In Scotland there is a game nearly the same in denomination as “Barley-break,” though differently played. It is termed “Barla-breikis,” or “Barley-bracks.” Dr. Jamieson says it is generally played by young people, in a corn-yard about the stacks; and hence called _Barla-bracks_, “One stack is fixed as the _dule_ or goal, and one person is appointed to catch the rest of the company, who run out from the _dule_. He does not leave it till they are all out of his sight. Then he sets out to catch them. Any one who is taken, cannot run out again with his former associates, being accounted a prisoner, but is obliged to assist his captor in pursuing the rest. When all are taken, the game is finished; and he who is first taken, is bound to act as catcher in the next game. This innocent sport seems to be almost entirely forgotten in the south of Scotland. It is also falling into desuetude in the north.”[11] [9] It may be doubted whether in the rude simplicity of ancient times, this word in the game of Barley-break was applied in the same manner that it would be in ours. [10] _Fremeb_, (obsolete,) strange, foreign. _Ash._ Corrupted from _fremd_, which, in Saxon and Gothic, signified a stranger, or an enemy. _Nares._ [11] Mr. Archdeacon Nares’s Glossary. * * * * * ~Scraps.~ PLATE TAX. An order was made in the house of lords in May, 1776, “that the commissioners of his majesty’s excise do write circular letters to all such persons whom they have reason to suspect to have _plate_, as also to those who have not paid regularly the duty on the same.” In consequence of this order, the accountant-general for household plate sent to the celebrated John Wesley a copy of the order. John’s answer was laconic:-- “Sir, “I have _two_ silver tea-spoons in London, and _two_ at Bristol. This is all the plate which I have at present; and I shall not buy any more while so many round me want bread. I am, Sir, “Your most humble servant, “JOHN WESLEY.” * * * * * THE DIAL. This shadow on the dial’s face, That steals, from day to day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Moments, and months, and years away This shadow, which in every clime, Since light and motion first began, Hath held its course sublime; What is it?--Mortal man! It is the scythe of Time. --A shadow only to the eye. It levels all beneath the sky. [Illustration: ~Mock funeral of a Bath Chairman.~] A chairman late’s a chairman dead, And to his grave, by chairman sped, They wake him, as they march him through The streets of Bath, to public view. _To the Editor._ _Bath._