cily; and in Malta; yet never knew I one
without the handbell.

Its _object_, as first explained to me in Florence, is to clear the way for
the procession; to remind passengers and loiterers to take off their hats;
and to call the pious to their doors and windows to gaze upon the emblems
of mortality, and to say a prayer for the repose of the departed soul.

NOCAB.

_Brandon the Juggler_ (Vol. ii., p. 424.).--Your correspondent T. CR. is
referred to Scot's _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, p. 308. (edit. 1584) for a
notice of this person and his pigeon.

JAS. CROSSLEY.

"_Words are Men's Daughters_" (Vol. iii., p. 38.).--This line is taken from
Dr. Madden's _Boulter's Monument_ (Dublin, 1745, 8vo.), a poem which was
revised by Dr. Johnson, but to which little attention has been paid by his
biographers. Mr. Croker observes (edit. of Boswell, 1848, p. 107. note)--

"Dr. Madden wrote very bad verses. The few lines in Boulter's monument
which rise above mediocrity may be attributed to Johnson."

Those who take the trouble to refer to the poem itself, will,
notwithstanding Mr. Croker's hasty criticism, find a great many fine and
vigorous passages, in which the hand of Johnson is clearly distinguishable,
and which ought not to be allowed to remain unnoticed. Perhaps on a future
occasion I may, in support of this opinion, give some specimens from the
poem. The line as to which T. J. inquires,--

"Words are men's daughters, but God's Sons are things,"--

and which is in allusion to Genesis vi. 2. 4., is, I entertain no doubt,
one of Dr. Johnson's insertions.

JAS. CROSSLEY.

"_Fine by degrees, and beautifully less_" (Vol. iii., p. 105.).--This line
is from Prior's "Henry and Emma," a poem, upon the model of the "Nut-brown
Maid." I copy part of the passage in which it occurs, for the sake of any
of your readers who may be lovers of _context_, and may not have the poem
at hand to refer to.

"_Henry_ [addressing Emma].
"Vainly thou tell'st me what the woman's care
Shall in the wildness of the woods prepare; 420
Thou, ere thou goest, unhappiest of thy kind,
Must leave the habit and the sex behind.
No longer shall thy comely tresses break
In flowing ringlets on thy snowy neck;
Or sit behind thy head, an ample round,
In graceful braids with various ribbon bound:
No longer shall the bodice aptly lac'd
From thy full bosom to thy slender waist,
That air and harmony of sh