a fallen branch affording a presage of approaching
death is not peculiar to the family I have mentioned. Many other old
houses have been equally favored: in fact, there is scarcely an ancient
family in the kingdom without a boding sign. For instance, the Breretons
of Brereton, in Cheshire, were warned by the appearance of stocks of
trees floating, like the swollen bodies of long-drowned men, upon the
surface of a sombre lake--called Blackmere, from the inky color of its
waters--adjoining their residence; and numerous other examples might be
given. The death-presage of the Breretons is alluded to by Drayton in
the "_Polyolbion_."

It has been well observed by Barry Cornwall, "that the songs which occur
in dramas are more natural than those which proceed from the author in
person." With equal force does the reasoning apply to the romance, which
may be termed the drama of the closet. It would seem strange, on a first
view, that an author should be more at home in an assumed character than
his own. But experience shows the position to be correct. Conscious he
is no longer individually associated with his work, the writer proceeds
with all the freedom of irresponsibility. His idiosyncrasy is merged in
that of the personages he represents. He thinks with their thoughts,
sees with their eyes, speaks with their tongues. His strains are such as
he himself--_per se_--would not, perhaps could not, have originated. In
this light he may be said to bring to his subject not one mind, but
several; he becomes not one poet, but many; for each actor in his drama
has a share, and an important share, in the lyrical _estro_ to which he
gives birth. This it is which has imparted any verve, variety, or
dramatic character they possess, to the ballads contained in this
production. Turpin I look upon as the real songster of "Black Bess;" to
Jerry Juniper I am unquestionably indebted for a flash melody which,
without his hint, would never have been written, while to the sexton I
owe the solitary gleam of light I have been enabled to throw upon the
horrors and mystery of the churchyard.

As I have casually alluded to the flash song of Jerry Juniper, I may,
perhaps, be allowed to make a few observations upon this branch of
versification. It is somewhat curious, with a dialect so racy,
idiomatic, and plastic as our own cant, that its metrical capabilities
should have been so little essayed. The French have numerous _chansons
d'argot_, ranging from