coincidence, which lately appeared
in the _Meath Herald_, deserves transplanting to the literary museum of "N.
& Q.":

"From the fact of the Mornington family having been so connected by
property, &c. with the parish of Trim, in which town the late Duke
spent so many of his early days, and commenced his career in life by
being elected, when scarcely twenty-one years of age, to represent the
old borough of Trim, the following coincidence is worth relating. On
the news of the death of the Duke reaching Trim, the Very Rev. Dean
Butler caused the chime of bells to be rung in respect to his memory;
and the large bell, which was considered one of the finest and sweetest
in Ireland, hardly had tolled a second time for the occasion when it
suddenly broke, became mute, and ceased to send forth its notes.
Whether this was to be attributed to neglect of the ringer, or regret
for the great man of the age, it is hard to say; but, very odd as it
may appear to be, on examining the bell, it was found to be cast by
Edmund Blood, 1769, the very year the Duke was born. Thus this fine
bell commenced its career with the birth of the Duke, and ceased to
sound at his death. The parish of Trim is now getting the bell recast,
and the old metal is to be seen at Mr. Hodges, Abbey Street, Dublin."

J. YEOWELL.

* * * * *

Queries.

THE STORY OF CRISPIN AND CRISPIANUS.

_A Recitation for the 25th of October, and other Convivial Meetings of
Shoemakers._

"The CRISPIN trade! What better trade can be?
Ancient and famous, independent, free!
No other trade a brighter claim can find;
No other trade display more share of mind!
No other calling prouder names can boast,--
In arms, in arts,--themselves a perfect host!
All honour, zeal, and patriotic pride;
To dare heroic, and in suffering tried!
But first and chief--and as such claims inspire--
Our Patron Brothers, who doth not admire?
CRISPIN and CRISPIANUS! they who sought
Safety with us, and at the calling wrought:
Martyrs to Truth, who in old times were cast
Lorn outcasts forth to labour at the _last_!
Mould the stout sole, sew with the woven thread,
Make the _good fit_, and win their daily bread.
This was their strait and doing--this their doom;
They sought our shelter, and they found a home!
Helpless and hapless, wandering to and fro,
Weary they cam