nxieties of mankind. Heedless of power, of
honours, of wealth; and indifferent to the fluctuations of times; the
rise or fall of grain, or stock, or empires, they seem to laugh at the
tolling, fretting world around them, and to live according to the
philosophy of the old song:

"Who would ambition shun,
And loves to lie i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather."

In this way, they wander from county to county; keeping about the
purlieus of villages, or in plenteous neighbourhoods, where there are
fat farms and rich country-seats. Their encampments are generally made
in some beautiful spot--either a green shady nook of a road; or on the
border of a common, under a sheltering hedge; or on the skirts of a
fine spreading wood. They are always to be found lurking about fairs,
and races, and rustic gatherings, wherever there is pleasure, and
throng, and idleness. They are the oracles of milk-maids and simple
serving-girls; and sometimes have even the honour of perusing the
white hands of gentlemen's daughters, when rambling about their
fathers' grounds. They are the bane of good housewives and thrifty
farmers, and odious in the eyes of country justices; but, like all
other vagabond beings, they have something to commend them to the
fancy. They are among the last traces, in these matter-of-fact days,
of the motley population of former times; and are whimsically
associated in my mind with fairies and witches, Robin Goodfellow,
Robin Hood, and the other fantastical personages of poetry.

MAY-DAY CUSTOMS.

Happy the age, and harmless were the dayes,
(For then true love and amity was found,)
When every village did a May-pole raise,
And Whitsun ales and May-games did abound:
And all the lusty yonkers in a rout,
With merry lasses daunc'd the rod about,
Then friendship to their banquets bid the guests,
And poore men far'd the better for their feasts.

--PASQUIL'S _Palinodia_.

The month of April has nearly passed away, and we are fast approaching
that poetical day, which was considered, in old times, as the boundary
that parted the frontiers of winter and summer. With all its caprices,
however, I like the month of April. I like these laughing and crying
days, when sun and shade seem to run in billows over the landscape. I
like to see the sudden