Notes and Queries, No. 179. Saturday, April 2, 1853. | Page 4

These were
my sins in my childhood, as to which conscience troubled me for a
great while before they were overcome."
Sir W. Scott cites the above passages in his Life of Dryden, with sharp
comments on the rigid scruples of the Puritans:
"How is it possible," he says, "to forgive Baxter for the affectation with
which he records the enormities of his childhood?... Can any one read
this confession without thinking of Tartuffe, who subjected himself to
penance for killing a flea with too much anger?..."
It probably did not occur to the biographer, that no less illustrious a
saint than Augustin, to whom Puritanism can hardly be imputed, had
made a parallel confession of like early depravity many centuries
before. Enlarging on his own puerile delinquencies, and indeed on the
wickedness of children in general, he confesses that, in company with
other "naughty boys" ("nequissimi adolescentuli"), he not only stole

apples, but stole them for the mere pleasure of the thing, and when he
"had enough at home":
"Id furatus sum quod mihi abundabat, et multo melius. Nec eâ re
volebam frui quam furto appetebam; sed ipso furto et peccato. Arbor
erat pirus in viciniâ vineæ nostræ pomis onusta, nec formâ nec sapore
illecebrosis. Ad hanc excutiendam atque asportandam, nequissimi
adolescentuli perreximus nocte intempestâ; et abstulimus inde onera
ingentia, non ad nostras epulas, sed vel projicienda porcis, etiamsi
aliquid inde comedimus.... Ecce cor meum, Deus meus, ecce cor meum,
quod miseratus es in imo abyssi!"--Confessionum, lib. ii. cap. iv.
In comparing the two cases, the balance of juvenile depravity is very
much against the great Doctor of Grace. He does not seem to have had
even a fondness for fruit to plead in extenuation of his larceny. He
robbed orchards by wholesale of apples, which, by his own admission,
had no attractions either of form or flavour to tempt him. Yet the two
anecdotes are so much alike, that one would be inclined to suspect one
story of being a mere recoction of the other if it were possible to doubt
the veracity of Richard Baxter.
{328} The incident, however, is one too familiar in schoolboy life to
make the repetition of the story a matter of surprise. The property in an
apple growing within the reach of a boy's hand has from time
immemorial been in peril, and the law itself has not always regarded it
as an object of scrupulous protection. The old laws of the Rheingau,
and (if I mistake not) of some other states, warranted a wayfaring man
in picking apples from any tree, provided he did not exceed the number
of three.
E. SMIRKE.
* * * * *
FOLK LORE.
Subterranean Bells (Vol. vii., pp. 128. 200.).--In answer to J. J. S.'s
inquiry, I beg to state, that at Crosmere, near Ellesmere, Shropshire,

where there is one of a number of pretty lakes scattered throughout that
district, there is a tradition of a chapel having formerly stood on the
banks of the lake. And it is said that the belief once was, that whenever
the waters were ruffled by wind, the chapel bells might be heard as
singing beneath the surface. This, though bearing on the subject of
"submarine" or "subaqueous," rather than "subterranean" bells,
illustrates, I think, the tradition to which J. J. S. refers.
J. W. M.
Hordley, Ellesmere.
Welsh Legend of the Redbreast.--According to my old nurse (a
Carmarthenshire woman), the redbreast, like Prometheus, is the victim
~philanthrôpou tropou~. Not only the babes in the wood, but mankind
at large, are indebted to these deserving favourites. How could any
child help regarding with grateful veneration the little bird with bosom
red, when assured--
"That far, far, far away is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, and
fire. Day by day does the little bird bear in his bill a drop of water to
quench the flame. So near to the burning stream does he fly, that his
dear little feathers are scorched: and hence he is named
Bron-rhuddyn.[5] To serve little children, the robin dares approach the
Infernal Pit. No good child will hurt the devoted benefactor of man.
The robin returns from the land of fire, and therefore he feels the cold
of winter far more than his brother birds. He shivers in the brumal blast;
hungry, he chirps before your door. Oh! my child, then, in gratitude
throw a few crumbs to poor red-breast."
Why, a Pythagorean would have eaten a peacock sooner than one of us
would have injured a robin.
R. P.
[Footnote 5: Bron-rhuddyn = "breast-burnt," or "breast-scorched."]
* * * * *

JOHNSONIANA.
I inclose you a transcript of a letter of Boswell's which I think worthy
of being permanently recorded, and am not aware of its having been
before in print.
Edinburgh, 11th