468 
Hibernis patriam venisti ulturus ab oris? 
Aut Glenco, aut stirps te Feniciana tulit : 
Sis felix, quicunque, precor, memorande; nec unquam, 
Jam sella dorsum, frena nec ora premant. 
Humani generis vindex, moriente tyranno, : 
Hance libertatem, quam dabis, ipse tene.” 
“Feniciana” must be an allusion to Sir J. 
Fenwick. Can any one say what did become of 
this so-called “ humani generis vindex ?” 
Epwarp Fox. 
Poorstock, Bridport: 
EDWARD CAPERN: 
As you chronicle a little of everything worth 
preserving, in your inimitable miscellany, perhaps 
it may be worth while to insert in it a short ac- 
count of a most extraordinary man, recently 
brought before the literary world, Edward Capern, 
the Bideford poetical postman, who will hereafter 
be ranked among the worthies of Devon? Born 
of the humblest parents, nursed in bitter poverty, 
with no educational advantages beyorid the dame 
and Sunday school, he was sent forth at the early 
age of nine years to earn his bread, and struggle 
with the world; he was long prostrated by severe 
disease, and doomed to suffer disappointment from 
a serious defect in his vision: few have pursued 
knowledge under greater pain and difficulties. 
But he was gifted with an exquisite taste for the 
beautiful in all things, an aptitude for design, a 
most decided taste for mtisic, the sweet interpreter 
of nature, 2 man versed in the language of flowers 
and birds, of bubbling brooks, and, streams, and 
gushing fountains; in short, as the “ Poet of Rural 
Life.” His private character is as amiable as his 
poems are admirable. Though a poor walking 
postman at ter shillings a week he is a perfect 
gentleman in manner, modest and unassuming. 
Rumball, the phrenologist, accidentally saw him at 
a friend’s house in Bideford lately, and; never hav- 
ing heard anything about him, he was requested 
to examine his head, which is said to be very like 
Goldsmith’s. Rumball says, “ How he has re- 
mained in his present condition I know not, but if 
there is any truth in phrenology, he has the de- 
velopment of poetry, painting, veneration, con- 
sciousness, benevolence, and ideality, stronger than 
any head I ever examined in my life.” He still 
continues his daily toil of thirteen miles every 
day, and is contented and-happy. His friends 
have published a tieat volume of selections from 
his poetry, which has been largely patronised by 
a great many of the nobility and gentry, under 
the auspices of Earl Fortescue, the Lord Lieu- 
tenant of Devon, and it is not a small proof of his 
poetical merit and moral integrity that Mr. Savage 
Landor, on reading his book, sent him a donation 
of five pounds, with a request that he would 
NOTES AND QUERIES. 
(28d §, No 24, Juwe 1d, °56, 
dedicate the next edition of his book to him. 
* Laudari a laudato vito” is praise indeed. 
All the first edition of his Poems was sold off 
immediately ! Wm: Cottyns, M.R.C.S. 
Chudleigh, Newton, Devon. 
THE ARMS OF GLASGOW. 
These arms are an oak tree full-leaved, with 
a bird perched on it; a bell hung on one of 
its branches, and below, across the trunk, a 
fish with a ring grasped in its mouth. In 
writing of the festival celebrating the opening 
of the water-works, to bring fresh water front 
Loch Katrine to the city, the writer in the 
North British Daily Mail of the day described the 
city arms, cast in iron, over the entrance to the 
great tunnel on the works, and thus explained 
the bearings on the shield: — The green oak tree 
for the “green” (the public common of the city) ; 
the fish for the River Clyde and its fisheries; the bell 
for the cathedral, and the ring for the unity of the 
city. The bird seems to have escaped the re- 
porter’s notice. The explanation besides differs 
from what I have before heard on the subject; 
various versions, learned and popular, are afleats 
One has got into school-boys’ mouths, as follows : 
* The tree that never grew; 
The fish that never swam, 
The bird that never flew, 
And the dell that never rang.” 
One bearing, the ring, in this instance too, sO 
far as I recollect, is left unaccounted for, or rather 
unnoticed, in the rhyme; but I tay have lost a 
portion of the legend. I have a faint recolleetion 
of some extraordinary tale of horror that used to 
be current amongst us at school, accounting for 
the whole matter. A murder of course was the 
pivot : it was discovered by the singing of the bird; 
the fish was caught close to the tree, with the ring 
in his maw. The dead body of the slain (maiden, 
I think it was,) was thereby discovered and iden- 
tified ; and the murderer, in trying to escape by 
the bell-rope into the tower of the cathedral; set 
the bell a-ringing, and so was caught, and exe- 
cuted by being hung on the branches of the green 
oak tree; which, of course, may be all vouched for 
as truth, with the usual fairy tale reservation, that 
“if all tales be true, this is true too.” I always’ 
thought the fish and ring had to do with St. Peter, 
and his representative “in cathedr4” (to whom, 
by all legends and accounts, the original settle- 
ment and cultivation of the land on which the 
city now stands is ascribed), viz., St: Mungo. I 
should like to hear if there is any other theory 
about the city arms, or if anything positive is 
known about the matter: all the accounts I have 
heard being rather mythical. The name of the 
city is pure Celtic: of that there can be no doubt, 
