In the time of Cromwell and Charles II. ordinary hats were lined with iron plates, to prevent assassination.

* * * * *

Choristers.—­The singing boys are, probably, the only officers of the Catholic Church retained to this day by the Royal Family; for at the Reformation, when masses, &c., had wholly ceased, Queen Elizabeth retained on her establishment four sets of singing-boys, attached to St. Paul’s, Westminster Abbey, St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, and that of the Royal Household.  For the support of these bands, she issued out warrants, like the other English sovereigns, for taking up “suche apt and meete children as are fitt to be instructed and framed in the art and science of musicke and singing.”

* * * * *

A Ha! ha!  Fence.—­Bridgman, a landscape gardener, early in the last century, is supposed to have introduced in the Royal Gardens at Richmond, the sunk fence for boundaries, instead of walls:  an attempt considered so astonishing, that the common people called them Ha! has! to express their surprise at the sudden termination of their walk.

* * * * *

Sheridan’s Funeral.—­Mr. Moore has omitted one of the most touching and heart-stirring anecdotes connected with the funeral of Sheridan.  The noble and select company had assembled to pay the last tribute of respect to departed genius, and the coffin was about to be placed in the hearse, when an elegantly-dressed personage, who pretended to be distantly related to the deceased, entered the chamber of death.  At his urgent entreaties to view the face of his friend, the coffin lid was unscrewed; and, to the horror and surprise of the bystanders, he pulled out a warrant, and arrested the body!  Mr. Canning and Lord Sidmouth went into an adjoining room, and paid the debt, which (it is said) amounted to 500l.

THOMAS GILL.

* * * * *

Dr. Walcot, to Shield the Composer.—­The following was sent to Shield, the ingenious composer, for his ivory ticket for admission to a concert, by his friend Peter Pindar:—­

  Son of the string (I do not mean Jack Ketch,
    Though Jack, like thee, produceth dying tones;)
  Oh! yield thy pity to a starving wretch,
    And for to-morrow’s treat, pray send thy bones.

THOMAS GILL.

* * * * *

Epitaph on Mr. Death, the Actor.

  Death levels all, both high and low. 
    Without regard to stations;
      Yet why complain,
      If we are slain? 
  For here lies one, at least, to show
    He kills his own relations.

J.E.J.

* * * * *

THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.

VOL, XX. of THE MIRROR, with a Steel-plate Portrait of