persons know exceedingly little of
the traditionary character of Hamlet, and
that when they hear him hint to his friends
that he is about "to put an antick
disposition" on, they fancy that the grave
pleasantries of the tragedy were the sole
consequences of his voluntary eccentricity.
Hence, at the risk of offending antiquaries by
the narration of a (to them) well-known tale,
we shall show to the general reader what a
funny person Hamlet really was—that is to say,
if Saxo-Grammaticus be a faithful historian.

Once upon a time—and a very Iong time
ago it was, for Ruric was the son of Hoder,
who killed Balder, son of the god Odin—once
upon a time, when Ruric reigned over
Denmark, the province of Jutland was governed
by two brothers, in the capacity of joint-viceroys.
One of these, named Horwendil, slew
the King of Norway in single combat, and
presented so large a share of Norwegian
booty to Ruric, that the grateful monarch
bestowed upon him the hand of his daughter
Gerutha. Of this marriage Hamlet was the
result.

Fengo, the other viceroy, instead of
rejoicing at his brother's good fortune, murdered
him out of sheer envy, and married Gerutha
himself. To account for this singular
proceeding, he explained to King Ruric, that the
deceased was in the habit of maltreating his
wife to such a degree that his murder was
absolutely necessary, in order to relieve a
most charming and inoffensive lady from an
exceeding disagreeable position. King Ruric,
who tenderly loved his daughter, found this
explanation perfectly satisfactory, and
confirmed the second marriage.

Thus, for a time, the matter blew over;
but, in the meanwhile the boy Hamlet,
thinking that he might be murdered in his
turn, began to feign idiocy, that he might
thus appear too insignificant for his uncle's
suspicions. He jabbered a great deal of
nonsense; he contrived that his figure should
approach as nearly as possible to that of a
scarecrow, and he smutted over his face, so
that his features were scarcely discernible.
However, when he made certain wooden
hooks, and having baked them in the fire,
concealed them carefully, saying that they
were arrows for his father's murderer, the
more shrewd persons of the court,
notwithstanding the laughter of the fools, deemed
there was some " method in his madness," and
communicated their doubts to the viceroy.

Fengo, therefore, determined to watch
his nephew closely; and, on one occasion
when Hamlet took a ride into the woods
with some youths of his own age, it
was expected that his true character would
be revealed. But his foster-brother warned
him that he was surrounded by spies, and
accordingly, to sustain his character for
imbecility, he mounted his horse with his head
towards the tail—which he used as a bridle—
thereby causing much laughter and diversion.

Had Hamlet lived at the end of the seventeenth
century, instead of flourishing at the
commencement of the year nothing, we
should have concluded that he framed his
sham character on the model of Charles the
Second, as described by that famous epigram,
which says that the Merry Monarch

"never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one."

Since, while by the excessive stupidity of his
acts he maintained his reputation for
insanity, he constantly shook the very belief
he wished to establish by sayings of remarkable
shrewdness. Thus, on the occasion of the
notable ride into the wood, a wolf happened
to cross his path:

"What's that?" said Hamlet.

"A young foal," replied one of the attendants;
winking, no doubt, at the rest.

"Aha," quoth Hamlet, " there are many
such foals at Fengo's court."

Ere the sting occasioned by this sarcasm
had quite ceased to tingle, the party arrived
at the sea-shore, where the rudder of a
wrecked ship was the first object that met
their gaze. The graceless youths, intending
once more to "poke their fun "at the demented
prince, exclaimed:

"Look, what a big knife we have found!"

But Hamlet reflected for a while, and then
said, gravely: " Of a truth the ham must
have been large, that such a knife was intended
to cut," thereby referring to the sea, and
possibly the saltness thereof. But, not quieted
by this sharp retort, his facetious comrades
proceeded to explain to him that the sand on the
shore was flour, and that the pebbles were
groats. But Humlet said: " Such flour as
that has been ground by the storm and the
white-foaming billows."

These jokes may not appear very brilliant