A blossom born at day's first light,
And fading with the earliest night;
Nor stranger's step, nor shrieking loom,
Shall scare the warbler from the tomb'"


* * * * *


CURING THE "KING'S EVIL."

(_To the Editor of the Mirror_.)


About five miles from Sturminster Newton, and near the village of
Hazlebury, resides a Dr. B----, who has attained a reputation, far
extended, for curing, in a miraculous manner, the king's evil; and as
the method he employs is very different from that of most modern
practitioners, a short account of it may, perhaps, be acceptable to the
readers of the MIRROR.

I had long known that the doctor used some particular season for his
operations, but was unable to say precisely the time, until a few days
since I had a conversation with a person who is well acquainted with the
doctor and his yearly "_fair, or feast_," as it is termed. Exactly
twenty-four hours before the new moon, in the month of May, every year,
whether it happens by night or by day, the afflicted persons assemble at
the doctor's residence, where they are supplied, by him, with the hind
legs of a _toad!_ yes, gentle reader a toad--don't start--enclosed in a
small bag (accompanied, I believe, with some verbal charm, or