against the then Bishop of Durham, took it from that church, and made it a cell to the said monastery for ever.

The bodies of Malcolm, King of Scotland, and his son Prince Edward, both slain on St. Brice's Day, A.D. 1094, were interred in the monastery.

Earl Mowbray, in 1095, having entered into a conspiracy to dethrone William Rufus, is said to have converted this place into a castle to defend his treason on that occasion. The King marched an army against Tynemouth, and, after a siege of two months, took it by storm. In a charter dated from Newcastle, William Rufus confirms the grant of the Priory of Tynemouth to St. Albans.

In 1110, the body of St. Oswin was removed from Jarrow to the monastery, which had been newly rebuilt.

During a period of many years Tynemouth was from time to time enriched by grants of land and other valuable gifts; and in 1243, the Prior of Tynemouth contributed five marks to the aid which was levied by King Henry III. to marry his eldest daughter.

The Queen of Edward I., in 1303, resided at Tynemouth monastery while the King was on his last march to Scotland.

In a deed dated 1320, mention is made of "the gallows of Rodistane," which, says Brand, answers to the situation of the present "Monk's Stone." Part of this curious relic still remains about a mile from Tynemouth. The legend of the "Monk's Stone" is thus related by Francis Grose, the antiquarian:

"Once upon a time, in the days of old, a certain monk of the priory of Tynemouth, strolling abroad, came unto the castle of Seaton de la Val, whose lord was hunting, but expected home anon. Among the many dishes preparing in the kitchen was a pig, ordered expressly for the lord's own eating. This alone suit ing the liquorish palate of the monk, and though admonished and informed for whom it was intended, he cut off the head, reckoned by epicures the most savoury part of the creature, and putting it into his bag, made the best of his way towards his monastery. A while after, De la Val and his fellows returned from the chase, and being informed of the theft, which he looked upon as a personal insult, he re-mounted his horse and set out in pursuit of the offender, when, by dint of swift riding, he overtook the monk about a mile east of Preston, and so belaboured

him with his staff, called a hunting gad, that he was hardly able to crawl to his cell. This monk dying within a year and a day, although as the story goes, the beating was not the cause of the death, his brethren made it a handle to charge De la Val with his murder, who, before he could get absolved, was obliged to make over to the monastery, as an expiation of the deed, the manor of Elsig, hard by Newcastle, with divers other valuable estates: and, by way of amends, to set up a monument on the spot where he had chastised the gluttonous monk, inscribing thereon

"O horror, to kill a man for a Pigge's Head !"'

In 1322, the Queen of Edward II. resided for some time at Tynemouth Priory. About 1366, flourished John De Tynemouth, a writer of great eminence, who was born at Tynemouth.

In the year 1381, some of the monks of St. Albans, who had been concerned in the insurrection of Wat Tyler, made their escape from thence and fled for safety to Tynemouth Priory, which proved an asylum to them on that occasion, though it was wont to be considered a place of banishment.

Jan. 12, 1539, 30 Henry VIII., Robert Blakeney, Prior, with fifteen monks and three novices, surrendered the monastery of Tynemouth. At this time the establishment had possession of twenty-seven estates and their royalties,

In 1559, Sir Henry Percy, Knight, was appointed by Queen Elizabeth captain of Tynemouth Castle.

From this last date until the time of the Civil Wars, the fortifications were strengthened, and the monastic architecture of the place either wilfully destroyed or suffered to fall into ruin.

In a plan of Tynemouth, preserved in the Cottonian Library, the great extent of the monastery and the various offices is curiously shown. Since that time the sea has made great inroads upon the rocks towards the eastward.

In 1642, the Earl of Newcastle put Tynemouth in a posture of defence. He sent there from Newcastle six great guns and three hundred soldiers, and threw up trenches and built a fort to defend the haven; but in 1644 it was obliged, after sustaining a siege for some time, to surrender to General Lesley and the Scotch army. The garrison were allowed to march out with their baggage, but bound themselves to submit to the Parliament;

NOT LOST.

PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF POPULAR FALLACIES.

No. 1.-"A YOUNG MAN MUST SOW HIS WILD OATS."

THIS is very bad farming. We appeal to the most inveterate protectionist, the most distressed farmer that ever lived, the sturdiest stickler for ploughing as our fathers ploughed, and sowing as our fathers sowed, whether it would not be the very worst possible style of farming, for a young farmer to sow wild oats all over his estate-to plant weeds and thistles in every field. Would it not be found that the wild oats would destroy the crops of grain; that the weeds and thistles would overpower the grass, until the whole presented a wide and melancholy ruin, which long years and large capital could scarcely bring again into a profitable state? As in the physical, so in the moral world; the seeds of vice once sown are difficult to eradicate, and the wilful cultivation of these in the human heart will produce a still wider ruin than the worst weeds which ever mocked the hopes of the husbandman.

The world has got into a very foolish habit of not calling things by their right names; and, generally speaking, the more foul the thing is, the softer is the appellation which the world applies to it. In the present instance, the wilder the follies in which a young man indulges, the deeper the vices into which he plunges, the more tightly is the mouth screwed up to call it sowing his wild oats." A quaint writer asks and answers this question:-"What doth this phrase of sowing wild oats signify? Doth it not amount to this that man, having lost his primæval innocence, shall take good care that he never regain it? That he doth well, if, after having given all the cream and richness of his life to Belial, he shall haply carry the sour milk thereof to God?" But we are not going to write a homily, however serious may be the aspect which the subject presents. We fear, indeed, that he who "soweth wild oats" will find to his cost that "ill weeds grow apace.' There is many a young man just entering the world, who would avoid those actions which give rise to the saying, if it were Hot for the veil which this very saying throws over their hideousness. But as he hears the lips of beauty apologetically muttering "he is only sowing his wild cats," when some instance of vile profligacy is told, or some tale of innocence

undermined related, he begins to look upon such actions as the natural and excusable effects of ardent youth; he thinks that he, too, may be pardoned for scattering similar seeds on the highway of life; and is, perhaps, unconscious that the soil in which they will take the firmest and deepest root is his own mind. "Nemo repente fuit turpissimus”—no man be comes vicious on a sudden. The appetite for vice increases with what it feeds on; like the taste for olives, it may be nauseous at first, but by repetition we come to like it, and at length it becomes a fixed desire of the mind; we have sown the seeds, and unfortunately we must reap the fruits. We need not sow these wild oats, but once having so done, we must take the consequences.

An old French writer has said, that "disgust stands at the door of all bad places." It may be so; but it is to be feared that we too often put her behind the door as we enter; and it is only when we would come out that we meet her face to face. We cover up her form with all kinds of disguises; we endeavour to cheat ourselves into the belief that disgust is not her real name, and that it is not the door of vice at which she stands sentinel; and as we pass her by, and enter, we console ourselves with the thought that we are only having a bit of a spree! that we are in for a lark! or at any rate, that we "must sow some of our wild oats." We are confident in ourselves, have great reliance on our own correct principles and right intentions, and defude ourselves into the belief that we are only gaining a little knowledge of the world, and showing ourselves to be youths of spirit. And a most miserable delusion this is-fostered and encouraged by the wretched fallacy we are illustrat ing; and by the pernicious habit of glossing over vile things with eulogistic names. We begin, perhaps, by sowing our seeds with a careful hand, scattering a few here and a few there, with long intervals between them; we are not alarmed by any very great expenditure of seed; we hardly fancy that the correct principles on which we rely are disturbed or shocked by these slight deviations from the strict rule of right; we still keep in the common routine of our duties, while we are

imperceptibly being led into temptations that, by degrees, cause us to scatter the seeds more thickly, and with fewer intervals between them. And we go on "sowing the wild oats" until the days of our youth are passed, and when a miserable and premature old age draws on we find that the tillage is not yet complete; it is only when infirmities have rendered it impossible to pursue our former course, that the seedtime is over; and the harvest comes upon us at once in the shape of pains and penalties grievous to bcar. We forsake not the sowing until the power to sow is departed. We forsake not the sin

until the sin forsakes us.

How often do we hear it said, both by parents and friends, that it is right for a young man to know the world, and that he will avoid vice all the more for having tasted it, and found what it is like. Bad judges of human nature and of human appetites, are these! If, in order to know the world, a knowledge of its vicious habits be necessary, there is no need to enter into them to acquire that knowledge; they meet us at every corner of the streets in forms loathsome enough to repel us as if from the blast of contagion. But when we mix ourselves up in the scenes of vice, the heated imagination draws a veil over the loathsomeness; our sensual appetites become excited, and we rush into the practice of those very vices which knowledge was to teach us to avoid. Unfortunately for human nature, the first "sowing of wild oats," the first steps in vice, are accompanied, too frequently, with pleasurable associations, and are recalled to our recollections under the most flattering aspects. It is as a magical stream, so seducing in its bland and genial influence, that having once ventured in so far as to wet but the soles of our feet, it sweeps us onward to the frightful vortex, where all is lost in ruin and desolation. In pursuit of present pleasure, of momentary gratification, men neglect the strongest evidence of future pain; they dally with that which corrupts body and soul, until, like the silly moth, which, at the instant we write this, is wheeling round the attractive flame of the candle, they sink to the earth in incurable agony.

And then we find

These first seeds, once sown, we suffer our memories to play the traitor to our consciences, and by dwelling continually

on the pleasurable sensations, and care-
fully excluding from our thoughts the
subsequent pains and penalties, we foster
within ourselves the morbid desire to re-
peat the experiment; just as the intem
perate continually dwell on the pleasur
able sensations of the incipient stages of
intoxication, and dismiss as much as pos-
sible from their thoughts the subsequent
headache and nausea. And too many,
encouraged by the false notion that they
"must sow their wild oats," give way to
the ungoverned passions of youth, and
pursue the reckless enjoyment of the
present moment, regardless of all its
future consequences. And the habit of
indulgence once formed, will go on in-
creasing, in spite of all the delusions that
we are only learning to know the world—
are only "sowing our wild oats;" one
vice will promote another; one excess
succeed another, sin engenders sin, and―

"Like a rock thrown on the placid surface
Of the lake, 'twill form its circles, round suc-
ceeding round,

Each wider than the last."

The fatal propensity to gambling seems most common among the military; the excitement of the bottle has been voted vulgar among them, and they turn to another excitement, almost equally per nicious. We remember to have heard of one young nobleman, whose name was more familiar in the police courts than in the senate, that, among the plentiful crop of "wild oats" that he had sowed, he could never be tempted to gamble. It was in vain that the profligates and knaves, by whom he was too often surrounded, sought to prey upon his purse in a different and more extensive manner than he chose; it was in vain they sought the opportunity, when wine had wrought its effects upon his brain, and judgment might have been supposed to have been overcome by its fumes. He had one answer always ready for all their solici tations: " Why should I wish to win your money? I have enough of my own and I prefer spending mine in a different manner, to losing it at stupid cards and dice. Push round the bottle; let us have a jolly spree." Whatever inroads upon his health and constitution the prodigal sowing of "wild oats" may have caused; whatever injury he may have done to others by the low and vulgar riots, the profligate scenes of debauchery into which his example dragged them, yet no inroads were made upon his property;