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THE 
 
 EYERY-DAT BOOK: 
 
 on, 
 
 €btrla$tin3 CalatUar 
 
 OF 
 
 POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, 
 
 sroRTS, rASTi:\fES, ceremonies, 
 
 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND EVENTS, INCIDENT TO 
 
 EACH OF THE THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DAYS, 
 
 IN PAST AND PRESENT TIMES; 
 
 FOIiMIXG A COMPLETE 
 
 HISTORY OF THE YEAR, MONTHS, & SEASONS, 
 
 PERPETUAL KEY TO THE ALMANACK ; 
 
 ACCOUNTS OF THE WEATHER, RULES FOR HEALTH AND CONDUCT, REMARKABLE 
 AND lilPORTANT ANECDOTES, FAC IS, AND NOTICES, IN CHRONOLOGY, 
 ANTIQUITIES, TOPOORAPHV, BIOGRAPHY, NATURAL HISTORY, ART, SCIENCE, 
 AND GENERAL LITERATURE ; DERIVED FROJI THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES, 
 AND VALUABLE ORIGINAL COM.MUNICATIONS, WITH FOEnCAL ELUCIDATIONS, 
 
 FOE DAILY USE AND DIVEESION. 
 
 BY WILLIAM HONE. 
 
 I tell of festivals, and fairs, and plays, 
 
 Of moninieuL and mirth, and bunfire blaze; 
 
 J Uill of Cliristmas-munimiiigs new year's day. 
 
 Of twelflli-night king and queen, and children's play; 
 
 I tell of Valentines, and true- love's- knots, 
 
 Of omens, cimuing men, and drawiug lota — 
 
 I tell of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowera, 
 
 Of April, May, of June, and July-dowers ; 
 
 I tell of ilay-poles. hock-carts, wassails, wakes, 
 
 Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their biidal-cakea | 
 
 I tell of groves, of twilights, and I sing 
 
 The court of Mab, and of the lairy-king. 
 
 Jlarrtck. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 WITH THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR WILLIAM HONE 
 
 BY HUNT AND CLARKE, TAVISTOCK STREET, 
 COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 1826, 
 
i>d hv W J l.*^-' 
 
 I,ONin'.N wn.l.IAU TK''I 
 
THE 
 
 EVERY DAY BOOK, 
 
 GUIDE TO THE YEAR: 
 
 DESCBIBINJ THE 
 
 V. 
 POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, SPORTS, CEREMONIES, 
 
 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND EVENTS, 
 
 IXCTDENT TO 
 
 IN PAST AND PRESENT TIMES. 
 BY WILLIAM HONE. 
 
 WITH FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX ENGRAVINGS. 
 BY G. CEUIKSHANK, WILLIAMS, &c. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: WILLIAM TEGG. 
 
EXPLANATORY ADDRESS 
 
 EEADERS OF THE EVERY-DAY BOOK. 
 
 OrR ancestors were persons of kisure. They appropriated each day in the 
 year to the memory of remarkable persons or events. The Eyebt-Dat Book will 
 relate the origin of these three hundred and sixty-five celebrations, with interest- 
 in_^ accounts of the individuals and circumstances commemorated. 
 
 It will cspe3ially describe the National and Domestic Festivities at the Keniark- 
 able Seasons, and on tlie great Holidays that are still kept; particularly those on 
 New Year's day — Twelfth day — St. Agnes' eve — Candlemas day — St. Valentine's 
 day — Shrovetide — Ash 'Wednesday — St. David's day — St. Patrick's day — Pahn 
 Sunday — Lady day — All Fools' day — Maundy Thursday — Good Friday — Easter- 
 tide — Ilock day — St. George's day — May day — Royal Oak day — Whitsuntide — 
 St. Barnabas' day — St. John's eve — St. Swithiu's day — Lammas-tide — Corpus 
 Christi day — jMidsummer-tide — iMichaclmas-tide — Allliallow e'en — Gunpowder 
 Plot day — St. Andrew's day — Christmas-tide — Childermas day — New Year's eve, 
 &c. 
 
 While recording such observances, it will entertain the reader with descriptions 
 of numerous Popular Merriments and Usages, a few of which may be mentioned 
 as instances: namely, Fairs — Wakes — Morris Dancings — Harvest Homes — Shear- 
 ings — Mayings — Aleings — Wassailings — Mummings — Soulings — Waits — Eton 
 l^Iontem — Hogmanj' — Yule, &c. 
 
 Besides a multitude of subjects of this description, the amusing character of the 
 Every-Day Book will be increased by curious details respecting Flinging the 
 stocking — The Wandering Jew — Hand of Glory — Glastonbury thorn — Wrestling — 
 Kissing — Man in the Moon — Kobin Hood — The Merry Thought — Tea — The 
 Drama — Highgafe oath — Dunmow fiitch — Winifreds well — Music — Horn Fail 
 ^Old Nick — Joint ring — Robin Goodfellow — Robin Badfdlow — Passing bell — 
 Wedding ring — Death watch — The Grace cup — Archery — Cockfighting— Break- 
 ing up — Jack a' Lan thorn — Second sight — Barber's pole — Strewing rushes — 
 Bleeding of the Murdered — Under the Rose — Sitting cross legged — liOngevity — 
 Coronation stone — Sneezing — Bear baiting — Lady in the straw — Seventh son of a 
 seventh sim — True lover's knot — Blindman's buff — Curfew bell — Divining rod — 
 Hunt the slipper — Roodloft — Nightmare — Pricking in the belt — Dress — Cursing 
 by bell, book and candle — Golf— Black's the white o' my eye — Garnish — Barring 
 out at schoul — Groaning cake — Chiromancy — Cunning men — Undertakers — Mar- 
 riages — Penny weddings — Vanes — Love charms — Toys — Storms — Moles — 
 .Cramp rings — Horseshoes — Fools — Jesters — Apparitions — Babies in the eyes — 
 Fairy rings— Autographs— Witch finders— Witches— Wizards — Shop signs— Cries 
 — Amulets — Duels — Charms — Healths — Exorcisms — Evil eyes — Eclipses- 
 Shooting stars — Gypsies — Sin eaters — Corpse candles— Jlisers — Quacks— Incan- 
 tations — Crickets — Bonfires — Old saws — Philtres— Frosts — Fairies— Somnambu- 
 lists — Christenings — Pawnbrokers' balls — Burials — Cuckolds — Processions — 
 Spectres — Lucky and unlucky numbers — Newspapers — Christmas-boxes — Bogles — 
 Brownies — Spunkiea — Kelpies — Wraiths — Dwarfs — Giants — Fascinations-To- 
 bacco — Snufif — Sorcerers — Songs — Hair and Wigs — Vigils — Spirits — Omens— 
 
EXPLANATORY ADDRESS CONTINUED. 
 
 Fuiiiiliars — llcly Wella— tio^ssips — Cards — WiYcks — Divinations — Bitrotliings — 
 SIuoikIji — TavLintions — I'lumouieua, &o. &c. &e. By the introduction of various 
 topics and facts of a still more interestiiii;^ and important nature, with suitable 
 Hiatorical, Biographical, Astronomical, and Seasonable Anecdotes — information that 
 is useful to all, will be combined with amusement that is a^rcoable to most. 
 
 The Every-Day Book will be a Jlin.'orij of tlie Year. Whether it be con- 
 snltel respecting to-day or to-morrow, or any other day, it will jiresent acciptalile 
 particulars respecting the day sought. It becomes, thertfoie, a Perjictiud Guide 
 to ihe Year — not to any one year in parlicular, but to every year — and foiius a. 
 Complete iJiclioiianj of the Almanac, for the daily use and instruction of every 
 person who possesses an Altn.mac, and desires a Kcij to it. 
 
 In this view it will be the Evei;v-Day Book of pleasure and husiness^o^ 
 parents and eiiildren, teachers and pn[)ils, masters and servants : and, as Cowper 
 says, that, "a volume of ver.-e is a fiddle that sets the universe in motion," it is 
 believed that his reniaik n,ay be somewhat verified by the pleasant images and 
 kind feelings, which the inter&persion of much excellent poetry throughout the 
 work is designed to create in all classes of its rcadeis. 
 
 ]\Iuny essential i)articulars relating to the days of the week, the twelve months, 
 the four siasons, and the yiar generally, will be airanged by way of Ajipcndix, an 1 
 there will bo a copious Index to the whole. 
 
 A number, or sheet of thirty-two columns, price threepence, will be publisiicd 
 every Saturday till the undertaking is completed, which will be in about a year— 
 a few weeks more or less. The Engravings in each will vary as to number: in 
 some there may be only one or two ; in others, three, or four, or five — according to 
 the suhjcct. 
 
 It will form a large and handsome volume, containing a greater body of curious 
 and interesting anecdotes and facts than exists in any other in the English language ; 
 and be illustrated by nearly two hundred Engravings from the original designs of 
 su|)erior artists, or from rare and remarkable prints and drawings. 
 
 This mode of publication is adopted with a view to two objects: 1st, the general 
 dilfusion of useful facts in connection with various information; and 2dly, the 
 attainment of additional jiartieulai-s during its progress. 
 
 To a large mass of materials already collecte<l, communications respecting local 
 usages or customs in any part of the United Kingdom, and Festival Ceremonials 
 abroad, will he especially accejjtablc. Such eoinmunicalions, or any useful hints 
 or suggestions, or permi.ssion to extract from lx)oks or manuscripts, it will give me 
 great pleasure to receive, and to acknowledge as circumstances may require. 
 
 ,r T 1 , 1 11 W. HuXE. 
 
 45, Lnd(jale-hill, 
 '3ld December, 1S24. 
 
 Note. — This Leaf and the Title are to be cut of, and (hrown aside, lohen the Volume is 
 bound. A new title, &c., will be given gratis. 
 
 'HIE IIISTOiiY OF I'ARODY, with ENLAKGED EEPORTS OF 
 MY TIIR1':E trials, a royal octavo vohnnc of GOO pages, handsomely printed 
 and illustrated by numerous Engravings on cojipcr and wood, plain and coloured, is 
 in eonsiilendjlu forwardness. The price will be 21. 2s. in extra boards. 'The favour 
 of additional names to ihelist of Subscribers is respecffully solicited, in order to regulate 
 the nundjcr of copies to be printed— but 'iiO UO'&V.Y WILL BE RECEIVED w//W 
 the booh is ddivered. 
 
TO 
 
 CHAELES LAMB, ESQ. 
 
 Deak L- 
 
 YouR letter to me, within the first two months from the 
 commencement of the present work, approving my notice of 
 St. Chad's Well, and your afterwards daring to publish me your 
 "friend," with your "proper name" annexed, I shall never forget. 
 Nor can I forget your and Miss Lamb's sympathy and kindness, 
 when glooms outmastered me; and that your pen spontaneously 
 sparkled in the book, when my mind was in clouds and darkness. 
 These " trifles," as each of you would call them, are benefits scored 
 upon my heart ; and 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME, 
 
 TO YOU AND MISS LAMB, 
 
 WITH AFFECTIONATE RESPECT, 
 
 W. HONE. 
 
 May 5, 1826. 
 
"rrit^wkc*^ '-^f^ J*^j 
 
 THE 
 
 EYERY-DAY BOOE 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 (giiilie to tijt ^tuv^ ^ 
 
 RELATING THE 
 
 POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, 
 
 ^ SrOETS, CEEEilOXIES, MANNEES, CUSTOMS, AND EVENTS, 
 
 INCIDENT TO 
 
 THE 365 DAYS 
 
 IN PAST AND PEESENT TIMES; 
 
 BEING 
 
 A SERIES OF 5000 ANECDOTES AND FACTS ; 
 
 FORMING 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE YEAR, 
 
 A CALENDAR OF THE SEASONS, 
 
 AND 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL DICTIONARY OF THE ALMANAC ; 
 
 Wilb a Variety of 
 IMPOKTANT AND DIYERTING INFORMATION, 
 
 FOR DAILY USE AND ENTERTAINMENT, 
 
 COMPILED FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES. 
 
 By WILLIAM HONE. 
 
 I tell of festivals, and fairs, and plays, 
 
 Of merriments, and mirth, and bonfire blaze; 
 
 I tell of Cliristmas-mummings, new year's day, 
 
 Of t«eltli-nit;ht king and queen, aud children's play ; 
 
 1 tell of valentines, and true-loves-knots, 
 
 Of omens, cunning men, and drawing lots 
 
 I 1 tell of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowers, 
 Of .\pril. May, of June, and July flowers; 
 I tell of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, 
 Of briclegrooras, brides, and of their bridal cakes ; 
 1 tell of groves, of twilights, and I sine 
 The court of Mab, and of the fairy-king. 
 
 Hesrick. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR WILLIAM HONE, 45, LUDGATE HILL. 
 {To he published every SatuTday, price Threepence,) 
 
 AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS IN TOWN AND COUNTRT. 
 
 1825 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This volume is a specimen of a work undertaken for tlie purpose of form- 
 ing a collection of the manners and customs of anciont and modern times, 
 with descrij)tive accounts of the several seasons of popular pastime. 
 
 Each of the three hundred and sixty -five days in the year is distinguished 
 by occurrences or other particulars relating to the day, and by the methods 
 of celebrating every holiday ; the work is therefore what its title purports, 
 The Every-Dat Book. 
 
 It is an Everlasting Calendar — because its collection of facts con- 
 cerning the origin and usages of every remarkable day, including movable 
 feasts and fasts, constitute a calendar for every year. 
 
 It is a History of the Year — because it traces the commencement and 
 progress of the year from the first day to the last. 
 
 It is a History' of the Months — because it describes the appearances 
 that distinguish each month from the other months. 
 
 It is a History of the Sicasons — because it describes the influences and 
 character of the four q^uarters into which the year is divided, and the most 
 remarkable objects in natural history peculiar to each season. 
 
 It is a Perpetual Key to the Almanack — because it explains the signifi- 
 cation of every name and term in the almanack. 
 
 Its antiquarian and historical notices are calculated to engage the atten- 
 tion of ahnost every class of readers, and to gratify several who would scarcely 
 expect such particulars in such a miscellany. The perplexities attending the 
 discovery of certain facts, and the labour of reducing all into order, will be 
 appreciated by the few who have engaged in similar pursuits. Some curious 
 matters are now, for the first time, submitted to the public; and others are 
 so rare as to seem altogether new. 
 
 As regards the engravings, to such as are from old masters, notices of their 
 prints are always annexed. The designs for the allegorical and other illus- 
 trations have originated with myself; and the drawings been accommodated, 
 and the engravings executed, according to my own sense of subject and style. 
 In numerous instances they have been as satisfactory to me as to my readers ; 
 many of whom, however, are less difficult to please than I am, and have favour- 
 ably received some things which I have been obliged to tolerate, because the 
 exigency of publication left me no time to supply their place. I know what 
 art can accomplish, and am therefore dissatisfied when artists fail to 
 accomj)lish. 
 
viii PEEFACE. 
 
 I may now avow that I have other aims thau I deemed it expedient to 
 muntion in the prospectus : — to commimicate in an agreeable manner, the 
 {.reatest possible variety of important and diverting facts, without a single 
 Bentence to excite an uneasy sensation, or an embarrassing inquiry ; and, by 
 not seeming to teach, to cultivate a high moral feeling, and the best affections 
 of the heart : — to open a storehouse, from whence manhood may derive daily 
 instruction and amusement, and youth and innocence be informed, and retain 
 their innocency. 
 
 To these intentions I have accommodated my materials under such 
 difficulties as I hope may never be experienced by any one engaged in 
 such a labour. To what extent less embarrassed and more enlarged facul- 
 ties could have better executed the task I cannot determine ; but I have 
 always kept my main object in view, the promotion of social and benevolent 
 feelings, and I am persuaded this prevailing disposition is obvious throughout. 
 The poetical illustrations, whether " solemn thinkings," or light dispersions, 
 are particularly directed to that end. 
 
 I may now be permitted to refer to the copious indexes for the multifarious 
 contents of the volume, and to urge the friends to the undertaking for assist- 
 ance towards its completion. There is scarcely any one who has not said — 
 " Ah ! this is something that will do for the Every-Day Book ;" I crave to be 
 favom-ed with that " something." Others have observed — " I exjDected some- 
 thing about so and so in the Every-Day Booh." It is not possible, however, 
 that I should know every thing ; but if each will communicate " something," 
 the work will gratify every one, and my own most sanguine wishes. 
 
 And here I beg leave to offer my respectful thanks to several correspondents 
 who have already furnished me with accoimts of customs, &c, whicTi appear 
 under different signatui'es. Were I permitted to disclose their real names, it 
 would be seen that several of these communications are from distinguished 
 characters. As a precaution against imposition, articles of that nature have 
 not been, nor can they be, inserted, without the name and address of the 
 writer being confided to myself. Accounts, so subscribed, will be printed 
 with any initials or mark the writers may please to suggest. 
 
 From the publication of the present volume, a correct judgment may be 
 formed of the nature and tendency of the work, which incidentally embraces 
 almost every topic of inquiry or remark connected with the ancient and pre- 
 sent state of manners and literature. Scarcely an individual is without a 
 scrap-book, or a portfolio, or a collection of some sort ; and whatever a kind- 
 hearted reader may deem curious or interesting, and can conveniently spare, 
 I earnestly hope and solicit to be favoured with, addressed to me at Messrs. 
 Hunt and Clarke's, Tavistock-street, who receive communications for the 
 work, and publish it in weekly sheets, and monthly parts, as usual. 
 
 W. HONE. 
 
 May, 1826. 
 
 P.S. — As many of the admirers of Hones Popular Works have expressed regret 
 that his original Titles were not included in the present Edition, the Publisher 
 has much pleasure in acceding to their wishes. 
 
 1868. 
 
BONA DEA— THE EARTH. 
 See Page 828. 
 
THE 
 
 EVERY-DAY BOOK. 
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 JL HIS is the first and the coldest month 
 of the year. Its zodiacal sign is Aquarius 
 or the Waterbearer It derives its name 
 fiom Janus, a deicy represented by the 
 llomans with two faces, because he was 
 ncquainted with past and future events. 
 (Cotton introduces him into a poem on the 
 new year — 
 
 Hark, the cock crows, and yon bright star 
 Tells us, the day himself's not far ; 
 And see where, breaking from the night, 
 He gilds the western hills with light. 
 With him old Janus doth appear, 
 I^eeping into the future year. 
 With such a look as seems to say. 
 The prospect is not good that way. 
 Thus do we rise ill sights to see, 
 And 'gainst ourselves to prophesy ; 
 When the prophetic fear of things 
 A more tormenting mischief brings, 
 More full of soul-tormenting gall 
 Than direst mischiefs can befall. 
 But stay ! but stay ! Methinks my siglit. 
 Better inform'd by clearer light. 
 
 Discerns sereneness in that brow, 
 1 hat all contracted seem'd but now. 
 His revers'd face may show distaste, 
 And frown upon the ills are past ; 
 But that which this way looks is clear. 
 And smiles upon the new-born year. 
 
 According to the ancient mythology, 
 Janus was the god of gates and avenues, 
 and in that character held a key in his 
 right hand, and a rod in his left, to sym- 
 bolize his opening and ruling the year: 
 sometimes he bore the number 300 in one 
 hand, and 65 in the other, the number of 
 its days. At other times he was repro- 
 sented with four heads, and placed in a 
 temple of four equal sides, with a door 
 and three windows in each side, as em- 
 blems of the four seasons and the twelve 
 months over which he presided 
 
 According to Veislegan (Restitution of 
 Decayed Intelligence, 4to. 1628, p. 59) 
 the Saxons called this inanth " Wolf- 
 monat," or Wolf-monih, because the 
 
 VUL. 
 
 U 
 
THE EVERY~DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 wolves of our ancient forests, impelled by 
 hunger at this season, were wont to prowl 
 and attack man himself; the inferior ani- 
 mals, on whom they usually preyed, having 
 retL'ed or perisher. from the inclemency of 
 the weather. The Saxons also called this 
 - month "Aefter-yula," or After Christmas. 
 In illuminated calendars prefixed to 
 catholic missals, or service books, January 
 was frequently depicted as a man with 
 fagots or a woodman's axe, shivering 
 and blowing his fingers. Spenser intro- 
 duces this month in nis Faerie Queene : 
 Then came old January, wrapped well 
 In many weeds to keep the cold away ; 
 Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell ; 
 And blowhisnayles to warme them if he may; 
 For they were numb'd with holding all the 
 
 day 
 An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood, 
 And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray. 
 
 Sanuari) l. 
 
 r A close holiday at all public 
 Circumcision. | offices except the Excise, Cus- 
 ) toms, and Stamps. 
 
 This festival stands in the calendar of 
 the church of England, as well as in that 
 of the Roman catholic church. It is 
 said to have been instituted about 487 ; 
 Jt first appeared in the reformed English 
 liturgy in 1550. ' 
 
 Without noticing every saint to whom each 
 day is dedicated in the Roman catholic calen- 
 dars, the names of saints will be given day by 
 day. as they stand under each day in the last 
 edition of their " Lives," by the Rev. Alban 
 Butler, in 12 vols. 8vo. On the authority of that 
 work the periods will be mentioned when the 
 saints most noted for their miracles flourished, 
 and some of those miracles be stated. Other 
 miracles will be given : First, from " The Golden 
 Legend," a black letter folio volume, printed by 
 W. de Worde. — Secondly, from " The Church 
 History of Britain," by the Benedictine father, 
 S. Cressy, dedicated by him to the queen con- 
 sort of Charles II., a folio, printed in 1668. — 
 Thirdly, from the catholic translation of the 
 " Lives of the Saints," by the Rev. Father 
 Peter Ribadeneira, priest of the society of 
 Jesus, second edition, London, 1730, 2 vols, folio ; 
 and Fourthly, from other sources which will be 
 named. By this means the reader will be ac- 
 quainted with legends that rendered the saints 
 and the celebration of their festivals popular. 
 For example, the saints in Butler's Lives on this 
 day occur in the following order : 
 
 S(. Fulgentius ; St. Odilo, or Olou ; 
 St. Almachns, or Tclemachus ; St. Eu- 
 s^endus, or Oyend ; St. Fanchea, or Fame ; 
 St. Mochua, or Moncain, alias Claunus ; 
 St. Mochua, alias Cronan, of Bulla. 
 
 Sts. Mochua. According to Butler, these 
 were Irish saints. One founded the mo- 
 nastery, now the town of Balla, in Con- 
 naught. The other is said to have founded 
 120 cells, and thirty churches, in one of 
 
 which he passed thirty years, and died 
 about the sixth century. Bishop Patrick, 
 in his" Reflexions upon the Devotions of 
 the Roman Church," 1674, 8vo. cites oi 
 St. Mochua, that while walking and pray- 
 ing, and seeing a company of lambs run- 
 ning hastily to suck their mothers, he drew 
 a line upon the ground which none of the 
 hungry lambs durst pass. Patrick again 
 cites, that St. Mochua having been vi- 
 sited by St Kyenanus and fifteen of his 
 clergy, they came to an impetuous and 
 impassable river on their return, and 
 wanted a boat; whereupon St. Mochua 
 spread his mantle on the water, and Kye- 
 nanus with his fifteen priests were carried 
 safely over upon the mantle, which floated 
 back again to St. Mochua without wrinkle 
 or wetting. 
 
 St. Fanchea, or Faine, is said by Butler 
 to have been an Irish saint of the sixth 
 century. Patrick quotes that St. Endeus 
 desiring to become a monk, his compa- 
 nions approached to dissuade him ; but, 
 upon the prayers of St. Faine, and her 
 making the sign of the cross, their feet 
 stuck to the earth like immovable stones, 
 until by repentance they were loosed and 
 went their way. 
 
 St. Fulgentius, according to Butler, died 
 on the 1st of January, 533, sometimes went 
 barefoot, never undressed to take rest, not 
 ate flesh meat, but chiefly lived on pulse 
 and herbs, though when old he admitted 
 the use of a little oil. He preached, ex- 
 plained mysteries, controverted with here- 
 tics, and built monasteries. Butler con- 
 cludes by relating, that after his death, a 
 bishop named Pontian was assured in a 
 vision of Fulgentius's immortality ; that 
 his relics were translated to Bourges, where 
 they are venerated ; and that the saint's 
 head is in the church of the archbi.shop's 
 seminary. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 The King of Lip-ht, father of aged Time, 
 Hath brought about that day, which is the 
 
 prime 
 To the slow gliding months, when every eye 
 Wears symptoms of a sober jollity; 
 And every hand is readj' to present 
 Some service in a real compliment. 
 Whilst some in gol(i<n letters write theii 
 
 love. 
 Some speak affection by a ring or glore, 
 Or pins and points ( for ev'n the peasant may 
 After his ruder fashion, be as gay 
 As the brisk courtly sir,) and thinks that he 
 Cannot, without a gross absurdity. 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 Be tins day frugal, and not spare liis friend 
 Siiiie nit'i, to show liis love finds not an end 
 U ith the deceased j-ear. 
 
 PooLEs's EsG. Parnassus. 
 
 In the volume of " Elta," an excellent 
 paper begins with " Every man liath two 
 birthdays : two days, at least, in every 
 year, which set him upon revolving the 
 lapse of time, as it affects his mortal dura- 
 tion. The one is that which in an especial 
 manner he termeth his. In the gradual 
 desuetude of old observances, this custom 
 of solemnizing our proper birthday hath 
 nearly passed away, or is left to children, 
 who reflect nothing at all about the mat- 
 ter, nor understand any thing beyond the 
 cake and orange. But the birth of a 
 new year is of an interest too wide to be 
 pretermitted by king or cobbler. No one 
 ever regarded the First of January with 
 indifference. It is that from which all 
 date their time, and count upon what is 
 left. It is the nativity of our common 
 Adam. 
 
 " ( )f all sound of all bells — (bells, the 
 music nighest bordering upon heaven) — 
 most solemn and touching is the peal 
 which rings out the old year. I never 
 hear it without a gathering-up of rr.y 
 mind to a concentration of all the images 
 that have been diffused over the past 
 twelvemonth ; all I have done or suffered, 
 performed, or neglected — in that regretted 
 time. I begin to know its worth as when 
 a person dies. It takes a personal colour ; 
 nor was it a poetical flight in a contem- 
 porary, when he exclaimed, 
 
 ' I saw tlie skirts of the departing year.' 
 
 " The elders with whom I was brought 
 up, were of a character not likely to let 
 slip the sacred observance of any old in- 
 stitution ; and the ringing out of the old 
 year was kept by them with circumstan- 
 ces of peculiar ceremony. In those days 
 the sound of those midnight chimes, 
 though it seemed to raise hilarity in all 
 around me, never failed to bring a train 
 of pensive imagery into my fancy. Yet I 
 then scarce conceived what it meant, or 
 thought of it as a reckonmg that con- 
 cerned me. Not childhood alone, but the 
 young man till thirty, never feels practi- 
 cally that he is mortal." 
 
 Ringing out the old and rmging in the 
 new year, with " a merry new year I a 
 happy new year to you !" on new year's 
 day, were greetings that moved sceptred 
 pride, and humble labour, to smiles and 
 
 kind feelings in former times ; and why 
 should they be unfashionable in our own! 
 
 Dr. Drakeobseives, in "Shakspeare and 
 his Times," that the ushering in of the new 
 year, or new year's tide, with rejoicings, 
 presents, and good wishes, was a custom 
 observed, during the 16th century, with 
 great regularity and parade, and was as 
 cordially celebrated m the court of the 
 prince as in the cottage of the peasant. 
 
 The Rev.T. D. Fosbroke, in his valuable 
 " F'ncyclopedia of Antiquities," adduces 
 various authorities to show that congratu- 
 lations, presents, and visits were made by 
 the Romans on this day. The origin, he 
 says, is ascribed to Romulus and Tatius, 
 and that the usual presents were figs and 
 dates, covered with leaf-gold, and sent by 
 clients to patrons, accompanied with a 
 piece of money, which was expended to 
 purchase the statues of deities. lie men- 
 tions an amphora (a jar) which still exists, 
 with an inscription denoting that it was a 
 new year's present from the potters to 
 their patroness. He also instances from 
 Count Caylus a piecc! of Roman pottery, 
 with an inscription wishing " a happy 
 new year to you ;" another, where a person 
 wishes it to himself and his son ; and three 
 medallions, with the laurel leaf, fig, and 
 date ; one, of Commodus ; another, of 
 Victory; and a third, Janus, standing in a 
 temple,with an inscription,wishingahappy 
 new year to the emperor. New year's gifts 
 were continued under the Roman emperors 
 until they were prohibited by Claudius. 
 Yet in the early ages of the church the 
 Christian emperors received them ; nor did 
 they wholly cease, although condemned 
 by ecclesiastical councils on account of the 
 pagan ceremonies at their presentation. 
 
 The Druids were accustomed en certain 
 days to cut the sacred misletoe with a 
 golden knife, in a forest dedicated to the 
 gods, and to distribute its branches with 
 much ceremony as new year's gifts among 
 the people. 
 
 The late Rev. John Brand, in his 
 "Popular Antiquities" edited by Mr. Ellis 
 observes from Bishop Stillingfleet, tha. 
 among the Saxons of the North, the fes- 
 tival of the new year was observed with 
 more than ordinary jollity and feasting, 
 and by sending new year's gifts to one 
 another. Mr. Fosbroke notices the con- 
 tinuation of the Roman practice during 
 the middle ages ; and that our kings, and 
 the nobility especially, interchanged pre- 
 sents. Mr. Ellis quotes Matthew Paris, 
 who appears to show that U^nrj- HI ex- 
 
THE EV^ERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 toyted new year's s;ifts ; and he cites from 
 a MS. of the public revenue, anno 5, 
 Edward VI. an entry of " rewards given 
 on new year's day to the king's officers 
 and servants in ordinary 155/. 5s., and 
 to their servants that present the king's 
 niajestie with new year's gifts." An 
 orange stuck with cloves seems, by refer- 
 ence to Mr. Fosbroke and our early au- 
 thors, to have been a popular new year's 
 gift. Mr. Ellis suggests, that the use of 
 this present may be ascertained from a 
 remark by old Lupton, that the flavour of 
 wine is improved, and the wine itself pre- 
 served from mouldmess,by an orange or 
 lemon stuck with cloves being hung within 
 the vessel so as not to touch the liquor. 
 
 Thomas Naogeorgus, in " The Popish 
 Kingdome,''a Latin poem written in 1553, 
 and Englished by Barnabe Googe, after 
 remarkins on days of the old year, urges 
 this recollection : 
 
 The next to this is Newe yeares day 
 whereon to every frende, 
 
 They costly presents in do bring, 
 and Newe yeares giftes do sende, 
 
 These giftes the husband gives his wife, 
 and father eke the childe, 
 
 And maister on his menbestowes 
 the like, with favour milde. 
 
 Honest old Latimer, instead of present- 
 ing Henry VHLwith a purse ot gold, as 
 was customary, for a new year's gift, put 
 into the king's hand a New Testament, 
 with a leaf conspicuously doubled down 
 at Hebrews xiii. 4, which, on reference, 
 will be found to have been worthy of all 
 acceptation, though not perhaps well ac- 
 cepted. Dr. Drake is of opinion that the 
 wardrobe and jewellery of queen Elizabeth 
 were principally supported by these an- 
 nual contributions on new year's day. He 
 cites lists of the new yeai's gifts presented 
 to her, from the original rolls published in 
 her Progresses by Mr. Nichols; and from 
 these it appears that the greatest part, if 
 not all the peers and peeresses of the 
 realm, all the bishops, the chief officers of 
 state, and several of the queen's house- 
 hold servants, even down to her apothe- 
 caries, master cook, serjeant of the pastry, 
 &c. gave new year's gifts to her majesty ; 
 consisting, in general, either of a sum of 
 money, or jewels, trinkets, wearing appa- 
 rel, &c. The largest sum given by any 
 of the temporal lords was 20/. ; but the 
 archbishop of Canterbury gave 40?., the 
 archbishop of York 30/., and the other 
 spiritual lords 20/. and 10/.; many of 
 tlie temooral lords and great ofhcers, and 
 
 most of the peeresses, gave rich gowns, 
 petticoats, shifts, silk stockings, garters, 
 sweet-bags, doublets, mantles embroidered 
 with precious stones, looking-glasses, fans, 
 bracelets, caskets studded with jewels, 
 and other costly trinkets. Sir Gilbert 
 Dethick, garter king at arms, gave a book 
 of the States in William the Conqueror's 
 time ; Absolon, the master of the Savoy, 
 gave a Bible covered with cloth of gold, 
 garnished with silver gilt, and plates of 
 the royal arms; the queen's physician 
 presented her with a box of foreign 
 sweetmeats ; another physician presented 
 a pot of green gir.ger, and a pot of orange 
 flowers; her apothecaries gave her a box of 
 lozenges, a box of ginger candy, a box of 
 green p-inger, and pots of other conserves. 
 Mrs. Blanch a Parry gave her majesty a 
 little gold comfit-box and spoon ; Mrs. 
 Morgan gave a box of cherries, and one 
 of apricots. The queen's master cook 
 and her serjeant of the pastiy, presented 
 her with various confectionary and pre- 
 serves. Putrino, an Italian, gave her two 
 pictures ; Ambrose Lupo gave her a box of 
 lute strings, and a glass of sweet water , 
 each of three other Italians presented her 
 with a pair of sweet gloves ; a cutler 
 gave her a meat knife having a fan haft 
 of bone, with a conceit in it; Jeromy 
 Bassano gave two drinking glasses ; and 
 Smyth, the dustman, presented her ma- 
 jesty with two bolts of cambrick. Some ol 
 these gifts to Elizabeth call to recollection 
 the tempting articles which Autolycus, in 
 the " Winter's Tale," invites the country 
 girls to buy : he enters singing, 
 
 Lawn, as white as driven snow; 
 Cypress, black as e'er was crow ; 
 Gloves, as sweet as damask roses 
 Masks for faces, and for noses ; 
 Bufrlc bracelet, necklace-amber, 
 Perfume for a lady's chamber ; 
 Golden quoifs, and stomachers, 
 For my lads to give their dears ; 
 Pins, and poking-sticks of steel. 
 What maids Inck from head to heel : 
 Come, buy of me, come: come buy, come 
 
 buy ; 
 Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry, 
 Come, buy, &c. 
 
 Dr. Drake says, that though Elizabeth 
 made returns to the new year's gifts, ia 
 plate and other articles, yet she took su# 
 ficient care that the balance should be ' 
 her own favour. 
 
 No. 4982, in the Catalogue for 1824, oi 
 Mr. Rodd, of Great Newport-street, is a 
 roll of vellum, ten feet long, containins: the 
 
THE E\'ERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1 
 
 new year's gifts from kinp; James I. to the 
 persons whose names are therein mention- 
 ed on the 1st of January 1605, with the 
 new year's gifts that his majesty received 
 tlie same day ; the loll is signed by James 
 himself and certain officers of his house- 
 hold. 
 
 In a "Banquet of Jests, 1634," 12mo. 
 there is a pleasant story of Archee, the 
 king's jester, who, having fooled many, 
 was fooled himself. Coming to a noble- 
 man, upon new year's day, to bid him 
 good-morrow, Archee received twenty 
 pieces of gold ; but, covetously desiring 
 more, he shook them in his hand, and said 
 they were too light. Tlie donor answered: 
 " I prithee, Archee, let me see them again, 
 for there is one amongst them I would be 
 loth to part with:" Archee, expecting the 
 sum to be increased, returned the pieces 
 to his lordship ; who put them in his 
 pocket with this remark, " I once gave 
 money into a fool's hand, who had not the 
 wit to keep it." 
 
 Pins were acceptable new year's gifts 
 to the ladies, instead of the wooden skew- 
 ers which they used till the end of the 
 fifteenth century. Sometimes they re- 
 ceived a composition in money : and hence 
 allowances for their separate use is still 
 denominated " pin-money." 
 
 Gloves were customary new year's 
 gifts. They were more expensive than 
 in our times, and occasionally a money 
 present was tendered instead : this was 
 called " glove-money." Sir Thomas More, 
 as lord chancellor, decreed in favour of 
 a Mrs. Croaker against the lord Arundel. 
 On the following new year's day, in 
 token of her gratitude, she presented sir 
 Thomas with a pair of gloves, containing 
 forty angels. " It would be against good 
 manners," said the chancellor, to forsake 
 a gentlewoman's new year's gift, and I 
 accept the gloves ; their lining you will 
 be pleased otherwise to bestow." 
 
 Mr. Brand relates from a curious MS. 
 in the British Museum, of the date of 
 1560, that the boys of Eton school used 
 on this day to play for little new year's 
 gifts before and after supper; and also 
 to make verses, which they presented to 
 the provost and masters, and to each other: 
 new year's gifts of verses, however, were 
 not peculiar to schoolboys. A poet, the 
 beauties of whose poetry are justly re- 
 marked to be " of a kind which time has 
 a tendency rather to hallow than to in- 
 jure," Robert Herrick, presents us, in his 
 Hejperides, with " a Nev; Year's Gift 
 
 sent to Sir Simon Stewarc!." lie coin- 
 n.ences it merrily, and goes on to ( all it 
 
 a jolly 
 
 Veise, crown'd with ivy and wi*h liolly ; 
 
 That tells of winter's tales and mirth, 
 
 That inilk-maids make about the hearth ; 
 
 Of Cluistmas' sports, the wassail bowl, 
 
 That tost-up after fox-i' th' hole ; 
 
 Of blind-inan-buft', and of the care 
 
 Tliav young men have to shoe the mare ; 
 
 Of twelfth-tide cakes, of pease and beans. 
 
 Wherewith ye make th^se merry scenes : 
 
 Of crackling laurel, which fore-r-ounds 
 
 A plenteous harvest to your grounds 
 
 Of those, and such like things, for shift. 
 
 We send, instead of \ew Year's Gift. 
 
 Read then, and when your faces shine 
 
 With buxom meat and cap'ring wine 
 
 Remember us in cups full crown'd 
 
 And let our city-health go round. 
 
 Then, as ye sit about your embers. 
 
 Call not to mind the fled Decembers 
 
 But tliink on these, that are t' appea; 
 
 As daughters to the instant year ; 
 
 And to the bagpipes all address 
 
 Till sleep take place of weariness. 
 
 And thus throughout, with Christmas p^ays, 
 
 Frolick the full twelve holidays. j 
 
 Mr. Ellis, in a note on Brand, mtro- ; 
 duces a poetical new year's gift in Latin, 
 from the stern Buchanan to the unhappy ! 
 Mary of Scotland. j 
 
 " New year's gifts," says Dr. Drake i 
 " were given and received, with the mutual 
 expression of good wishes, and particularly 
 that of a happy new year. The compli- 
 ment was sometimes paid at each other's 
 doors in the form of a song; but more ge- 
 nerally, especially in the north of Eng- 
 land and in Scotland, the house was en- 
 tered very early in the morning, by some 
 young men and maidens selected for the 
 purpose, who presented the spiced bowl, 
 and hailed you with the gratulations of 
 the season." To this may be added, that 
 ii was formerly the custom in Scotland to 
 send new year's gifts on new year's 
 eve ; and on new year's day to wish 
 each other a happy new year, and ask for 
 a new year's gift. There is a citation in 
 Brand, from the " Statistical Account of 
 Scotland," concerning new year's gifts to 
 servant maids by their masters ; and it 
 mentions that " there is a large stone, 
 about nine or ten feet high, and foui 
 broad, placed upright in a plain, in the 
 (Orkney) isle of North Ronaldshay ; but 
 no tradition is preserved concerning it, 
 whether erected in memory of any sigra] 
 event, or for thf purpose of administering 
 justice, or for religious worship. l"he 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JA^UAllY 1. 
 
 writer of tins (the parish priest) has seen 
 Jifty of the inhabitants assembled there, 
 on the first day of the year, dancing by 
 moonlight, with no other music than 
 their own singing." 
 
 In Mr. Stewart's " Popular Superstitions 
 of the Highlands," there is some account 
 of the Candlemas buH, on new year's 
 eve, as introductory to ihe new year. 
 The term Candlemas, applied to this sea- 
 son, is supposed to have originated in 
 some old leligious ceremonies performed 
 by candlelight. The Bull is a passing 
 cloud, which Highland imagination per- 
 verts into the form of that animal; as it 
 rises or falls or takes peculiar directions, 
 of great significancy to the seers, so does 
 it prognosticate good or bad weather. The 
 more northern nations anciently assigned 
 portentous qualities to the winds of new 
 year's eve. One of their old legends in 
 Brand may be thus versified — the last line 
 eking out the verse : 
 If New Year's eve night- wind h\o\v south. 
 It betokeneth warmth and growth ; 
 If west, much milk, and fish in the sea ; 
 If nurth, much cold, and storms there will be ; 
 If east, the trees will bear much fruit 
 If Horth-east, fiee it man and brute. 
 
 Mr. Stewart says, that as soon as night 
 sets in it is the signal with the Strath- 
 down highlander for the suspension of his 
 usual employment, and he directs his at- 
 tention to more agreeable callings. The 
 men form into bands with tethers and 
 axes, and, shaping their course to the 
 juniper bushes, they return home laden 
 with mighty loads, which are arranged 
 round the fire to-dry till morning. A cer- 
 tain discreet person is despatched to the 
 dead and living ford to draw a pitcher of 
 water in profound silence, without the 
 vessel touching the ground, lest its virtue 
 should be destroyed, and on his return all 
 retire to rest. Early on new year's morn- 
 ing the Usque-Cashrichd, or water from 
 the dead and living ford, is drank, as a 
 potent charm, until next new year's day, 
 against the spells of witchcraft, the malig- 
 nity of evil eyes, and the activity of all 
 jnfernal agency. The qualified highlander 
 then takes a large brush, with which he 
 
 Erofusely asperses the occupants of all 
 eds ; from whom it is not unusual for 
 him to receive ungrateful remonstrances 
 against ablution. This ended, and the 
 doors and windows being thoroughly 
 closed, and all crevices stopped, he kindles 
 piles of the collected juniper, in the dif- 
 
 ferent apartments, till the vapour from inv 
 burning branches condenses into opaque 
 clouds, and coughing, sneezing, wheezing, 
 gasping, and other demonstrations of suf- 
 focation ensue. The operator, aware that 
 the more intense the " smuchdan," thi? 
 more propitious the solemnity, disregard* 
 these indications, and continues, witli 
 streaming eyes and averted head, to in- 
 crease the fumigation, until in his own 
 defence he admits the air to recover the 
 exhausted household and himself. He 
 then treats the horses, cattle, and other 
 bestial stock in the town with the same 
 smothering, to keep them from harm 
 throughout the year. "When the gude- 
 wife gets up, and having ceased from 
 coughing, has gained sufficient strength 
 to reach the bottle dhn, she administers 
 its comfort to the relief of the sufferers : 
 laughter takes place of complaint, all the 
 family get up, wash their faces, and re- 
 ceive the visits of their neighbours, who 
 arrive full of gralulations peculiar to the 
 day. Mil nase choil orst, " My Candle- 
 mas bond upon you " is the customary 
 salutation, and means, in plain words, 
 " You owe me a new year's gift." A 
 point of great emulation is, who shall 
 salute the other first ; because the one 
 who does so is entitled to a gift from the 
 person saluted. Breakfast, consisting of 
 all procurable Luxuries, is then served, the 
 neighbours not engaged are invited to 
 partake, and the day ends in festivity. 
 
 Riding stang, a custom that will be 
 observed on hereafter, prevails in some 
 parts of England on new year's day to 
 the present hour. The " stang " is a 
 cowl-staff; the cowl is a water-vessel, 
 borne by two persons on the cowl-staff, 
 which is a stout pole whereon the vessel 
 hangs. " Where's the cowl-staff?" cries 
 Ford's wife, when she purposes to get 
 Falstaff into a large buck-basket, with two 
 handles ; the cowl-staff, or " stang," is 
 produced, and, being passed through the 
 handles,the fat knight is borne off by two of 
 Ford's men. A writer in the Gentleman s 
 Magazine, 1791, says, that in Westmore- 
 land and Cumberland, on the 1st of Ja- 
 nuary, multitudes assemble fta"ly in the 
 morning with baskets and '" stangs," and 
 whoever does not join them, whether 
 inhabitant or stranger, is immediately 
 mounted across the " stang," and carried, 
 shoulder height, to the next puDiic-house, 
 where sixpence liberates the prisoner 
 Women are seized in this ^^ay, and car- 
 
rUE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 ried in baskets — the sex being privileged 
 from riding '• stang," in compliment, per- 
 haps, to the use of side-saddles. In the 
 same part of the country, no one is al- 
 lowed to work on new year's day, how- 
 ever industrious. Mr. Ellis shows that it 
 was a new year's day custom in ancient 
 Rome for tradesmen to work a little only, 
 for luck's sake, that they might have con- 
 stant business all the year after. 
 
 A communication in an English journal 
 of January 1824 relates, that in Paris on 
 new year's day, which is called le jour 
 d'etreuiies, parents bestow portions on 
 their children, brothers on tlieir sisters, 
 and husbands make presents to their wives. 
 Carriages may be seen rolling through the 
 streets with cargoes oi bon-bons, souvenirs, 
 and the variety of et ccsterus with which 
 little children and grown-up children are 
 bribed into good humour ; and here and 
 there pastrycooks are to be met with, car- 
 rying upon boards enormous temples, pa- 
 godas, churches, and playhouses, made of 
 fine flour and sugar, and the embellish- 
 ments which render French pastry so in- 
 viting. But there is one street in Paris 
 to which a new year's day is a whole 
 year's fortune — this is the Rue des Lom- 
 bards, where the wholesale confectioners 
 reside; for in Paris every trade and ])ro- 
 fession has its peculiar quarter. For se- 
 veral days preceding the 1st of January, 
 this street is completely blocked up by 
 carts and waggons laden with cases of 
 sweetmeats for the provinces. These are of 
 every form and description w'hich the most 
 singular fancy could imagine ; bunches of 
 carrots, green peas, boots and shoes, lob- 
 sters and crabs, hats, books, musical in- 
 struments, gridirons, frying-pans, and 
 saucepans ; all made of sugar, and co- 
 loured to imitate reality, and all made 
 with a hollow within to hold the bon-bons. 
 The most prevailing device is what is 
 called a cornet, that is, a little cone orna- 
 mented in dii^'erent ways with a bag to 
 draw over the large end, and close it up. 
 In these things, the prices of which vary 
 from one franc (tenpence) to fifty, the 
 bon-bons are presented by those who 
 choose to be at the expense of them, and by 
 those who do not, they are only wrapped 
 in a piece of paper ; but bon-bons in some 
 way or other must be presented. It would 
 not, perhaps, be an exaggeration to state 
 that the amount expended for presents on 
 new year's day in Paris, for sweetmeats 
 alone, exceeds 500.000 francs, or 20,000/. 
 sterling Jew ellery is also sold to a very 
 
 large amount, and the fancy artic.es ex- 
 ported in the first week in the year to 
 England and other countries, is computed 
 at one-fourth of the sale during the twelve 
 months. In Paris it is by no means un- 
 common for a man of 8,000 or 10,000 
 francs a year to make presents on new 
 year's day which cost him a fifteenth part 
 of his income. No person able to give 
 must on this day pay a visit empty-handed 
 Every body accepts, and every man gives 
 according to the means which he possesses. 
 I'emales alone are excepted from the charge 
 of giving. A pretty woman, respectably 
 connected, may reckon her new year's pre- 
 sents at something considerable. Gowns, 
 jewellery, gloves, stockings, and artificial 
 flowers, fill her drawing-room ; for in Paris 
 it is a custom to display all the gifts, in 
 order to excite emulation, and to obtain 
 as mu.ch as possible. At the palace the 
 new year's day is a complete jour de 
 fete. Every branch of the royal family is 
 then expected to make handsome presents 
 to the king. For the six months preceding 
 January 1824, the female branches were 
 busily occupied in preparing presents of 
 their own manufacture, which would fill 
 at least two common-sized waggons. The 
 duchess de Berri painted an entire room 
 of japanned pannels, to be set up in the 
 palace ; and the duchess of Orleans pre- 
 pared an elegant screen. An English 
 gentleman who was admitted suddenly 
 into the presence of the duchess de Berri 
 two months before, found her, and three 
 of her maids of honour, lying on the car- 
 pet, painting the legs of a set of chairs, 
 which were intended for the king. The 
 day commences with the Parisians, at an 
 early hour, by the interchange of their 
 visits and bon-bons. The nearest relations 
 are visited first, until the furthest in blood 
 have had their calls ; then friends and ac- 
 quaintances. The conflict to anticipate 
 each other's calls, occasions the most agree- 
 able and whimsical scenes among these 
 proficients in polite attentions. In these 
 visits, and in gossiping at the confec- 
 tioners' shops, which are the great lounge 
 for the occasion, the morning of new 
 year's day is passed ; a dinner is giver 
 by some member of the family to all the 
 rest, and the evening concludes, like 
 Christmas day, with cards, dancing, or 
 any other amusement that may be pre- 
 ferred. One of the chief attractions to a 
 foreigner in Paris is the exhibition, which 
 opens there on new year's day, cf the 
 finest specimens of the Sevres ciiinanianu- 
 
TflE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 fac^urecl at tlie royal establishment in the 
 neighbourhood of Versailles during the 
 preceding year. 
 
 Undoubtedly, new year's gifts origin- 
 ated in heathen observances, and were 
 grossly abused in after ages ; yet latterly 
 they became a rational and pleasant mode 
 of conveying our gentle dispositions to- 
 wards those we esteem. Mr. Audley, in 
 his compendious and useful " Companion 
 to the Almanack," says, with truth, that 
 they are innocent, if not praiseworthy ; 
 and he quotes this amiable sentiment from 
 Bourne : " If I send a new year's gift 
 to my friend, it shall be a token of my 
 friendship ; if to my benefactor, a token 
 of my gratitude ; if to the poor, which at 
 this season must never be forgot, it shall 
 be to make their liearts sing for joy, and 
 give praise and adoration to the Giver of 
 all good gifts." The Jews on the first day 
 of thi'ir new year give sumptuous enter- 
 tainments, and joyfully wish each other 
 *• a happy new year." This salutation 
 is not yet obsolete even with us ; but the 
 new year's gift seldom arrives, except to 
 honest rustics from their equals ; it is 
 scarcely remembered with a view to its 
 use but by young persons, who, '• unvexed 
 with all the cares of gain," have read or 
 heard tell of such things, and who, with 
 innocent hearts, feeling the kindness of 
 the sentiment, keep up the good old cus- 
 tom among one another, till mixture with 
 the world, and " long experience, makes 
 them sage," and sordid. 
 
 New year's day in London is not ob- 
 served by any public festivity; but little 
 social dining parties are frequently formed 
 amongst friends ; and convivial persons 
 may be found at taverns, and in publicans* 
 parlours, regaling on the occasion. Dr 
 Forster relates, in his " Perennial Calen- 
 dar," that many people make a point to 
 wear some new clothes on this day, and 
 esteem the omission as unlucky : the 
 practice, however, from such motives, 
 must obviously be confined to the unin- 
 formed. The only open demonstration 
 of joy in the metropolis, is the ringing of 
 merry peals from the belfries of the nu- 
 merous steeples, late on the eve of the 
 new year, and until after the chimes of 
 the clock have sounded its last hour. 
 
 On new year's day the man of business 
 opens new account-books. " A good be- 
 ginning makes a good ending." Let every 
 man open an account to himself; and 
 to begin the new year that he may expect 
 to say at its termination — it has been a 
 
 good year. In the hilarity of the season 
 let him not forget that to the needy it h 
 a season of discomfort. 
 
 There is a satisfdction 
 la doing a good action : 
 
 and he who devises liberal things will 
 find his liberality return to him in a full 
 tide of happiness. An economist can 
 afford to be generous. " Give me neither 
 poverty nor riches," prayed the wise man. 
 To him who is neither encumbered by 
 wealth, nor dispirited by indigence, the 
 stores of enjoyment are unlocked. 
 
 He who holds fast the Golden Mean, 
 And lives contentedly between 
 
 The little and the great, 
 Feels not the wants that pinch the poor. 
 Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door 
 
 Embitt'ring all his state. 
 
 The tallest pines feel most the pow'r 
 Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tow'r 
 
 Comes heaviest to the ground ; 
 The bolts that spare the mountain's side 
 His cloud capt eminence divide, 
 
 And spread the ruin round. 
 
 The well-inform'd philosopher 
 Rejoices with a wholesome fear, 
 
 And hopes, in spite of pain ; 
 If Winter bellow from the North, 
 Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth 
 
 And Nature laughs again. 
 
 U hindrances obstruct thy way. 
 Thy magnanimity display, 
 
 And let thy strength be seen ; 
 But oh ! if fortune fill thy sail 
 With more than a propitious gale, 
 
 Take half thy canvass iu. 
 
 Cowpt;r. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1308. On the 1st of January in this 
 year, William Tell, the Swiss patriot, as- 
 sociated himself on this day with a band 
 of his countrymen, against the tyranny of 
 their oppressors. For upwards of three 
 centuries the opposition was carried on, 
 and terminated by the treaty of West- 
 phalia in 1648, declaring the independ- 
 ence of Switzerland. 
 
 1651 . On the 1st of January Charles TL 
 was crowned at Scone. king of the Scots 
 Charles, when a child, was weak in the 
 legs, and ordered to wear steel - boots. 
 Their weight so annoyed hi-ni that he 
 pined till recreation became labour. An 
 old rocker took off the steel-boots, and 
 concealed them ; promising the countess 
 of Dorset, who was Charles's governess, 
 that she would take any blame for tlio act 
 
THE EVEltr-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 1. 
 
 on herself Soon afterwards the king, 
 Charles I., coming into the nursery, and 
 seeing his boy's legs without the boots, 
 angrily demanded who had done it ? " It 
 was I, sir," said the rocker, " who had 
 the honour, some thirty years since, to at- 
 tend on your highness, in your infancy, 
 when you had the same infirmity where- 
 with now the prince, your very own son 
 is troubled ; and then the lady Gary, 
 (afterwards countess of Monmouth) com- 
 manded your steel-boots to be taken off, 
 Avho, blessed be God, since have gathered 
 strength, and arrived at a good stature." 
 Clare, chaplain to Charles II., at the time 
 the affair happened, related this anecdote 
 to old Fuller, who in 1660, contemplating 
 " the restoration," tells the story, and 
 quaintly exclaims, " the nation is too 
 noble, when his majesty shall return from 
 foreign parts, to impose any other steel- 
 boots upon him, than the observing the 
 laws of the land, wliich are his own stock- 
 ings, that so with joy and comfort he may 
 enter on what was his own inheritance." 
 The nation forgot the " steel-boots," and 
 Charles forgot the " stockings." 
 
 1801. January 1. The Union of Great 
 Britain with Ireland commenced accord- 
 ing to act of parliament, and the event 
 was solemnized by the hoisting of a 
 new royal flag on the Tower of London, 
 accom])anied by the firing of guns there 
 and in St. James's Park. On the 3d the 
 king received the great seal of Great 
 Britain from the lord chancellor, and 
 causing it to be defaced, presented to him 
 a new great seal for the United Kingdom. 
 On the same day, January 1st, 1801, 
 Piazzi, the astronomer at Palermo, dis- 
 covered a new primary planet, making an 
 eleventh of that order : he called it Ceres, 
 from the goddess of that name, who was 
 highly esteemed by the ancients of Sicily. 
 
 Usually at this period the rigour of cold 
 IS severely felt. The indisposition of lie-a- 
 beds to face its severity is pleasantly pic- 
 tured by Mr.Leigh Hunt, in a paper in the 
 Indicator. He imagines one of those 
 persons to express himself in these terms: 
 
 " On opening my eyes, the first thing 
 that meets them is ray own breath rolling 
 forJh, as if in the open air, like smoke out 
 of a cottage-chimney. Think of this 
 symptom. Then I turn my eyes side- 
 ways and see the window all frozen over. 
 Think of that. Tlien the servant comes 
 
 in. * It is very cold this mominfTj is jt 
 not?' — ' Very cold, sir.' — ' Very cold 
 indeed, isn't it .'' — ' Very cold indeed, 
 sir.' — ' More than usually so, isn't it, 
 even for this weather?' (Here the ser- 
 vant's wit and good nature are put to a 
 considerable test, and the inquirer lies on 
 thorns for the answer.) ' Why, Sir . . . 
 . . I think it is.' (Good creature ! There 
 is not a better, or more truth-telling ser- 
 vant going.) ' I must rise, however — 
 Get me some warm water.' — Here comes 
 a fine interval between the departure of 
 the servant and the arrival of the hot 
 water ; during which, of course, it is of 
 ' no use' to get up. The hot water 
 comes. * Is it quite hot V — ' Yes, sir.' 
 — ' Perhaps too hot for shaving : 1 must 
 wait a little ?' — ' No, sir ; it will just do.' 
 (There is an over-nice propriety some- 
 times, an officious zeal of virtue, a little 
 troublesome.) * Oh — the shirt — you 
 must air my clean shirt : — linen gets very 
 damp this weather.' — 'Yes, sir.' Here 
 another delicious five minutes. A knock 
 at the door. ' Oh, the shirt — very well. 
 My stockings — I thmk the stockings ha-d 
 better be aired too.' — ' Very well, sir.' 
 — Here another interval. At length every 
 thing is ready, except myself I now 
 cannot help thinking a good deal — who 
 can ? — upon the unnecessary and villain- 
 ous custom of shaving ; it is a thing so 
 unmanly (here I nestle closer) — so effe- 
 minate, (here I recoil from an unlucky step 
 into the colder part of the bed.) — No w on- 
 der, that the queen of Fiance took part 
 with the rebels against that degenerate 
 king, her husband, who first affronted her 
 smooth visage with a face like her own. 
 The emperor Julian never showed the 
 luxuriancy of his genius to better advan- 
 tage than in reviving the flowing beard. 
 Look at cardinal Bembo's picture — at 
 Michael Angelo's — at Titian's — at Shak 
 speare's — at Fletcher's — at Spenser's — at 
 Chaucer's — at Alfred's — at Plato's. I 
 could name a great man for every tick of 
 my watch. Look at the Turks, a grave 
 and otiose people — Tliink of Haroun A) 
 Raschid and Bed-ridden Hassan — Think 
 of Wortley Montague, the worthy son of 
 his mother, a man above the prejudice of 
 his time — Look at tlie Persian gentlemen, 
 whom one is ashamed of meeting about 
 the suburbs, their dress and appearance 
 are so much finer than our own — Lastly, 
 think of the razor itself — how totally op- 
 posed to every sensation of bed — how 
 cold, how eagy, how hard ! how utterly 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAEY 1. 
 
 different fi> m any thing like the narm 
 and circling amplitude, which 
 
 Sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto oui gentle senses. 
 
 Add t«> this, benumbed fingers, which 
 
 may help you to cut yourself, a quivering 
 body, a frozen towel, and an ewer full of' 
 ice ; and he that says there is nothing to 
 oppose in all this, only shows, at any rate 
 that he has no merit in opposing it." 
 
 GYMNASTICS FOR YOUTH. 
 
 This engraving represents simple me- 
 thods by which, at this season especially, 
 the health of young persons may be 
 maintained, and the constitution invigo- 
 rated. Two round parallel bars at two 
 feet distance from each other, on round 
 standards three or four feet high, firmly 
 fixed in the ground, will afford boys the 
 means of actively exerting their limbs and 
 muscles : and if the ends of a pole be let 
 into opposite walls or fastened to trees, 
 the boys may be taught to climb single 
 ropes, and hold on while swinging by 
 them. The engraving is placed before 
 the eyes of parents and teachers with the 
 hope of directing their attention to gym- 
 nastic exercises, as diversions for youth, 
 and they are referred to a practical trea- 
 tise on the subject by Mr. Clias, that may 
 be safely used. His judicious reasoning 
 must convince every reader of their im- 
 portance to the rising generation, and 
 that it is within the means of all classes 
 of persons to let boys acquire a know- 
 J«Jge of the feats represented in the 
 
 plates to his work, for teaching which 
 his explanations are numerous and clear. 
 
 /4ii unseasonable occurrence in the 
 cellar of the late sir Joseph Banks may be 
 acceptable in the mention, and excite 
 particular sympathy in persons who re- 
 create with the juice of the vine : as a fact, 
 it may tend to elucidate the origin and 
 nature of vegetable fungi, particularly of 
 that species termed mushroom. The 
 worthy baronet had a cask of wine rather 
 too sweet for immediate use ; he therefore 
 directed that it should be placed in a cel- 
 lar, in order that the saccharine matter it 
 contained might be more perfectly decom- 
 posed by age. At the end of three years, he 
 directed his butler to ascertain the state of 
 the wine, when, on attempting to open the 
 cellar door, he could not effect it, in conse- 
 quence of some powerful obstacle. The 
 door was cut down, and the cellar found 
 to be completely filled with a firm fungous 
 vegetable production — so firm that it waj 
 
 10 
 
THE EVERY-DAY book.— JANUARY 2. 
 
 necessary to use the axe for its removal. 
 This appeared to have grown from, or 
 have been nourished by, the decomposed 
 particles of the wine : the cask was empty, 
 and carried up to the ceiling, where it 
 was supported by the surface of the 
 fungus. 
 
 anticipate with calm delight the entrance 
 of the new year, and lift his eyes to the 
 living lustres of the firmament with grate- 
 ful feelings. They shine out their prismatic 
 colours through the cold thin air, keeping 
 watch while man slumbers, or cheering 
 him, who contemplates their files, to pur- 
 poses of virtue. In this season 
 
 At the close of this day he who can 
 reflect with satisfaction on the past, may 
 
 The night comes calmly forth, 
 
 Bringing sweet rest upon the wings of even . 
 The golden wain rolls round the silent north. 
 And earth is slumbering 'neath the smiles of heaven. 
 
 BOWKING. 
 
 Bamiarp 2. 
 
 St. Macarius ; St. Concordius ; St. 
 
 Adalard or Alard. 
 St. Macarius. a.d. 394. Alban Butler 
 says he was a confectioner of Alexandria, 
 who, in the Hower of his age, spent 
 upwards of sixty years in the deserts in 
 labour, penance, and contemplation. "Our 
 saint," says Butler, " happened one day 
 inadvertently to kill a gnat, that was biting 
 him in his cell ; reflecting that he had lost 
 the opportunity of suffering that mortifi- 
 cation, he hastened from his cell for the 
 marshes of Scetfe, which abound with 
 great flies, whose stings pierce even wild 
 boars. There he continued six months, 
 exposed to those ravaging insects ; and to 
 such a degree was his whole body dis- 
 figured by them, with sores and swellings, 
 that when he returned he was only to be 
 known by his voice." The Golden Legend 
 relates of him, that he took a dead pagan 
 out of his sepulchre, and put him under 
 his head for a pillow ; whereupon certain 
 devils came to afiiight the saint, and called 
 the dead pagan to go with them ; but the 
 body under the saint said he could not, 
 because a pilgrim lay upon him, so that 
 he could not move ; then Macarius, no- 
 thing afraid, beat the body with his fist, and 
 told him to go if he would, which caused 
 the devils to declare that Macarius had 
 vanquished them. Another time the 
 devil came with a great scythe on his 
 shoulder, to smite the saint, but he covdd 
 not prevail against him, on accent of his 
 virtues. Macarius, at another time, being 
 tempted, filled a sack with stones, and 
 bore it many journies through the desert. 
 Seeing a devil before him in the shape of 
 a man, dressed like " a herawde," with 
 his clothing full of holes, and in every hole 
 a phial, he demanded of this devil whither 
 he went ; and why he had so many phials? 
 
 the devil answered, to give drink to tlie 
 hermits ; and that the phials contained a 
 variety of liquors, that they might have 
 a choice, and so fall into temptation. On 
 the devil's return, the saint inquired how 
 he had sped ; and the devil answered very 
 evil, for they were so holy that only one 
 Theodistus would drink : on this inform- 
 ation Macarius found Theodistus under 
 the influences of tlie phial, and recovered 
 him. Macarius found the head of a pagan, 
 and asked where the soul of its body 
 was : in hell, said the head : he asked the 
 head if hell was deep ; — the head said 
 deeper than from heaven to earth : he de- 
 manded again, if there were any there 
 lower than his own soul — the head said 
 the Jews were lower than he was: the 
 saint inquired if there were any lower 
 than the Jews — the head answered, the 
 false Christian-men were lower than the 
 Jews, and more tormented : there the 
 dialogue between the saint and the head 
 appears to have ended. Macarius seems, 
 by the Golden Legend, to have been much 
 annoyed by the devil. In a nine days' 
 journey through a desert, at the end o{ 
 every mile he set up a reed in the earth, 
 to mark his track against he returned ; 
 but the devil pulled them all up, made a 
 bundle of them, and placed them at Ma- 
 carius's head, while he lay asleep, so that 
 the saint with great difficulty found his 
 way home again. 
 
 St. Adalard, according to Butler, waj 
 grandson of Charles Martel, brother to 
 king Pepin, and cousin-german to Charle- 
 magne, who created him a count : he left 
 his court in 773, became a monk at Corbie 
 in Picardy, died in 827, aged seventy- 
 three, and wrought m.iracles, which pro- 
 cured his body to be enshrined with great 
 pomp in 1010, a history of which solem- 
 nity is written by St. Gerard, who com- 
 posed an office in St. Adalaid's honour, be 
 
 11 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JANUARY 2. 
 
 <^ause through his intercession he had 
 been cured of. a violeiii head-ache. — 
 The same St. Gerard relates seven other 
 miracles by S .. Adalard of the same nature, 
 liutler says, his relics are still at Corbie, 
 ill a rich shrine, and two smaller cases, 
 except a small portion given to the abbey 
 of Chelles, 
 
 The first Monday after new year's day 
 is called Handsel Monday in some parts 
 of Scotland, and is observed by merry- 
 making. In sir J. Sinclair's " Statistical 
 Account," it is related of one William 
 Hunter, a collier, that he was cured in 
 the year 1758 of an inveterate rheuma- 
 tism or gout, by drinking freely of new 
 ale, full of barm or yeast. " Tlie poor 
 man had been confined to his bed for a 
 year and a h.ilf, having almost entirely 
 lost the use of his limbs. On the evening 
 of Handsel Monday, as it is called, some 
 of his neighbours came to make merry 
 with him. Though he could not rise, yet 
 he always took his share of the ale, as it 
 passed round the company ; and, in the 
 end, became much intoxicated. The con- 
 sequence was, that he had the use of his 
 limbs the next morning, and was able to 
 walk about. He lived more than twenty 
 years after this, and never had the smallest 
 return of his old complaint.''' This is a 
 fact worth remembering, as connected 
 with chronical complaints. 
 
 CHRONOLOGy. 
 
 On the 2d of January, a. d. 17, Ovid 
 the celebrated Roman poet died: he was 
 born at Sulmo on the 20th of March, 
 forty-three years before the Christian era. 
 His father designed him for the bar, and 
 he became eminently eloquent, but every 
 thing he wrote was expressed in poetical 
 numbers ; and though reminded by his 
 lather, that even Homer lived and died 
 in poverty, he preferred the pleasures of 
 i iiagination to forensic disputation He 
 /gained great admiration from the learned. 
 Virgil, Horace, Tibullus, and Propertius, 
 were his friends, and Augustus became 
 his liberal patron, till he banished him for 
 some unknown cause. In his exile he 
 was cowardly, and prostituted his pen to 
 flatter baseness ; and though he desired 
 the death of the emperor, he fawned upon 
 him in his writings to meanness. He died 
 fit Tomos on the Euxine sea, the place of 
 his binishment, under the reign of Tibe- 
 rius, who had succeeded Augustus, and 
 was deaf to the poet's entreaties for per- 
 
 mission to return to Rome. Whatever 
 subject Ovid wrote on, he exhausted; he 
 painted nature with a masterly hand, and 
 his genius imparted elegance to vulgarity ; 
 but he defiLd the sweetness of his num- 
 bers by impurity, and though he ranks 
 among the splendi 1 ornaments of ancient 
 literature, he sullied his fame by the 
 grossest immorality in some of his finest 
 productions. 
 
 Livy , the Roman historian, died at Padua 
 on the same day and in the same year with 
 Ovid. His history of the Roman Empire 
 was in one hundred and forty books, of 
 which only thirty-five are extant. Five of 
 these were discovered at Worms in 1431, 
 and some fragments are said to have been 
 lately discovered at Hercu' 'iipum. Few 
 particulars of his life are uwn, but his 
 fame was great even while he lived, and 
 his history has rendered him immortal 
 He wrote some philosophical treatises 
 and dialogues, with a letter to his son on 
 the merit of authors, which Dr. Lem- 
 priere says, ought to be read by young 
 m.cn. 
 
 In the Literary Pocket Book there art 
 some seasonable facts which may be 
 transplanted with advantage to the reader, 
 and, it is hoped, without disadvantage to 
 the writer of the articles. He says that 
 a man is infinitely mistaken, who thinks 
 there is nothing worth seeing in winter- 
 time out of doors, because the sun is not 
 warm, and the streets are muddy. " Let 
 him get, by dint of good exercise, out oJ 
 the streets, and he shall find enough. In 
 the warm neighbourhood of towns he may 
 still watch the field-fares, thrushes, and 
 blackbirds ; the titmouse seeking its food 
 through the straw-thatch ; the red-wings, 
 field-fares, sky-larks, and tit-larks, upon 
 the same errand, over wet meadows; the 
 sparrows and y:Uow-hammers, and chaf- 
 finches, still beautiful though mute, glean- 
 ing from the straw and chaff in farm- 
 yards ; and the ring-dove, always poetical, 
 coming for her meal to the ivy-berries. 
 About rapid stre-ams he may see the va- 
 rious habits and movements of herons, 
 wood-cocks, wild-d icks, and other water- 
 fowl, who are obliged to quit the frozen 
 marshes to seek their food there. The 
 red-breast comes to the windows, and 
 often into the house itself, to be rewarded 
 for its song, and for its far-fyined * pain- 
 ful' obsequies to the Children iu the 
 Wood." 
 
 12 
 
THE EV^ERY-DAY BOOK.- JANUARY 3. 
 
 SJanuarp 3. 
 
 St. Genevievj. St. Anterns, Pope. St. 
 Gordius. St. Peter Balsam. 
 
 St. Genevieve, Patroness of Paris. 
 
 Alban Butler aftirms that she was 
 born in 422, at Nanterre, four miles from 
 Paris, near the present Calvary there, 
 and that she died a virgin on this day 
 in 512, and was buried in 545, near the 
 steps of the high altar in a magnificent 
 church, dedicated to St. Peter and St. 
 Paul, began by Clovis, where he also was 
 interred. Her relics were afterwards 
 taken up and put into a costly shrine 
 about 630. Of course they worked mira- 
 cles. Her shrine of gold and silver, 
 covered with precious stones, the presents 
 of kings and aneens, and with a cluster 
 of diamonds on the top, presented by the 
 intriguing Mary de Medicis, is, on cala- 
 mitous occasions, carried about Paris in 
 procession, accompanied by shrines 
 equally miraculous, and by the canons 
 of St Genevieve walking bare-foot. 
 
 The miracles of St. Genevieve, as re- 
 lated in the Golden Legend, were equally 
 numerous and equally credible. It relates 
 that when slie was a child, St. Gerinaine 
 said to her mother, " Know ye for certain 
 that on the day of Genevieve's nativity 
 the angels sung with joy and gladness," 
 and looking on the ground he saw a 
 penny signed with the cross, which came 
 there by the will of God ; he took it up, 
 and gave it to Genevieve, requiring her 
 to bear in mind that she was the spouse 
 of Christ. She promised him accordingly, 
 and often went to the minster, that she 
 might be worthy of her espousals. "Then," 
 says the Legend, " the mother was angry, 
 and smote her on the cheek — God avenged 
 the child, so that the mother became blind," 
 and so remained for one and twenty months, 
 when Genevieve fetched her some holy 
 water, signed her with the sign of the 
 cross, washed her eyes, and she recovered 
 her sight. It further relates, that by the 
 Holy Ghost she showed many people their 
 secret thoughts, and that from fifteen 
 years to fifty she fasted every day except 
 Sunday and Thursday, when she ate 
 beans, and barley-bread of three weeks 
 old. Desiring to build a church, and 
 dedicate it to St. Denis and other martyrs, 
 she required materials of the priests for 
 (hat purpose. " Dame," answered the 
 Driests, " we would ; but we can get no 
 chalk nor lime." She desired them to go 
 to the bridge of Paris and bring what 
 
 they found there. They did so till twc 
 swineherds came by, one of whom said 
 to the other, " I went yesterday after one 
 of my sows a^d found a bed of lime;" 
 the other replied that he had also found 
 one under the root of a tree that the 
 wind had blown down. St. Genevieve's 
 priests of course inquired where these 
 discoveries were made, and bearing the 
 tidings to Genevieve the church of St. 
 Denis was began. During its progress 
 the workmen wanted drink, whereupon 
 Genevieve called for a vessel, prayed over 
 it, signed it with the cross, and" the 
 vessel was immediately filled; " so," says 
 the Legend, "the workmen drank their 
 belly full," and the vessel continued to 
 be supplied in the same way with "drink" 
 for the workmen till the church was 
 finished. At another time a woman stole 
 St. Genevieve's shoes, but as soon as she 
 got home lost lier sight for the theft, and 
 remained blind, till, having restored the 
 shoes, St. Genevieve restored the woman's- 
 sight. Desiring the liberation of certain 
 prisoners condemned»to death at Paris, 
 she went thither and found the city gates 
 were shut against her, but they opened 
 without any other key than her own pre- 
 sence. She prayed over twelve men in 
 that city possessed with devils, till the 
 men were suspended in the air, and the 
 devils were expelled. A child of four 
 years old fell in a pit and was killed ; 
 St. Genevieve only covered her with 
 her mantle and prayed over lier, and the 
 child came to life and was baptized at 
 Easter. On a voyage to Spain she ar- 
 rived at a port "where, as of custom, ships 
 were wont to perish." Iler own vessel 
 was likely to strike on a tree in the water, 
 which seems to have caused the wrecks; 
 she commanded the tree to be cut down, 
 and began to pray ; when lo, just as the 
 tree began to fall, " two wild heads, 
 grey and horrible, issued thereout, which 
 stank so sore, that the people that were 
 there were envenomed by the space of 
 two hours, and never after perished ship 
 there; thanks be to God and this holy 
 saint." 
 
 At Meaux, a master not forgiving his 
 servant his faults though St, Genevieve 
 prayed him, she prayed against him. He 
 was immediately seized with a hot ague ; 
 " on the morrow he came to the holy 
 virgin, running with open mouth like a 
 German bear, his tongue hanging out 
 like a boar, and requiring pardon." She 
 then blessed him, the fevei left him, and 
 
 13 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 4. 
 
 the servatit was pardoned. A girl going 
 by with a bottle, St. Genevieve called to 
 ner, and asked what she carried, she 
 answered oil, which she had bought; 
 but St. Genevieve seeing the devil sitting 
 on the bottle, blew upon it, and the 
 bottle broke, but the saint blessed the 
 oil, and caused her to bear it home safely 
 notwithstanding. The Golden Legend 
 says, that the people who saw this, mar- 
 velled that the saint could see the devd, 
 and were greatly edified. 
 
 It was to be expected that a saint oi 
 such miraculous powers in her lifetime 
 should possess them after her death, and 
 accordingly the reputation of her relics 
 is very high. 
 
 Several stories of St. Genevieve's mi- 
 raculous faculties, represent them as very 
 convenient in vexatious cases of ordinary 
 occurrence ; one of these will serve as a 
 specimen. On a dark wet night she 
 was going to church with her maidens, 
 with a candle borne before her, which 
 the wind and rain put out; the saint 
 merely called for the candle, and as soon 
 as she took it in her hand it was lighted 
 again, "without any fire of this world." 
 
 Other stories of her lighting candles 
 in this way, call to mind a candle, greatly 
 venerated by E. Worsley in a " Discourse 
 of Miracles wrought in the Roman Ca- 
 tholic Church, or, a full Refutation of Dr. 
 Stiliingfleet's unjust Exceptions against 
 Miracles," octavo, 1676. At p. 64, he 
 says, " that the miraculous ivax candle, 
 yet seen at Arras, the chief city of Artois, 
 may give the reader entertainment, being 
 most certain, and never doubted of hy 
 any. In 1105, that is, much above 768 
 years ago, (of so great antiquity the can- 
 dle is,) a merciless plague reigned in 
 Arras. The whole city, svet devout to 
 tlie Mother of God, experienced her, in 
 this their necessity, to be a true mother 
 of mercy : the manner was thus. The 
 Virgin Mary appeared to two men, and 
 enjoined them to tell the bishop of Arras, 
 that on the next Saturday towards morn- 
 ing she would appear in the great church, 
 and put into his hands a wax candle 
 burning ; from whence drops of wax 
 should fall into a vessel of water pre- 
 paied by the bishop. She said, more- 
 over, that all the diseased that drank of 
 this water, should forthwith be cured. 
 This trull/ promised, truly happened. Our 
 blessed Lady appeared all beautiful, hav- 
 ing in her hands a wax candle burning, 
 
 which diffused light over the whole church; 
 this she presented to the bishop ; he, 
 blessing it with the sign of the cross, set 
 It in the urn of water ; when drops of 
 wax plentifully fell down into the vessel. 
 The diseased drank of it, all were cured, 
 the contagion ceased, and the candle to 
 this day preserved with great veneration, 
 spends itself, yet loses nothing; and 
 therefore remains still of the same length 
 and greatness it did 500 years ago. A 
 vast quantity of wax, made up of the 
 many drops which fall into the water 
 upon those festival days, when the candle 
 burns, may be justly called a standing, 
 indeficient miracle." 
 
 This candle story, though gravely related 
 by a catholic writer, as "not doubted oi 
 by any," and as therefore not to be 
 doubted, miraculously failed in con- 
 vincing the protestant Stillingfleet, that 
 " miracles wrought in the Roman catholic 
 church," ought to be believed. 
 
 Chronology, 
 1639. A manuscript entitled "Com- 
 mentaries of the Civil Wars, from 1638 
 to 1648," written by Sir Henry Slingsby, 
 bart, a royalist, intimates the struggle, 
 then approaching, between Charles I. 
 and the nation. He says, " The 3d of 
 January, 1639, 1 went to I3ramham-house, 
 out of curiosity, to see the training of the 
 light-horse, for which service I had sent 
 two horses, by commandment of the lieu- 
 tenant and sir Joseph Ashley ,who is lately 
 come down, with special commission 
 from the king to train and exercise 
 them. These are strange spectacles to 
 this nation in this age, that has iived 
 thus long peaceably, without noise of 
 drum or of shot, and after we have stood 
 neuter, and in peace, when all the world 
 besides hath been in arms." The " train- 
 ing" was preparatory to the war with 
 the Scots, the resistance of the commons 
 in parliament, and its levies of troops 
 to oppose the royal will. 
 
 " 'J'lie armourers 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up 
 Gave dreadful note of preparation :' 
 
 the conflict ended in the death of Charles 
 on the scaffold, the interregnum, the 
 restoration, and the final expulsion of 
 the Stuart race. 
 
 S)anuarp 4. 
 
 St. Titus, disciple of St. Paul. St. Gre- 
 gory, bishop of Langres St Rigobert 
 or Robert. St Rumvju 
 
 u 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —JANUARY 4. 
 
 Sf. Enmon. 
 Alban Butler informs us, from William 
 of Malmsbury, that he was a bishop, 
 though of what nation or see is unknown, 
 and that his name is in the English 
 martyrology. Cressy says, that his body 
 was buried at Tavistock, where, about 
 960, Ordgar, count of Devonshire, father 
 to Elfrida, the second wife of king 
 Edgar, built a monastery " very agreeable 
 and pleasant, by reason ot the great 
 variety of woods, pastures, and rivers 
 abounding with fish." St. Rumon con- 
 secrated the church. About thirty years 
 afterwards, the monastery was destroyed 
 and burnt by the Danes. It is memora- 
 ble, that Edulf, a son of Ordgar, buried 
 in that monastery, was a man of gigantic 
 stature, and of such wonderful strength, 
 that going to Exeter, and finding the 
 gates shut and barred, he broke the 
 outer iron bars with his hands, burst 
 open the gates with his foot, tore the 
 locks and bolts asunder, and broke down 
 part of the wall. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1568. On the 4th of January Roger 
 Ascham died, and was buried at St. 
 Sepulchre's church, London. He was 
 born in Yorkshire about 1515, and is 
 celebrated for his learning, for having 
 been tutor and Latin secretary to queen 
 Elizabeth, and for having written " the 
 Scholemaster." This work originated 
 from mention having been made at din- 
 ner that some Eton scholars " had run 
 away from school for fear of beating." 
 Ascham expressed his opinion that 
 " young children were sooner allured by 
 love, than driven by beating, to attain 
 good learning.'' He then retired up 
 stairs " to read with the queen's majesty : 
 we read then together that noble oration 
 of Demosthenes against TF.schines, for his 
 false dealing in his embassy to king 
 Philip of Macedon ; sir Richard Sack- 
 ville came up soon after." Sackville 
 tookAscham aside, " A fond (silly) school- 
 master," said sir Richard, " before I was 
 fully fourteen years old, drove me so, 
 with fear of beating, from all love of 
 (earning, as now, when I know what dif- 
 ference it is to have learning, and to have 
 little, or none at all, I feel it my greatest 
 grief, and find it my greatest hurt, that 
 ever came to me, that it was so my ill 
 chance, to light upon so lewd (ignorant) 
 a schoolmaster. The whole conversa- 
 tion was very interesting, and so im- 
 
 pressed Ascham with its nuportance, 
 that he says, he " thought to prepare 
 some little treatise for a new-year's gift 
 that Christmas,'' but it grew beneath 
 his hands and became his " Schole- 
 master, showing a plain and perfect way 
 of teaching the learned languages." 
 The best edition of this work, which 
 Ascham did not live to publish, is that 
 edited by the Rev. James Upton, 1743, 
 octavo. The book was first printed by 
 Ascham's widow, whom with her chil- 
 dren he left in distress. It was emi- 
 nently serviceable to the advancement of 
 teachers and pupils, at a period when it 
 was the fashion to flog. Its most remark- 
 able feature is the frowning down of this 
 brutal practice, which, to the disgrace of 
 our own times, is still heard of in certain 
 seminaries, both public and private. The 
 good old man says, " Beat a child if he 
 dance not well, and cherish him though 
 be learn not well, ye shall have him un- 
 willing to go to dance, and glad to go tc 
 his book : knock him always when he 
 draweth his shaft ill, and favour him 
 again though he fault at his book, ye 
 shall have him very loth to be in the 
 field, and very willing to go to school." 
 He observes, " If ever the nature of man 
 be given at any time, more than another, 
 to receive goodness, it is in innocency of 
 young years before that experience of 
 evil have taken root in him. For the 
 pure, clean wit of a sweet young babe, 
 is like the newest wax, most able to re- 
 ceive the best and fairest printing ; and 
 like a new bright silver dish never occu- 
 pied, to receive and keep clean any good 
 thing that is put into it. Therefore, to 
 love or to hate, to like or contemn, to 
 ply this way or that way, to good or to 
 bad, ye shall have as ye use a child in 
 his youth." He exemplifies this by a 
 delightful anecdote of the young, beauti- 
 ful, and accomplished lady Jane Grey, 
 who shortly afterwards perished by the 
 axe of the executioner. Ascham, before 
 he went into Germany, visited Broad- 
 gate in Leicestershire, to take leave of 
 her. " Her parents, the duke and 
 duchess, with all the household, gentle- 
 men and gentlewomen, were hunting in 
 the park. I found Aer," says Ascham, 
 *' in her chamber, reading Phaedo Platcnis 
 in Greek, and that with as much delight, 
 as some gentlemen would read a merry 
 tale in Boccace. After salutation, and 
 duty done, with some other talk, I asked 
 her, why she would lose such pastime 
 
 15 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 4. 
 
 in the park ? Smiling, she answered 
 me : 
 
 " * I wist, all their sport in the park is 
 but a shadow to that pleasure that I find 
 in Plato. Alas! good-folk, they never 
 felt what true pleasure meant.' 
 
 " ' And how came you, madam,' quoth 
 I, ' to this deep knowledge of pleasure ? 
 And what did chiefly allure you unto it, 
 seeing not many women, but very few 
 men, have attained thereunto V 
 
 " ' I will tell you,' quoth she, ' and tell 
 you a truth, which perchance you will 
 marvel at. One of the greatest benefits 
 that ever God gave me, is, that he sent me 
 so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle 
 a schoolmaster. For when I am in pre- 
 sence either of father or mother, whether 
 I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, 
 eat, drink, be merry, or sad, he sewing, 
 playing, dancing, or doing any thing else, 
 X must do it, as it were, in such weight, 
 measure, and number, even so perfectly, 
 as God made the world ; or else I am so 
 sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, 
 yea presently sometimes with pinches, 
 nips, and bobs, and other ways (which I 
 will not name for the honour 1 bear them) 
 
 so without measure misordered, that I 
 think myself in hell, till time come that 
 I must go to Mr. Elmer ; who teachetL 
 me so gently, so pleasantly, with such 
 fair allurements to learning, that I think 
 all the time nothing, while I am with him ; 
 and when I am called from him, I fall on 
 weeping, because whatsoever I do else, 
 but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, 
 and whole misliking unto me : and thus 
 my book hath been so much my pleasure, 
 and bringeth daily to me more pleasure 
 and more, that in respect of it, all other 
 pleasures in very deed, be but trifles and 
 troubles unto me.' " 
 
 Surely this innocent creature's confes- 
 sion, that she was won to the love of 
 learning and her teacher by hrs gentle- 
 ness, and the disclosure of her affliction 
 under the severe discipline of her parents, 
 are positive testimony to the fact, that 
 our children are to be governed and 
 taught by the law of kindness : nor let 
 it detract from the force of the remark, 
 that in connection with her artless feel- 
 ings and blameless deportment, if hei 
 hard fate call forth a versified effusion 
 
 INSCRIBED BENEATH A PORTRAIT OF LADY JANE GREY. 
 Original. 
 Young, beautiful, and learned Jane, intent 
 
 On knowledge, found it peace ; her vast acquirement 
 Of goodness was her fall ; she was content 
 
 With dulcet pieasures, such as calm retirement 
 Yields to the wise alone ; — her only vice 
 
 Was vi.tue : in obedience to her sire 
 And lord she died, with them, a sacrifice 
 
 To their ambition : her own mild desire 
 Was rather to be happy than be great ; 
 
 For though at their request she claimed the crown. 
 That they, thiough her, might rise to rule the state. 
 
 Yet, the bright diadem, and gorgeous ihrone, 
 She view'd as cares, dimming the dignity 
 Of her unsalLe'd mind, and pure benignity. 
 
 1815. On the 4th of January, died 
 Alexander Macdonald, Esq., who is no 
 other way remarkable, than for a chival- 
 rous devotion to the family of Stuart. He 
 raised a monument in the vale of Glen- 
 finnyn, at the head of Lochshiel, in the 
 county of Inverness, with a Latui, Gaelif, 
 and English inscription, to commemo- 
 rate the last open efforts of that fanuly, 
 for the recovery of a crown they had 
 forfeited by innumerable breaches of the 
 laws, and whose aggressions on life and 
 property being suffered, till 
 
 " Non-resistance could no further go,*' 
 
 they were excluded from the throne of the 
 people, by the aristocracy and common- 
 alty of England in parliament assembled. 
 As evidence of the spirit that dictated 
 such a memorial, and of the proper feel- 
 ing which permits that spirit to be ex- 
 pressed, in spite of its hostility to the 
 principles that deposit>ed and continued 
 the diadem of the commonwealth in the 
 custody of the house of Hanover, the in 
 scription on the monument is placed in 
 the next column. It stands in English iu 
 these words : 
 
 16 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- JANUARY 4. 
 
 On the 6po» where 
 
 PRINCE CHAK1.es EDWARD 
 
 First raised Ins Standard, 
 
 On the inth day of Au(;ust, MDCCXLV, 
 
 When hemade the darinp and romantic attempt 
 
 To recover a Thrune !ost by the imprudence of lii> 
 
 Ancestors, 
 
 This Column was erected by 
 
 A^EXANDER MACDONALU, Esij., of 
 
 Glenaladale, 
 
 To commemorate the generovs ital, 
 
 undaunted bravery, ami the invi>tiDle fidrluy^ 
 
 Of his forefathers, and the rtjsf of those 
 
 Who fought and bled ?n that 
 
 Arduous ami nnforlunate citeri-rise, 
 
 Tliia Pillar is now, 
 
 Alas! 
 
 Also become the Monument 
 
 Of Its Amiable and accomplished Founder, 
 
 Who, 
 
 Bf fore it was finished, 
 
 V)\^i ir. Edinburgh on the 4th day of Januiiy, 
 
 MDCCCXV. 
 
 The " right line" of the Stuart race ter- 
 minated in the late cardinal York. lie 
 was the sfecond son of "the Pretender," and 
 was born at Rome on the 26th of March 
 1 725 ; where he was baptized by the name 
 of Henry Benedict Maria Clemens : he 
 died there in 1807, in the 83d year of his 
 age In 1745 he went to France to head 
 an aimy of fifteen thousand men, assem- 
 bled at Dunkirk for the invasion of 
 England. The battle of CuUoden settled 
 " the arduous and unfortunate enter- 
 prise," which the " amiable and accom- 
 plished founder" of the monument com- 
 memorates, and not a single transport left 
 Dunkirk roads. As soon as Henry Bene- 
 dict heard of the affair at CuUoden, he 
 returned to Rome, entered into priest's 
 orders, and in 1747 was made a cardinal 
 by pope Benedict XIV. It was taunted 
 by a former pope upon James II. that he 
 " lost his kingdom for a mass ;" and it is 
 certain that Henry Benedict was better 
 qualified to take a red-hat and pull on 
 and off red stockings, than to attempt 
 the conquest of a free protestant nation. 
 
 After the expulsion of pope Pius 
 \'I. from " the chair of St. Peter," by 
 the French, he tied from his splendid 
 residences at Rome and Frascati to Ve- 
 nice, infirm in health, distressed in cir- 
 cumstanre.s, and at the age of seventy- 
 ftve. He subsisted for awhile on the 
 produce of some silver plate, which he 
 had saved from the ruin of his property. 
 By the friendly interference of sir John 
 Cox Kippisley, the cardinal's situation 
 was made known to his late majesty, and 
 lord Minto had orders to remit him a 
 present of 2000J., which he received in 
 rebiuary 1000, with an intimation that 
 he might draw for the same amount in 
 the July following ; and sir J. C. Hippis- 
 ley communicated to him, that an annuity 
 of 4000/. would be at his service, so long 
 as his circumstances might require it. 
 This liberality was received and acknow- 
 ledged by the cardinal in terms of grati- 
 tude, and made a considenible impression 
 on the reigniiig pope and his court. 
 Tliese facts are extracted from the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine, (vols. 74 and 77,) 
 which also observes, that " from the time 
 he devoted himself to ecclesiastical ftinc 
 tions he seemed to have laid aside all 
 worldly views, till his father's death in 
 1788, when he had medals .struck, bearing 
 on their face his head, with ' Henrict.'S 
 NONUS Anglic Rex ;' on the reverse, a 
 city, with ' Gratia Dei, sed kon Vo- 
 JUNiATE Hominum:' if we are not 
 misinformed, our sovereign has one of 
 •these medals." From one in the posses- 
 sion of the compiler of this work, he is 
 enabled to present an engraving of it 
 to his readers. 
 
 HENRY IX. KING OF ENGLAND. 
 
 V(3L. 1. 
 
 17 
 
 C 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 5. 
 
 St. Simeon Scylites. St. Telesphorus. 
 St. Syncletia. 
 
 St. Simeon Stylites. 
 
 his mortifications. In the monastery of 
 Heliodorus, a man sixty-five years of age, 
 who had spent sixty-two years so ab- 
 stracted from the world, that he was 
 ignorant of the most obvious things in it ; 
 
 Alban Butler declares, that St. Simeon the monks ate but once a day : Simeon 
 astonished the whole Roman empire by joined the community, and ate but once a 
 
 ST. SIMEON STYLITES, HERMIT OF THE PILLAR. 
 
 18 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 5. 
 
 week, lleliodorus required Simeon to 
 be more private in his mortifications; 
 " with this view," says Butler, " judging 
 the rough rope of the well, made of 
 twisted palm-tree leaves, a proper instru- 
 ment of penance, Simeon tied it close 
 about his naked body, where it remained 
 unknown both to the community and his 
 superior, till such time as it having ate 
 into his flesh, what he had privately done 
 was discovered by the effluvia proceeding 
 from the wound." Butler says, that it 
 took three days to disengage the saint's 
 clothes, and that " the incisions of the 
 physician, to cut the cord out of his body, 
 were attended with such anguish and 
 pain, that he lay for some time as dead." 
 After this he determined to pass the whole 
 forty days of Lent in total abstinence, 
 and retired to a hermitage for that pur- 
 pose. Bassus, an abbot, left with him 
 ten loaves and water, and coming to visit 
 him at the end of the forty days, found 
 both loaves and water untouched, and the 
 samt stretched on the ground without 
 signs of life. Bassus dipped a sponge in 
 water, moistened his lips, gave him the 
 eucharist, and Simeon by degrees swal- 
 lowed a few lettuce leaves and other herbs. 
 lie passed twenty -six Lents in the same 
 manner. Tn the first part of a Lent he 
 prayed standing ; growing weaker he 
 prayed sitting; and towards the end, being 
 almost exhausted, he prayed lying on the 
 ground. At the end of three years he 
 left his hermitage for the top of a moun- 
 tain, made an enclosure of loose stones, 
 without a roof, and having resolved to 
 live exposed to the inclemencies of the 
 weather, he fixed his resolution by fasten- 
 ing his right leg to a rock with a great 
 iron chain. Multitudes thronged to the 
 mountain to receive his benediction, and 
 many of the sick recovered their health ; 
 But as some were not satisfied unless they 
 touched him in his enclosure, and Simeon 
 desired retirement from the daily con- 
 course, he projected a new and unprece- 
 dented manner of life. He erected a 
 pillar six cubits high, (each cubit being 
 eighteen inches,) and dwelt on it four 
 years; on a second of twelve cubits high 
 he lived three years; on a third of twenty- 
 two cubits high ten years ; and on a 
 fourth of forty cubits, or sixty feet high, 
 which the people built for him, he spent 
 the last twenty years of his life. This 
 occasioned him to be called styUtes, from 
 the Greek word stylos, a pillar. This 
 pillar did not exceed three feet in diame- 
 
 ter at the top, so that he could noi lie ex- 
 tended on it : he had no seat with him; 
 he only stooped or leaned to take a little 
 rest, and bowed his body in prayer so 
 often, that a certain person who counted 
 these positions, found that he made one 
 thousand two hundred and forty-four 
 reverences in one day, which if he began 
 at four o'clock in the morning and fi.nished 
 at eight o'clock at night, gives a bow to 
 every three-quarters of a minute ; be- 
 sides which he exhorted the people twice 
 a day. His garments were the skins of 
 beasts, he wore an iron collar round his 
 neck, and had a horrible ulcer in his 
 foot. During his forty days' abstinence 
 throughout Lent, he tied himself to a pole. 
 He treated himself as the outcast of the 
 world and the worst of sinners, worked 
 miracles, delivered prophecies, had the 
 sacrament delivered to him on the pillar, 
 and died bowing upon it, in the sixty-ninth 
 of his age, after having lived upon pillars 
 for six and thirty years. His corpse was 
 carried to Antioch attended by the bishops 
 and the whole country, and worked mi- 
 racles on its way. So far this account 
 is from Alban Butler. 
 
 Without mentioning circumstances and 
 miracles in the Golden Legend, which 
 are too numerous, and some not fit to be 
 related, it may be observed that it is there 
 affirmed of him, that after his residence 
 on the pillars, one of his thighs rotted a 
 whole year, during which time he stood 
 on one leg only. Near Simeon's pillar 
 was the dwelling of a dragon, so very ve- 
 nomous, that nothing grew near his cave. 
 This dragon met with an accident ; lie 
 had a stake in his eye, and coming all 
 blind to the saint's pillar, and placing his 
 eye upon it for three days without doing 
 harm to any one, Simeon ordered earili 
 and water to be placed on the dragon's 
 eye, which being done, out came the 
 stake, a cubit in length ; wlien the people 
 saw this miracle, they glorified God, and 
 ran away for fear of the dragon, whc 
 arose and adored for two hours, and re- 
 turned to his cave. A woman swallowed 
 a little serpent, which tormented her for 
 many years, tiH she came to Simeon, who 
 causing earth and watei to be laid on hei 
 mouth, the little serpent came out four 
 feet and a half long. It is affirmed by the 
 Golden Legend, that when Simeon died, 
 Anthony smelt a precious odour proceeding 
 from his body ; that the birds cried so, 
 much, that both men and beasts cried; 
 that an angel came down in a cloud; that 
 
 19 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —JANUARY 5. 
 
 the patriarch of Aiitiocli taking Simeon's 
 beard to put among his rehcs, his hand 
 withered, and remained so till niuUi- 
 tudes of prayers were said for him, and 
 it was healed : and that m.ore miracles 
 were worked at and after Simeon's sepul- 
 ture, than he had wrought all his life. 
 
 LONGEVITY. 
 
 1724. Jan. 5. An extraordinary instance 
 of longevity is contained in a letter dated 
 the 29th of January, 1724, from M. Ha- 
 melbranix, the Dutch envoy at Vienna, to 
 their high mightinesses the states general, 
 and published in a Dutch dictionary, 
 " Het Algemeen historisch, geographisch 
 en genealoijisch Woordenbock," by Luis- 
 cius. It relates to an individual who had 
 attained the extraordinary age of one 
 hundred and eighty-five years. 
 
 " Czartan Petrarch, by religion a Greek, 
 was born in the year 1539, and died on 
 ♦he 5th of January, 1724, at Kofrosch, a 
 village four miles from Temeswaf, on the 
 toad leading to Karansebes. He had 
 lived, tlierefore, a hundred and eighty- 
 five years. At the time when the Turks 
 took Tenieswar from the Christians, he 
 was employed in keeping his father's cattle. 
 A few days before his death he had 
 "valked, with the help of a stick, to the 
 Dost-house at Kofrosch, to ask charity 
 trom the travellers. His eyes were much 
 inflamed, but he still enjoyed a little sight. 
 His hair and beard were of a greenish, 
 white colour, like mouldy broad ; and he 
 had a few of his teeth remaining. His 
 son, who was ninety-seven years of age, 
 declared his father had once been the 
 head taller ; that at a great age he married 
 
 for the third time ; and that he was bort 
 in this last marriage. He was accus- 
 tomed, agreeably to the rules of his reli- 
 gion, to observe fast days with great 
 strictness, and never to use any other food 
 than milk, and certain cakes, called by the 
 Hungarians kollatschen, together with a 
 good glass of brandy, such as io made in 
 the country. He had descendants in the 
 fifth generation, with whom he sometimes 
 sported, carrying them in his arms. His 
 son, though ninety-seven, was still fresh 
 and vigorous. When field marshal count 
 Wallis, the commandant of Temeswar, 
 heard that this old man was taken sick, he 
 caused a portrait of him to be painted, 
 and when it was almost finished he ex- 
 pired." 
 
 1808. Ealryin January, this year, the 
 shaft of death supplied another case of 
 longevity. At the advanced age of 110 
 years, died Dennis Hampson, the blind 
 bard of Maggiligan, of whom an interest- 
 ing account has been given by lady 
 Morgan, in " 'Die Wild Irish Girl." The 
 " Athenifium," from whence this notice is 
 extracted, relates, that only a few hours 
 before his decease he tuned his harp, that 
 he might have it in readiness to entertain 
 sir H. Bruce's family, who were expected 
 to pass that way in a few days, and who 
 were in the habit of stopping to hear his 
 music ; suddenly, however, he felt the ap- 
 proach of death, and calling his family 
 around him resigned his breath without a 
 struggle, and in perfect possession of his 
 faculties to the last moment. A kindred 
 spirit produced the following tribute to the 
 memory of this '* aged son of song." He 
 was the oldest of the Irish bards 
 
 The fame of the brave shall no longer be sounded, 
 The last of our bards now sleeps cold in his grave ; 
 
 Maggiligan rocks, where his lays have resounded. 
 Frown dark at the ocean, and spurn at the wave. 
 
 For, Hampson, no more shall thy soul -touching finger 
 Steal sweet o'er the strings, and %vild melody pour ; 
 
 No more near thy hut shall the villagers linger. 
 
 While strains from thy harp warble soft round the shor"? 
 
 No more thy harp swells with enraptured emotion. 
 
 Thy wild gleams of fancy for ever are fled. 
 No longer thy minstrelsy charms the rude ocean, 
 That rolls near the green turf that pillows thy head. 
 
 Vet vigour and youth with bright visions had fired thee. 
 And rcse-huds of health have l<lown deep on thy clieek , 
 
 The songs of the sweet hards of Erin inspired thee. 
 And urged thee to wander like lav;rels to seek. 
 
 10 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JANUARY 5. 
 
 Ves.oft hast thou sunn^ of our kings crown d with glory, 
 Or, sigliing, repeatL-ii the lover's fond lay ; 
 
 And oft hast thou smi-i; of the bards famed in story, 
 Whose wild notes of rupture have long past away. 
 
 riiy grave shall he screen'd from the blast and the billo*, 
 
 Around it a fence shall posterity raise ; 
 Erin's childien shall wet with their tears thy cold pillow. 
 
 Her youths shall lament thee, and carol thy praise. 
 
 Tliis is tiie eve of the Epiphany, or 
 T svelfth-night eve, and is a night of pre- 
 paration in some parts of England for the 
 merriments which, to the present hour, 
 distinguish Twelfth-day. Dr. Drake 
 mentions that it was a practice formerly 
 for itinerant minstrels to '^ar a bowl 
 of spiced-wine to the houses of the gentry 
 and others, from whom they exi)ected a 
 hospitable reception, and, calling their 
 bowl a wassail-bowl, to drink wassail to 
 their entertainers. These merry sounds 
 of mirth and music are not extinct There 
 are still places wherein the wandering 
 blower of a clarionet, and the poor scraper 
 
 of as poor a fiddle, will this evening strain 
 their instruments, to charm forth the 
 rustic from his dwelling, and drink to him 
 from a jug of warm ale, spiced with a 
 race of ginger, in the hope of a pittance 
 for their melody, and their wish of was- 
 sail. Of the wassail-bowl, much will ap- 
 pear before the reader in the after pages 
 of this work. 
 
 In certain parts of Devonshire, the 
 farmer, attended by his workmen, with a 
 large pitcher of cider, goes to the orchard 
 this evening; and there, encircling one of 
 the best bearing trees, they drink the fol- 
 lowing toast three times : 
 
 " Here's to thee, old apple-tree, 
 "Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow ! 
 And whence thou mayst bear apples enow ! 
 
 Hats full ! caps full ! 
 
 Bushel — bushel — sacks full. 
 
 And my pockets full too ! Huzza !'' 
 
 This done, they return to the house, the 
 doors of which they are sure to find 
 bolted by the females, who, be the wea- 
 ther what it may, are inexorable to all en- 
 treaties to open them till some one has 
 guessed at what is on the spit, which is 
 generally some nice little thing, difficult 
 to be hit on, and is the reward of him who 
 first names it. Tlie doors are then thrown 
 open, and the lucky clod pole receives the 
 tit-bit as his recompense. Some are so 
 superstitious us to believe, that if they 
 neglect this custom, the trees will bear no 
 apples that year. To the preceding par- 
 ticulars, which are related in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine for 1791, may be added 
 that Brand, on the authority of a Cornish- 
 man, relates it as a custom with the 
 Devonshire people to go after supper into 
 the orchard, with a large milk-pan full of 
 cider, having roasted apples pressed into 
 It. " Out of this each person in company 
 takes, what is called a <;layen cup, that is 
 an earthenware cup fijll of liquor, and 
 Btauding under sach of the more fruitful 
 
 apple-trees, passmg by those that ara not 
 good bearers, he addresses it in the fol- 
 lowing words : 
 ' Health to thee, good apple-tree, 
 Well to bear, pocket-fulls, hat-fulls, 
 Peck-fulls, bushel-bag-fulls I' 
 And then drinking up part of tne contents, 
 he throws the rest, with the fragments of 
 the roasted apples, at the tree. At each 
 cup the company set up a shout." 
 
 Pennant, in his tour in Scotland, says 
 respecting this custom, that after they 
 have drank a cheerful glass to their mas- 
 ter's health, with success to the future 
 harvests, and expressed their good wishes 
 in the same way, they feast off cakes made 
 of caraways and other seeds soaked in 
 cider, which they claim as a reward for 
 theii past labours in sowing the grain, 
 " This," says Pennant, " seems to resem- 
 ble a custom of the ancient Danes, who, 
 in their addresses to their rural deities 
 emptied, on every mvocation, a cup in 
 honour of them." 
 
 So aJso Brand tells us that, in Here- 
 
 21 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 6 
 
 foidshire, " at the approach of evening 
 on the vigil of the twelfth day, the farm- 
 ers, with their friends and servants, meet 
 together, and about six o'clock walk out to 
 a field where wheat is growing. In the 
 highest part of the ground, twelve small 
 fires and one large one are lighted up. The 
 Attendants, headed by the master of the fa- 
 mily, pledge the company in old cider,which 
 circulates freely on these occasions. A 
 circle is formed round the large fire, when 
 a general shout and hallooing takes place, 
 which you hear answered from all the ad- 
 jacent villages and fields. Sometimes 
 fifty or sixty of these fires may be all seen 
 at once. This being finished, the com- 
 pany return home, where the good house- 
 wife and her maids are preparing a good 
 supper. A large cake is always provided, 
 with a hole in the middle. After supper, 
 the company all attend the bailifl' (or 
 head of the oxen) to the wain-house, 
 where the following particulars are ob- 
 served. The master, at the head of his 
 friends, fills the cup, (generally of strong 
 ale,) and stands opposite the first or finest 
 of the oxen. He then pledges him in a 
 carious toast : the company follow his ex- 
 ample with all the other oxen, addressing 
 each by his name. This being finished, 
 the large cake is produced, and, with much 
 ceremony, put on the horn of the first ox, 
 through llie hole above-mentioned. The 
 ox is then tickled, to make him toss his 
 head : if he throw the cake behind, then 
 it is the mistress's perquisite; if before, 
 (in what is termed the boosy,) the bailiff 
 himself claims the prize. The company 
 then return to the house, the doors of 
 which they find locked, nor will they be 
 opened till some joyous songs are sung. 
 On their gaining admittance, a scene of 
 mirth and jollity ensues, and which lasts 
 the greatest part of the night." 
 
 Mr. Beckwith relates in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, 1784, that " near Leeds, 
 in Yorkshire, when he was a boy, it was 
 customary for many families, on the 
 twelfth eve of Cliristmas, to invite their 
 relations, friends, and neighbours, to their 
 houses, to play at cards, and to partake 
 of a supper, of which minced pies were 
 an indispensable ingredient; and after 
 supper was brought in, the wassail cup or 
 wassail bowl, of which every one partook, 
 by taking with a spoon, out of the ale, a 
 roasted apple, and eating it, and then 
 drinking the healths of the company out 
 of the bowl, wishing them a merry Christ- 
 mas and a happy new year. (The festi- 
 
 val of Christmas used in this part ol lh'3 
 country to hold for twenty days, and some 
 persons extended it to Candlemas.) The 
 ingredients put into the bowl, viz, ale, 
 sugar, nutmeg, and roasted apples, were 
 usually called lambs'-wool, and the night 
 on whicli it is used to be drunk (generally 
 on the twelfth eve) was commonly called 
 Wassil eve." The glossary to the Ex- 
 more dialect has " Watsail — a drinking 
 song on twelfth-day eve, throwing toast 
 to the apple-trees, in order to have a 
 fruitful year, which seems to be a relic oi 
 the heathen sacrifice to Pomona." 
 
 Brand found it observed in the ancient 
 calendar of the Romish church, that on 
 the fifth day of January, the eve or vigil 
 of the Epiphany, there were " kings 
 created or elected by beans ;" that the 
 sixth of the month is called "The Festi- 
 val of Kings ;" and " that this ceremony 
 of electing kings was continued with 
 feastii^g for many days." 
 
 Twelfth-night eve or the vigil of the 
 Epiphany is no way observed in London, 
 There Twelfth-day itself comes with little 
 of the pleasure that it offered to our fore- 
 fathers. Such observances have rapidly 
 disappeared, and the few that remain are 
 still more rapidly declining. To those who 
 are unacquainted with their origin they 
 afford no associations to connect the pre- 
 sent with former ages ; and without such 
 feelings, the few occasions which enable 
 us to show a hospitable disposition, or 
 from whence we can obtain unconstrained 
 cheerfulness, will pass away, and be re- 
 membered only as having been. 
 
 Samiarp 6* 
 
 Evivlianv ^ ^'"^^ holiday at all public offices 
 ^ ^ •'■ I except Stamp, Customs, and Excise. 
 
 St. Mdan'ms. St. Peter. St. Nilam 
 mon. 
 
 St. Peter was a disciple of Gregory 
 the Great, the first abbot of St. Augus- 
 tine's monastery at Canterbury, and 
 drowned in 608 while proceeding on a 
 voyage to France. According to Cressy, 
 the inhabitants buried his body without 
 knowing any thing about him, till " a 
 heavenly light appeared every night over 
 his sepulture," when they held an inquest, 
 and a count Fumert buried him in th'! 
 church of Boulogne. F'rom a quotatioD 
 in Patrick, it appears that a weasel who 
 gnawed his robe was found dead upon it 
 for his sauciness. 
 
 22 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 6 
 
 EPIPHANY. 
 
 The Rev Tliomas Dudley Fosbroke, 
 M.A. F. A. S., &c. whose " Encyclopae- 
 dia of Antiquities" has been already cited 
 from, is the author of " British Monach- 
 ism, or, Manners and Customs of the 
 Monks and Nuns of England," 410.1817; 
 a most erudite work, wherein he gives an 
 account, from Du Cange, of the Feast of 
 the Star, or Office of the Three Kings, 
 a catholic service performed on this day. 
 *' Three priests, clothed as kings, with 
 their servants carrying offerings, met from 
 different directions of the church before 
 the altar. The middle one, who came 
 from the east, pointed with his staff to a 
 star : a dialogue then ensued ; and after 
 kissing each other, they began to sing, 
 ' Let us go and inquire ;' after which the 
 precentor b. gan a responsory, ' Let the 
 Magi come.' A procession then com- 
 menced, and as soon as it began to enter 
 the nave, a crown like a star, hanging be- 
 fore the cross, was lighted up, and point- 
 ed out to the Magi, with ' Behold the 
 star in the east.' This being concluded, 
 two priests, standing at each side of the 
 altar, answered, meekly, * We are those 
 whom you seek,' and drawing a curtain 
 showed them a child, whom, falling down, 
 they worshipped. Then the servants 
 made the offerings of gold, frankincense, 
 and myrrh, which were divided among 
 the priests. The Magi in the mean while 
 continued praying till they dropped 
 asleep ; when a boy clothed in an alb, 
 like an angel, addressed them with, ' All 
 things which the prophets said are ful- 
 filled.' The festival concluded with 
 chanting services, &c." 
 
 Mr. Fosbroke adds, that at Soissons a 
 rope was let down from the roof of the 
 church, to which was annexed an iron 
 circle, having seven tapers, intended to 
 represent Lucifer, or the morning star. 
 
 The three persons honoured by this 
 service, and called kings, were the three 
 wise men who, in catholic works, are 
 usually denominated the Three Kings of 
 Cologne. Cressy tells us, that the em- 
 press Helena, who died about the year 
 328, brought their bodies from the east to 
 Constaminople ; from whence they were 
 
 transferred to Milan, and afterwards, m 
 1164, on Milan being taken by the em- 
 peror Frederick, presented by him to the 
 archbishop of Cologne, who put them in 
 the principal church of that city, " in 
 which place," says Cressy, " they are to 
 this day celebrated with great veneration." 
 Patrick quotes a prayer to them from the 
 Romisli service, beginning " O, king Jas- 
 par, king Melchior, king Balthasar;" and 
 he says that the Salisbury Missal states 
 their offerings to have been disposed of 
 in this way : — " Joseph kept of the gold 
 as much as him needed, to pay his tri- 
 bute to the emperor, and also to keep our 
 lady with while she lay in childbed, and 
 the rest he gave to the poor. The incense 
 he burnt to take off the stench of the sta- 
 ble there as she lay in ; and with the 
 myrrh, our lady anointed her child, to 
 keep him from worms and disease." 
 Patrick makes several observations on the 
 service to these three kings of Cologne, 
 and as to the credibility of their story; and 
 he inquires what good this prayer will do 
 to Jaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, when 
 another tradition says their names were 
 Apellius, Amerus, and Damascus ; a 
 third, that they were Magalath, Galga 
 lath, and Sarasin ; and a fourth, Ator 
 Sator, and Peratoras ? which last, Patrick 
 says, he should choose in this uncertainty 
 to call them by, as having the more kingly 
 sound, if it had not been that Casaubon 
 represents these three, " together with 
 Misael, Achael, Cyriacus, and Stephanus, 
 (the names of the four shepherds that 
 came to visit our Lord in Bethlehem,) had 
 been used (and he tells how) for a charm 
 to cure the biting of serpents and other 
 venomous beasts." Patrick gives other 
 prayers to these three kings, one of them 
 from the " Hours of the Virgin," and also 
 quotes this miraculous anecdote ; that 
 one John Apnlius, when he was hanged, 
 implored the patronage of the three kings 
 of Cologne ; the consequence of which 
 seems to have been, that after he had been 
 hung three days and was cut down, he 
 was found alive ; whereupon he came to 
 Cologne half naked, with his halter about 
 his neck, and returned thanks to his 
 deliverers. 
 
 23 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 TWELFTH-DAY. 
 
 Such are fhe scenes, that, at the front and side 
 
 Of the Twelfth take-shops, scatter wild dismay; 
 As up the slipp'ry curb, or pavement wide, 
 
 We seek the pastrycooks, to keep Twelfth-day ; 
 While ladies stand atrhast, in speechless trance, 
 Look round— dare not go back— and yet dare not advance. 
 
 Tn London, with every pastrycook in 
 the city, and at the west end of the 
 town, it is " high change" on Twelfth-day. 
 From the taking down of the shutters in 
 the morning, he, and his men, with addi- 
 tional assistants, male and female, are 
 fully occupied by attending to the dress- 
 ing out of the window, executing orders 
 of the day before, receiving fresh ones, or 
 supplying the wants of chance customers. 
 Before dusk the important arrangement 
 of the window is completed. Tlien the 
 gas is turned on, with supernumerary 
 argand-lanips and manifold v/ax lights, to 
 
 illuminate countless cakes of all prices and 
 dimensions, that stand in rows and piles 
 on the counters and sideboards, and in 
 the windows. The richest in flavour and 
 heaviest in weight and price are placed 
 on large and massy salvers ; one, enor- 
 mously superior to the rest in size, is the 
 chief object of curiosity ; and all are de- 
 corated with all imaginable images of 
 things animate and inanimate. Stars, cas- 
 tles, kings, cottages, dragons, trees, fish, 
 palaces, cats, dogs, churches, lions, milk- 
 maids, kniijhts, serpents, and innumera- 
 ble othei forms in snov;--',hite confectiorv- 
 
 •24: 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAkY 6. 
 
 ary, painted with varicgaie J colours, glit- 
 ter by "excess of liglit " from mirrors 
 aga nst the walls festooned with artificial 
 " wonders of Flora." Tliis "paradise of 
 dainty devices," is crowded by successive 
 iiiid successful desireis of the seasonable; 
 delicacies, while alternate tapping of ham- 
 mers and peals of laughter, from the 
 throng surrounding the house, excite 
 Bmiles from the inmates. 
 
 The cause of these sounds may be in- 
 ferred from something like this passing 
 outside. 
 
 Constable. Make way, make way ! 
 Clear the way ! You boys stand aside ! 
 
 Countryman. What is ah this ; Is any 
 body ill in the shop ? 
 
 1*^ Boy. Nobody, sir ; it's ow/y Twelfth 
 day! 
 
 2d Boy. Tills is a paxtrycook''s, 
 sir; loek at the window! There they 
 stand ! ff'/iat cakes ! 
 
 3(1 Boy. What pretty ones these are ! 
 4th Boy. Only see that ! 
 5th Boy. Why it's as large as the hind- 
 wheel of a coach, and how thick ! 
 
 6th Boy. Ah ! it's too big to come out 
 at the door, unless they roll it out. 
 
 7th Boy. Wliat elegant figures, and 
 what lots of sweetmeats! 
 
 8th Boy. See the flowers ; they look 
 almost like real ones. 
 
 Countryman. What a crowd insiile ! 
 9th Boy. How the people of the liouse 
 are packing up all the good things ! 
 
 Countryman. NVhat a beautiful lady 
 that is behind the counter ! 
 lOC/i Boy. Which?. 
 Countryman. Why the young one ! 
 \Qth Boy. What her? oh, she's the 
 pastrycook's daughter, and the other's 
 her mother. 
 
 Countryman. No, no ; not her ; 1 
 mean her, there. 
 
 \Oth Boy. Oh, her ; she's the shop- 
 woman ; all the pastrycooks always try 
 to get handsome ladies to serve in the 
 shop! 
 
 1 1 th Boy. I say, I say ! halloo ! here's 
 a piece of work ! Look at this gentleman — 
 next to me — his coat-tail's nailed to the 
 window ! Look, look ! 
 Countryman. Aye, what? 
 All the boys. Ah ! ah ! ah ! Huzza. 
 Countryman. Who nailed my coat-tail ? 
 Constable ! 
 
 \2th Boy. That's the boy that's got 
 the hamnier ! 
 
 2d Boy. What me ? why thafs the 
 boy- -there ; and there's another boy ham- 
 
 meiiiig! and there's a man with a ham- 
 mer ! 
 
 1st Boy. Who pinned that icoman 'o 
 the gentleman? Why theie's a dozen 
 pinned together. 
 
 Countryman. Constable ! constable ! 
 2nd Boy. Here comes the constable. 
 Hark at him ! 
 
 Const. Clear away from the doors ! Let 
 the customers go in I Make way ! Let 
 the cakes come out ! Go back, boy ! 
 
 13<A Boy. If you please, Mr. Consta- 
 ble, I'm going to buy a cake ! 
 Const. Go forward, then ! 
 Man with cukes. By your lei-e ! by 
 your leave. 
 
 Const. Clear the way ! 
 ^// the Boys. Huzza ! huzza ! More 
 people pumed — and plenty nailed 
 
 up ! 
 
 To explain, to those who maj be igno- 
 rant of the practice. On Twelfth- 
 night in London, boys assemble round the 
 inviting shops of the pastrycooks, and 
 dexterously nail the coat-tails of specta- 
 tors, who venture near enough, to the 
 bottoms of the window frames ; or pin 
 them together strongly by their clothes. 
 Sometimes eight or ten persons find them- 
 selves thus connected. The dexterity and 
 forae of the nail driving is so quick and 
 sure, that a single blow seldom fails ol 
 doing the business effectually. With- 
 drawal of the nail without a proper in- 
 strument is out of the question ; and, con- 
 sequently, the person nailed must either 
 leave part of his coat, as a cognizance of 
 his attachment, or quit the spot with a 
 hole in it. At every nailing and pinning 
 shouts of laughter arise from the perpe- 
 trators and the spectators. Y'ct it often 
 happens to one who turns and smiles 
 at the duress of another, that he also finds 
 himself nailed. Efforts at extrication in- 
 crease mirth, nor is the presence of a con- 
 stable, who is usually employed to attend 
 and preserve free " ingress, egress, and 
 regress," sufficiently awful to deter the 
 offenders. 
 
 Scarcely a shop in London that offers a 
 halfpenny plain bun to the purchase of a 
 hungry boy, is without Twelfth-cakes and 
 finery in the windows on Twelfth-day 
 The gingerbread-bakers — there are not 
 many, compared with their number wnen 
 the writer was a consumer of their manu- 
 factured goods, — even the reduced gin- 
 gerbread-bakers periwig a few plum-buns 
 with sugar-frost to-day, and coaxmgly in- 
 terpolate them among their new made 
 
 25 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 sixes, bath-cakes, parliament, and ladies' 
 fingers. Their staple-vare has leaves of 
 untarnished dutch-gilt stuck on ; their up- 
 right cylinder-shaped show-glasses, con 
 taining peppermint-drops, elecampane, 
 sugar-slicks, hard-bake, brandy-balls, and 
 bulls'-eyes, are carefully polished ; their 
 lolly-pops are fresh encased, and look 
 as white as the stems of tobacco-pipes ; 
 and their candlesticks are ornamented 
 with fillets and bosses of writing paper ; 
 or, if the candles rise from the bottom of 
 mverted glass cones, they shine more 
 sparkling for the thorough cleaning of 
 their receivers in the morning. 
 
 How to eat Twelfth-cake requires no 
 recipe ; but how to provide it, and draw 
 the characters, on the authority of Rachel 
 Revel's " Winter Evening Pastimes,'' 
 may be acceptable. First, buy your cake. 
 Then, before your visitors arrive, buy 
 your characters, each of which should 
 liave a pleasant verse beneath. Next look 
 at your invitation list, and count the num- 
 ber of ladies you expect ; and afterwards 
 the number of gentlemen. Then, take as 
 many female characters as you have in- 
 vited ladies; fold them up, exactly of the 
 
 same size, and number each on the back ; 
 taking care to make the king No. 1, and 
 the queen No. 2. Then prepare and 
 number the gentlemen's characters. Clause 
 tea and coffee to be handed to your visit- 
 ors as they diop in. When all are as- 
 sembled and tea over, put as many ladies 
 characters in a reticuk as there are ladies 
 present ; next put the gentlemen's cha- 
 racters in a hat. Then call on a gentle- 
 man to carry the reticule to the ladies as 
 they sit, from which each lady is to draw 
 one ticket, and to preserve it unopened. 
 Select a lady to bear the hat to the gen- 
 tlemen for the same purpose. There will 
 be one ticket left in the reticule, and ano- 
 ther in the hat, which the lady and gen- 
 tleman who carried each is to interchange, 
 as having fallen to each. Next, arrange 
 your visitors according to their numbers ; 
 the king No.l, the queen No. 2, and so 
 on. The king is then to recite the verse 
 on his ticket ; then the queen the verse on 
 hers ; and so the characters are to proceed 
 in numerical order. This done, let the 
 cake and refreshments go round, and heyl 
 for inciviment I 
 
 Tiiey come ! they ccme I each blue-eyed sport. 
 The Twelfth-night king anil all liiis court — 
 
 Tis Mirth fresh crown'd with mistletoe \ 
 Music with her merry fiddles, 
 
 Joy " on light fantastic toe," 
 Wit with all his jests and riddles, 
 
 Singing and dancing as they go. 
 And Love, young Love, among the rest, 
 A welcome — nor unbidden guest. 
 
 Twelfth-day is now only commemorated 
 by the custom of choosing king and queen. 
 " I went," says a correspondent in the 
 Universal Magazineforl774," to a friend's 
 house in the country to partake of some 
 of those innocent pleasures that constitute 
 a merry Christmas. I did not return till 
 I had been present at drawing king and 
 queen, and eaten a slice of the Twelfth- 
 cake, made by the fair hands of my good 
 friend's consort. After tea yesterday, a 
 noble cake was produced, and two bowls, 
 containing the fortunate chances for the 
 different sexes. Our host filled up the 
 tickets ; the whole company, except the 
 king and queen, were to be ministers of 
 state, maids of honour, or ladies of the 
 bed-chamber. Our kind host and hostess, 
 whether by design or accident, became 
 king and queen. According to Twelfth- 
 day law, each party is to support their 
 character till midnight." The mainte- 
 
 nance of character is essential to the 
 drawing. Within the personal observa- 
 tion of the writer of these sheets, character 
 has never been preserved. It must be 
 admitted, however, that the Twelfth-night 
 characters sold by the pastrycooks, are 
 either commonplace or gross — when gen- 
 teel they are inane ; when humorous, 
 they are vulgar. 
 
 Young folks anticipate Twelfth-night 
 as a full source of innocent glee to their 
 light little hearts. Where, and what is 
 he who would negative hopes of happi- 
 ness for a few short hours in the day- 
 spring of life? A gentle spirit in the 
 London Magazine beautifully sketches a 
 scene of juvenile enjoyment this evening: 
 " I love 1o see an acre of cake spread out 
 — the sweet frost covering the rich earth 
 below — studded all over with glittering 
 flowers, like ice-plants, o^Tid red and green 
 knots of sweetm.eat, and hollow yellow 
 
 26 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 ciusttd crowns, and kings and queens, 
 and iheir paraphernalia. I deliglit to see 
 score of happy children sitting huddled 
 all round the dainty fare, eyeing the cake 
 and each other, with faces sunny enough 
 to thaw the white snow. I like to see 
 the gazing silence which is kept so reli- 
 giously while the large knife goes its 
 round, and the glistening eyes which 
 feed beforehand on the huge slices, dark 
 with citron and plums, and heavy as 
 gold. And then, when the " Characters " 
 are drawn, is it nothing to watch the 
 peeping delight which escapes from their 
 little eyes ? One is proud, as king ; ano- 
 ther stately, as queen ; then there are two 
 whispering grotesque secrets which they 
 cannot contain (those are sir Gregory 
 Goose and sir Tunbelly Clumsy.) The 
 boys laugh out at their own misfortunes ; 
 but the littJe girls (almost ashamed of 
 their prizes) nt blushing and silent. It 
 is not until the lady of the house goes 
 round, that some of the more extravagant 
 fictions are revealed. And then, what a 
 roar of mirth ' Ha, ha ! The ceiling 
 shakes, and the air is torn. They bound 
 from their seats like kids, and insist on 
 seing Miss Thompson's card. Ah! what 
 merry spite is proclaimed — what ostenta- 
 tious pity ! The little girl is almost in 
 teais ; but the large lump of allotted cake 
 is placed seasonably in her hands, and 
 the glass of sweet wine ' all round ' 
 drowns the shrill urchin laughter, and a 
 gentler delight prevails." Does not this 
 make a charming picture ? 
 
 There is some difficulty in collecting 
 accounts of the manner wherein Twelfth- 
 night is celebrated in the country. In 
 " Time's Telescope," an useful and enter- 
 taining annual volume, there is a short 
 reference to the usage in Cumberland, and 
 other northern parts of England. It seems 
 that on Twelfth-night, which finishes their 
 Christmas holidays, the rustics meet in a 
 large room. They begin dancing at seven 
 o'clock, and finish at twelve, when they 
 sit down to lobscouse, and ponsondie ; 
 the former is made of beef, potatoes, and 
 onions fried together ; and in ponsondie 
 we recognise the wassail or waes-hael of 
 ale, boiled with sugar and n\itmeg, into 
 which are put roasted apples, — the an- 
 ciently admired lambs'-wool. The feast 
 is paid for by subscription : two women 
 are chosen, who with two wooden bowls 
 placed one within the other, so as to 
 leave an opening and a space between 
 
 them, go round to the female parr of tl e 
 society in succession, and what one puts 
 into the uppermost bowl the attendant 
 coUectress slijjs into the bowl beneath it. 
 All ire expected to contriliute something, 
 but not more than a shilling, and they 
 are best Coteemed who give most. The 
 men choose two from themselves, and 
 follow the same custom, except that as 
 the gentlemeii are not supposed to be 
 altogether so fair in their dealings as the 
 ladies, one of the collectors is furnished 
 with pen, ink, and paper, to set down 
 the subscriptions as soon as received. 
 
 If a satirical prophecy in " \'ox Gra- 
 culi," 4to. 1623, may be relied on as 
 authority, it bears testimony to the popu- 
 larity of Twelfth-night at that period. On 
 the 6th of January the author declares, 
 tK-it " this day, about the houres of 5, 6, 
 7, 8, 9, and 10, yea, in some places till 
 midnight well nigh, will be such a mas- 
 sacre of spice-bread, that, ere the next day 
 at noon, a two-penny browne loafe wili 
 set twenty poore folkes teeth on edge. 
 Which hungry humour will hold so vio- 
 lent, that a number of good fellowes will 
 not refuse to give a statute-marchant of 
 all the lands and goods they enjoy, for 
 half-a-crown's worth of two-penny pas- 
 ties.'' He further affirms, that there will 
 be " on this night much masking in the 
 Strand, Cheapside, Ilolbourne, or Fleet- 
 street." 
 
 " The twelve days of Christmas," as the 
 extent of its holidays, were proverbial ; 
 but among labourers, in some parts, the 
 Christmas festivities did not end till Can- 
 dlemas. Old Tusser, in his "Five Hun- 
 dred Points of good Husbandry," would 
 have the merriments end in six days ; he 
 begins January with this advice to the 
 countiyman : 
 
 When Christmas is ended, 
 
 bid feasting adue, 
 Goe ^lay the good husband, 
 
 thy stock to renue : 
 Be mindful of rearing, 
 
 in hope of a gaine. 
 Dame Profit shall give thee 
 
 reward for thy paine. 
 This was the recommendation of prudence 
 tempered by kindness ; a desire for dili- 
 gence in the husbandman, with an allow- 
 ance of reasonable pastime to sweeten 
 his labour. 
 
 From Naogeorgus, in " The Popish 
 Kingdome," a poem before quoted, and 
 which will be frequently referred to for 
 its lore regarding our ancjpnt customs, it 
 
 27 
 
THE EVEKY-T)AY BOOK.— JANUARY 6. 
 
 13 to be oatlieredjthat the king of Twelfth- 
 nigiit, after the manner of royalty, ap- 
 pointed his officers. He himself attained 
 his dignity thus : 
 
 Then also every householder, 
 
 to his abilitie, 
 Doth make a niightie cake, that may 
 
 suffice his companie : 
 Herein a pennie doth he p\i>, 
 
 before it come to fire, 
 This he divides according as 
 
 his householde doth require, 
 And every peece distributeth, 
 
 as round about they stand, 
 Which in their names unto the poore 
 
 is given out of hand . 
 But who so chaunceth on the peece 
 
 wherein the money lies, 
 Is counted king amongst them all, 
 
 and is with showtes and cries 
 Exalted to the heavens up. 
 
 Mr. Fosbroke notices, that " the cake 
 was full of plums, with a bean in it for 
 the king, and a pea for the queen, so as 
 to determine them by the slices. Some- 
 times a penny was put in the cake, and 
 the person who obtained it, becoming 
 king, crossed all tlie beams and rafters 
 of the house against devils. A chafing- 
 dish with burning frankincense was also 
 lit, and the odour snuffed up by the whole 
 family, to keep off disease for the year. 
 After this, the master and mistress went 
 round the house with the pan, a taper, 
 and a loaf, against witchcraft." 
 
 So far Mr Fosbroke abridges Naogeor- 
 gus's account, which goes on to say, that 
 
 — in these dayes beside, 
 They judge what weatl>er all the yeare 
 
 shall happen and betide* 
 Ascribing to each day a month, 
 
 and at this present time. 
 The youth in every place doe flocke, 
 
 and all apparel d fine, 
 With pypars through the streetes they runne, 
 
 and singe at every dore. 
 
 « • • » « 
 
 There cities are, where boyes and gyrles, 
 
 together stilt do runne, 
 About the streete with like, as scone 
 
 as night beglnnes to come, 
 And bring abrode their wassel bowles, 
 
 who well rewarded bee. 
 With cakes and cheese, and great good cheare, 
 and money plenteousiee. 
 Queen Elizabeth's Progresses by Mr. 
 Nichols, contain an entertainment to hei 
 at Su^ley, wherein were Melibseus, the 
 King of the Bean, and Nisa, the queen of 
 i Jie Pea. 
 I " Mel Cut thp cake : who hath the bccue. 
 
 shall be King ; and where the peaze is, 
 she shall be Queene. 
 
 " Nis. I have the peaze, and must be 
 Queene. 
 
 " Mel. I have the beaiie, and King ; I 
 must commande." 
 
 Pinkerton's "Ancient Scotish Poems," 
 contain a letter from sir Thomas Ran- 
 dolph, queen Elizabeth's chamberlain of 
 the Exchequer, to Dudley lord Eeicester. 
 dated from Edinburgh on the 15th Janu- 
 ary, 1563, wherein he mentions, that Lady 
 Flemyng was " Queen of the Beene" on 
 Twelfth-day in that year : and in Ben Jon- 
 son's Masque of Christmas, Baby-cake, 
 one of the characters, is attended by " an 
 Usher, bearing a great cake with a bean, 
 and a pease." Hernck, the poet of out 
 festivals, has several allusions to the cele- 
 bration of this day by our ancestors : the 
 poem here subjoined, recognises its cus- 
 toms with strict adherence to truth, and in 
 pleasant strains of joyousness. 
 
 TwELFi-NiGiiT, OR King and Qukene. 
 
 Now, now the mirth comes 
 
 With the cake full of plums. 
 Where beane's the king of the sport h 
 
 Beside, we must kuow, 
 
 The pea also 
 ]\Iust revell, as queene in the court here. 
 
 Begin then to chuse. 
 
 This night as ye use. 
 Who shall for the present delight here, 
 
 Be a king by the lot. 
 
 And who shall not 
 Be Twelfe-day queene for the night here. 
 
 Which knowne, let us make 
 
 Joy-sops with the cake ; 
 And let not a man then be seen here. 
 
 Who unurg'd will not drinke. 
 
 To the base from the brink, 
 A health to the king and the queene lieie. 
 
 Next crowne the bowle ful. 
 
 With gentle lambs-wooll ; 
 A dde sugar, nutmeg, and ginger. 
 
 With store of ale, too ; 
 
 And thus ye must doe 
 To make the wi-assaile a swinger. 
 
 Give them to the king 
 
 And queene wassailing ; 
 And though with ale ye le whet here ; 
 
 Yet part ye from hence, 
 
 As free from offence, 
 As when ye innocent met here. 
 
 A citation by Brand represents the ancient 
 Twelfth-night-cake to have been compos- 
 ed of flour, honey, ginger, and pepper 
 Tlie maker thrust in, at random, a smaL 
 coin as she was kneading it. When baked, 
 it was divided into as many parts as there 
 
 23 
 
THE EVER\'-DAY BOOK.— JANUATtY 5. 
 
 were per:>or,s in the family, and each had 
 his share Portions oi" it were also as- 
 signed to Christ, the Virgin, and the 
 three Magi, and were given in alms. 
 
 On Twelfth-day the people of Ger- 
 many and the students of its academies 
 chose a king with great ceremony and 
 sumptuous feastings 
 
 In France, the Twelfth-cake is plain, 
 with a bean ; the drawer of the slice con- 
 taining the bean is king or queen. All 
 drink to her or his majesty, who reigns, 
 and receives homage from all, during 
 the evening. There is no other drawing, 
 and consequently the sovereign is the 
 only distinguished character. In Nor- 
 mandy they place a child under the 
 table, which is so covered with a cloth 
 that he cannot see ; and when the cake 
 is divided, one of the company taking up 
 llie hrst piece, cries out, " Fabe Domini 
 pour qui ?'' The child answers, " Pour 
 le bon Dieu :" and in this manner the 
 pieces are allotted to the company. If 
 tlie bean be found in the piece for the 
 " bon Dieu," the king is chosen by draw- 
 ing long or short straws. Whoever gets 
 the bean chooses the king or queen, 
 according as it happens to be a man or 
 woman. According to Brand, under the 
 old order of things, the Epiphany was 
 kept at the French court by one of the 
 courtiers being chosen king, and the 
 other nobles attended an entertainment 
 on the occasion; but, in 1792, during the 
 revolution. La Fete de Rois was abo- 
 lished; Twelfth-day was ordered to be 
 called La Fete de Saiis-Culottes ; the old 
 feast was declared anti-civic; and any 
 priest keeping it was deemed a royalist. 
 The Literary Pocket Book affirms, that at 
 La Fete de Rois the French monarch 
 and his nobles waited on the Twelfth- 
 night king, and that the custom was not 
 revived on the return of the Bourbons, 
 but that instead of it the royal family 
 washed the feet of some people and gave 
 them alm.s. 
 
 There is a difference of opinion as to 
 >he origin of Twelfth-day. Brand says, 
 " that though its customs vary in different 
 countries, yet they concur in the same 
 end, that is, to do honour to the Eastern 
 Magi." He afterwards observes, " that 
 the practice of choosing ' king,' on 
 Twelfth-day, is similar to a custom that 
 exi ted among the ancient Greeks and 
 Ki mans, who, on the festival days of 
 Sn-turn, about this season of the year, 
 
 drew lots for kmgdoni' and 'ike Lino^ 
 exercised their temporary authority." In. 
 deed, it appears, that the ques'tion is 
 almost at rest. Mr. Fosbroke affirms that 
 " the king of Saturnalia was elected by 
 beans, and that from thence came oui 
 king and queen on this day." The coinci 
 dence of the election by beans having, 
 been common to both customs, leaves" 
 scarcely the possibility of doubt that 
 ours IS a continuation of the heathen 
 practice under another name. Yet " some 
 of the observances on this day are the 
 remains of Druid ical, and other supersti- 
 tious ceremonies." On these points, if 
 Mr. Fosbroke's Dictionary of Antiquities 
 be consulted by the curious inquirer, he 
 will there find the authorities, and be m 
 other respects gratified. 
 
 The Epiphany is called Twelfth-day, 
 because it falls on the twelfth day aflei 
 Christmas-day. Epiphany signifies ma- 
 nifestation, and is applied to this day 
 because it is the day whereon Christ was 
 manifested to the Gentiles. Bourne in 
 his Vulgar Antiquities, which is the sub- 
 structure of Brand's Popular Antiquities, 
 remarks that this is the greatest of the 
 twelve holidays, and is therefore more 
 jovially observed, by the visiting of friends 
 and Christmas gambols, than any other. 
 
 Finally, on observances of this festival 
 not connected with the Twelfth-night 
 kisig and queen. It is a custom in 
 many parishes in Gloucestershire on this 
 day to light up twelve small fires and 
 one large one; this is mentioned by 
 Brand : and Mr. Fosbroke relates, that in 
 some countries twelve fires of straw are 
 m.-ide in the fields " to burn the old 
 witch," and that the people sing, drink, 
 and dance around it, and practise other 
 ceremonies in continuance. He takes 
 " the old witch " to be the Druidical God 
 of Death. It is stated by sir Henry Piers, 
 in genl. Vallancey's " Collectanea," that, 
 at Westmeath, " on Twelve-eve in Christ- 
 mas, they use to set up as high as they 
 can a sieve of oats, and in it a dozen of 
 candles set round, and in the centre one 
 larger, all lighted ; this in memory of our 
 saviour and his apostles, lights of the 
 world." Sir Henry's inference may reason- 
 ably be doubted ; the custom is probably 
 of higher antiquity than he seems to have 
 suspected. 
 
 A very singular merriment in the Isle 
 of Man is mentioned by Waldron, in 1 'g 
 history of that place. lie says, tliat 
 " during tiie whole twelve days of Chrbu 
 
 29 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JANUARY 6 
 
 mas, there is not a bp-rn unoccupied, and 
 that every parish hires tiddlers at the 
 public charge. On Twelfth-day, the 
 tiddler lays his head in some one of the 
 girls' laps, and a third peison asks, who 
 such a maid, or such a maid shall mairy, 
 naming the girls then present one after 
 another; to which he answers according 
 to his OAvn \^him, or agreeable to the 
 intimacies he has taken notice of dining 
 this time of merriment. But whatever 
 he says is as absolutely depended on as 
 an oracle ; and if he happens to couple 
 two people who have an aversion to each 
 other, tears and vexation succeed the 
 mirth. This they call cutting off the 
 fiddler's head ; for, after this, he is dead 
 for the whole year." 
 
 It appears from the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine, that on Twelfth-day 1731, the 
 king and the prince at the chapel royal, 
 St. James's, made their offerings at the 
 altar, of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, 
 according to custom, and that at night 
 their majesties, &c. played at hazard for 
 the benefit of the groom-porter. These 
 offerings which clearly originate from 
 the Rom-an church, and are not analogous 
 to any ceremony of the church of Eng- 
 land, continue to be annually made; with 
 this difference, however, that the king is 
 represented by proxy in the person of 
 some distinguished officer of the house- 
 hold. In other respects the proceedings 
 are conducted with the usual state. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 Midwinter is over. According to as- 
 tronomical reckoning, we have just passed 
 that point in the earth's orbit, where the 
 north pole is turned most from the sun. 
 This position is represented in the dia- 
 gram above, by the direction of the 
 terminator, or boundary line of light and 
 darkness, which is seen to divide the 
 globe into two equal parts; the north 
 pole, which is the upper pole in the 
 figure, and all parts within 32f degrees, 
 being enveloped in constant darkness. 
 We now trace the sun among the stars 
 of the constellation Capricorn or sea-goat, 
 and it is winter in the whole northern 
 
 hemisphere. At the beginning of Janu- 
 ary the earth is at its leu-it distance from 
 the sun, which is proved by measuring 
 the apparent magnitude of that luminary 
 by means of an insirument called a 
 micrometer, his disc being now about 
 32 minutes of a degree; whereas 
 at the opposite season, or at the begin- 
 ning of July, near o\ir Midsummer, his 
 apparent diameter is only about 31 
 minutes. The coldness of winter there- 
 fore does not depend on the distance 
 of the earth from the sun, but on the 
 very oblique or slanting direction of his 
 rays ; less heat falling on any given part 
 of the earth, than when the rays fall more 
 direct. From the slanting direction of 
 his rays they pass through a more dense 
 region of the atmosphere, and are some- 
 what intercepted ; while another cause 
 of the cold is the shortness of our days 
 and the length of our nights ; the sun 
 continuing only about seven hours and a 
 half above the horizon, while he is absent 
 for about sixteen hours and a half. 
 
 This position of the earth relatively to 
 the sun is exemplified in the Popular 
 Lectures on Astronomy, now delivering 
 at the Assembly-room, Paul's Head, 
 Cateaton-street, by Mr. John Wallis, on 
 Tuesday and Thursday/ evenings. His 
 explanations of this noble science are 
 familiarly and beautifully illustrated, by 
 an original and splendid apparatus de- 
 vised and constructed by his own hands. 
 It consists of extensive mechanism and 
 numerous brilliant transparencies. Mr. 
 Wallis's lectures on Tuesday and Thurs- 
 day next, the 18th and 20th of January, 
 1825, are under the patronage of the 
 Lord Mayor. Here is a sure mode of 
 acquiring astronomical knowledge, ac- 
 companied by the delightful gratification 
 of witnessing a display of the heavens 
 more bewitching than the mind can con- 
 ceive. Ladies, and young persons espe- 
 cially, have a delightful opportunity ot 
 being agreeably entertained by the novelty 
 and beauty of the exhibition and the 
 eloquent descriptions of the enlightened 
 lecturer. 
 
 The holly with its red berries, and 
 the " fond ivy," still stick about oui 
 houses to maintain the recollection of the 
 seasonable festivities. Let us hope that we 
 may congratulate each other on having, 
 while we kept them,keptouiselves within 
 compass. Merriment without discretion 
 is an abuse for which nature is sure to 
 
 30 
 
THE EVFRY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 punish us. Slie mny suffer our violence 
 for a wliile in silence ; but she is certain to 
 resume her rights at the expense of our 
 health, and put us to heavy charges to 
 maintain existence. 
 
 Samiarp 7. 
 
 St. Lncian . St. Cedd. St. Keiitigerna. 
 St. j^ldric. St. Thillo. St. Canut. 
 St. Luciun. 
 This saint is in the calendar of the 
 church of England on the following day, 
 8th of January. He was a learned 
 Syrian. According to Butler, he cor- 
 rected the Hebrew version of the Scrip- 
 tures for the inhabitants of Palestine, 
 during some years was separated from 
 the Romish church, afterwards con- 
 formed to it, and died after nine years 
 imprisonment, either by famine or the 
 sword, on this day, in the year 312. It 
 further appears from Butler, that the 
 Arians affirmed of St. Lucian, that to him 
 Arius was indebted for his distinguish- 
 ing doctrine, which Butler however 
 
 denies. 
 
 ST. distaff's day, or rock-day. 
 The day after Twelfth-day was so 
 called because it was celebrated in ho- 
 nour of the ?'0f^, which is a distaff \\c\di 
 in the hand, from whence wool is spun 
 by twirling a ball below. It seems that 
 the burning of the flax and tow belonging 
 to the women, was the men's diversion in 
 the evening of the first day of labour 
 after the twelve days of Christmas, and 
 that the women repaid the interruption to 
 their industry by sluicing the mischief- 
 makers. Herrick tells us of the custom 
 in his Hesperides : — 
 
 5^ Distaff's dat/, or the morrow after 
 Tivelfth-day. 
 
 Partlywork, an<l partly play, 
 Ye must on S. Distaff's day : 
 From the plough soone free your teame, 
 Then come home and fother them. 
 Jf the niaides a spinning goe, 
 Burne the flax, and fire the tow ; 
 « » « 
 
 Bring in pailes of water then. 
 
 Let the niaides bewash the men 
 
 Give S. Distaflfe all the right, 
 
 Then bid Christmas sport good-night. 
 
 And next morrow, every one 
 
 To his owne vocation. 
 
 In elder times, when boisterous diver- 
 sions were better suited to the simplicity 
 
 of rustic life than to the comparative 
 refinement of our own, this contest be- 
 tween firo and water must have atl'urded 
 great amiiiement. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1772. "An authentic, candid, and cir- 
 cumstanciul narrative of the astonishing 
 transactions at Stockwell, in the county 
 of Surry, on Monday and Tuesday, 
 the 6th and 7th days o/ January, 1772, 
 contaiuing a series of the most sur- 
 prising and unaccountable events that 
 ever happened ; ivhich continued from 
 first to last upwards of twenty hours, 
 and at different places. Published tcith 
 the consent and approbation of the 
 family, and other parties concerned, to 
 authenticate which, the original Copy 
 is signed by them." 
 
 This is the title of an octavo tract pub- 
 lished in " London, printed for J. Marks, 
 bookseller, in St. Martin's-lane, 1772." 
 It describes Mrs. Golding, an elderly 
 lady, at Stockwell, in whose house the 
 transactions happened, as a woman of 
 unblemished honour and character ; her 
 niece, Mrs. Pain, as the wife of a farmer 
 at Brixton-causeway, the mother of seve- 
 ral children, and well known and re- 
 spected in the parish ; Maiy Martin 
 as an elderly woman, servant to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Pain, with whom she had lived 
 two years, having previously lived four 
 years with Mrs. Goldinsi, from whom 
 she went into Mrs. Pain's service ; and 
 Richard Fowler and Sarah, his wife, as an 
 honest,industrious, and sober couple, who 
 lived about opposite to Mr. Pain, at the 
 Brick-pound. These were the subscrib- 
 ing witnesses to many of the surprising 
 transactions, which were likewise wit- 
 nessed by some others. Another person 
 ■who bore a principal part in these scenes 
 was Ann Robinson, aged about twenty 
 years, who had lived servant with INIrs. 
 Golding but one week and three days. 
 The "astonishing transactions" in Mrs. 
 Golding's house were these : 
 
 On Twelfth-day 1772, about ten o'clock 
 in the forenoon, as Mrs. Golding was in 
 her parlour, she heard the china and 
 glasses in the back kitchen tumble down 
 and break ; her maid came to her and 
 told her the stone plates were falling 
 from the shelf; Mrs. Golding went into 
 the kitchen and saw them broke. Pre- 
 sently after, a row of plates from the 
 next shelf fell down likewise, while she 
 was there, and nobody near them : tlii= 
 
 31 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOUK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 astonished her much, and while she was 
 thinking about it, other things in different 
 places began to tumble about, some of 
 them breaking, attended with violent 
 noises all over the house; a clock tum- 
 bled down and ihe case broke ; a lan- 
 tern that hung on the staircase v/as 
 thrown down and the glass broke to 
 pieces ; an earthen pan of salted beef 
 broke to pieces and the beef fell about ; 
 all this increased her surprise, and 
 brought several persons about her, among 
 whom was Mr. Rowlidge, a carpenter, 
 who gave it as his opinion that the 
 foundation was giving way and that the 
 house was tumbling down, occasioned by 
 the too great weight of an additional 
 room erected above : " so ready," says 
 the narrative, " are we to discover natu- 
 ral causes for every thing!" 
 
 Mrs. Golding ran into Mr. Gresham's 
 house, next door to her, where she fainted, 
 and in the interim, Mr. Rowlidge, and 
 other persons, were removing Mrs. Gold- 
 ing's effects from her house, for fear of 
 the consequences prognosticated. At 
 this time all was quiet ; Mrs. Golding's 
 maid remaining in her house, was gone 
 up staiis, and when called upon several 
 times to come down, for fear of the dan- 
 gerous situation she was thought to be 
 in, she answered very coolly, and after 
 some time came down deliberately, 
 without any seeming fearful apprehen- 
 sions. 
 
 Mrs. Pain was sent for from Brixton- 
 causeway, and desired to come directly, 
 as her aunt was supposed to be dead ; — 
 this was the m.essage to her. When Mrs. 
 Pain came, Mrs. Golding was come to 
 Rerself, but very faint from terror. 
 
 Among the persons who were present, 
 was Mr. Gardner, a surgeon, of Clapham, 
 whom Mrs. Pain desired to bleed her 
 aunt, which he did ; Mrs. Pain asked 
 him if the blood should be thrown away ; 
 he desired it might not, as he would 
 examine it when cold. These minute 
 particulars would not be taken notice of, 
 but as a chain to what follows. For the 
 next circumstance is of a more astonish- 
 ing nature than any thing that had 
 preceded it ; the blood that was just 
 congealed, sprung out of the basin upon 
 the floor, and presently after the basin 
 broke to pieces ; this china basin was 
 the only thing broke belonging to Mr. 
 Gresham ; a bottle of rum that stood by 
 it bioke at the same time. 
 
 Among the things that were removed 
 
 to Mr. Gresham's was a tray full cf 
 china, &c. a japan bread-basket, some 
 mahogany waiters, with some bottles of 
 liquors, jars of pickles, &c. and a piei 
 glass, which was taken down by Mr. 
 Saville, (a neighbour of Mrs. Golding's;) 
 he gave it to one Robert Hames, who 
 laid it on the grass-plat at Mr. Gresham's ; 
 but before he could put it out of his 
 hands, some parts of the frame on each 
 side flew off'; it raining at that time, Mrs. 
 Golding desired it might be brought 
 into the parlour, wher-i it was put under 
 a side-board, and a dressing-glass along 
 with it ; it had not been there long before 
 the glasses and china which stood on the 
 side-board, began to tumble about and 
 fall down, and broke both the glasses to 
 pieces. Mr. Saville and others being 
 asked to drink a glass of wine or rum, 
 both the bottles broke in pieces before 
 they were uncorked. 
 
 Mrs. Golding's surprise and fear in- 
 creasing, she did not know what to do 
 or where to go ; wherever she and her 
 maid were, these strange, destructive cir- 
 cumstances followed her, and how to 
 help or free herself from them, was not 
 in her power or any other person's pre- 
 sent : her mind was one confused chaos, 
 lost to herself and every thing about her, 
 drove from her own home, and afraid 
 there would be none other to receive her, 
 she at last left Mr. Gresham's, and went 
 to Mr. Mayling's, a gentleman at the 
 next door, here she staid about three 
 quarters of an hour, during which time 
 nothing happened. Her maid staid at 
 Mr. Gresham's, to help put up what few 
 things remained unbroken of her mistress's, 
 in a back apartment, when a jar of 
 pickles that stood upon a table, turned 
 upside down, then a jar of raspberry jam 
 broke to pieces. 
 
 Mrs. Pain, not choosing her aunt should 
 stay too long at Mr. Mayling's, for fear 
 of being troublesome, persuaded her to 
 go to her house at Rush Common, near 
 Brixton-causeway, where she would en- 
 deavour to make her as happy as she 
 could, hoping by this time all was over, 
 as nothing had happened at that gentle- 
 man's house while she was there. Tliis 
 was about two o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 Mr. and Miss Gresham were at Mr 
 Pain's house, when Mrs. Pain, Mrs 
 Golding, and her maid went there. It 
 being about dinner time they all dincq 
 together ; in the interim Mrs. Golding's 
 servant v/as sent to her house to see bow 
 
 32 
 
THE EVERY-DaV BOOR.— J.^NUARY 7. 
 
 tnings remained. When she returned, 
 she told them nothing had happened since 
 they left it. Sometime after Mr. and Miss 
 Gresham went home, every thing remain- 
 ing quiet at Mr. Pain's : but about eight 
 o'clock in the evening a fresh scene 
 began ; the first thing that happened 
 ■was, a whole row of pewter dishes, 
 except one, fell from off a shelf to the 
 middle of the floor, rolled about a little 
 while, then settled, and as soon as they 
 were quiet, turned upside down ; they 
 were then put on the dresser, and went 
 through the same a second time : next fell 
 a whole row of pewter plates from ofT 
 the second shelf over the dresser to 
 the ground, and being taken up and put 
 on the dresser one in another, they were 
 thrown down again. Two eggs were 
 upon one of the pewter shelves, one 
 of them flew off, crossed the kitchen, 
 struck a cat on the head, and then broke 
 to pieces. 
 
 Next Mary Martin, Mrs. Pain's ser- 
 vant, went to stir the kitchen fire, she got 
 to the right hand side of it, being a large 
 chimney as is usual in farm houses, a pestle 
 and mortar that stood nearer the left hand 
 end of the chimney shelf, jumped about 
 six feet on the floor. Then went candle- 
 sticks and other brasses : scarce any thing 
 remaining in its place. After this the 
 glasses and china were put down on the 
 floor for fear of undergoing the same fate. 
 
 A glass tumbler that was put on the 
 floor jumped about two feet and then 
 broke. Another that stood by it jumped 
 about at the same time, but did not break 
 till some hours after, when it jumped again 
 and then broke. A china bowl that stood 
 in the parlour jumped from the floor, to 
 behind a table that stood there. This 
 was most astonishing, as the distance from 
 where it stood was between seven and 
 eight feet, but was not broke. It was 
 put back by Richard Fowler, to its place, 
 where it remained some time, and then 
 flew to pieces. 
 
 The next thing that followed was a mus- 
 tard-pot, that jumped out of a closet 
 and was broke. A single cup that stood 
 upon the table (almost the only thing re- 
 maining) jumped up, flew across the 
 kitchen, ringing like a bell, and then was 
 dashed to pieces against the dresser. A 
 tumbler with rum and water in it, that 
 stood upon a waiter upon a table in the 
 parlour, jumped about ten feet and was 
 broke. The table then fell down, and 
 along wit^i it a silver tankard belonging to 
 Mrs._ Coldingt the waiter ia wliich had 
 
 stood the tumbler, and a candlestick. A 
 case bottle then flew to pieces. 
 
 The next circumstance was, a ham, that 
 hung on one side of the kitchen chimney, 
 raised itself from the hook and fell down 
 to the ground. Some time after, another 
 ham, that hung on the other side of the 
 chimney, likewise underwent the same 
 fate. Then a flitch of bacon, which hung 
 up in the same chimney, fell down. 
 
 All the family were eye-witnesses to 
 these circumstances as well as other per- 
 sons, some of whom were so alarmed and 
 shocked, that they could not bear to stay. 
 
 At all the times of action, Mrs.Golding's 
 servant was walking backwards and for- 
 wards, either in the kitchen or parlour, or 
 wherever some of the family happened to 
 be. Nor could they get her to sit down 
 five minutes together, except at one time 
 for about half an hour towards the morn- 
 ing, when the family were at prayers in the 
 parlour ; then all was quiet ; but, in the 
 midst of the greatest confusion, she was 
 as much composed as at any other time, 
 and with uncommon coolness of temper 
 advised her mistress not to be alarmed or 
 uneasy, as she said these things could not 
 be helped. 
 
 " This advice," it is observed in the nar- 
 rative, surprised and startled her mistress, 
 almost as much as the circumstances that 
 occasioned it. " For how can we suppose," 
 says the narrator, " that a girl of about 
 twenty years old, (an age when female ti 
 midity is too often assisted by superstition,) 
 could remain in the midst of such cala 
 mitous circumstances, (except they pro- 
 ceeded from causes best known to herself,) 
 and not be struck with the same terror as 
 every other person w<is who was present. 
 These reflections led Mr. Pain, and at the 
 end of the transactions, likewise Mrs. 
 Golding, to think that she was not altoge- 
 ther so unconcerned as she appeared to be." 
 
 About ten o'clock at night, they sen* 
 over the way to Richard Fowler, to desire 
 he would come and stay with them. He 
 came and continued till one in the morn 
 ing, when he was so terrified, that he 
 could remain no longer. 
 
 As Mrs. Golding could not be persuad- 
 ed to go to bed, Mrs. Pain, at one o'clock, 
 made an excuse to go up stairs to her 
 youngest child, under pretence of getting 
 It to sleep ; but she really acknowledged it 
 was through fear, as she declared she 
 could not sit up to see such strange things 
 going on, as every thing one after another 
 was broken, till there was not above two or 
 three cups and saucers remaining out of a 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 33 
 
 D 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 considerable quantity of china, Sec. which 
 was destroyed to the amount of some 
 pounds. 
 
 About five o'clock on Tuesday morning, 
 the 7th, Mrs. Golding went up to her 
 niece, and desired her to get up, as the 
 noises and destruction were so great she 
 could continue in the house no longer. 
 Mrs. Golding and her maid went over the 
 way to Richard Prowler's: when Mrs. 
 Golding's maid had seen her safe to 
 Richard Fowler's, she came back to Mrs. 
 Pain, to help her to dress the children in 
 the barn, where she had carried them for 
 fear of the house falling. At this time 
 all was quiet: they then went to Fowler's, 
 and then began the same scene as had 
 happened at the other places. All was 
 quiet here as well as elsewhere, till the 
 maid returned. 
 
 When they got to Mr. Fowler's, he be- 
 gan to light a fire in his back room. 
 When done, he put the candle and c?.ndle- 
 stick upon a table in the fore room. This 
 apartment Mrs. Golding and her maid 
 had passed through. Another candle- 
 stick with a tin lamp in it that stood by 
 it, were both dashed together, and fell to 
 the ground. At last the basket of coals 
 tumbled over, and the coals rolling about 
 khe room, the maid desired Richard 
 Fowler not to let her mistress remain 
 there, as she said, wherever she was, the 
 same things would follow. In conse- 
 quence of this advice, and fearing greater 
 losses to himself, he desired Mrs. Gold- 
 ing would quit his house ; but first beg- 
 ged her to consider within herself, for her 
 own and the public sake, whether or not 
 she had not been guilty of some atrocious 
 crime, for which Providence was deter- 
 mined to pursue her on this side the 
 grave. Mrs. Golding told him she would 
 not stay in his house^ or any other person's, 
 as her conscience was quite clear, and she 
 could as well wait the will of Providence 
 in her own house as in any other place 
 whatever; upon which she and her maid 
 went home, and Mrs. Pain went with them. 
 After they had got to Mrs. Golding's, a 
 pail of water, that stood on the floor, boil- 
 ed like a pot ; a box of candles fell from 
 a shelf in the kitchen to the floor, and they 
 rolled out, but none were broken, and the 
 table in the parlour fell over. 
 
 Mr. Pain then desired Mrs. Golding to 
 send her maid for his wife to come to 
 them, and when she was gone all was 
 quiet ; upon her return she was immedi- 
 ately discharged, and no disturbances 
 happened afterwards; this was between 
 
 six and seven o'clock on Tuesday morn- 
 ing. At Mrs. Golding's were broken the 
 quantity of three pails full of glass, 
 china, 8cc. Mrs. Pain's fiUe.d two pails. 
 
 The accounts here related are in tho 
 words of the "narrative," which bears the 
 attestation of the witnesses before men- 
 tioned. The affair is still remembered by 
 many persons : it is usually denominated 
 the " Stockwell Ghost," and deemea 
 inexplicable. It must be recollected, 
 however, that the mysterious move- 
 ments were never made but when Ann 
 Robinson, Mrs. Golding's maid-ser- 
 vant, was present, and that they wholly 
 ceased when she was dismissed. Though 
 these two circu-mstances tend to prove that 
 this girl was the cause of the disturbances, 
 scarcely any one who lived at that time 
 listened patiently to the presumption, or 
 without attributing the whole to witchcraft 
 One lady, whom the editor of the Every- 
 Day Book conversed with several times on 
 the subject, firmly believed in the witch- 
 craft, because she had been eye-witness 
 to the animation of the inanimate crock- 
 ery and furniture, which she said could 
 not have been effected by human means — 
 it was impossible. He derived, however, 
 a solution of these " impossibilities" from 
 
 the late Mr. J. B , at his residence 
 
 in Southampton-street, Camberwell, to- 
 wards the close of the year 1817. Mr. 
 B said, all London was in an up- 
 roar about the " Stockwell Ghost" for a 
 long time, and it would have made more 
 noise than the " Cock-lane Ghost," if it 
 had lasted longer ; but attention to it gra- 
 dually died away, and most people be- 
 lieved it was supernatural. Mr. B , 
 
 in continuation, observed, that some years 
 after it happened, he became acquainted 
 with this very Ann Robinson, without 
 knowing for a long time that she had been 
 the servant-maid to Mrs. Golding. He 
 learned it by accident, and told her what 
 he had heard. She admitted it was true, 
 and in due season, he says, he got all the 
 story out. She had fixed long horse hairs 
 to some of the crockery, and put wires 
 under others ; on pulling these, the " mov- 
 ables" of course fell. Mrs. Golding was 
 terribly frightened, and so were all who 
 saw any thing tumble. Ann Robin- 
 son herself, dexterously threwr many o\ 
 the things down, which the persons pre- 
 sent, when they turned round and saw 
 them in motion or broken, attributed to 
 unseen agency. These spectators were 
 all too much alarmed by their own dread 
 of infernal power to examine any thing. 
 
 34 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK. -JANUARY 7. 
 
 They kept at an awful distance, and some- 
 times would not look at the utensils, lest 
 they might face fresh horrors ; of these 
 tempting opportunities she availed her- 
 self. Slie put the eggs in motion, and 
 after one only fell down, threw the other 
 at the cat. Their terrors at the time, and 
 their subsequent conversations .iiagnified 
 many of the circumstances beyond the 
 facts. She took advantage of absences 
 to loosen the hams and bacon, and attach 
 them by the skins ; in short, she ef- 
 fected all the mischief. She caused the 
 water in the pail to appear as if it boiled, 
 by slipping in a paper of chemical pow- 
 ders as she passed, and afterwards it bub- 
 bled. "Indeed," said Mr. B , 
 
 " there was a love story connected with 
 the case, and when I have time, I will 
 write out the whole, as I got it by degrees 
 from the woman herself. When she saw 
 the effect of her first feats, she was tempt- 
 ed to exercise the dexterity beyond her 
 original purpose for mere amusement. 
 She was astonished at the astonishment 
 she caused, and so went on from one 
 thing to another ; and being quick in her 
 motions and shrewd, she puzzled all the 
 simple old people, and nearly frightened 
 
 them to death." Mr. B chuckled 
 
 mightily over his recollections ; he was 
 fond of a practical joke, and enjoyed the 
 tricks of Ann Robinson with all his heart. 
 By his acuteness, curiosity, and love of 
 drollery, he drew from her the entire con- 
 fession ; and " as the matter was all over 
 years ago, and no more harm could be 
 done," said Mr. B., "I never talked about 
 it much, for her sake ; but of this I can 
 assure you, that the only magic in the 
 thing was, her dexterity and the people's 
 simplicity." Mr. B. promised to put 
 down the whole on paper ; but he was 
 ailing and infirm, and accident prevented 
 the writer from caring much for a " full, 
 true, and particular account," which he 
 could have had at any time, till Mr. Bray- 
 field's death rendered it unattainable. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Aikin, in his " Calendar of 
 Nature," presents us with a variety of ac- 
 ceptable information concerning the ope-'a- 
 tions of nature throughout the year. " The 
 plants at this season," he says, " are pro- 
 vided by nature with a sort of winter- 
 quarters, which secure them from the ef- 
 fects of cold. Those called herbaceous, 
 ■^Jjch die down to the root every autum'- 
 are now safely concealed under-ground, 
 preparing their new shoots to burst forth 
 
 when the earth is softened in spring 
 Shrubs and trees, which are exposed to 
 the open air, have all their soft and tender 
 parts closely wrapt up in buds, which by 
 their firmness resist all the power of frost ; 
 the larger kinds of buds, and those which 
 are almost ready to expand, are further 
 guarded by a covering of resin or gum, 
 such as the horse-chestnut, the sycamore, 
 and the lime. Their external covering, 
 however, and the closeness of their inter- 
 nal texture, are of themselves by no means 
 adequate to resist the intense cold of a 
 winter's night : a bud detached from its 
 stem, enclosed in glass, and thus protect- 
 ed from all access of external air, if sus- 
 pended from a tree during a sharp frost, 
 will be entirely penetrated, and its parts 
 deranged by the cold, while the buds on 
 the same tree will not have sustained the 
 slightest injury ; wa must therefore attri- 
 bute to the living principle in vegetables, 
 as well as animals, the power of resisting 
 cold to a very considerable degree : in 
 animals, we know, this power is generated 
 from the decomposition of air by means 
 of the lungs, and disengagement of heat ; 
 how vegetables acquire this property re- 
 mains for future observations to discover. 
 If one of these buds be carefully opened, 
 it is found to consist of young leaves roll- 
 ed together, within which are even all the 
 blossoms in miniature that are afterwards 
 to adorn the spring." 
 
 During the mild weather of winter, 
 slugs are in constant motion preying on 
 plants and green wheat. Their coverings 
 of slime prevent the escape of animal 
 heat, and hence they are enabled to ravage 
 when their brethren of the shell, who are 
 more sensible of cold, lie dormant. Earth- 
 worms likewise appear about this time 
 but let the man of nice order, with a lit- 
 tle garden, discriminate between the de- 
 stroyer, and the innocent and useful inha- 
 bitant. One summer evening, the worms 
 from beneath a small grass plat, lay hah 
 out of their holes, or were dragging 
 " their slow length" upon the surface. 
 They were all carefully taken up, and pre- 
 served as a breakfast for the ducks. In the 
 following year, the grass-plat, which had 
 flourished annually with its worms, vege- 
 tated unwillingly. They were the under 
 gardeners that loosened the sub-soil, 
 and let the warm air through their entran- 
 ces to nourish the roots of the herbage. 
 
 " Their, calm desires that asked but little 
 room," 
 were unheeded, and their usefulness was 
 unknown, until their absence vvas teit 
 
 35 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 Tlie first Monday after Twelfth-day h 
 called Plough Monday, and appears to 
 have received that name because it was 
 the first day after Christmas that hus- 
 bandmen resumed the plough. In some 
 parts of the country, and especially in the 
 north, they draw the plough in procession 
 to the doors of the villagers and towns- 
 people. Long ropes are attached to it, and 
 thirty or forty men, stripped to their clean 
 white shirts, but protected from the wea- 
 ther by waistcoats beneath, drag it along. 
 Their arms and shoulders are decorated 
 with gay-coloured ribbons, tied in large 
 knots and bows, and their hats are smart- 
 ened in the same way. They are usually 
 accompanied by an old woman, or a boy 
 dressed up to represent one; she is gaily be- 
 dizened, and called the Bessy. Sometimes 
 the sport is assisted by a humorous coun- 
 tryman to represent a. fool. He is covered 
 with ribbons, and attired in skins, with a 
 depending tail, and carries a box to collect 
 money from the spectators. They are 
 attended by music, and Morris-dancers 
 when they can be got ; but there is always 
 a sportive dance with a few lasses in all 
 their finery, and a superabundance of rib- 
 bons. When this merriment is well ma- 
 naged, ir. is very pleasing. The money 
 collected is spent at night in conviviality. 
 It must not be supposed, liowever, that 
 
 in these times, the twelve days of Christ- 
 mas are devoted to pastime, although the 
 custom remains. Formerly, indeed, little 
 was done in the field at this season, and 
 according to " Tusser Redivivus," during 
 the Christmas holidays, gentlemen feasted 
 the farmers, and every farmer feasted his 
 servants and taskmen. Then Plough 
 Monday reminded them of their business, 
 and on the morning of that day, the men 
 and maids strove who should show their 
 readiness to commence the labours of ihe 
 year, by rising the earliest. If the plough- 
 man could get his whip, his plough-staff, 
 hatchet, or any field implement, by the 
 fireside, before the maid could get her 
 kettle on, she lost her Shrove-tide cock to 
 the men. Thus did our forefathers strive 
 to allure youth to their duty, and providea 
 them innocent mirth as well as labour. 
 On Plough Monday night the farmer gave 
 them a good supper and strong ale. In 
 some places, where the ploughman went 
 to work on Plough Monday, if, on his 
 return at night, he came with his whip to 
 the kitchen-hatch, and cried " Cock in 
 pot," before the maid could cry " Cock 
 on the dunghill," he gained a cock foi 
 Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 Blomefield's History of Norfolk tend., 
 to clear the origin of the annual proces- 
 sions on Plough Monday. Anciently, a 
 
 3G 
 
THE FVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 light called the Plous;h-l'ight, was main- 
 tained by old and young persons who 
 •were husbandmen, before images in some 
 churches, and on Plough Monday they 
 had a feast, and went about with a plough 
 and dancers to get money to support the 
 Plough-light. The Reformation put out 
 these lights ; but the practice of going 
 about with the plough begging for money 
 remains, and the " money for light " in- 
 creases the income of the village alehouse. 
 Let the sons of toil make glad their hearts 
 v/ith " Barley-wine ;" let them also re- 
 member to " be merry and wise." Their 
 old acquaintance, " Sir John Barleycorn," 
 has had heavy complaints against him. 
 There is " The ytrraigning and Indicting 
 of Sir John Barleycorn, hit. printed 
 for Timothy Tosspot." This whimsical 
 little tract describes him as of " noble 
 blood, well beloved in England, a great 
 support to the crown, and a mamtainer 
 of both rich and poor." It formally places 
 him upon his trial, at the sign of the 
 Tliree Loggerheads, before " Oliver and 
 Old Nick his holy father," as judges. The 
 witnesses for the prosecution were cited 
 under the hands and seals of the said 
 judges, sitting " at the sign of the Three 
 merry Companions in Bedlam ; tliat is to 
 say, Poor Robin, Merry Tom, and Jack 
 Lackv/it." At the trial, the prisoner, sir 
 John Barleycorn, pleaded not guilty. 
 
 Laivyer Noisy. — May it please your 
 lordship, and gentlemen of the jury, I am 
 counsel for the king against the prisoner 
 at the bar, who stands indicted of many 
 heinous and wicked crimes, in that the 
 said prisoner, with malice prepense and 
 several wicked ways, has conspired and 
 brought about the death of several of his 
 majesty's loving subjects, to the great loss 
 of several poor families, who by this 
 means have been brought to ruin and 
 beggary, w hich, before the wicked designs 
 and contri\ances of the prisoner, lived 
 in a flourishing and reputable way, but 
 now are reduced to low circumstances 
 and great misery, to the great loss of their 
 own families and the nation in general 
 We shall call our evidence ; and if we 
 make the facts appear, I do not doubt but 
 you will find him guilty, and your lord- 
 ships will award such punishment as the 
 nature of his crimes deserve. 
 
 Fiilcan, the Blacksmith. — My lords, 
 sir John has been a great enemy to me, 
 and many of my friends. Many a time, 
 when I have been busy at my work, not 
 tl-.irking any harm to any man, V-'ving 
 
 a fire-spark in my throat, I, going over to 
 the sign of the Cup and Can for one 
 pennyworth of ale, there I found sir John, 
 and thinking no hurt to any man, civilly 
 sat me down to spend my twopence ; 
 but in the end, sir John began to pick a 
 quarrel with me. Then I started up, 
 thmking to go away; but sir John had 
 got me by the top of the head, that I had 
 no power to help myself, and so by his 
 strength and power he threw me down, 
 broke my head, my face, and almost all 
 my bones, that I was not able to work for 
 three days ; nay, more than this, he picked 
 my purse, and left me never a penny, so 
 that I had not wherewithal to support my 
 family, and my head ached to such a de- 
 gree, that I was not able to work for three 
 or four days; and this set my wife a 
 scolding, so that I not only lost the 
 good opinion my neighbours had of me, 
 but likewise raised such a storm in my 
 family, that I was forced to call in the 
 parson of the parish to quiet the raging 
 of my wife's temper. 
 
 JFill, the JVeaver. — I am but a poor 
 man, and have a wife and a charge of 
 children: yet this knowing sir John 
 will never let me alone ; he is always en- 
 ticing me from my woik, and will not be 
 quiet till he hath got me to the alehouse; 
 and then he quarrels with me, and abuses 
 me most basely ; and sometimes he binds 
 me hand and foot, and throws me in the 
 ditch, and there stays with me all night, 
 and next morning leaves me but one penny 
 in my pocket. About a week ago, we had 
 not been together above an hour, before 
 he began to give me cross words : at our 
 first meeting, he seemed to have a pleasant 
 countenance, and often smiled in my face, 
 and would make me sing a merry catch 
 or two ; but in a little time, he grew very 
 churlish, and kicked up my heels, set my 
 head where my"heels should be, and put 
 my shoulder out, so that I have not been 
 able to use my shuttle ever since, which 
 has been a great detriment to my family, 
 and great misery to myself. 
 
 Stitch, the Tailor, deposed to the same 
 eff'ect. 
 
 3/r. fVheatly. — Tlie inconveniencies I 
 have received from the prisoner are with 
 out number, and the trouble he occasions 
 in the neighbourhood is not to be ex- 
 pressed. 1 am sure I have been often- 
 times very highly esteemed both with 
 lords, knights, and squires, and none 
 could please them so well as James 
 Wheatly, the baker; but now the case is 
 
 '61 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 7. 
 
 altered; sir John Barleycorn is the man 
 that is highly esteemed in every place. 
 I am now but poor James Wheatly, and 
 he is sir John Barleycorn at every word ; 
 and that word hath undone many an ho- 
 nest man in England ; for I can prove it 
 to be true, that he has caused many an 
 honest man to waste and consume all that 
 he hath. 
 
 The prisoner, sir John Barleycorn, 
 being called on for his defence, urged, 
 that to his accusers he was a friend, until 
 they abused him ; and said, if any one is 
 to be blamed, it is my brother Malt. My 
 brother is now in court, and if your lord- 
 ships please, may be examined to all 
 those facts which are now laid to my 
 charge. 
 
 Court.— Can Mr. Malt. 
 
 Malt appears. 
 
 Court. — Mr. Malt, you have (as you 
 have been in court) heard the indictment 
 that is laid against your brother, sir John 
 Barleycorn, who says, if any one ought 
 to be accused, it should be you; but as 
 sir John and you are so nearly related 
 to each other, and have lived so long to- 
 gether, the court is of opinion he cannot 
 be acquitted, unless you can likewise 
 prove yourself innocent of the crimes 
 which are laid to his charge. 
 
 Malt. — My lords, I thank you for the 
 liberty you now mdulge me with, and 
 think it a great happiness, since I am so 
 strongly accused, that I have such learned 
 judges to determine these complaints. As 
 for my part, I will put the matter to the 
 bench. First, I pray you consider with 
 yourselves, all tradesmen would live ; and 
 although Master Malt does make some- 
 times a cup of good liquor, and many 
 men come to taste it, yet the fault is nei- 
 ther in me nor my brother John, but in 
 such as those who make this complaint 
 against us, as I shall make it appear to 
 you all. 
 
 In the first place, which of you all can 
 say but Master Malt can make a cup of 
 good liquor, with the help of a good 
 brewer ; and when it is made, it will be 
 sold. I pray which of you all can live 
 without it ? But when such as these, who 
 complain of us, find it to be good, then 
 they have such a greedy mind, that they 
 think they never have enough, and this 
 overcharge brings on the inconveniences 
 complained of, makes them quarrelsome 
 with one another, and abusive to their 
 /ery friends, so that we are forced to lay 
 ♦hem down to sleeo. From hence it ap- 
 
 pears it is from their own greftfjy desires 
 all these troubles arise, and not from 
 wicked designs of our own. 
 
 Court. — Truly, we cannot see that you 
 are in the fault. Sir John Barleycorn, we 
 will show you so much favour, that if you 
 can bring any person of reputation to 
 speak to your character, the court is dis- 
 posed to acquit you. Bring in your evi- 
 dence, and let us hear what they can say 
 in your behalf. 
 
 Tliomas, the Ploughman. — May I be 
 allowed to speak my thoughts freely, since 
 I shall offer nothing but the truth. 
 
 Court. — Yes, thou mayest be bold to 
 speak the truth, and no more, for that is 
 the cause we sit here for ; therefore speak 
 boldly, that we may understand thee. 
 
 Ploughman. — Gentlemen, sir John is 
 of an ancient house, and is come of a 
 noble race ; there is neither lord, knight, 
 nor squire, but they love his company, and 
 he theirs ; as long as they don't abuse 
 him, he will abuse no man, but doth a 
 great deal of good. In the first place, 
 few ploughmen can live without him; for 
 if it were not for him, we should not pay 
 our landlords their rent ; and then what 
 would such men as you do for money and 
 clothes ? Nay, your gay ladies would care 
 but little for you, if you had not your 
 rents coming in to maintain them ; and 
 we could never pay, but that sir John 
 Barleycorn feeds us with money; and yet 
 would you seek to take away his life ! 
 For shame, let your malice cease, and 
 pardon his life, or else we are all undone. 
 
 Bunch, the Brewer. — Gentlemen, I be- 
 seech you, hear me. My name is Bunch, a 
 brewer ; and I believe few of you can live 
 without a cup of good liquor, no more than 
 I can without the help of sir John Barley- 
 corn. As for my own part, I maintain a 
 great charge, and keep a great many men 
 at work ; I pay taxes forty pounds a yeai 
 to his majesty, God bless him, and all this 
 is maintained by the help of sir John ; 
 then how can any man for shame seek to 
 take away his life. 
 
 Mistress Hostess. — To give evidence 
 in behalf of sir John Barleycorn, gives 
 me pleasure, since I have an oppor- 
 tunity of doing justice to so honourable a 
 person. Through him the administration 
 receives large supplies ; he likewise greatly 
 supports the labourer, and enlivens the 
 conversation. What pleasure could there 
 be at a sheep-clipping without his com. 
 pany, or what joy at a feast without his 
 assistance? I know !iin. to te aa honest 
 
Tllk EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 8. 
 
 man, and he never abused any man, if they 
 abused not him. If you put him to death, 
 all England is undone, for there is not 
 another in the land can do as he can do, 
 and hath done ; for he can make a cripple 
 go, the coward tight, and a soldier neitlier 
 feel hunger nor cold. I beseech you, gen- 
 tlemen, let him live, or else we are all un- 
 done; the nation likewise will be distress- 
 ed, the labourer impoverished, and the 
 husbandman ruined. 
 
 Court. — (rentlemen of the jury, you 
 have now heard what has been offered 
 against sir John Barleycorn, and the evi- 
 dence that has been produced in his de- 
 fence. If you are of opinion he is guilty 
 of those wicked crimes laid to his charge, 
 and has with malice prepense conspired 
 and brought about the death of several of 
 his majesty's loving subjects, you are then 
 to find him guilty ; but if, on the contrary, 
 you are of opinion that he had no real 
 intention of wickedness, and was not the 
 immediate, but only the accidental, cause 
 of these evils laid to his charge, then, ac- 
 cording to tlie statute law of this kingdom, 
 you ought to acquit him. 
 
 Ferdict, Not guilty. 
 
 From this facetious little narrative may 
 be learned the folly of excess, and the in- 
 justice of charging a cheering beverage, 
 with the evil consequences of a man tak- 
 ing a cup more of it than will do him 
 good. 
 
 Snnuaii) 8. 
 
 St. Lucian — Holiday at the Exchequer. 
 
 St. AppolUnarls. St. Seiierinus. St. 
 Pcga. St. ruhiii. St. Cudula. St. Na- 
 thalaii. 
 
 St. Lucian. 
 
 The St. Lucian of the Romish church 
 on this day was from Rome, and preached 
 in Gaul, where he suffered death about 
 290, according to Butler, who affirms that 
 he is the St. Lucian in the English Pro- 
 testant calendar. There is reason to 
 suppose, however, that the St. Lucian of 
 
 the church of England was the saint of 
 that name mentioned yesterday. 
 
 St. Gudula 
 Is the patroness of Brussels, and is said 
 to have died about 712. She suffered the 
 misfortune of having her candle blown 
 out, and possessed the miraculous power 
 of praying it a-iight again, at least, so 
 says Butler; "whence," he affirms, "she 
 is usually represented in pictures witii a 
 lantern." He particularizes no other mi- 
 racle she performed. Surius however re- 
 lates, that as she was praying in a church 
 without shoes, the priest compassionately 
 put his gloves under her feet ; but she 
 threw them away, and they miraculously 
 hung in the air for the space of an hour — 
 whether in compliment to the saint or the 
 priest does not appear. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1821. A newspaper of January 8, men- 
 tions an extraordinary feat by Mr. Iluddy, 
 the postmaster of Lismore, in ihe 97th 
 year of his age. lie travelled, for a wager, 
 from that town to Fermoy in a Dungarvon 
 oyster-tub, drawn by a pig, a badger, two 
 cats, a goose, and a hedgehog; with a 
 large red nightcap on his head, a pig- 
 driver's whip in one hand, and in the other 
 a common cow's-horn, which he blew to 
 encourage his team, and give notice of 
 this new mode of posting. 
 
 Let us turn away for a moment from 
 the credulity and eccentricity of man's 
 feebleness and folly, to the contemplation 
 of " the firstling of the year " from the 
 bosom of our common mother. The 
 Snow-drop is described in the " Flora 
 Domestica" " as the earliest flower of all 
 our wild flowers, and will even show her 
 head above the snow, as if to prove her 
 rivalry in whiteness;" as if 
 — Flora's breath, by some transforming power, 
 Had chang'd an icicle into a flower. 
 
 Mrs. liarbauld. 
 
 One of its greatest charms is its "coming 
 in a wintry season, when few others visit 
 us : we look upon it as a friend in adver- 
 sity ; sure to come when most needed." 
 
 Like pendent flakes of vegetating snow, 
 The early herald of the infant year, 
 
 Ere yet the adventurous crocus dares to blow. 
 Beneath the o.chard-boughs, thy buds appear. 
 
 While still the cold north-east ungenial lowers, 
 And scarce the hazel in the leafless copse. 
 
 Or sallows, shov/ their downy powder'd flowers. 
 The grass is spangled with thy silver drops. 
 
 Clvarhotte Smdk. 
 
 39 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 9, jO. 
 
 ^anuaii) 9* 
 
 St. Peter of Sebaste. St. Julian and 
 Basilissa. St.' Marciana. St. Rrithwald. 
 St. Felan. St. Adrian. St. Faneng. 
 
 Of the seven Romish saints of this day 
 scarcely an anecdote is worth mentioning 
 
 Chronology. 
 1766. On the 9th of January died Dr. 
 Thomas Birch, a valuable contributor to 
 history and biography. He was born on the 
 23d ofNovember, 1705, of Quaker parents. 
 His father was a coflee-mill maker, and 
 designed Thomas for the same trade ; but 
 the son " took to reading," and being put 
 to school, obtained successive usherships ; 
 removing each time into a better school, 
 that he might improve his studies ; and 
 stealing hours from sleep to increase his 
 kr»owle'dge. He succeeded in qualifying 
 himself for the church of England, with- 
 out going to the university ; obtained or- 
 ders from bishop Hoa ley in 1731, and 
 several preferments from the lord chan- 
 cellor Hardwicke and earl Hardwicke ; 
 became a member of the Royal Society 
 before he was thirty years of age, and of 
 the Antiquarian Society about the same 
 time; was created a doctor of divinity, 
 and made a trustee of the British Mu- 
 seum ; and at his death, left his books and 
 MSS. to the national library there. Enu- 
 meration of his many useful labours would 
 occupy several of these pages. His indus- 
 try was amazing. His correspondence 
 was extensive ; his communications to 
 the Royal Society were various and 
 numerous, and his personal application 
 may be inferred from there being among 
 his MSS. no less than twenty-four quarto 
 volumes of Anthony Bacon's papers tran- 
 scribed by his own hand. He edited Tlmr- 
 loes' State Papers in 7 vols, folio; wrote 
 the Lives of Illustrious Persons of Great 
 Britain, and a History of the Royal So- 
 ciety; published miscellaneous pieces of 
 ord Bacon, before unprinted, and pro- 
 duced a large number of other works. 
 The first undertaking wherein he engag- 
 ed, with other learned men, was the 
 ' General Dictionary, Historical and Cri- 
 tical," — a most useful labour, containing 
 the whole of Bayle'-= Dictionary newly 
 translated, and several thousand additional 
 lives. He was enabled to complete his 
 great undertakings by being a very early 
 riser, and by usually executing the Im- 
 sinessof the morning before most persons 
 had commenced it. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 From" Poetic Vigils," AyBEiiNARD Baston. 
 The flowret's bloom is faded, 
 
 Its glossy leaf grown sere ; 
 The landscape round is siiaded 
 
 By Winter's frown austere. 
 The dew, once sparkling lightly 
 
 On grass of freshest green, 
 In heavier drops unsightly 
 
 On matted weeds is seen. 
 No songs of joy, to gladden. 
 
 From leafy woods emerge ; 
 But winds, in tones that sadden, 
 
 Breathe Nature's mournful dirge. 
 All sights and sounds appealing, 
 
 Through merely outward sense. 
 To joyful thought and feeling, 
 
 Seem now departed hence. 
 But not with such is banished 
 
 The hliss that life can lend ; 
 Nor with such thiags hath vanished 
 
 Its truest, noblest end. 
 The toys that charm, and leave us. 
 
 Are fancy's fleeting elves ; 
 All that should glad, or grieve us 
 
 Exists within ourselves. 
 Enjoyment's gentle essence 
 
 Is virtue's godlike dower ; 
 Its most triumphant presence 
 
 Ilhunes the darkest hour. 
 
 3anuar|) io« 
 
 St. Agatho, Pope. 
 
 St 
 
 St. JFilliam 
 Marcian. 
 
 St. JFiUium. 
 Tliis saint, who died m 1207, was 
 archbishop of Bourges, always wore a 
 hair shirt, never ate flesh meat, when he 
 found himself dying caused his body to 
 be laid on ashes in his hair shirt, worked 
 miracles after his death, and had his relics 
 venerated till 1562, when the Hugonots 
 burnt them without their manifesting mi- 
 racles at that important crisis. A bone 
 of his arm is still at Chaalis, and one 
 of his ribs at Paris ; so says Butler, 
 who does not state that either of these 
 remains worked miracles since the French 
 revolution. 
 
 1820. Tlie journals of January relate 
 some particulars of a gentleman remark- 
 able for the cultivation of an useful quality 
 to an extraordinary extent. He drew from 
 actual memory, in twenty-two hours, at two 
 sittings, in the presence of two well-known 
 gentlemen, a correct plan of the parish 
 ofSf. James,Westminsler,with parts (.fth.i 
 
 40 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY lo, 11. 
 
 parishes of St. Mary-le-bone, St. Ann, and 
 St. Martin; which plan contained every 
 square, street, lane, court, alley, market, 
 ciuirch, chapel, and all public huildinjis, 
 with all stable and other yards, also 
 every public-house in the parish, and the 
 corners of all streets, with every minutiae, 
 as pumps, posts, trees, iiouses that pro- 
 ject and inject, bow-windows, Carlton- 
 house, St. James's palace, and the interior 
 of the markets, without scale or reference 
 to any plan, book, or paper whatever. 
 lie did the same with respect to the parish 
 of St. Andrew, Holborn, in the presence of 
 four gentlemen, from eight to twelve, one 
 evening at a tavern ; and he also under- 
 took to draw the plan of St. Giles-in-the- 
 fields, St. Paul's, Covent-garden, St. 
 Mary-le-strand, St. Clement's, and three- 
 fourths of Mary-le-bone, or St. George's. 
 The plans before alluded to were drawn in 
 the presence of JohnWillock, Esq. Golden- 
 square ; Mr. Robinson, of Surrey-road; 
 William Montague, Esq. of Guildhall ; 
 Mr. Allen, vestry clerk of St. Ann's ; 
 John Dawson, Esq. of Burlington-street; 
 N. Walker, Holborn ; and two other gen- 
 .tlemen. He can tell the corner of any 
 great and leading thoroughfare-street 
 from Hyde Park-corner, or Oxford-street, 
 to St. Paul's ; or from the New-road to 
 Westminster abbey ; and the trade or 
 profession carried on at such corner house. 
 He can tell every public shop of business 
 in Piccadilly, wliich consists of two hun- 
 dred and forty-one houses, allowing him 
 only twenty-four mistakes ; he accom- 
 plislied this in the presence of four gentle- 
 men, after five o'clock, and proved it be- 
 fore seven in the same evening. A house 
 being named in any public street, he will 
 name the trade of the shop, either on the 
 right or left hand of the same, and whe- 
 ther the door of such house so named is 
 in the centre, or on the right or left. He 
 can take an inventory, from memory only, 
 of a gentleman's house, from the attic to 
 the groundfloor, and afterwards write it 
 out. He did this at lord Nelson's, at 
 Merton, and likewise at the duke of 
 Kent's, in the presence of two noblemen. 
 He is known by the appellation of " Me- 
 mory-corner Thompson " The plan of 
 his house, called Priory Frognall, Hamp- 
 stead, he designed, and built it externally 
 and internally, without any working- 
 drawing, but carried it up by the eye 
 only. Yet, though his memory is so ac- 
 curate in the retention of objects sub- 
 mitted to the eye. he has little power of 
 
 recollecting what he hears. Tlie dialogue 
 of a comedy heard once, or even twice, 
 would, after an interval of a few days, be 
 entaelv new to him. 
 
 January il. 
 
 St. Theodos'ms. St. Hyginua. St 
 Egivin. St. Salvlus, 
 
 St. Theodoshii 
 This saint visited St. Simeon Stylites 
 on his pillar and had his fortune told. 
 He ate coarse pulse and wild herbs, never 
 tasted bread for thirty years, founded a 
 monastery for an unlimited number of 
 monks, dug one grave large enough to 
 hold the whole community, when he 
 received strangers, and had not food 
 enough, he prayed for its miraculous in- 
 crease and had it multiplied accordingly, 
 prophesied while he was dying, died in 
 529, and had his hair shirt begged by a 
 count, who won a victory with it. He 
 was buried according to Butler, who 
 relates these particulars, in the cave 
 wherein the three kings of Cologne were 
 said to have lodged on their way to 
 Bethlehem. 
 
 FISH IN WINTER 
 
 In hard frosts holes must be broken in 
 the ice that forms upon fish ponds, or the 
 fish will die. It is pleasing to watch the 
 finny tenants rising half torpid beneath a 
 new-formed hole for the benefit of the 
 air. Ice holes should be kept open 
 during the frost: one hole to a pond is 
 sufficient. 
 
 At Logan or Port Nessock in Wig- 
 townshire, North Britain, a large salt- 
 water pond was formed for Cod in 1800. 
 It is a basin of 30 feet in depth, and 
 160 feet in circumference, hewn out 
 from the solid rock, and communicating 
 with the sea by one of those fissures 
 which are common to bold and pre 
 cipitous coasts. Attached to it is a neat 
 Gothic cottage for the accommodation of 
 the fisherman, and the rock is surmounted 
 all round by a substantial stone wall at 
 least 300 feet in circumference. In 
 every state of the wind or tide, wintei 
 and summer, when not a single boat 
 dare venture to sea. Colonel M'Dowal 
 can command a supply of the finest fish, 
 and study at his leisure the instincts and 
 habits of the "finny nations," with at 
 least all the accuracy of those sag« natu- 
 
 41 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAEY 11. 
 
 ralists, who rarely trave. farther than 
 Exeter 'Change. From the inner or back 
 door of the lodge, a winding stair-way 
 conducts to the usual halting place — a 
 large flat stone projecting into the water, 
 and commanding a view of every part of 
 the aquatic prison. When the tide is 
 out, this stone is left completely dry, and 
 here a stranger perceives with surprise, a 
 hundred mouths simultaneously opened 
 to greet his arrival. 
 
 Tlie moment the fisherman crosses 
 his threshold, the pond is agitated 
 by the action of some hundred fins, 
 and otherwise thrown into a state of 
 anarchy and contusion. Darting from 
 this, that, and the other corner, the whole 
 population move as it were to a common 
 centre, elevate their snouts, lash their 
 tails, and jostle one another with such 
 violence, that on a first view they actually 
 seem to be menacing an attack on the 
 poor fisherman, in place of the creel full 
 of limpets he carries. Many of the fish are 
 so tame, that they will feed greedily from 
 the hand, and bite your fingers into the 
 bargain, if you are foolish enough to 
 allow them ; while others again are so 
 shy, that the fisherman discourses of their 
 different tempers, as a thing quite as 
 palpable as the gills they breathe, or the 
 fins they move by. One gigantic cod, 
 which seems to answer to the name of 
 " Tom," and may well be described as the 
 patriarch of the pond, forcibly arrests 
 attention. This unfortunate, who passed 
 his youth in the open sea, was taken 
 prisoner at the age of five, and has since 
 sojourned at Port Nessock, for the long 
 period of twelve years, during all which 
 time he has gradually increased in bulk 
 and weight. He is now wholly blind 
 from age or disease, and he has no 
 chance whatever in the general scramble. 
 The fisherman, however, is very kind to 
 him, and it is affecting as well as curious, 
 to see the huge animal raise himself in 
 the water ; and then resting his head on 
 the flat stone, allow it to be gently patted 
 or stroked, gaping all the while to implore 
 that food which he has no other means of 
 obtaining. In this pond, cod ajipears to 
 be the prevailing species ; there are 
 also blochin or glassin, haddocks, floun- 
 ders, and various other kinds. Salmon, 
 which at spawning time visit the highest 
 rivers, could not of course obey their 
 instincts here, and accordingly there is 
 only one specimen of this favourite 
 fi&ii in the pond at present. As the 
 
 fisherman remarked, " he is far eonpler 
 than any o' the rest," and by virtue ot 
 this one quality, chases, bites, and other- 
 wise annoys a whole battalion of 
 gigantic cod, that have only, one would 
 think, to open their mouths and swallow 
 him. To supply them with food is an 
 important part of the fisherman's duty ; 
 and with this view, he must ply the 
 net, and heave the line, during two or 
 three days of every week. He has also 
 to renew the stock, when the pond 
 appears to be getting thin, from the con 
 tributions levied on it by the cook. 
 
 A letter from Cairo, in a journal of 
 January 1824, contains a whimsical exem- 
 plification of Turkish manners in the pro- 
 vinces, and the absurdity of attempting 
 to honour distant authorities, by the dis- 
 tinctions of civil society. A diploma of 
 honorary member of the Society of Frank- 
 fort was presented to the Pacha, at the 
 divan (or council.) The Pacha, who can 
 neither read nor write, thought it was a_/?r- 
 man (despatch) from the Porte. He was 
 much surprised and alarmed ; but the 
 interpreter explained to him that it was 
 written in the Nemptchee (German) lan- 
 guage, contained the thanks of the ule- 
 mas (scholars) of a German city named 
 Frankfort, for his kindness to two Nempt- 
 chee travelling in Egypt. 
 
 But the most difficult part was yet to 
 come ; it was to explain to him that he 
 had been appointed a member of their 
 society ; and the Turkish language having 
 no word for this purely European idea, 
 the interpreter, after many hesitations and 
 circumlocutions, at last succeeded in ex- 
 plaining, ♦' that as a mark of respect 
 and gratitude, the society had made him 
 one of their partners." At these words 
 the eyes of the Pacha flashed with anger, 
 and with a voice of thunder he roared 
 that he would never again be the partner 
 of any firm ; that his partnership with 
 Messrs. Briggs and Co. in the Indian 
 trade, cost him nearly 500,000 hard pias- 
 ters ; that the association for the manufac- 
 tory of sugar and rum paid him nothing 
 at all ; and, in short, that he was com- 
 pletely tired of his connections with Frank 
 merchants, who were indebted to him 
 23,000,000 of piasters, which he consi- 
 dered as completely lost. In his rage, he 
 even threatened to have the interpreter 
 drowned in the Nile, for having presumed 
 to make ofl^er of a mercantile coDDectioti, 
 against his positive orders 
 
 42 
 
TilE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 11. 
 
 Tlie poor interpreter was confounded, 
 and unable to utter a word in his defence. 
 At this critical moment, however, Messrs. 
 Fernandez, Pambonc, and others who 
 have access to the Pacha, interposed; and 
 it was some time before they could reduce 
 his Highness to reason ; his passion had 
 thrown him into an hysterical hiccup. 
 When his Highness was a little recovered, 
 Mr. Fernandez endeavoured to explain to 
 him that there was no question about bu- 
 siness : that the ulemas of Frankfort were 
 possessed of no stock but books, and had 
 no capital. " So much the worse," replied 
 the Pacha; "then they are sahhaftehl, 
 (booksellers,) who carry on their business 
 without money, like the Franks at Cairo 
 and Alexandria." " Oh, no, they are no 
 sahhaftehl, but ulemas, kiatibs, (authors,) 
 physicians, philonssonfs, &c., who are 
 only engaged in science." " Well," said 
 lie, " and what am I then to do in their 
 society ; I, a Pacha of three horse tails V 
 " Nothing at all, your Highness, like per- 
 iiaps most of the members of their society, 
 but by receiving you into their society, 
 these gentlemen intended to show you 
 their respect and gratitude." "That is a 
 strange custom, indeed," cried the Pacha, 
 " to show respect to a person by telling 
 or writing to him in funny letters — you 
 
 are ivorthy of being one of «*." " But 
 this is the custom," added Divan Effendi 
 (his Secretary.) " Your Happiness knows 
 that the frie)tds (Franks) have many cus- 
 toms different from ours, and often such as 
 are very ridiculous. For instance, if they 
 wish to salute a person, they bare theii 
 heads, and scrape with their right fool 
 backwards ; instead of sittmgdown com- 
 fortably on a sofa to rest themselves, they 
 sit on little wooden chairs, as if they were 
 about to be shaved : they eat the pillao 
 with spoons, and the meat with pincers ; 
 but what seems most laughable is, that 
 they humbly kiss the hands of their wo- 
 men, who, instead of the yashmak, (veil,) 
 carry straw baskets on their heads ; and that 
 they mix sugar and milk with their coffee." 
 This last sally set the whole assembly (his 
 Highness excepted) in a roar of laughter. 
 Among those who stood near the fountain 
 in the middle of the hail, several exclaim- 
 ed with respect to the coffee with sugar 
 and milk, Kiufirler ! (Ah, ye infidels !) 
 
 In the end the Pacha was pacified, and 
 " All's well that ends well ;" but it had 
 been better, it seems, if, according to the 
 customs of the east, the society of Frank- 
 fort had sent the Pacha the unquestionable 
 civility of a present, that he could have 
 applied to some use. 
 
 ST. BRIDE S CHURCH. 
 
 On the 11th of January, 1825, a sketch 
 of this church was taken from a second- 
 floor window in the house No. 115, Fleet- 
 street, which stands on the opposite 
 side of the way to that whereon the 
 oi)ening was made by the late fire ; and 
 the subjoined engraving from the sketch 
 is designed to perpetuate the appearance 
 through that opening. Till then, it had 
 been concealed from the view of passen- 
 gers through Fleet-street by the houses 
 destroyed, and the conflagration has been 
 rightly deemed a favourable opportunity 
 for endeavouring to secure a space of 
 sufficient extent to render the church a 
 public ornament to the city. To at least 
 one person, professionally unskilled, the 
 spire of St. Bride's appears more chaste and 
 effective than the spire of Bow. In 1805, 
 it was 234 feet high, which is thirty-two 
 feet higher than the Monument, but 
 having been struck by lightning in that 
 year, it was lowered to its present 
 standard, 
 
 St. Bride's church was built by sir 
 Christopher Wren, and completed in 
 1680. It has been repeatedly beautified: 
 
 its last internal decorations were effected 
 in 1 824. In it are interred Thomas 
 Flatman the poet, Samuel Richardson the 
 novelist, and William Bingley, a book- 
 seller, remarkable for his determined 
 and successful resistance to interroga- 
 tories by the court of King's Bench — a 
 practice which that resistance abated 
 for ever: his latter years were em- 
 ployed, or rather were supported, by the 
 kindness of the venerable and venerated 
 John Nichols, Esq. F. S. A. whose familv 
 tablet of brass is also in this churcn. As 
 an ecclesiastical edifice, St. Bride's is 
 confessedly one of the most elegant in 
 the metropolis : an unobstructed view of 
 it is indispensable therefore to the ra- 
 tional character. Appeals which will 
 enable the committee to purchase the 
 interests of individuals on the requisite 
 site are now in progress, and can scarcely 
 be unheeded by those whom wealth, taste, 
 and liberality dispose to assist in works cf 
 public improvement. The engraved sketch 
 does not claim to be more than such a 
 representation as may give a distant 
 reader some grounds for determining 
 whether a vigorous effort to save a build 
 
 43 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAEY II. 
 
 mg of that appearance ftom enclosure this month, and are entitled to a place 'n 
 a second time ought not now to be made, this sheet. 
 The proceedings for thu purpose ar*> iu 
 
 ST. BRIDE'S CHUBCII, LONDON, AS IT APPEAKED JAN. 11, 1825. 
 The opening in Fleet Street made by the Pire of Sunday, November 14, 1824. 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.-JANUARY 11- 
 
 CAED-PLAYING. 
 
 This diversion, resorted to at visilings 
 during the twelve days of Christmas, as 
 of ancient custom, continues without 
 abatement during the prolongation of 
 friendly meetings at this season. Persons 
 who are opposed to this recreation from 
 religious scruples, do n t seem to distin- 
 guish between its use and its abuse. Mr. 
 Archdeacon Butler refers to the " harm- 
 less mirth and innocent amusements of 
 society," in his sermon on " Christian Li- 
 berty," before the duke of Gloucester, and 
 the university of Cambridge, on his roya. 
 highness's installation as chancellor, June 
 30, 1811. The archdeacon quotes, as a 
 note on that point in his sermon, a re- 
 markable passage from Jeremy Taylor, 
 who says, " that cards, &c. are of them- 
 selves lawful, I do not know any reason 
 to doubt. He can never be suspected, in 
 any criminal sense, to tempt the Divine 
 Providence, who by contingent things re- 
 creates his labour. As for the evil ap- 
 pendages, they are all separable from 
 these games, and they may be separated 
 by these advices, &:c." On the citation, 
 which is here abridged, the archdeacon 
 remarks, " Such are the sentiments of one 
 of the most truly pious and most pro- 
 foundly learned prelates that ever adorned 
 any age or country; nor do I think that 
 the most rigid of our disciplinarians can 
 produce the authority of a wiser or a 
 
 better man than bishop Jeremy Taylor.'' 
 Certainly not; and therefore an objector 
 to this pastime will do well to read the 
 reasoning of the whole passage as it stands 
 at the end of the archdeacon's printed 
 sermon : if he desire further, let lum pe- 
 ruse Jeremy Taylor's " advices." 
 
 Cards are not here introduced with a 
 view of seducing parents to rear their 
 sons as gamblers and blacklegs, or their 
 daughters to 
 
 " a life of scandal, an old age of cards ;" 
 but to impress upon them the importance 
 of " not morosely refusing to participate 
 in " what the archdeacon refers to, as of 
 the " harmless mirth and innocent amuse- 
 ments of society." Persons who are 
 wholly debarred from such amusements 
 in their infancy, frequently abuse a plea- 
 sure they have been wholly restrained 
 from, by excessive indulgence in it on the 
 first opportTunity. This is human nature : 
 let the string be suddenly withdrawn 
 from the overstrained bow, and the re- 
 laxation of the bow is violent. 
 
 Look at a juvenile card-party — not at 
 that which the reader sees represented in 
 the engraving, which is somewhat varied 
 from a design by Stella, who grouped 
 boys almost as finely as Flamingo mo- 
 delled their forms — but imagine a juvenile 
 party closely jeated round a large table, 
 with a Pope Joan board in the middle; 
 
 45 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BC70K.— JANUARY 11. 
 
 each well supplied with mother-o'-pearl 
 fish and counters, in little Chinese orna- 
 mented red and gold trays ; their faces and 
 the candles lighting up the room ; their 
 bright eyes sparkling after the cards, 
 watching the turn-up, or peeping into the 
 pool to see how rich it is ; their growing 
 anxiety to the rounds, till the lucky card 
 decides the richest stake ; then the shout 
 out of " Rose has got it 1" " It's Rose's !" 
 " Here, Rose, here they are — take 'em all ; 
 here's a lot !" Emma, and John, and Al- 
 fred, and William's hands thrust forth to 
 help her to the prize ; Sarah and Fanny, 
 the elders of the party, laus;hing at their 
 eagerness ; the more sage Matilda check- 
 ing it, and counting how many fish Rose 
 lias won ; Rose, amazed at her sudden 
 wealth, talks the least ; little Samuel, who 
 is too young to play, hut has been allowed 
 a place, with some of the "pretty fish" be- 
 fore him, claps his hands and halloos, and 
 throws his playthings to increase Rose's 
 treasure ; and baby Ellen sits in " mo- 
 ther's" lap, mute from surprise at the " up- 
 roar wild," till a loud crow, and the quick 
 motion of her legs, proclaim her delight at 
 the general joy, which she suddenly sus- 
 pends in astonishment at the many fingers 
 pointed towards her, with " Look at baby ! 
 look at baby !" and gets smothered with 
 kisses, from which " mother" vainly en- 
 deavours to protect her. And so they go 
 on, till called by Matilda to a new game, 
 and "mother" bids them to "go and sit 
 down, and be good children, and not 
 make so much noise :" whereupon they 
 disperse to their chairs; two or three of 
 the least help up Samuel, who is least of 
 all, and " mother" desires them to "take 
 care, and mind he does not fall." Matilda 
 then gives him his pretty fish " to keep 
 him quiet ;" begins to dress the board for 
 a new game ; and once more they are 
 " as merry as grigs." 
 
 In contrast to the jocund pleasure of 
 children at a round game, take the pic- 
 ture of " old Sarah Battle," the whist- 
 player. " A clear fire, a clean hearth, 
 and the rigour of the game," was her ce- 
 lebrated wish. " She was none of your 
 'ukewarm gamesters, your half-and-half 
 players, who have no objection to take a 
 hand, if you want one to make up a rub- 
 ber ; who affirm that they have no plea- 
 sure in winning; that they like to win 
 one game, and lose another ; that they 
 can wile away an hour very agreeably at 
 a card-table, but are indifferent whether 
 'hey play or no ; and will desire an ad- 
 
 versary, who has slipt a wrong card, to 
 take it up and play another. Of such it 
 may be said that tliey do not play at 
 cards, but only play at playing at them. 
 Sarah Battle was none of that breed ; she 
 detested them from her heart and soul; 
 and would not, save upon a striking 
 emergency, willingly seat herself at the 
 same table with them. She loved a tho- 
 rough-paced partner, a determined enemy. 
 She took and gave no concessions ; she 
 hated favours ; she never made a revoke, 
 nor ever passed it over in her adversary, 
 without exacting the utmost forfeiture. 
 She sat bolt upright, and neither showed 
 you her cards, nor desired to see yours. 
 Ail people have their blind side — their 
 superstitions; and I have heard her de- 
 clare, under the rose, that Ilcaits was her 
 favourite suit. I never in my life (and I 
 knew Sarah Battle many of the best years 
 of it) saw her take out her snuflbox when 
 it was her turn to play, or snuff a candle 
 in the middle of a game, or ring for a ser- 
 vant till it was fairly over. She never 
 introduced, or connived at, miscellaneous 
 conversation during its process : as, she 
 emphatically observed, cards were cards. 
 A grave simplicity was what she chiefly 
 admired in her favourite game. There 
 was nothing silly in it, like the nob in 
 cribbage — nothing superfluou.i. To con- 
 fess a truth, she was never greatly taken 
 with cribbage. It was an essentially 
 vulgar game, I have heard her say, — dis- 
 puting with her uncle, who was very par- 
 tial to it. She could never heartily bring 
 her mouth to pronounce ' go,' or ' that's 
 a go.' She called it an ungrammatical 
 game. The pegging teased her. I once 
 knew her to forfeit a rubber, because she 
 would not take advantage of the turn-up 
 knave, which would have given it her, 
 but which she must have claimed by the 
 disgraceful tenure of declaring ' two for 
 his heels.' Sarah Battle was a gentle- 
 woman born.'' These, omitting a few 
 delicate touches, are her features by the 
 hand of Elm. " No inducement," he says, 
 " could ever prevail upon her to play at 
 her favourite game for nothing." And 
 then he adds, " With great deference to 
 the old Iddy's judgment on these matters, 
 I think I have experienced some moments 
 in my life when playing at cards for 
 nothing' has even been agreeable. When 
 J am in sickness, or not in the best spirits 
 I sometimes call for the cards, and play 
 a trame at piquet ^br love with my cousin 
 Bridget — Bridget E,lia " Cousin Bridget 
 
 4G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 12. 
 
 and the gentle Elia seem beings of that age 
 Vv'hereai lived Pamela, whom, with " old 
 >arah Battle," we may imagme enteiing 
 their room, and sitting down with them to 
 A square game. Yet Bridget and Elia live 
 m our own times : she, full cf kindness to 
 all, and of soothings to Elia especially; — he, 
 no less kind and consoling to Bridget, in 
 all simplicity holding converse with the 
 world, and, ever and anon, giving us scenes 
 mat Metzu and De Eoe would admire, 
 and portraits that Denner and Hogarth 
 would rise from their graves to paint. 
 
 Samiar|) 12. 
 
 St. Arcadius. St. Benedict Biscop, or 
 Bennet. St. JElred, Tygrius. 
 
 St. Benedict Biscop, or Bennet. 
 Butler says he was in the service of Oswi, 
 king of the Northumbrians ; that at twenty- 
 five years old he made a pilgrimage to 
 Rome, returned and carried Alcfrid, the 
 son of Oswi, back to the shrines of the 
 apostles there, became a monk, received 
 the abbacy of Sts. Peter and Paul, Canter- 
 bury, resigned it, pilgrimaged again to 
 Rome, brought home books, relics, and 
 religious pictures, ionnded the monastery 
 of Weremouth, went to Erance for 
 masons to build a church to it, obtained 
 glaziers from thence to glaze it, pil- 
 grimaged to Rome for more books, 
 relics, and pictures, built another mo- 
 nastery at Jarrow on the Tine, adorned 
 his churches with pictuies, instructed 
 his monks in the Gregorian chant and 
 Roman ceremonies, and died on this 
 day in 690. He appears to have had a 
 love for literature and the arts, and, with 
 a knowledge superior to the general 
 attainment of the religious in that early 
 age, to have rendered his knowiedge sub- 
 servient to the Romish church. 
 
 CHRONOLOGY 
 
 1807. Tlie 12th of January in that 
 year is rendered remarkable by a fatal 
 accident at Leyden, in Holland. A 
 vessel loaded with gunpowder entered 
 one of the largest canals in the Rapen- 
 burg, a stieet inhabited chiefly by the 
 most respectable families, and moored lo 
 a tree in front of the house of professor 
 Rau, of the university. In Holland, 
 almost every street has a canal iu the 
 middle, faced with a brick wall up to the 
 level of the street, and with lime trees 
 planted on both sides, which produce a 
 
 beautiful effect, and form a delightful 
 shade in hot weather. V'essels of ail 
 kinds are frequently moored to these 
 trees, but Leyden being an inland town, 
 the greater part of those which happened 
 to be in the Rapenburg were country 
 vessels. Several yachts, belonging to 
 parties of pleasure from the Hague and 
 other places, were lying close to the 
 newly arrived vessel, and no person was 
 aware of the destructive cargo it contained, 
 
 A student of the university, who, a.* 
 about a quarter past four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, was passing through a street 
 from which there was a vifiw of the Ra- 
 penburg, with the canal and vessels, 
 related the following paiticulars to the 
 editor of the Monthly Magazine : — 
 
 '' At that moment, when every thing 
 was perfectly tranquil, and most of the 
 respectable families were sitting down 
 to dinner in perfect security, at that 
 instant, I saw the vessel torn from its 
 moorings; a stream of fire burst fk'om 
 it in all directions, a thick, black cloud 
 enveloped all the surrounding parts and 
 darkened the heavens, whilst a burst, 
 louder and more dreadful than the 
 loudest thunder, instantly followed, and 
 vibrated through the air to a great dis- 
 tance, burying houses and churches in 
 one common ruin. Eor some moments 
 horror and consternation deprived every 
 one of his recollection, but an univer- 
 sal exclamation followed, of " O God, 
 what is it ?" Hundreds of people might 
 be seen rushing out of their falling 
 houses, and running along the streets, 
 not knowing what direction to take ; 
 many falling down on their knees in 
 the streets, persuaded that the last day 
 was come ; others supposed they had 
 been struck by lightning, and but few 
 seemed to conjecture the real cause. 
 ]n the midst of this awful uncertainty, 
 the cry of " O God, what is it .'" again 
 sounded mournfully through the air, but 
 it seemed as if none could answer the 
 dreadful question. One conjecture fol- 
 lowed another, but at last, when tlie 
 black thick cloud which had enveloped 
 I'ne whole city had cleared away a littl^ 
 ihe awful truth was revealed, and soon 
 all the inhabitants of the city were seta 
 rushing to the ruins to assist the sufiierers. 
 There were five large schools on the 
 Rapenburg, and all at the time full of 
 children. The horror of the parents and 
 relations of thpse youthful victims is not 
 to be described or even imugiued ; and 
 
 47 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 12. 
 
 though many of them were saved almost 
 miraculously, yet no one dared to hope 
 to see his child drawn alive from under 
 a heap of smoking ruins. 
 
 " Flames soon broke out from four 
 different parts of the ruins, and tlireat- 
 fined destruction to the remaining part 
 of Leyden. The multitude seemed as 
 it were animated with one common soul 
 in extricating the sufferers, and stopping 
 the progress of the flames. None with- 
 drew from the awful task, and the multi- 
 tude increased every moment by people 
 coming from the surrounding country, the 
 explosion having been heard at the dis- 
 tance of fifty miles. Night set in, the 
 darkness of which, added to the horrors 
 of falling houses, the smothered smoke, 
 the raging of the flames, and the roaring 
 of the winds on a tempestuous winter 
 night, produced a scene neither to be 
 described nor imagined ; while the heart- 
 rending cries of the suflerers, or the 
 lamentations of those whose friends or 
 children were under the ruins, broke 
 upon the ear at intervals. Many were 
 so entirely overcome with fear and 
 astonishment, that they stared about 
 them without taking notice of any thing, 
 while others seemed full of activity, but 
 incapable of directing their efforts to any 
 particular object." 
 
 In the middle of the night, Louis 
 Bonaparte, then king of Holland, arrived 
 from the palace of Loo, having set out as 
 soon as the express reached him with the 
 dreadful tidings. Louis was much be- 
 loved by his subjects, and his name is 
 still mentioned by them with great 
 respect. On this occasion his presence 
 was very useful. He encouraged the 
 active and comforted the sufferers, and 
 did not leave the place till he had esta- 
 blished good order, and promised every 
 assistance in restoring both public and pri- 
 vate losses. He immediately gave a large 
 sum of money to the city, and granted it 
 many valuable privileges, besides ex- 
 emption from imposts and taxes for a 
 number of years. 
 
 Some degree of order having been 
 restored, the inhabitants were divided 
 into classes, not according to their rank, 
 but the way in which they were em- 
 ployed about the ruins. These classes 
 were distinguished by bands of different 
 colours tied round their arms. The 
 widely extended ruins now assumed tiie 
 appearance of hills and valleys, covered 
 with multitudes of workmen, producing 
 
 to the eye an evej-varying scene of dif- 
 ferent occujiations. The keel of the 
 vessel in which the catastrophe com- 
 menced, was found buried deep in the 
 earth at a considerable distance, together 
 with the remains of a yacht from the 
 Hague with a party of pleasure, which 
 lay close to it. The anchor of the powder 
 vessel was found in a field without the 
 city, and a very heavy piece of lead at 
 the foot of the mast was thrown into a 
 street at a great distance. 
 
 One of the most affecting incidents 
 was the fate of the pupils of the diflferent 
 schools on the Rapenburg. At the 
 destructive moment, the wife of the 
 principal of the largest of them was 
 standing at the door with her child in 
 her arms ; she was instantly covered with 
 the falling beams and bricks, the child 
 was blown to atoms, and she was thrown 
 under a tree at some distance. Part of 
 the floor of the school-room sunk into the 
 cellar, and twelve children were killed 
 instantly ; the rest, miserably wounded, 
 shrieked for help, and one was heard to 
 call, " Help me, help me, I will give m.y 
 watch M my deliverer." Fathers and 
 mothers rushed from all parts of the city 
 to seek their children, but after digging 
 five hours they found their labour fruit- 
 less ; and some were even obliged to 
 leave the spot in dreadful suspense, to 
 attend to other near relations dug out in 
 other quarters. They at last succeeded, 
 by incredible efforts, in bringing • up 
 some of the children, but in such a state 
 that many of their parents could not 
 recognise them, and not a few were 
 committed to the grave without its being 
 known who they were. Many of these 
 children, both among the dead and those 
 who recovered, bled profusely, while no 
 wound could be discovered in any part 
 of their bodies. Others were preserved 
 in a wonderful manner, and without the 
 least hurt. Forty children were killed. 
 In some houses large companies were 
 assembled, and in one, a newly married 
 couple, from a distance, had met a 
 numerous party of their friends. One 
 person who was writing in a small room, 
 was driven through a window above tiie 
 door, into the staircase, and fell to 
 the bottom without receiving much hurt. 
 Many were preserved by the falling of 
 the beams or rafters in a particular 
 direction, which protected them, and 
 they remained for many hours, some for 
 a wliolc day and night A remarkable 
 
 48 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 13. 
 
 fact of this kind happened, when the 
 city of Delft was destroyed by an explo- 
 sion of gunpowder in 1654; a child, a 
 year old, was found two days afterwards 
 suckinsi an apple, and sitting under a 
 
 1573, and by tlie plague in 1624 and 
 1635, in which year 15,000 of the inha- 
 bitants were carried oft' within six months 
 In 1415 a convent was burnt, and most oi 
 the nuns perished in the flames. An ex- 
 
 beam, with just space left for its body, plosion of gunpowder, in 1481, destroyed 
 Two others at a little distance were in the council-chamber when full of people, 
 
 their cradles quite safe. At that time 
 almost the wliole of Delft was destroyed. 
 Leyden is as large a city, but not so 
 populous, as Rotterdam, the second city 
 in Holland. Upwards of two hundred 
 
 and killed most of the magistrates. 
 
 The misfortunes of this city have be- 
 come proverbial, and its very name has 
 given rise to a pun. " Leyden' is " Lij- 
 dcn ;" Leyden, the name of the city, and 
 
 houses were overthrown on this occasion, Lijden, (to suffer,) have the same pronun- 
 
 besides churches and public buildings ; ciation in the Dutch language. 
 
 the Stadt, or town-house, was among the 
 
 latter. The chirp of the crickets from the kit- 
 
 Oiie hundred and fifty-one dead bodies chen chimney breaks the silence of still 
 
 were taken from the ruins, besides many evenings in the winter. They come from 
 
 that died after. Upwards of two thou- the crevices, when the house is quiet, to 
 
 sand were wounded more or less danger- the warm hearth, and utter their shrill 
 
 ously. It is remarkable that none of the monotonous notes, to the discomfiture of 
 
 students of the university were either the nervous, and tlie pleasure of those 
 
 killed or wounded, though they all lodge who have sound minds in sound bodies. 
 
 in different parts of the city, or wherever This insect and the grasshopper are agree- 
 
 they please. Contributions were imme- ably coupled in a pleasing sonnet. The 
 
 diately began, and large sums raised 
 The king of Holland gave 30,000 gilders, 
 and the qiieen 10,000; a very large sum 
 was collected in London. 
 
 Leyden suffered dreadfully by siege in 
 
 " summoning brass" it speaks of, our 
 country readers well know, as an allusion 
 to the sounds usually produced from some 
 kitchen utensil of metal to assist in swarm- 
 ing the bees : — 
 
 To the Grasshcpper and the CritliiC. 
 Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, 
 
 Catching your heart up at the feel of June, 
 
 Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, 
 When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass ; 
 And you, warm little housekeeper, who class 
 
 With those who think the candles come too soon, 
 
 Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune 
 Kick the glad silent moments as tliey pass ; 
 Oh, sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, 
 
 One to the fields, the other to the hearth. 
 Both have your sunshine ; both, though small, are strong 
 
 At your clear hearts ; and both were sent on earth 
 To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song, — 
 
 In doors and out, summer and winter. Mirth. L. Hunt. 
 
 Bamiarp 13. 
 
 Cambridge Lent Term begins. 
 St. l^eronica of Milan. St. Kentigern. 
 St. Hilary. 
 llie festival of St. Hilary is not, at 
 this time, observed by the Romish church 
 until to-morrow, but it stands in old ca- 
 lendars, and in Randle Holmes's Herald- 
 ry, on this day, whereon it is also placed 
 in the English calendar, Butler says, he 
 was born at Poictiers, became bishop of 
 that rily, was a commentator on Scrip- 
 
 ture, an orator, a poet, wrote against the 
 Arians, was banislied for his orthodoxy, 
 but returned to Ids see, worked miiacles, 
 and died on the 13th of January, 368. 
 Ribadeneira says, that in a certain island., 
 uninhabitable by reason of venemous 
 serpents, they ffed from his holiness; that 
 he put up a stake as a boundary, com- 
 manding them not to pass it, and they 
 obeyed ; that he raised a dead child to 
 life, prayed bis daughter to death, and 
 did other astonishing things ; especially 
 after his decease, when two merchants 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 49 
 
 E 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 13 
 
 it their own cost and by way of venture, 
 offered an image at his shrine, but as one 
 begrudged the cost of his share, St. 
 llilary caused the image to divide from 
 top to bottom, while being offered, keep- 
 ing the one half, and rejecting the nig- 
 gard's moiety. The Golden Legend says, 
 that St. Hilary also obtained his wife's 
 death by his prayers ; and that pope Leo, 
 who was an Arian, said to him, " Thou 
 art Hilary the cock, and not the son of a 
 hen ;" whereat Hilary said, " I am no 
 cock, but a bishop in France ;" then said 
 the pope, " Thou art Hilary Gallus (sig- 
 nifying a cock) and I am Leo, judge of 
 the papal see ;" whereupon Hilary re- 
 plied, " If thou be Leo thou »>•* not (a 
 lion) of the tribe of juaa.*' After thi? 
 railing the pope died, and Hilary was 
 comforted. 
 
 ■S^. Veronica. 
 She was a nun, with a desire to live 
 always on bread and water, died in 1497, 
 and was canonized, after her claim to 
 sanctity was established to the satisfac- 
 tion of his holiness pope Leo X. 
 
 St. Kentigern. 
 He was bishop of Glasgow, with juris- 
 diction in Wales, and, according to But- 
 ler, " favoured with a wonderful gift of 
 miracles." Bishop Patrick, in his " De- 
 votions of the Romish Church,'' says, 
 " St. Kentigern had a singular way of 
 kindling fire, which / could never have 
 hit upon." Being in haste to light can- 
 dles for vigils, and some, who bore a 
 spite to him, having put out all the fire 
 in the monastery, he snatched the green 
 bough of an hazel, blessed it, blew upon 
 it, the bough produced a great flame, and 
 he lighted his candles : " whence we 
 may conjecture," says Patrick, " that 
 tinder-boxes are of a later invention than 
 St. Kentigern's days." 
 
 THE LAW TERMS. 
 
 Term is derived from Terminus, the 
 heathen god of boundaries, landmarks, 
 and limits of time. In the early ages o( 
 Christianity the whole year was one con- 
 tinued term for hearing and deciding 
 causes ; but after the establishment of 
 the Romish church, the daily dispensa- 
 tion of justice was prohibited by canoni- 
 cal authority, that the festivals might be 
 l ept holy. 
 
 Advent and Christmas occasioned the 
 
 winter vacation ; Lent and Easter the 
 
 oring ; l^entecost the third ; and liay- 
 
 time and harvest, the long vacation be 
 tween Midsummer and Michaelmas. 
 
 Each term is denominated from the 
 festival day immediately preceding its 
 commencement ; hence we have the terms 
 of St. Hilary, Easter, the Holy Trinity, 
 and St. Michael. 
 
 There are in each term stated days 
 called dies in banco, (days in bank,) that 
 is, days of appearance in the court of 
 common bench. They are usually about 
 a week from each other, and have refer- 
 ence to some Romish festival. All ori- 
 ginal writs are returnable on these days, 
 and they are therefore called the return 
 days. 
 
 The first return in every term is, pro- 
 perly speaking, the first day of the 
 term. For instance, the octave of St. 
 Hilary, or the eighth day, inclusive, after 
 the saint's feast, falls on the 20th of Ja- 
 nuary, because his feast is on the 13th of 
 January. On the 20th, then, the court sits 
 to take essoigns, or excuses for non-ap- 
 pearance to the writ ; " but," says Black- 
 stone, " as our ancestors held it beneath 
 the condition of a fieeman to appear or 
 to do any thing at the precise time ap- 
 pointed," the person summoned has three 
 days of grace beyond the day named in 
 the writ, and if he appear on the fourth 
 day inclusive it is sufficient. Therefore 
 at the beginning of each term the court 
 does not sit for despatch of business till 
 the fourth, or the appearance day, which 
 is in Hilary term, for instance, on the 
 23d of January. In Trinity term it does 
 not sit till the fifth day ; because the 
 fourth falls on the great Roman catholic 
 festival of Corpus Christi. The first ap- 
 pearance day therefore in each term is 
 called the first day of the term ; and the 
 court sits till the qumto die post, or ap- 
 pearance day of the last return, or end of 
 the term. 
 
 In each term there is one day whereon 
 the courts do not transact business ; 
 namely, on Candlemas day, in Hilary 
 term ; on Ascension day, in Easter term ; 
 on Midsummer day, in Trinity terra ; 
 and on All Saints' day, in Michaelmas 
 term. These are termed Grand days in 
 the inns of court ; and Gaudy days at 
 the two universities ; they are observed 
 as Collar days at the king's court of St. 
 James's, for on these days, knights wear 
 the collars of their respective orders 
 
 An old January journal contains a re- 
 markable anecdote relative to the decease 
 
 50 
 
J HE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 14 
 
 of a M. Foscue, one of the farmers-gene- 
 ra) of the province of Eanguednc He 
 had amassed considerable wealth by 
 means which rendered him an object of 
 nniversal detestation. One day he was 
 ordered by the government to raise a 
 considerable sum : as an excuse for not 
 complying with the demand, he pleaded 
 extreme poverty ; and resolved on hiding 
 his treasure in such a manner as to escape 
 detection. He dug a kind of a cave in 
 his wine-cellar, which he made so large 
 ^nd deep, that he used to go down to it 
 with a ladder ; at the entrance of it was 
 a door with a spring lock on it, which 
 on shutting would fasten of itself. He 
 was suddenly missed, and diligent search 
 made after him ; ponds were drawn, and 
 every suggestion adopted that could rea- 
 sonably lead to his discovery, dead or 
 alive. In a short time after, his house 
 was sold; and the purchaser beginning to 
 make some al'erations, the workmen dis- 
 covered a door in the wine-cellar with a 
 Key in the lock. On going down they 
 found Foscue lying dead on the ground, 
 with a candlestick near him, but no can- 
 dle in it. On searching farther, they 
 found the vast weaUh that he had amass- 
 ed. It is supposed, that, when he had 
 entered his cave, the door had by some 
 accident shut after him ; and thus being 
 out of the call of any person, he perish- 
 ed for want of food, in the midst of his 
 treasure. 
 
 SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER. 
 
 The hollow winds begin to blov ; 
 Tlie clouds look black, tlie glasx is low ; 
 The suot falls down, the spaniels sleep; 
 J nd spiders from their cobwebs peep. 
 Last night the sjdi went pale la bed ; 
 The moon in halos hid her head. 
 The boding shepherd heaves a sigh. 
 For, see, a rainbow spans the sky. 
 The walls are damp, the ditches smell, 
 Closed is the pink-ey'd pimpernel 
 Hark '. how the chairs and tables crack. 
 Old Betty s joints are on the rack : 
 Her corns with shooting pains torment her. 
 And to her bed untimely send her. 
 Loud quack the ducks, the sea fowl cry. 
 The distant hills are looking nigh. 
 How restless are the snorting swine .' 
 The busy Jlies disturb the kine. 
 tow o'er the grass the swallow wivgs 
 The cricket too, how sharp he sings ! 
 Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws. 
 Sits wiping o'er her whisker' d Jaws. 
 The smoke from chimneys right ascends 
 Then spreading, back to earth it bends. 
 
 The wind unsteady veers arounn, 
 
 Or settling in the South is found. 
 
 Through the clear stream the fishes rise, 
 
 And nimbly catch the incautious 7?iM. 
 
 The glow-worms num'rous, clear and bright, 
 
 Jllunid the dewy hill last night. 
 
 At dusk the squalid toad was seen. 
 
 Like quadi-nped, stalk o'er the green. 
 
 The whirling wind the dust obeys, 
 
 And in the rapid eddy plays. 
 
 The frog has cliang'd his yellow vest. 
 
 And in a russet coat is drest. 
 
 The sky is green, the air is still. 
 
 The melloiu blackbird's voice is shrill. 
 
 The dog, so alter'd is his taste. 
 
 Quits mutton-bones, on grass to feast. 
 
 15ehold the rooks, how odd their flight 
 
 They imitate the gliding kite. 
 
 And seem precipitate to fall. 
 
 As if they felt the piercing ball. 
 
 The tender colts on back do lie, 
 
 Nor heed the traveller passing by. 
 
 In fiery red the sun doth rise, 
 
 'I'hen wades through clouds to mount the 
 
 skies. 
 'Twill surely rain, we see't with sorrow. 
 No working in the fitlds to-morrow. 
 
 JJarwtn, 
 
 Samiai*p 14. 
 
 Oxford Lent Term begins. 
 
 St. Hilar]/. St.s. Felix. Sts. Isaias and 
 
 Sabbas. St. Barbasceminus, iSfc. 
 
 St. Felix of Nola, an exorcist, and af- 
 terwards a priest, was, according to 
 Butler and Ribadeneira, a great miracu- 
 list. He lived under Decius, in 230 ; 
 being fettered and dungeoned in a cell, 
 covered with potsherds and broken glass, 
 a resplendent angel, seen by the saint 
 alone, because to him only was he sent, 
 freed him of his chains and guided him 
 to a mountain, where bishop Maximus, 
 aged and frozen, lay for dead, whom 
 Felix recovered by praying ; for, straight- 
 way, he saw a bramble bear a bunch of 
 grapes, with the juice whereof he re- 
 covered the bishop, and taking him on his 
 back carried him home to his diocese. 
 Being pursued by pagans, he fled to 
 some ruins and crept through a hole in 
 the wall, which spiders closed with their 
 webs before the pagans got up to it, and 
 there lay for six months miraculously 
 supported. According to the Legend, his 
 body, for ages after his death, distilled a 
 licjuor that cured diseases. 
 
 Chronology. 
 In January, 1784, died suddenly in 
 Macclesfield-slreet, Soho, aged 79, Sam 
 
 51 
 
THE EVERY-DAf BOOK.— JANUARY 15. 
 
 Crisp, esq., a relation of the celebrated 
 sir Nicholas Crisp. Tnere was a remark- 
 able singularity in the character of this 
 gentleman. He was a bachelor, had 
 been formerly a broker in 'Change-alley, 
 and many years since had retired from 
 business, with an easy competency. His 
 daily amusement, for fourteen years before, 
 was going from London to Greenwich, 
 and immediately returning from thence, 
 in the stage ; for which he paid regularly 
 £27 a year. He was a good-humoured, 
 obliging, and facetious companion, al- 
 ways paying a particular attention, and 
 a profusion of compliments, to the la- 
 dies, especially to those who were agree- 
 able. He was perpetually projecting 
 some little schemes for the benefit of the 
 public, or, to use his own favourite 
 maxim, pro bono publico ; he was the iri- 
 stitutor of the Lactarium in St. George's 
 Fields, and selected the Latin mottoes for 
 the facetious Mrs. Henniver, who got a 
 little fortune there. He projected the 
 mile and half stones round London ; and 
 teased the printers of newspapers into 
 the plan of letter-boxes. He was re- 
 markably humane and benevolent, and, 
 without the least ostentation, performed 
 many generous and charitable actions, 
 which would have dignified a more a.n- 
 ple fortune. 
 
 THE WINTER ROBIN 
 
 A suppliant to your window comes, 
 
 Who trusts your faith, and fears no guile : 
 
 He claims admittance for your crumbs, 
 And reads his passport in your smile. 
 
 For cold and cheerless is the day. 
 And he has sought the hedges round ; 
 
 No berry hangs upon the spray, 
 
 Nor worm, nor ant-egg, can be found. 
 
 Secure his suit will be preferred. 
 No fears his slender i'eet deter ; 
 
 For sacred is the household bird 
 Tkat wears the scarlet stomacher. 
 
 Charlotte Smith, 
 
 S^anuarp 15. 
 
 St. Paul, the first Hermit. St. Maurus. 
 St. Main. St. John, Calybite. St. Isi- 
 dore. St. Bonitus. St . Ita, ox Mida 
 
 St. Panl, A. D. 342. 
 The life of St. Paul, the first hermit, is 
 said, by Butler, to liave been written by 
 St. Jerome in 305, who received an ac- 
 count of it from St. Anthony and others. 
 According to him, when twenty-two years 
 old, St Paul fled from the persecution of 
 
 Decius to a cavern, near which grew a 
 palm-tree, that supplied him with leaves 
 for clothing, and fruit for food, till he was 
 forty-three yeais of age ; after which he was 
 daily fed by a raven till he was ninety, 
 and then died. St. Anthony, in his old 
 age, being tempted by vanity, imagined 
 himself the first hermit, till the contrary- 
 was revealed to him in a dream, wherefore, 
 the next morning, he set out in search 
 of St. Paul. " St. Jerome relates from 
 his authors," says Butler, " that he met a 
 centaur, or creature, not with the nature 
 and properties, but with something of the 
 niixt shape of man and horse ; and that 
 this monster, or phantom of the devil, 
 (St. Jerome pretends not to determine 
 which it was,) upon his making the sign of 
 the cross, fled away, after pointing out 
 the way to the saint. Our author (St. 
 Jerome) adds, that St. Anthony soon after 
 met a satyr, who gave him to understand 
 that he was an inhabitant of those deserts, 
 and one of the sort whom the deluded 
 gentiles adored for gods." Ribade- 
 neira describes this satyr as with writhed 
 nostrils, two little horns on his forehead, 
 and the feet of a goat. After two days' 
 search, St. Anthony found St. Paul, and a 
 raven brought a loaf, whereupon they 
 took their corporal refection. The next 
 morning, St. Paul told him he was going 
 to die, and bid him fetch a cloak given to 
 St. Anthony by St. Athanasius, and wrap 
 his body in it. St. Anthony then knew, 
 that St. Paul must have been informed of 
 the cloak by revelation, and went forth 
 from the desert to fetch it ; but before his 
 return, St. Paul had died, and St. Anthony 
 found two lions digging his grave with 
 their claws, wherein he buried St. Paul, 
 first wrapping him in St. Athanasius's 
 cloak, and preserving, as a great treasure, 
 St. Paul's garment, made of palm-tree 
 leaves, stitched together. How St.Jerome, 
 in his conclusion of St. Paul's life, praises 
 this garment, may be seen in Ribadeneira. 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 A writer, who signs himself " Crito" in 
 the " Truth Teller," No. 15, introduces us 
 to an honest enthusiast, discoursing to his 
 hearers on the s7ioic-drop of the season, 
 and other otferings from Flora, to the roll- 
 ing year. " Picture to your imagination, a 
 poor, * dirty' mendicant, of the order of St. 
 Francis, who had long prayed and fasted 
 in his sanctuary, and long laboured in his 
 garden, issuing out on the morning of his 
 first pilgrimage, without money and with- 
 
 52 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY ROOK.— JANUARY 15. 
 
 out pi o visions, clad in ids mantle and 
 hood, ' like a sad votarist in palmer's 
 weeds ;' and thus, and in these words, 
 taking leave of the poor flock who lived 
 found his gothic habitation. — ' Fellow- 
 men, I owe you nothing, and I give you 
 all ; you neither paid rae tithe nor rent, 
 yet I have bestowed on you food and 
 clothing in poverty, medicine in sickness, 
 and spiritual counsel in adversity. That 
 I might do all these things, I have de- 
 voted my life in the seclusion of those 
 venerable walls. There I have consulted 
 the sacred books of our church for your 
 spiritual instruction and the good of your 
 souls ; to clothe you, I have sold the em- 
 broidered garment, and have put on the 
 habit of mendicity. In the intercalary 
 moments of my canonical hours of prayer, 
 r have collected together the treasures of 
 Flora, and gathered from her plants the 
 useful arts of physic, by which you have 
 been benefited. Ever mindful of the use- 
 ful object of the labour to which I had 
 condemned myself, I have brought toge- 
 ther into the garden of this priory, the 
 lily of the valley and the gentian of 
 the mountain, the nymphaea of the lake, 
 and the cliver of the arid bank ; in 
 short, I have collected the pilewort, the 
 t'lroatwort, the liverwort, and every other 
 vegetable specific which the kind hand of 
 ;jature has spread over the globe, and 
 aMcIi I have designated by their qualities. 
 
 and have con'erted to your use and be- 
 nefit. Mindfui also of the pious festivals 
 which our church prescribes, I have 
 sought to mal e these charming objects of 
 floral nature, the timepieces of my 
 religious ca'endar, and the mementos of 
 the hastening period of my mortality. 
 Tlius I can light the taper to our Virgin 
 ■Mother on theblowingof the white snow- 
 drop, which opens its floweret at the time 
 of Candlemas ; the lady's smock and the 
 dafl'odil remind me of the Annunciation ; 
 the blue harebell, of the festival of St. 
 George ; the ranunculus, of the Invention 
 of the Cross ; the scarlet lychnis, of St. 
 John the Baptist's day; the white lily, 
 of the Visitation of our Lady ; and the 
 virgin's bower, of her Assumption ; ind 
 Michaelmas, Martinmas, Holy Rood and 
 Christmas, have all their appropriate mo- 
 nitors. I learn the time of day from the 
 shutting of the blossoms of the star of 
 Jerusalem and the dandelion, and the 
 hour of the night by the stars."' 
 
 From kind feelings to the benevolence 
 of the Franciscan mendicant's address, 
 which we may suppose ourselves to have 
 just heard, we illustrate something of his 
 purpose, by annexing the rose, the tulip, 
 and the passion-flower, after an engrav- 
 ing by a catholic artist, who has impressed 
 them with devotional monograms, and 
 symbols of his faith. 
 
 RtRAL MVSIKCS. 
 
 Margaret. — What sports do you use in the forest ? — 
 
 Si7»on. — N'ot many ; some few, aethus : — 
 To see the sun to bed, and to arise, 
 Like some hot amourist with glowing eyes, 
 Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that hound him. 
 With all his fiiesand travelling glories round him : 
 Sometimes the moon on softn^ght clouds to rest, 
 Like beauty nestling in a young man's breast, 
 And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keep 
 Admiring silence, while those lovers sleep, 
 Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness, 
 ^Naught doing, saying little, thinking less, 
 To view the leaves thin dancers upon air, 
 Go eddying round ; and small birds, how they faie. 
 
 53 
 
•niE EVERY-DAY BOOK —JANUARY 16. 
 
 When moiher Autumn fills iheir beaks with corn, 
 Filch'd fiom the careless Amalthea's horn ; 
 And how the woods berries and worms provide 
 Without their pains, when earth has naught beside 
 To answer their small wants C. I.amb. 
 
 ianuarp 16. 
 
 St Marcellus, Pope. St. Macarius the 
 
 elder, of Egypt. St. Honorutus. St. 
 
 Fursey. St. Henry, Hermit, Sec. 
 St. Marcellus, Pope. 
 
 According to Butler, he was so strict 
 in penance, that the Christians disliked 
 him ; he was banished by Maxentius, " for 
 his severity against a certain apostate ;" 
 and died pope in 310. 
 
 WINTER UAiNBow 111 Ireland. 
 
 In the first of the " Letters from the 
 Irish Islands," in 1823, the writer address- 
 es to his friend, a description of the rain- 
 bow on the hills at this season of the year, 
 lie says, " I could wish (provided I could 
 ensure you one fine day in the course of 
 the week) that you were here, to enjoy, in 
 rapid succession, and, with all its wild 
 magnificence, the whirlwind, the tempest, 
 [he ocean's swell, and, as Burns beautifully 
 expresses it. 
 
 Some gleams of sunshine, 'mid renewing 
 storms. 
 To-day there have been fine bright in- 
 tervals, and, while returning from a hasty 
 ride, I have been greatly delighted w'th 
 the appearance of a rainbow, gradually 
 advancing before the lowering clouds, 
 sweeping with majestic stride across the 
 troubled ocean, then, as it gained the 
 beach, and seemed almost within my 
 grasp, vanishing amid the storm, of wliich 
 it had been the lovely, but treacherous, 
 forerunner. It is, I suppose, a conse- 
 quence of our situation, and the close 
 connection between sea and mountain,that 
 the rainbows here are so frequent, and so 
 peculiarly beautiful. Of an amazing 
 breadth, and with colours vivid beyond 
 description, I know not whether most to 
 admire this aerial phenomenon, when, 
 suspended in the western sky, one end of 
 the bow sinks behind the island of Boffin, 
 while, at the distance of several leagues, 
 the other rests upon the misty hills of 
 Ennis Turc ; or when, at a later hour of the 
 day, it has appeared stretched across the 
 ample sides of Miilbrea, penetrating far 
 into the deep blue waters that flow at 
 lis base. With feelings of grateful recol- 
 lection too, we may hail the repeated visits 
 of this heavenly messenger, occasionally, 
 as often as five or six times in the course 
 
 of the same day, in a country exposed to 
 such astonishing, and, at times, almost in- 
 cessant floods of rain.'' 
 
 Behold yon bright, ethereal bow. 
 With evanescent beauties glow ; 
 The spacious arch streams through the sky, 
 Deck'd with each tint of nature's dye, 
 Refracted sunbeams, through the shower, 
 A humid radiance from it pour ; 
 Whilst colour into colour fades. 
 With blended lights and softening shades. 
 Athen^um 
 
 " It is a happy effect of extreme mild- 
 ness and moisture of climate, that most of 
 our hills (in Ireland) are covered with 
 grass to a considerable height, and afford 
 good pasturage both in summer and win- 
 ter. The grasses most abundant are the 
 dogstail, (cynosurus cristatus,) several 
 species of the meadow grass, (poa,) ths 
 fescue, (festuca duriuscula and pratensis,) 
 ?iid particularly the sweet-scented vernal 
 grass, (anthoxanthum odoratum,) which 
 abounds in the dry pastures, and moun- 
 tain sides ; where its withered blossoms, 
 which it is remarkable that the cattle dc 
 not eat, give a yellowish brown tint to the 
 whole pasture. Our bog lands are over- 
 run with the couch, or fiorin grass, (agros- 
 tis stolonifera,) several other species of 
 the agrostis, and the aira. This is, in- 
 deed, the country for a botanist ; and one 
 so indefatigable as yourself, would not 
 hesitate to venture with us across the rushy 
 bog, where you would be so well rewarded 
 for the labour of springing from one knot 
 of rushes to another, by meeting with 
 the fringed blossoms of the bog-bean, 
 (menyanthes trifoliata,) the yellow aspho- 
 del, (narthecium ossifragum,) the pale bog 
 violet, (viola palustris,) both species of the 
 pinguicula, and of the beautiful drosera, 
 the English fly-trap, spreading its devy 
 leaves glistening in the sun. I could also 
 point out to you, almost hid in the moist 
 recesses of some dripping rock, the pretty 
 miniature fern, (trichomanes Tunbridgen- 
 sis,) ■^hich ^'^u may remember showing me 
 for the first tune at Tvmbridge Wells : the 
 osmunda lunaria and regalis are also to be 
 found, with other ferns, mosses, and li- 
 chens, which it is far beyond my botanical 
 skill to distinguish. — The man of science, 
 to whatever branch of natural history his 
 attention is directed, will indeed find 
 
 51 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— J AINU A IIY 17 
 
 never-failins sources of gratification, in 
 exploring paths, hitherto ahnost untrod- 
 den, in our wild country. Scarcely a 
 county in England is without its peculiar 
 Flora, almost every hill and every valley 
 have been subject to repeated, scientitic 
 examination ; while the productions of 
 nature, so bountifully accorded to pooi 
 Ireland, are either unknown or disre- 
 garded." 
 
 A SEASONABLE DIVERSION. 
 
 From the many games of forfeits that 
 are played in parlours during in-door 
 weather, one is presented to the peiusal 
 of youthful readers liom " Winter Even- 
 ing Pastimes." 
 
 Aunty's Garden. 
 
 " The company being all seated in a 
 circle, the person who is to conduct the 
 game proposes to the party to repeat, in 
 turns, the speech he is about to make ; 
 and it is agreed that those who commit 
 any mistake, or substitute one word for 
 another, shall pay a forfeit. The player 
 then commences by saying, distinctly, 
 ' 1 am jus* come from my aunt Debo- 
 rah's garden. Bless me ! what a fine 
 garden is my aunt's garden ! In my 
 aunt's garden there are four corners.' 
 The one seated to the player's light is to 
 repeat this, word for word : if his memory 
 fails he pays a forfeit, and gives up his 
 tuin to his next right-hand neighbour, not 
 being permitted to correct his mistake. 
 
 When this has gone all round, the con- 
 ductor repeats the first speech, and adds 
 the following : 
 ' In the first corner stands a superb alater- 
 
 nus. 
 Whose shade, in the dog-days, won't let the 
 sun burn u«.* 
 *' This couplet having been sent round 
 as before, he then adds the following : 
 ' In the second corner grows 
 A bush which boars a yellow rose : 
 \Vould I might my love (-isclose 1' 
 
 " This passes round in like manner: 
 " la the third corner Jane show'd ine much 
 
 London pride ; 
 Let your mouth to your next neighbour's 
 
 ear be applied, 
 And quick to his keeping a secret confide." 
 
 " At this period of the game every one 
 must tell his right-hand neighbour some 
 secret. 
 
 In the fourth round, after repeating the 
 whole of the former, he concludes thus : 
 ' Jn the fourth corner doth appear 
 
 Of amaranths a crowd ; 
 Each secret whisper'd in the ear 
 Must now be told aloud.' 
 
 " Those who are unacquainted with thi.s 
 game occasionally feel not a little embar- 
 rassed at this conclusion, as the secrets 
 revealed by their neighbour may be such 
 as they would not like to be published to 
 the whole party. Those who are aware 
 of this finesse take care to make theii 
 secrets witty, comic, or complimentary." 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 This is the eldest of the seasons : he 
 
 Moves not like Spring with gradual step, nor grows 
 
 From bud to beauty, but with all his snows 
 Comes down at once in hoar antiquity. 
 No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests flee 
 
 Before him, nor unto his time belong 
 
 The suns of summer, nor the charms of song, 
 That with May's gentle smiles so well agree. 
 But he, made perfect in his birthday cloud. 
 
 Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound, 
 
 And with a tender footstep prints the ground, 
 As tho' to cheat man's ear ; yet while he stays 
 He seems as 'twere to prrmpt our merriest lays. 
 And bid the dance and joke be long and loud. 
 
 Literary Pocket Book, 1620. 
 
 St. Anthony, Patriarch of Moi.-ks. Sfs. 
 Speusippus, Eleuxippus, and Melensip- 
 pns. Sts. Sulpichis I. and II., Abps. 
 of Bourges. St. Milgithe. St. Nen- 
 nius, or Nennidhiu.'i. 
 
 St. .Anthony, Patriarch of Monks. 
 ITie memoirs of St. Anthony mak*- a 
 distinguished figure in the lives of the 
 saints by Alban Butler, who states the 
 particulars to have been extracted from 
 " The Life of St. Anthony," compiled by 
 the great St Athanasius ; " a work," says 
 
 55 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK. - JANUARY 17. 
 
 Butler, " much commended by St. Gre- 
 gory Nazianzen, St. Jerom, St. Austin," 
 &c. This statement hy Butler, whose 
 biographical labours are estimated by ca- 
 tholics as of the highest order, and the ex- 
 traordinary temptations which rendc the 
 life of St. Anthony eminently remarkab e, 
 require at least so much notice of him, as 
 may enable the general reader to dete - 
 mine upon the qualities attributed to him, 
 and the reputation his name has attained 
 in consequence. 
 
 According to Butler, St. Anthony was 
 born in 251, at Coma near Heraclea in 
 Egypt, and in thai neighbourhood com- 
 menced the life of a hermit : he was con- 
 tinually assailed by the devil. His only 
 food was bread with a little salt, he drank 
 nothing but water, never ate before sun- 
 set, sometimes only once in two or four 
 days, and lay on a rush mat or on the 
 bare floor. For further solitude he left 
 Coma, and hid himself in an old sepul- 
 chre, till, in 285, he withdrew into the de- 
 serts of the mountains, from whence, i-i 
 305, he descended and founded his first 
 monastery. His under garment was sack- 
 cloth, with a white sheepskin coat and 
 girdle Butler says that he " was taught 
 to apply himself to manual labour by an 
 angeljWho appeared, platting mats of palm- 
 tree leaves, then rising to pray, and after 
 some time sitting down again to work ; 
 ar 1 who at length said to him, ' Do this, 
 and thou shall be saved.' The life, at- 
 tributed by Butler to St. Athanasius, in- 
 forms us that our saint continued in some 
 degree to pray whilst he was at work ; 
 that he detested the Arians ; that he would 
 not speak to a heretic unless to exhort him 
 to the true faith ; and that he drove all 
 such from his mountain, calling them ve- 
 nomous serpents. He was very anxious 
 that after his decease he should not be 
 embalmed, and being one hundred and 
 five years old, died in 356, having be- 
 queathed one of his sheepskins, with the 
 coat in which he lay, to St. Athanasius." 
 So far Butler. 
 
 St. Athanasius, or rather the life of ?t, 
 Anthony before alluded to, which, not- 
 withstanding Butler's authorities, may be 
 doubted as the product of Athanasius; 
 but, however that may be, that memoir of 
 St. Anthony is veiy particular in its ac- 
 coimt of St. Anthony's warfare with the 
 infernal powers. It says that hostilities 
 commenced when the saint first deter- 
 mined on hermitizing ; " in short, the de- 
 vil raiii-d a great deal of dust in hi.s 
 
 thoughts, that by bemudding and dis- 
 ordering his intellects he might make 
 St. Anthony let go his design." In his 
 first conflict with the devil he was vic- 
 torious, although satan ajtpeared to him 
 in an alluring shape, ^;ext he came in 
 the form of a black boy, and was atiain 
 defeated. After that Anthony g(.t into a 
 tomb and shut down the top, but the devil 
 found him out, and, with a great company 
 of other devils, so beat and bruised him, 
 that in the morning he was discovered by 
 the person who brought his bread, lying 
 like a dead man on the ground ; where- 
 upon he took him up and carried him to 
 the town church, where many of his 
 friends sat by him until midnight. An- 
 thony then coming to himself and seeing 
 all asleep, caused the person who brought 
 him thither to carry him back privately, 
 and again got into the tomb, shutting 
 down the tomb-top as before. Upon this, 
 the devils being very much exasperated, 
 one night, made a noise so dreadful, 
 that the walls shook. " They trans- 
 formed themselves into the shapes of 
 all sorts of beasts, li; ns, bears, leopards, 
 bulls, serpents, asps, scorpions and wolves; 
 every one of which moved and acted 
 agreeably to the creatures which they re- 
 presented ; the lion roaring and seeming j 
 to make towards him, the bull to butt, the I 
 serpent to creep, and the wolf to run at ; 
 him, and so in short all the rest ; so that I 
 Anthony was tortured and mangled by 
 them so grievously that his bodily pain 
 was greater than before." But, as it were 
 laughmgly, he taunted them, and the de- 
 vils gnashed their teeth. This continued 
 till the roof of his cell opened, a beam of 
 light shot down, the devils became speech- 
 less, Anthony's pain ceased, and the roof 
 closed again. At one time the devil laid 
 the semblance of a large piece of plate in 
 his way, but Anthony, perceiving the devii 
 in the dish, chid it, and the plate disap- 
 peared. At another time he saw a quan- 
 tity of real gold on the ground, and to 
 show the devil " that he did not value 
 money, he leaped over it as a man in a 
 fright over a fire." Having secluded him- 
 self in an empty castle, some of his ac- I 
 quaintance c mie often to see him, but in 
 vain; he would not let them enter, and 
 they remained whole days and nights 
 listening to a tumultuous rout of devils | 
 bawling and wailing within. He lived \l 
 that state for twenty years, never seemg or 
 being seeti by any one, till hit, friends 
 broke open the door, and " the specta 
 
 56 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JANUARY \7. 
 
 tors were in amazemeni to soe his body 
 tdal had been so belaboured by devils, 
 m the same shape in which it was before 
 i»is retirement." By wav of a caution to 
 
 others he related the practices of the de- 
 vils, ind hovv they aj.peared. lie said 
 that, " to scare us, they will represen* 
 tliemselves so tall as to touch the ceiling. 
 
 and proporlionably broad ; they often pre- 
 tend to sing psalm.s and cite the scrip- 
 tures, and sometimes while we are read- 
 ing they echo what we read ; sometimes 
 titey stamp, sometimes they laugh, and 
 sometimes they hiss : but when one re- 
 g-drdh uieiii not, then they weep and la- 
 
 ment, as vanquished. Once, when iney 
 came threatening- and surrounding me 
 like soldiers, accoutred and horsed, and 
 again when they filled the place with 
 wild beasts and creeping things, 1 sung 
 Psalm xix. 8., and they were presently 
 •outed. Another time, v\heu they a^>- 
 
 57 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 17. 
 
 ppared with a light in the dark, and said, 
 ' We are come, Anthony, to lend thee our 
 light,' I prayed, shutting my eyes, because 
 1 disdained to behold their light, and 
 presently their light was put out. After 
 this they came and hissed and danced, 
 but as I prayed, and lay along singing, 
 they presently began to wail and weep as 
 though they were spent. Once there 
 came a devil very tall in appearance, that 
 dared to say, ' What woi.ldst thou have 
 me bestow upon thee ?' but I spat upon 
 him and endeavoured to beat him, and, 
 great as he was, he disappeared with the 
 rest of the devils. Once one of them 
 knocked at the door of my cell, and when 
 I opened it I saw a tall figure ; and when 
 I asked him, 'Who art thou?' he answered, 
 'I am satan ; Why do the monks blame 
 and curse me ? I hav» no longer a place 
 or a city, and now the desert is filled with 
 monks ; let them not curse one to no 
 purpose.' 1 said to him, 'Thou art a liar,' 
 &c. and he disappeared." A deal more 
 than this he is related to have said by his 
 biographer, who affirms that Anthony, 
 " having been prevailed upon to go into 
 a vessel and pray with the monks, he, and 
 he only, perceived a wretched and terri- 
 ble stink ; the company said there was 
 some salt hsh in the vessel, but tie per- 
 ceived another kind of scent, and while 
 he was speaking, a young man that had 
 a devil, and who had entered before them 
 and hid himself, cried out, and the devil 
 was rebuked by St Anthony and came 
 out of him, and then they all knew that 
 it was the devil that stunk." — " Wonder- 
 ful as these things are, there are stranger 
 things yet ; for once, as he was going to 
 pray, he was in a rapture, and (which is a 
 paradox) as soon as he stood up, he saw 
 himself without himself, as it were in the 
 air, and some bitter and terrible beings 
 standing by him in the air too, but the 
 angels, his guardians, withstood them." — 
 "He had also anothei particular favour, 
 for as he was sitting on the mount in a 
 praying posture, and perhaps gravelled 
 with some doubt relating to himself, in 
 the night-time, one called to him, and 
 said, 'Anthony, arise, go forth and look ;' 
 so he went out and saw a certain terrible, 
 deformed personage standing, and reach- 
 ing to the clouds, and winged creatures, 
 and him stretching out his hands ; and 
 some of them he saw were stopped by 
 him, and others were flying beyond him ; 
 whereupon the tall one gnashed his teeth, 
 nnd Anthony perceived that it v/as the 
 
 enemy of souls, who seizes on those whr 
 are accountable to him, but cannot reach 
 those who are not persuadable by him." 
 His biographer declares that the devils 
 fled at his word, as fast as from a whip. 
 
 It appears from lady Morgan, that at 
 the confectioners' in Rome, on twelfth- 
 day, " saints melt in the mouth, and 
 the temptations of St, Anthony are easily 
 digested." 
 
 Alban Butler says that there is an ex- 
 tant sermon of St. Anthony's wherein he 
 extols the eflicacy of the sign of the cross 
 for chasing the devil, and lays down rules 
 for the discernment of spirits. There is 
 reason to believe that he could not read ; 
 St. Austin thinks that he did not know 
 the alphabet. He wore his habit to his 
 dying day, neither washing the dirt off 
 his body, nor so much as his feet, unless 
 they were wet by chance when he waded 
 through water on a journey. The Jesuit 
 Ribadeneira affirms, that " all the world 
 relented and bemoaned his death for 
 afterwards there fell no rain from heaven 
 for three years." 
 
 The Engraving of Sr. Aktiiony co7i- 
 Jlicting tvith the Devil, in the present 
 sheet, is after Salvator Rosa. 
 
 Saints' bodies appear, from the Romish 
 writers, to have waited undecomposed in 
 their graves till their odour of sanctity 
 rendered it necessary that their remains 
 should be sought out ; and their bodies 
 were sure to be found, after a few centu- 
 ries ofsburial, as fresh as if they had been 
 interred a few weeks. Hence it is, that 
 though two centuries elapsed before An- 
 thony's was looked for, yet his grave was 
 not only discovered, but his body was 
 in the customary preservation. It was 
 brought to Europe through a miracle. 
 One Joceline, who had neglected a pil- 
 grimage to Jerusalem, was, therefore, 
 sorely wounded in battle, and carried for 
 dead into a chapel dedicated to St. An- 
 thony. When he began to revive, a mul- 
 titude of devils appeared to drag him to 
 hell and one devil cast a halter about his 
 neck to strangle him, wherefore St. An- 
 thony appeared ; the devils flew from him 
 of course, and he commanded Joceline to 
 perform his pilgrimage, and to convey his- 
 body from the east ; whereupon Joceline 
 obeyed, and carried it to France. When 
 Patrick wrote, thesaint's beard was showu 
 at Cologne, with a part ot his hand, and 
 another piece of him was shown at Tour 
 
 58 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 17 
 
 Bay ; two of his relics were at Antwerp ; 
 a church dedicated to him at Rome was 
 famous for his sackcloth, and part of iiis 
 palm coat ; the otlier part of it was e\hi- 
 t)ited at Vienna, and the rest of his body 
 was so multiplied about, that there were 
 .irab-bones enough for the remains of half a 
 dozen uncanonized persons. The Romish 
 church has not made samts of late years. 
 
 BLE'JSING OF BEASTS. 
 
 On St. Anthony's day, the beasts at 
 Rome are blessed, and sprinkled with 
 holy water. Dr. Forster, in his ' Peren- 
 -iai Calendar," remarks, that " the early 
 Catholics regarded no beasts, birds, or fish, 
 as hateful." He says, that " St. Anthony 
 was particularly solicitous about animals, 
 to which a whimsical picture by Salvator 
 Rosa represunts him as preaching ;'' and 
 he suggests, that " from his practices, 
 perhaps, arose the custom of blessings 
 passed on animals still practised at Rome; 
 he regarded all God's creatures as worthy 
 of protection" — except heretics, the doctor 
 might have added ; unless, indeed, which 
 seems to have been the case, Anthony re- 
 garded them as " creatures " of the devil, 
 between whom, and this saint, we have 
 seen that the Rev. Alban Butler takes 
 especial care we should not be ignorant 
 of the miraculous conflicts just related. 
 
 Lady Morgan says, that the annual be- 
 nediction of the beasts at Rome, in a 
 church there dedicated to St. Anthony, 
 lasts for some days : " for not only every 
 Roman from the pope to the peasant, who 
 has a horse, a mule, or an ass, sends his 
 cattle to be blessed at St. Anthony's shrine, 
 but all the English go with their job horses 
 and favourite dogs ; and for the small 
 offering of a couple of paoli, get them 
 sprinkled, sanctified, and placed under 
 the protection of this saint. Coach after 
 coach draws up, strings of mules mix with 
 carts and barouches, horses kick, mules 
 are restive, and dogs snarl, while the offi- 
 ciating priest comes forward from his 
 little chapel, dips a brush into a vase of 
 holy water, sprinkles and prays over the 
 beasts, pockets the fee, and retires." 
 
 Dr. Conyers Middleton says, that when 
 he was at Rome, he had his own horses 
 blest for eighteen-pence, as well to satisfy 
 his curiosity, as to humour his coachman, 
 who was persuaded that some mischance 
 would befall them in the year, if they had 
 not the benefit of the benediction. 
 
 PREACHING TO USHES. 
 
 Lady Morgan describes a picture in 
 the Borghese palace at Rome, represent- 
 ing St. Anthony preaching to the fishes : 
 " The salmon look at the preacher with 
 an edified face, and a cod, with his up- 
 turned eyes, seems anxiously seeking for 
 the new light. The saint's sermon is to 
 be had in many of the shops at Rome. 
 St. Anthony addresses the fish, ' Dearly 
 beloved fish ;' and the legend adds, that 
 at the conclusion of the discourse, ' the 
 fish bowed to him with profound humility, 
 and a gravv.' and religious countenance.' 
 The samt then gave the fish his blessing, 
 who scudded away to make new conver- 
 sions, — the missionaries of the main. 
 
 " The church of St. Anthony at Rome is 
 painted in curious old frescos, with the 
 temptations of the saint. In one picture 
 he is drawn blessing the devil, disguised 
 in a cowl ; probably at that time 
 ' When the devil was sick, 
 
 and the devil a monk would be ;' 
 
 " the next picture shows, that 
 
 * When the devil was well, 
 the devil a monk was he ;' 
 " for St. Anthony, having laid down in his 
 cofiin to meditate the more securely, a 
 parcel of malicious little imps are peeping, 
 with all sorts of whimsical and terrific 
 faces, over its edges, and parodying Ho- 
 gartii's enraged musician. One abomi- 
 nable wretch blows a post-horn close to 
 the saint's ear, and seems as much de- 
 lighted with his own music as a boy with 
 a Jew's-harp, or a solo-player with his 
 first ad libitimi." 
 
 St. Anthony's sermon to the fish is 
 given in some of our angling books. If 
 this saint was not the preacher to the fish, 
 but St. Anthony of Padua, the latter has 
 lost the credit of his miraculous exhort- 
 ation, from the stupendous reputation of 
 his namesake and predecessor. Not to 
 risk the displeasure of him of Padua, by 
 the possibility of mistake, without an at- 
 tempt to propitiate him if it be a mistake, 
 let it be recorded here, that St. Anthonv 
 of Padua's protection of a Portuguese 
 regiment, which enlisted him into its ranks 
 seven hundred years after his death, pro- 
 cured him the honour of being promoted 
 to the rank of captain, by the king of 
 Portugal, as will appear by reference to 
 his military certificate set forth at laigs 
 in " Ancient Mysteries described " 
 
 59 
 
THE E\'ER.Y-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 17. 
 
 ST. ANTHONY S f IRE. 
 
 .St. Anth:)ny's fire is an inflammatorj' 
 disease wliich, in the eleventh century, 
 raged violent^ in various parts. Accord- 
 ing to the legend, the intercession of St. 
 Anthony was prayed for, when it mira- 
 culously ceased ; and therefore, from that 
 time, the complaint has been called St. 
 Anthony's fire. 
 
 ST. Anthony's pig. 
 Bishop Patrick, from the Salisbury 
 missal and other Romish service-books, 
 cites the supplications to St. Anthony for 
 relief from this disease. Catholic writers 
 affirm it to have been cured by the saint's 
 relics dipped in wine, which proved a 
 present remedy. " Neither," says Pa- 
 trick, who quotes the Romish writers, 
 " did this benefit by the intercession of 
 St. Anthony accrue only to men, but to 
 cattle also ; and from hence we are told 
 the custom arose of picturing this saint 
 with a hog at his feet, because, the same 
 author (Aymerus) says, on this animal 
 God wrought miracles by his servant." 
 J atrick goes on to say, that in honour of 
 St. Anthony's power of curing pigs, " they 
 used in several places to tie a bell about 
 the neck of a pig, and maintain it at the 
 common charge of the paristi," from 
 whence came our English proverb of 
 " Tantouy pig," or t'Antony, an abridge- 
 ment of the Anthony pig. 
 
 " I remember," says Stow, " that the 
 officers charged with the oversight of the 
 markets in this city did divers times take 
 from the market people, pigs starved, or 
 otherwise unwholesome for man's sus- 
 tenance ; these they did slit in the car. 
 One of the yjroctors for St. Anthony's 
 (Hospital) tied a bell about the neck, (of 
 one of them,) and let it feed on the dung- 
 hills : no man would hurt or take it 
 up ; but if any gave to them bread, or 
 other feeding, such they (the pigs) would 
 know, watch for, and daily follow, whining 
 till they had somewhat given them : where- 
 upon was raised a proverb, ' Suck an one 
 will follow such an one, and whine as it 
 ivere (like) an Anthony pig.' " If such a 
 pig grew to be fat, and came to good 
 liking, (as oftentimes they did,) then the 
 proctor would take hini up to the use of 
 the hospital. 
 
 St. Anthony's school m London, new 
 gone to decay, was anciently celebrated 
 for the proficiency of its pupils. Stow 
 relates, that, in his youth he annually s;.w, 
 on the eve of St Bartholomew, the scho- 
 
 lars of the different grammar-scl;cols as- 
 sembled in the churchyard of St. Bartho- 
 lomew, Smithfield, and then St. Anthony's 
 scholars commonly \\ ere the best, and car- 
 ried the prizes ; and that when the boys ot 
 St. Paul's school met with those of St. 
 Anthony's, " they would call them St 
 Anthony's pigs, and they again would 
 call the others pigeons of Paul's ; because 
 many pigeons were bred in Paul's church, 
 and St. Anthony was always figured with 
 a pig following him." 
 
 The seal of St. Anthony's Hospital in 
 London was about the size of a half- 
 crown ; it represented the saint preaching 
 to a numerous congregation, with his pig 
 beneath him. Tlie Rev. Mr. Orton, rector 
 of Raseby in Leicestershire, was supposed 
 to have been its possessor by the late Mr.S. 
 Ayscough, who adds (in the Gent. Mag.) 
 that the hospitalof St. Anthony had a grant 
 of all the stray pigs which were not 
 owned. He presumes that, from thence, 
 originated the emblem of the saint's pig. 
 In this he seems to have been mistaken ; 
 it clearly did not originate in England t 
 Patrick's solution of it is more probable, 
 and very likely to be correct. 
 
 St. Anthony is always represented by 
 the old painters with a pig by his side 
 He is so accompanied in the wood-cut 
 to his life in the Golden Legend. There 
 are many prints of him, by early masters, 
 in this way. Rubens painted a fine pic- 
 ture of the Death of St. Anthony, with 
 his pig, or rather a large bacon hog, lying 
 under the saint's bed : there is a good" 
 engraving from this picture by Clouwet. 
 
 In the British Museum there is a MS. 
 with a remarkable anecdote that would 
 form an appendix to St. Anthony's day. 
 The names of the parties are forgotten ; 
 but the particulars, recollected from acci- 
 dental perusal, are these : 
 
 A tailor was met out of doors by a per- 
 son who requested to be measured for a 
 suit of clothes, to be ready on that spof 
 by that day week ; and the stranger gave 
 him a, piece of cloth to make them with. 
 From certain circumstances, the tailor 
 suspected his new customer to be the 
 devil, and communicated his conjectures 
 to a clergyman, who advised him to exe 
 cute the order, but carefully to save everv 
 piece, even the minutest shred he citf 
 from the cloth, and put the whole into a 
 wrapper with the clothes ; he furthe? 
 promised the tailor to go with him on tho 
 
 60 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 18. 
 
 ajipointod day to the place where they 
 ftere •Jelivered. When all was ready and 
 the day arrived, they both went thither, 
 txnd the person waiting justified the tai- 
 tor's suspicions ; for he abused the tailor 
 because he brought a divine, and imme- 
 diately vanished in their presence, leav- 
 ing the clothes and pioces of cloth in the 
 possession of the tailor, who could not 
 sell the devil's cloth to pay himself for the 
 making, for fear of the consequences : 
 And here ends the history 
 Of this wonderful mystery ; 
 
 from which may be drawn, by way of mo- 
 ral, that a tailor ought not to take an or- 
 der frjm a stranger without a reference. 
 
 ^amian) 18. 
 
 67. Peter s Chair at Rome. St. Paul and 
 T/iirti/six Companions in Egypt. St. 
 Prisc'a. St. Deicolus. St. tJIfrid. 
 The Feast of St. Peter's chair is kept 
 by the Romish church on this day. Lady 
 Morgan says that it is one of the very few 
 functions as they are called (funzioni) ce- 
 lebrated in the cathedral of St. Peter, at 
 Rome. She briefly describes this cele- 
 bration, and says something respecting 
 St. Peter's chair. " The splendidly dress- 
 ed troops that line the nave of the cathe- 
 dral, the variety and richness of vestments 
 which clothe the various church and lay 
 dignitaries, abbots, priests, canons, pre- 
 lates, cardinals, doctors, dragoons, sena- 
 tors, and grenadiers, which march in pro- 
 cession, complete, as they proceed up the 
 vast spare of this wondrous temple, a 
 spectacle nowhere to be equalled within 
 the pale of European civilisation. In the 
 midst of swords and crosiers, of halberds 
 and crucifixes, surrounded by bani>ers, 
 and bending under the glittering tiara of 
 threefold power, appears the aged, feeble, 
 and worn-out pope, borne aloft on men's 
 shoulders, in a chair of crimson and gold, 
 and environed by slaves, (for such they 
 look,) who waft, from plumes of ostrich 
 feathers mounted on ivory wands, a cool- 
 ing gale, to refresh his exhausted frame, 
 too fsail for the weight of such honours. 
 All fall prostrate, as he passes up the 
 church to a small choir and throne, tem- 
 porarily erected beneath the chair of St. 
 Peter. A solemn service is then per- 
 formed, hosannas arise, and rojal vota- 
 rists and diplomatic devotees parade the 
 church, with guards of honour and run- 
 ning footmen, while English gentlemen 
 
 and ladies mob and scramble, and crowd 
 and bribe, and fight iheir way to the bsst 
 place they can obtain. 
 
 " At the extremity of the great nave 
 behind the altar, and mounted upon a 
 tribune designed or ornamented by Mi- 
 chael Angelo, stands a sort of ihrone, 
 composed of precious materials, and sup- 
 ported by four gigantic figures. A glory 
 of seraphim, with groups of angels, sheds 
 a brilliant light upon its splendours. This 
 throne enshrines the real, plain, worm- 
 eaten, wooden chair, on which St. Peter, 
 the prince of the apostles, is said to have 
 pontificated ; more precious than all the 
 bronze, gold, and gems, with which it is 
 hidden, not only from impious, but from 
 holy eyes, and which once only, in the 
 flight of ages, was profaned by mortal in- 
 spection. 
 
 " The sacrilegious curiosity of the 
 French broke through all obstacles to 
 their seeing the chair of St. Peter. They 
 actually removed its superb casket, and 
 discovered the relic. Upon its moulder- 
 ing and dusty surface were traced carv- 
 ings, which bore the appearanc'e ot 
 letters. The chair was quickly brought 
 into a better light, the dust and cobwebs 
 removed, and the inscription (for an in- 
 scription it was) fi^ithfuUy copied. The 
 writing is in Araoic characters, and is 
 the well-known confession of Mahometan 
 faith, — ' There is but one God, and Ma- 
 homet is his j}rophet r It is supposed 
 that this chair had been, among the spoils 
 of the crusaders, offered to the church 
 at a time when a taste for antiquarian 
 lore, and the deciphering of inscriptions, 
 were not yet in fashion. This story has 
 been since hushed up, the chair replaced, 
 and none but the unhallowed remember 
 the fact, and none but the audacious re- 
 peat it. Yet such there are, even at 
 Rome !" 
 
 St. Prisca. 
 
 This saint's festival stands in the calen- 
 dar of the church of England this day, as 
 well as in that of the Romish church. 
 Nothing is certainly known of her except 
 that she was a Roman, and mai tyred 
 about 273. 
 
 POWERFUL OPTICAL ILLUSION. 
 
 In the London journals of January, 
 1824, the following anecdote from a Car- 
 low paper bears the above title : — " A 
 young lady, who died in this town, had 
 been some time previous to her death 
 
 61 
 
THE EVERY -bAY BOOK.— JANUARY 18. 
 
 attended by a gentleman of the medical 
 profession. On the evening of her de- 
 cease, as this gentleman was sitting in 
 company with a friend of his. and in the 
 act of taking a glass of punch, he ima- 
 gined he saw the lady walking into the 
 room where himself and his friend were 
 sitting, and, having but a few hours^ be- 
 fore visited her, and found her in a dying 
 state, the shock that his nerves experi- 
 enced was so great, t'aat the glass which 
 held the punch fell from his hands, and 
 he himself dropped on the floor in a faint- 
 ing fit. After he had perfectly recovered 
 himself, and made inquiry about the lady, 
 it was ascertained that a few minutes be- 
 fore the time the medical gentleman ima- 
 gined he had seen her in his friend's 
 apartment, she had departed this life." 
 Perhaps this vision may be illustrated by 
 Jthers. 
 
 A SPECTRE. 
 
 The Editor of the Evern-Day Book now 
 relates an appearance to himself. 
 
 One winter evening, in 1821, he was 
 writing in a back room on an upper floor 
 t.f the house No. 45, Ludgate-hill, where- 
 in he now resides. He had been so closely 
 engaged in that way and in reading dur- 
 ing several preceding days, that he had 
 taken every meal alone, and in that room, 
 nor did he usually ^o to bed until two or 
 three o'clock in the morning. In the 
 early part of the particular evening al- 
 luded to, his attention had become wea- 
 ried. After a doze he found himself re- 
 freshed, and was wrltingwhen the chimes 
 of St. Paul's clock sounded a quarter to 
 two : long before that dead hour all the 
 family had retired to rest, and the house 
 was silent. A few minutes afterwards 
 he moved round his chair towards the 
 fire-place, and opposite to a large pane of 
 glass which let the light from the room 
 into a closet otherwise dark, the door of 
 which opened upon the landing-place. His 
 eye turning upon the glass pane, he was 
 amazed by the face of a man anxiously 
 watching him from the closet, with knit 
 inquiring brows. The features were pro- 
 minent and haggard, and, though the look 
 was somewhat ferocious, it indicated in- 
 tense curiosity towards the motions of the 
 writer, rather than any purpose of imme- 
 diate mischief to him. The face seemed 
 somewhat to recede with a quick motion 
 when he first saw it, but gazing on it v/ith 
 great earnestness it appeared closer to the 
 glass, looking at him for a moment, and 
 then with more eager ai.xiety bending its 
 
 eyes on the writing-table, as though it 
 chiefly desired to be acquainted with the 
 books and papers that lay upon it. Tiie 
 wider shut and rubbed his eyes, and 
 tigain the eyes of the face were intently 
 upon him ; watching it, he grasped the 
 candlestick, strode hastily towards the 
 room door, which is about two feet from 
 the pane, observed the face as hastily 
 draw back, unlatched the closet door on 
 the landing, was in an instant within the 
 closet, and there to his astonishment found 
 nothing. It was impossible that the per- 
 son could have escaped from the closet 
 before his own foot was at its door, yet he 
 examined nearly every room in the house, 
 until reflecting that it was folly to see'c 
 for what, he was convinced, had no bodily 
 existence, he returned up stairs and went 
 to bed, pondering on the recollection of 
 the spectre. 
 
 ANOTHER SPECTRE. 
 
 To the preceding narative the Editor 
 adds an account of a subsequent appari- 
 tion, which he saw, and for greater ease 
 he writes it in the first person, as follows : 
 
 In January, 1824, one, whose relation- 
 ship commanded my aft'ection, was about 
 to leave England with his family for a 
 distant part of the world. The day or 
 two preceding his departure I passed 
 with him and his wife and children. Our 
 separation was especially painful ; my 
 mind was distressed, and I got little sleep. 
 He had sailed from Gravesend about three 
 days, and a letter that he had promised 
 to write from the Downs had not arrived. 
 On the evening of the 29th I retired late, 
 and being quite wearied slept till an un- 
 usually late hour the next morning, with- 
 out a consciousness of having dreamed, or 
 being, as I found myself, alone. With 
 my head on the pillow I opened my eyes 
 to an extraordinary appearance. Against 
 the wall on the opposite side of the room, 
 and level with my sight, the person, re- 
 specting whom I had been so anxious, lay 
 a corpse, extended at full length, as if rest- 
 ing on a table. A greyish cloth covered 
 the entire body except the face ; the eyes 
 were closed, the countenance was cada- 
 verous, the mouth elcngated from the 
 falling of ilie jaws, and the lips were 
 purpled. I shut my eyes, rubbed them 
 and gently raising my head continued tc 
 gaze on the body, till from weariness oi 
 the attitude and exhausted spirits. I 
 dropped on the pillow, and insensibly 
 sunk to sleep, for perhaps a quarter of an 
 hour. On again awaking, the spectre was 
 
 62 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY IK 
 
 not there. I then arose, and having men- 
 tioned the circumstance to some of my 
 family, caused a memorandum to be made 
 of what I had seen. In the course of the 
 forenoon a person arrived who had gone 
 round witli the vessel to the Downs, from 
 whence he had been put ashore the morn- 
 ing before, and saw tlie ship in full sail. 
 He was the bearer of the letter I had ex- 
 pected from the individual aboard, whose 
 appearance I had witnessed only a few 
 liours previous to its being put into my 
 hands ; it of course relieved no apprehen- 
 sion that might have been excited by the 
 recent spectre. 
 
 " That trie dead are seen no more," 
 said Imlac, " I will not undertake to 
 maintain against the concurrent and un- 
 varied testimony of all ages and of all na- 
 tions. There is no people, rude or learn- 
 ed, among whom apparitions of the dead 
 are not related and believed. This opi- 
 nion, which, perhaps, prevails as far as 
 human nature is diffused, could become 
 universal only by its truth ; those, that 
 never heard of one another, would never 
 have agreed in a tale v/hich nothing but 
 experience can make credible. That 
 it is doubted by single cavillers can 
 very little weaken the general evidence, 
 and some who deny it with their tongues 
 confess it by their fears." 
 
 No man is privileged to impugn the 
 knowledge of existences which others 
 have derived from their experience ; but 
 he who sees, without assenting to reali- 
 ties, audaciously rejects positive proof to 
 himself, where presumptive testimony 
 would be satisfactory to most : he daringly 
 falsifies what he knows to be indubita- 
 bly true, and secret convictions belie the 
 shameless hardihood of pretended incre- 
 dulity. These, it is presumed, would be 
 the sentiments of the great author of 
 Rasselas, upon the expression of dis- 
 belief in him who had witnessed spectral 
 appearances ; and yet the writer of these 
 pages, with a personal knowledge upon 
 the subject, declines to admit that know- 
 ledge as good evidence. He would say 
 untruly wei'e he to affirm, that when he 
 saw the corpse-like form, and for some 
 time afterwards, he had no misgivings as 
 to the safety of his friend. It was not 
 until a lapse of six months that the 
 vessel was reported to have touched at a 
 certain port in good condition, and this 
 was followed by a letter from the indivi- 
 dual himself, wherein he affirmed his 
 good health ; he subsequently wrote, that 
 
 lie and his family were at the place o"" 
 their destination. This spectral appear 
 ance therefore at Ludgate-hill, between 
 eight and nine o'clock of the morning on 
 the 30tn of January, was no indication Oi 
 his death, nor would it have been had he 
 died about that time, although the co- 
 incidence of the apparition and his de- 
 cease would have been remarkable. The 
 case at Carlow only differs from the case 
 at Ludgate-hill by the decease of the 
 lady having been coeval with her spectral 
 appearance to the gentleman who was 
 depressed by her illness. The face which 
 the writer saw looking at him from a 
 closet in the dead of night was no like- 
 ness of any one he knew, and he saw 
 each spectre when his faculties had be-en 
 forced beyond their healthful bearins:. 
 Under these circumstances, his eyesigiit 
 was not to be trusted, and he refuses to 
 admit it, although the spectres were so 
 extraordinary, and appeared under such 
 circumstances that probably they will 
 never be forgotten. 
 
 Coupled with the incidents just related, 
 the death of the king of Naples in Ja- 
 nuary 1825, which was first announced 
 in the " Neivis" Sunday paper on the IGth 
 of the month, recalls the recollection ot 
 a singular circumstance in the bay of 
 Naples. The fact and the facts preceding 
 it are related by Dr. Southey in his " Life 
 of Nelson." Having spoken of Nelson's 
 attachment to lady Hamilton, and his 
 weariness of the world, Dr. Southey pro- 
 ceeds thus : — 
 
 " Weil had it been for fJelson if he 
 had made no otiier sacrifices to this un- 
 happy attachment than his peace of 
 mind; but it led to the only blot upon 
 his public character. While he sailed 
 from Palermo, with the intention of col- 
 lecting his whole force, and keeping off 
 Maretimo, either to receive reinforce- 
 ments there, if the French were bound 
 upwards, or to hasten to Minorca, if that 
 should be their destination, capt. Foote, 
 in tl^e Seahorse, with the Neapolitan 
 frigates and some small vessels under his 
 command, was left to act with a land 
 force consisting of a few regular troops, 
 of four different nations, and with the 
 armed rabble which cardinal Ruff"o called 
 the Christian army. His directions were 
 to cooperate to the utmost of his power 
 with royalists, at whose head Rufib had 
 been placed, and he had no other instruc- 
 tions wl atever. Ruffe advancing witli- 
 
 63 
 
THE EVERY.DAY BOOK.— JAiN'UARl 18. 
 
 out any plan, bu* relying upon the ene- 
 my's want of numbers, which prevented 
 them from attempting to act upon the 
 offensive, and ready to take advantage of 
 any accident which might occur, ap- 
 proached Naples. Fort St. Elmo, which 
 commands the town, was wholly garrison- 
 ed by the French troops ; the castles of 
 LJovo and Nuovo, which commanded the 
 anchorage, were chiefly defended by Nea- 
 politan revolutionists, the powerful men 
 among them having taken shelter there. 
 If these castles were taken, the reduction 
 of Fort St. Elmo would be greatly ex- 
 pedited. They were strong places, and 
 there was reason to apprehend that the 
 French fleet might arrive to relieve them. 
 Ruffo proposed to the garrison to capitu- 
 late, on condition that their persons and 
 property should be guaranteed, and that 
 they should, at their own option, either be 
 sent to Toulon, or remain at Naples, 
 without being molested either in their 
 persons or families. This capitulation 
 was accepted : it was signed by the car- 
 dinal, and the Russian and Turkish com- 
 manders ; and, lastly, by capt. Foote, as 
 commander of the British force. About 
 six and thirty hours afterwards Nelson 
 arrived in the bay, with a force which had 
 .oined him during his cruise, consisting 
 of seventeen sail of the line, with 1700 
 troops on board, and the prince royal of 
 Naples in the admiral's ship. A flag of 
 truce was flying on the castles, and on 
 board the Seahorse. Nelson made a sig- 
 nal to annul the treaty ; declaring that he 
 would grant rebels no other terms than 
 those of unconditional submission. The 
 cardinal objected to this: nor could all 
 the arguments of Nelson, sir W. Hamil- 
 ton, and lady Hamilton, who took an 
 active part in the conference, convince 
 bim that a tieaty of such a nature, so- 
 lemnly concluded, could honourably be 
 set aside. He retired at last, silenced by 
 Nelson's authority, but not convinced. 
 Capt. Foote was sent out of the bay ; and 
 the garrisons taken out of the castles, 
 under pretence of carrying the treaty into 
 effect, were delivered over as rebels to 
 the vengeance of the Sicilian court. — A 
 deplorable transaction ! a stain upon the 
 memory of Nelson, and the honour of 
 England 1 To palliate it would be in 
 vain ; to justify it would be wicked : 
 there is no alternative, for one who will 
 not make himself a participator in guilt, 
 but to record the disgraceful story with 
 horrow and with shame. 
 
 " Prince Francesco Caraccioli,a young- 
 er branch of one of the noblest Neapoli- 
 tan families, escaped fiom one of these 
 civStles before it capitulated. He was at 
 the head of the marine, and was nearly 
 seventy years of age, bearing a high 
 character both for professional and per- 
 sonal merit. He had accompanied the 
 court to Sicily ; but when the revolution- 
 ary government, or Parthenopaean repub 
 lie, as it was called, issued an edict, 
 ordering all absent Neapolitans to return, 
 on pain of confiscation of their property 
 he solicited and obtained permission of 
 the king to return, his estates being verj 
 great. It is said that the king, when he 
 grLinted him this permission, warned him 
 not to take any part in politics ; express- 
 ing, at the same time, his own persuasion 
 that he should recover his kingdom. But 
 neither the king, nor he himself, ought 
 to have imagined that, in such times, a 
 man of such reputation would be per- 
 mitted to remain inactive; and it soon 
 appeared J,hat Caraccioli was again in 
 command of the navy, and serving under 
 the republic against his late sovereign. 
 The sailors reported that he was forced 
 to act thus : and this was believed, till it 
 was seen that he directed ably the offen- 
 sive operations of the revolutionists, and 
 did not avail himself of opportunities 
 for escaping when they offered. When 
 the recovery of Naples was evidently 
 near, he applied to cardinal Ruffo, and 
 to the duke of Calvirrano, for protection ; 
 expressing his hope, that the few days 
 during which he had been forced to obey 
 the French, would not outweigh forty 
 years of faithful services : — but, perhiips, 
 not receiving such assurances as he wish- 
 ed, and knowing too well the temper of 
 the Sicilian court, he endeavoured to 
 secrete himself, and a price was set upon 
 his head. More unfortunately for others 
 than for himself, he was brought in alive, 
 having been discovered in the disguise of 
 a peasant, and carried one morning on 
 board lord Nelson's ship, with his hands 
 tied behind him. 
 
 " Caraccioli was well known to the 
 British ofiicers, and had been ever highly 
 esteemed by all who knew him. Ctipt, 
 Hardy ordered him immediately to b? 
 unbound, and to be treated with all those 
 attentions which he felt due to a man 
 who, when last on board the Foudroyant, 
 had been received as an admiral and a 
 prince. Sir William and lady Hamilton 
 were in the ship; but Nelson, it is aflSim 
 
 6t 
 
THE EVERY-DA\ BOOK.— JANUARY 18. 
 
 ed, saw no one, except his own officers, 
 during the tragedy which ensued. His 
 own determination was made ; and he 
 issued an order to the Neapolitan coni- 
 inodore, count Thurn, to assemble a 
 court-martial of Neapolitan officers, on 
 board the British flag-ship, proceed im- 
 mediately to try the prisoner, and report 
 to him, if the charges were proved, what 
 punishment he ought to siifler. These 
 proceedings were as rapid as possible ; 
 Caraccioli was brought on board at nine 
 in the forenoon, and the trial began at 
 ten. It lasted two hours ; he averred, in 
 Iiis defence, that he acted under compul- 
 sion, having been compelled to serve as a 
 common soldier, till he consented to take 
 command of the fleet. This, the apolo- 
 gists of lord Nelson say, he failed in 
 proving. They forget that the possibility 
 of proving it was not allowed him ; for 
 he was brought to trial within an hour 
 after he was legally in arrest; and how, 
 in that time, was he to collect his wit- 
 nesses ? He was found guilty ,«and sen- 
 tenced to death ; and Nelson gave orders 
 that the sentence should be carried into 
 effect that evening, at five o'clock, on 
 Doard the Sicilian frigate La Minerva, by 
 hanging him at the fore-yard-arm till 
 sunset ; when the body was to be cut 
 down, and thrown into the sea. Carac- 
 cioli requested lieutenant Parkinson, un- 
 der whose custody he was placed, to 
 intercede with lord Nelson for a second 
 trial, — for this, among other reasons, that 
 count Thurn, who presided at the court- 
 martial, was notoriously his personal ene- 
 my. Nelson made answer, that the pri- 
 soner had been fairly tried by the officers 
 of his own country, and he could not 
 interfere : forgetting that, if he felt him- 
 self justified in ordering the trial and the 
 execution, no human being could ever 
 have questioned the propriety of his m- 
 terfering on the side of mercy. Carac- 
 cioli then entreated that he might be shot. 
 — ' I am an old man, sir,' said he : * I 
 leave no family to lament me, and there- 
 fore cannot be supposed to be very anxi- 
 ous about prolonging my life ; but the 
 disgrace of being hanged is dreadful to 
 me.' When this was repeated to Nel- 
 son, he only told the lieutenant, with 
 much agitation, to go and attend his duty. 
 As a last hope, Caraccioli asked the lieu- 
 tenant, if he thought an application to 
 lady Hamilton would be benelicial ? 
 Parkinson went to seek her. She was 
 not to be seen on this occasion, — but she 
 
 was present at the execution. She had 
 the most devoted attachment to the Nea- 
 politan court ; and the hatred which she 
 felt against those whom she regarded as 
 its enemies, made her, at this time, forget 
 what was due to the character of her sex, 
 as well as of her country. Here, also, a 
 faithful historian is called upon to pro- 
 nounce a severe and unqualified condemn- 
 ation of Nelson's conduct. Had he the 
 authority of his Sicilian majesty for pro- 
 ceeding as he did .' If so, why was not 
 that authority produced '. If not, why 
 were the proceedings hurried on without 
 it ? Why was the trial precipitated, so 
 that it was impossible for the prisoner, if 
 he had been innocent, to provide the wit- 
 nesses who might have proved him so ? 
 Why was a second trial refused, when 
 the known animosity of the president of 
 the court against the prisoner was con- 
 sidered ? Why was the execution hast- 
 ened, so as to preclude a:.y appeal for 
 mercy, and render the prprogative of 
 mercy useless ?- — Doubtless, the British 
 admiral seemed to himself to be acting 
 under a rigid sense of justice ; but, to all 
 other persons, it was obvious, that he was 
 influenced by an infatuated attachment — 
 a baneful passion, which destroyed his 
 domestic happiness, and now, in a second 
 instance, stained ineffiiceably his public 
 character. 
 
 " The body was carried out to a con- 
 siderable distance, and sunk in the bay, 
 with three double-headed shot, weighing 
 250 pounds, tied to its legs. Between 
 two and three weeks aftenvard, when the 
 king was on board the Foudroyant, a 
 Neapolitan fisherman came to the ship, 
 and solemnly declared, that Caraccioli 
 had risen from the bottom of the sea, and 
 was coming, as fast as he could, to Na- 
 ples, swimming half out of the water. 
 Such an account was listened to like a 
 tale of idle credulity. The day being 
 fair. Nelson, to please the king, stood out 
 to sea ; but the ship had not proceeded 
 far before a body was distinctly seen, up- 
 right in the water, and approaching them. 
 It was soon recognised to be, indeed, the 
 corpse of Caraccioli, which had risen, 
 and floated, while the great weights at- 
 tached to the legs kept the body in a po- 
 sition like that of a living man. A fact 
 so extraordinary astonished the king, and 
 perhaps excited some feeling of supersti- 
 tious fear, akin to regret. He gave per- 
 mission for the body to be taken on shorp, 
 and receive christian burial." 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 Go 
 
 F 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 19. 
 
 Tne late Dr. ClarKe mentions in his 
 ' Travels," that as he was " one day lean- 
 in" out of the cabin window, by the side 
 of an officer who was employed in fisliinsj:, 
 the corpse of a man, newly sewed in a 
 hammock, started half out of the water, 
 and continued its course, with the current, 
 towards the shore. Nothing could be 
 more horrible : its head and shoulders 
 were visible, turning first to one side, 
 then to the other, with a solemn and awful 
 movement, as if impressed with some 
 dreadful secret of the deep, which, from 
 its watery grave, it came upwards to re- 
 veal." Dr. Ferriar observes, that " in 
 a certain stage of putrefaction, the bodies 
 of persons which have been immersed in 
 water, rise to the surface, and in deep 
 water are supported in an erect posture, 
 to the terror of un instructed spectators. 
 Menacing looks ani gestures, and even 
 words, are supplied by the affrighted 
 imagmation, with infinite facility, and re- 
 ferred to the horrible apparition." This 
 is perfectly natural ; and it is easy to 
 imagine the excessive terror of extreme 
 ignorance at such appearances. 
 
 Sanuaii) 19* 
 
 Sts. Martha, Maris, Judifax, and 
 Ahachnm. St. Canntns. St. Henri/. St. 
 Wulstan St. Blaithmaie. St. Lomer. 
 Sts. Martha, Maris, ^c. 
 
 St. Martha was married to St. Maris, 
 and with their sons, Sts. Audifax and 
 Abachum, were put to death under Aure- 
 lian (a.d. 270.) Butler says, that their 
 relics were found at Rome, in 1590, one 
 thousand three hundred and twenty years 
 afterwards. 
 
 DEDICATION OF FLOWERS. 
 
 The monks, or the observers of monkish 
 rules, have compiled a Catalogue of Mow- 
 ers for each day in the year, and dedi- 
 cated each flower to a particular saint, on 
 account of its flowering about the time of 
 the saint's festival. Such appropriations 
 are a Floral Directory throughout the 
 year, and will be inserted under the suc- 
 seeding days. Those which belong to 
 this and the eighteen preceding days in 
 January are in the following list : — 
 
 JANUARY, 
 
 1st. St. Fahie. New Year's Day. 
 Laurustine. Viburnum Times. 
 
 2d. St. Macarins. 
 r.roundsel. Senecio vulgarii 
 
 3d. St. Genevieve. 
 Persian Fleur-de-lis. Iris Penica. 
 
 4tti. St. Titus 
 Hazel. Cori/lus avcllana. 
 
 otn. St. Simeon Styliles. 
 Bearsfoot. Hellcburns fu;tidus. 
 
 6th. St. Nilammon. 
 Screw Moss. Tortula rigida. 
 7th. St. Kentigern. 
 Portugal Laurel. Pruniis Ltisitanica. 
 
 8th. St. Gudula. 
 Yellow Tremella. Tremella delifjnescens 
 
 9th. St. Marciana. 
 Common Laurel. Prnnns Laurocerasus 
 
 10th. St. iniUane. 
 Gorse. Ulex Etiropceas. 
 
 nth. St. Theodosius. 
 Early Moss. Brynm horceum. 
 1 2th. St. Arcadiiis. 
 Ilygrometic Moss. Funaria hygrometica. 
 
 13th. St. Veronica. 
 Yew Tree. Taxus baccuta. 
 
 14th. St Hilary. 
 Barren Strawberry. Fragaria sterilis 
 
 1 5th. St. Paul the Hermit. 
 Ivy. Hedera helix. 
 
 16th. St. Marcellus. 
 Common Dead Nettle. Larnium jmrpu- 
 reuin 
 
 17lh. hony. 
 
 Garden Anemone. - nemoue hortensis. 
 
 18th. St. Prisca. 
 Four-toothed Moss. Bryum pellucidum, 
 
 19th. St. ha. 
 
 White Dead Nettle. ium album. 
 
 THE GARDEN. 
 
 In tlie " Flora Domestica" there is a 
 beautiful quotation from Cowley, in proof 
 that the emperor Dioclesian preferred his 
 garden to a throne : 
 
 Melhinks I see great Dioclesian walk 
 Tn the Salonian garden's noble shade, 
 Wliich by his own imperial hands was made 
 
 I see him smile, methinks, as he does talk 
 With the ambassadors, who come in vain 
 1" entice him to a throne again. 
 " If I, my friends," said he, " should to you 
 
 show 
 All the delights which in these gardens grow, 
 'I'is likelier far that \ou with me should stay. 
 Than 'tis that you should carry me away ; 
 And trust me not, my friends, if, every day, 
 I walk not here with 'no"e delight, 
 Than ever, after the most happy fight, 
 In triumph to the capitol 1 rode. 
 To thank the gods, and to be il.'omiht irvspll 
 J«nost a god." 
 
 66 
 
rUE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 19. 
 
 To the author of the " Flora Domes- flowers courting the look by their varied 
 tica," and to the reader who may not have loveliness, and the smell by their delicacy ; 
 seen a volume so acceptable to the cuiti- large juicy apples bowing down the almost 
 vator of flowers, it would be injustice to tendril-shootswherefrora they miraculously 
 extract from its pages without remarking sprmg; plants of giant growth with mul- 
 its usefulness, and elegance of coniposi- tiform shrubs beyond, and holly-hock': 
 tion. Lamenting that " plants often meet towering like painted pinnacles from hid- 
 with an untimely death from the jgno- den shrines : 
 ranee of their nurses," the amiable 
 author " resolved to obtain and to com- 
 municate such information as should be 
 requisite for the rearing and preserving a 
 vortable garden in pots ; — and hencefor- 
 ward the death of any plant, owing to the 
 carelessness or ignorance of its nurse, 
 shall be brought in at the best as plant- 
 slaughter." 
 
 Can imagination boast, 
 
 The cultivation of plants commences 
 with our infancy. If estranged from it 
 by the pursuits of active life, yet, during 
 a few years' retirement from the " treat 
 hum" of a noisy world, we naturally 
 recur to a garden as to an old and cheer- 
 ful friend whom we had forgotten or 
 
 neglected, and verify the saying, " once ^'^^ garments of people, and even the 
 a man, and twice a child." There is not plumage of birds, so that many rooks 
 " one of woman born " without a sense of and other fowls were found lying on the 
 
 'Mid all its gay creation, charms like these 1 
 
 , Dr. Forster, tlie scientific author of a 
 treatise on " Atmospheiic Phenome:ia," 
 and other valuable works, has included 
 numerous useful observations on the wea- 
 ther in his recently published " Perennial 
 Calendar," a volume replete with instruc- 
 tion and entertainment. He observes, 
 in the lattc- work, that after certain atmo- 
 spheric appearances on this day in the 
 year 1809, " a hard and freezing shower 
 of hail and sleet came with considerable 
 violence from the east, and glazed every 
 thing on which it fell with ice; it in- 
 crusted the walls, encased the trees and 
 
 ground, stiff with an encasement of ice 
 Such weather," Dr. Forsler observes, 
 " has been aptly described by Philips aj 
 occurring oftentimes during a northern 
 winter: — 
 
 pleasure when he sees buds bursting into 
 leaf; earth yielding green shoots from 
 germs in its warm bosom ; white fruit- 
 blossoms, tinted with rose-blusl\es, stand- 
 ing out in clumps from slendei" branches; 
 
 Ere yet the clauds let fall the treasured snow. 
 
 Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow. 
 
 At evening a keen eastern breeze arose. 
 
 And the descending rain unsullied froze. 
 
 Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, 
 
 The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view 
 
 The face of Nature in a rich disguise. 
 
 And brightened every object to my eyes ; 
 
 For every shrub, and every blade of grass, 
 
 And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass , 
 
 In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show. 
 
 While through the ice the crimson berries glow, 
 
 The thick -sprung reeds the watery marshes yield 
 
 Seem polished lances in a hostile field. 
 
 The stag in limpid currents, with surprise. 
 
 Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise. 
 
 The spreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine, 
 
 Glaz'd over, in the freezing ether shine. 
 
 The frighted birds the rattling branches shun. 
 
 That wave and glitter in the distant sun. 
 
 When, if a sudden gust of wind arise. 
 
 The brittle forest into atoms flies ; 
 
 The cracking wood beneath the tempest bends. 
 
 And in a spangled shower the prospect ends. 
 
 Philips, Lett, from Copenhagm. 
 
 " It may be observed, that in both the the storm. There is something very rc- 
 :>bove descriptions of similar phenomena, markably unwholesome in east winds 
 'lie east wind is recorded as bringing up and a change to that quarter often di'= 
 
 67 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 20. 
 
 turbs the nervous system and digestive 
 organs of many persons, causing head- 
 aches, fevers, and other disorders. More- 
 over, a good astronomical observation 
 cannot be made when the wind is east : 
 the star seems to oscillate or dance about 
 in the field of the telescope." 
 
 In the truth of these observations as 
 regards health, he who writes this is un- 
 happily qualified to concur from expe- 
 rience ; and were it in his power, would 
 ever shun the north-east as his inosl 
 fearful enemy. 
 
 Sir, the north-east, more fierce than Russian cold. 
 
 Pierces the very marrow in the bones. 
 
 Presses upon the brain an arid weight. 
 
 And superflows life's current with a force 
 
 That checks the heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, 
 
 In all their purposes. 
 
 Up with the double window-sashes— quick ! 
 Close every crevice from the withering blast. 
 And stop the keyhole tight— the wind-fiend comes! ^ 
 
 St. Fabian, Pope. St. Sebastian. St. 
 
 Euthymiiis. St. Fechin. 
 
 St. Fabia)i. 
 
 Tliis saint is in the church of England 
 
 calendar; he was bishop of Rome, a. d, 
 
 250 : the Romish calendar calls him pope. 
 
 St. Sebastian's Day 
 
 Is noted inDoblada'sLetters from Spain, 
 as within the period that ushers in the car- 
 nival with rompings in the streets, and 
 vulgar mirth. 
 
 " The custom alluded to by Horace of 
 sticking a tail, is still practised by the 
 boys in the streets, to tlie great annoyance 
 of old ladies, who are generally the ob- 
 jects of this sport. One of the ragged 
 striplings that wander in crowds about 
 Seville, having tagged a piece of paper 
 with a hooked pin, and stolen unperceiv- 
 ed behind some slow-paced female, as 
 wrapt up in her veil, she tells the beads 
 she carries in her left hand, fastens tiie 
 paper-tail on the back of the black or 
 walking petticoat called Saya. The whole 
 gang of ragamuffins, who, at a convenient 
 distance, have watched the dexterity of 
 their companion, set up a loud cry of 
 ' Largalo, largalo' — ' Drop it, drcp it' — 
 this makes every female in the street look 
 to the rear, which, they well know, is the 
 fixed point of attack with the merry light- 
 troops. The alarm continues till some 
 friendly hand relieves the victim of sport, 
 who, spinning and nodding like a spent 
 top, tries in vain to catch a glance at the 
 
 tast-pinnc-d paper, unmindful of the phy- 
 sical law which forbids her head revolving 
 faster than the great orbit on which the 
 ominous comet flies." 
 
 ST. AGNES' EVE 
 
 Formerly this was a night of great im- 
 port to maidens who desired to know who 
 they should marry. Of such it was re- 
 quired, that they should not eat on this 
 day, and those who conformed to the 
 rule, called it fasting St. Agnes' fast. 
 
 And on sweet St. Agnes' night 
 Please you with the promis'j sight, 
 Some of husbands, some of lovers;, 
 Which an empty dream discovers. 
 
 13en Jonson. 
 
 Old Aubrey has a recipe, whereby a 
 lad or lass was to attain a sight of the 
 fortunate lover. " Upon St. Agnes' night 
 you take a row of pins, and pull out every 
 one, one after another, saying a Pater 
 Noster, sticking a pin in your sleeve, and 
 you will dream of him or her you shall 
 marry." 
 
 Little is remembered of these homely 
 methods for knowing " all about sweet- 
 hearts," and the custom would scarcely 
 have reached the greater number of read- 
 ers, if one of the sweetest of our modern 
 poets had not preserved its recollection in 
 a delightful poem. Some stanzas are 
 culled from it, with the hope that they 
 may be read by a few to whom the poetry 
 of Keates is unknown, and awaken a de- 
 sire for further acquaintance with his 
 beauties :— 
 
 68 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK—JANUARY iO. 
 
 The Eve of St. Agnrs. 
 
 St. Agnes' Eve 1 Ah, titter chill it was ! 
 
 The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; 
 
 The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen prass, 
 
 And silent was the flock in woolly fold . 
 
 *%■**** 
 
 They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 
 Young virgins might have visions of delight 
 And soft adorings from their loves receive 
 Upon the honey 'd middle of the night, 
 If ceremonies due they did aright ; 
 As, supperless to bed they must retire, 
 And couch supine their beauties, lily white ; 
 Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require 
 Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire 
 
 Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline 
 *♦*»♦»# 
 
 Out went the taper as she hurried in ; 
 Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died : 
 She clos'd the door, she panted, all akin 
 To spirits of the air, and visions wide 
 No uttered syllable, or, woe betide ! 
 But to her heart, her heart was voluble. 
 Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; 
 As though a tongueless nightingale should swell 
 Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. 
 
 A casement high and triple arch'd there was, 
 All garlanded with carven imag'ries 
 Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot grass, 
 And diamonded with panes of quaint device 
 Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes. 
 As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings ; 
 And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries. 
 And twilight saints, with dim emblazonings, 
 A shielded 'scutcheon blush 'd wiih blood of queens and kitirs 
 
 Full on this casement shone the wintry moon. 
 And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast. 
 As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon ; 
 Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest. 
 And on her silver cross soft amethyst. 
 And on her hair a glory, like a saint: 
 She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest. 
 Save wings, for Heaven : — 
 
 ■ Iler vespers done 
 
 Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; 
 Unclasps her warmedjewels one by one ; 
 Loosens her fragrant boddice ; by degrees 
 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees • 
 Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, 
 Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
 la fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, 
 Bnt dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 
 
 Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest. 
 In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay, 
 Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd 
 Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; 
 Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day. 
 Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; 
 Clasp 'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; 
 Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain. 
 As though a rose should shut, and be a bud aE;aln. 
 
 69 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 20. 
 
 Stol'n to this paradise, and soextranced, 
 Porphyro gazed upon her empty diess, 
 And listened to her breathing. 
 
 Shaded was her dream 
 
 Bv the dusk curtains : — 'twas a midnight cliarni 
 Impossible to melt as iced stream : — 
 
 »# • ♦ * # • 
 
 He took her hollow lute, — 
 Tumultuous, — and, in chords that tenderest be. 
 He play'd an ancient ditty, long smce mute. 
 In Provence call'd, " La belle dame sans mercy :•* 
 Close to her ear touching the nie.lody ; — 
 Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan: 
 He ceas'd — she panted quick — and suddenly 
 Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone : 
 Cpon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stontr. 
 
 Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, 
 Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep : 
 There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd 
 The blisses of her dream so pure and deep. 
 At which fair Madeline began to weep, 
 And moan forth witless words wiih many a sigh , 
 While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ; 
 Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. 
 Fearing to move or speak, she look'd sodreamingly 
 
 " Ah, Porphyro !" said she, " but even now 
 " Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, 
 " ]\Iade tuneable with every sweetest vow ; 
 " And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear ; 
 " Hovv chang'd thou art ! how pallid, chill, and dres, 
 " Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
 " Those looks immortal, those complainings dear '. 
 " Oh, leave me not in this eternal woe, 
 •* For if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go." 
 
 Beyond a mortal man inipassion'd far 
 At these voluptuous accents, he arose. 
 Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star. 
 Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose. 
 Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
 Blendeth its odour with the violet, — 
 Solution sweet : meantime the frost-wind blows 
 Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet 
 Against the window-panes. 
 
 " Hark ! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, 
 " Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed 
 •' Arise — arise ! the morning is at hand ; — 
 " Let us away, my love, with happy speed.— 
 
 • «•*«** 
 
 And they are gone : ay, ages long ago 
 These lovers fled away into tlie storm. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 St. Fabiaiy 
 Large Dead Nettle. Larnium garganicum. 
 
 70 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAEi" 21. 
 
 AQUAEIUS, 
 
 OR, THE WATER BEARER. 
 
 Tlie sun enters Aquarius on this day, 
 though he does not enter it in the visible 
 zodiac until the 18th of February. 
 
 Ganymede, who succeeded Hebe as 
 cup-bearer to Jove, is fabled to have been 
 changed into Aquarius. Canobus of the 
 Egyptian zodiac, who was the Neptune 
 of the Egyptians, with a water-vase and 
 measure, evidently prefigured this con- 
 stellation. They worshipped him as. the 
 God of iivany breasts, from whence he re- 
 plenished the Niie "with fertilizing streams. 
 Aquarius contains one hundred and eight 
 stars, the two chief of which aie about 
 fifteen degrees in height : 
 His head, his shoulders, and liis lucid breast, 
 Glisten with stars ; and when his urn inclines. 
 Rivers of light brighten the watery track. 
 
 Eudosia. 
 
 S)amiarp2l. 
 
 St. ylgnes. St Fructuosnn, Sfc. St. 
 
 Vbnin, or Vivian. St. Pubhus. St. 
 
 Epiphanius 
 
 St. Agnes. 
 
 "She has always been looked upon,'' 
 says Butler, " as a special patroness of 
 purity, with the immaculate mother 
 of God." According to him, she suffered 
 martyrdom, about 304, and performed 
 
 wonderful miracles before her deatIi,whicL 
 was by beheading, when she was thirteen 
 years old ; whereupon he enjoins females 
 to a single life, as better than a married 
 one, and says, that her anniversary " was 
 formerly a holiday for the women in 
 England." Ribadeneira relates, that she 
 was to have been burned, and was put into 
 the fire for that purpose, but the flames, 
 refusing to touch her, divided on each 
 side, burnt some of the bystanders, and 
 then quenched, as if there had been 
 none made : a compassionate quality in 
 tire, of which iron was not sensible, for 
 her head was cut ofl at a single blow 
 Her legend further relates, that eight days 
 aftei her death she came to her parents 
 arrayed in white, attended by virgins with 
 garlands of pearls, and a lamb whiter 
 than snow ; she is tlierefore usually repre- 
 sented by artists with a lamb by her side ; 
 though not, as Mr. Brand incautiously 
 says, " in every graphic representation." 
 It is fiirther related, that a priest who offi- 
 ciated in a church dedicated to St. Agnes, 
 was very desirous of being married. He 
 prayed the pope's license, who gave it 
 him, together with an emerald ring, and 
 commanded him to pay bis addresses to 
 ihe image of St. Agnes in his own church 
 Then the priest did so, and the image put 
 forth her finger, and he put the ring there- 
 on ; whereupon the image drew her fin- 
 ger again, and kept the ring fast, and 
 the Drie.«* was contented to remain a ba- 
 
 71 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK,--JANUARY Si. 
 
 cfielor; " and yet, as it is sayd, the rynge secrated animals were afte; wards shorn, 
 
 IS on the fynger of the ymage " 
 
 In a Romish Missal printed at Paris, in 
 1520, there is a prayer to St. Agnes, re- 
 markably presumptive of her powers ; it 
 is thus englished by Bp. Patrick ; 
 
 Agues, who art the Lamb's chaste spouse, 
 Enlighten thou our minds within ; 
 
 Not oniy lop the spreading boughs, 
 liut root out of us every sin. 
 
 O, Lady, singularly great. 
 After this state, with grief opprest 
 
 Translate us to that quiet seat 
 Above, to triumph with tlie blest. 
 
 and palls made from tlieir fleeces ; for each 
 of which, it is said, the pope exacted oi 
 the bishops from eight to ten, or thirty 
 thousand crowns, and that the custom 
 originated with Limes, who succeeded the 
 apostle Peter : whereupon Naogeorgus 
 inquires, 
 
 But where was ^gucs at that time ? 
 
 wlio oflied up, and how. 
 The two while lambes ? where then was 
 Masse, 
 
 as it is used now 1 
 Yea, where was then the Popish state, 
 
 and dreadfull monarcliee ? 
 Sure in Saint Austen's time, there were 
 
 no palles at Rome to see, &c. 
 
 In Jepbson's " Manners, &c. of France 
 and Italy,'' there is one dated from Rome, 
 February, 14, 1793. That this ceremony 
 was then in use, is evident from the fol- 
 lowing lines : — 
 
 From Naogeorgus, we gather that in St. 
 Agnes' church at Rome, it was custo- 
 mary on St. Agnes' Day to bring two 
 snow-white lambs to the altar, upon which 
 they were laid while the Ac;nus was 
 singing by way of offering. These con- 
 
 Sl. ^gnes Shrine. 
 Where each pretty BaAzmh most gaily appears, 
 With ribands stuck round on its tail and its ears ; 
 On gold fringed cushions they're stretch'd out to eat. 
 And piously ba, and to church-musick bleat ; 
 Yet to me iliey seem'd crying, alack, and alas ! 
 What's all this white damask to daisies and grass? 
 Then they're brought to the Pope, and with transport they're kiss'd, 
 And receive consecration trom Sanctity's fist. 
 
 Blessinsc of Sheep 
 Stopford, in " Pagano-Papismus," re- 
 cites this ceremony of the Romish church. 
 Tiie sheep were brouoht into the church, 
 and the priest, having blessed some salt 
 and water, read in one corner this gospel, 
 " To us a child is born," &c. with the 
 
 sung the mass of the Holy Ghost, and at 
 the conclusion, an offering of fourpence 
 was for himself, and another of three- 
 pence was for the poor. This ceremony 
 was adopted by the Romish church from 
 certain customs of the ancient Romans, 
 in their worship of Pales, the goddess of 
 
 whole office, a farthing being laid upon sheepfolds and pastures. They prayed 
 
 the book, and taken up again ; in the 
 second corner he read this gospel, " Ye 
 men of Galilee," &c. with the whole 
 office, a farthing being laid upon the 
 book, and taken up again ; in the tliird 
 corner he read this gospel, " I am 
 the good shepherd," &c. with the whole 
 office, a farthing being laid upon the 
 book, and taken up again ; and in the 
 fourth corner he read this gospel, " In 
 these days," &c. with the whole office, 
 a farthing being laid upon the book, and 
 taken up again After that, he sprinkled 
 all the sheep with holy water, saying, 
 " Let the blessing of God, the Fathei 
 Almighty, descend and remain upon you ; 
 in the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
 andof the Holy Gliost. Amen." Then he 
 signed all the sheep with the sign of the 
 cross, repeated thrice some Latin verses, 
 with the Paternoster and Ave-Marias, 
 
 her to bless the sheep, and sprinkled them 
 with water. The chief difference between 
 the forms seems to have consisted in this, 
 that the ancient Romans let the sheep 
 remain in their folds, while the moderns 
 drove them into the church. 
 
 Christmas Rose. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 St. j4gne.t. 
 
 Hellebortts nrger Jlor^ 
 albo. 
 
 THE CROCUS. 
 
 Dainty young thing 
 Of life ! — Thou vent'rous flower, 
 Who growest througli the hard, cold 
 
 Of wintry Spring : — 
 
 Thou various-hued. 
 Soft, voiceless bell, whose spire 
 Rocks in the grassy leaves like wire 
 
 In solitude :— 
 
 12. 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK -JANUARY 9.1. 
 
 Like Pulience, thou 
 Art quiet in thy earth, 
 Instructing Hope that Virtue's birth 
 Is Feeling's vow. 
 Thy fancied bride ! 
 The delicate Snowdrop, keeps 
 Her home with thee ; she wakes and sleeps 
 Near thy true side. 
 Will Man but hear ! 
 A simple flower can tell 
 What beauties in his mind shoiild dwell 
 Through Passion's spliere. 
 
 J. R. Prior. 
 Chronology. 
 1793. On the 21st of January, Louis 
 XV'I. was beheaded at Paris, in the thirty- 
 ninth year of his age, and nineteenth of 
 his reign, under circumstances which 
 are in the recollection of many, and 
 known to most persons. A similar in- 
 strument to the guillotine, the machine 
 by which Louis XVI. was put to death, 
 was formerly used in England. It was 
 firit introduced into France, during the 
 revolution, by Dr. Guillotine, a physician, 
 and hence its name. 
 
 THE HALIFAX GIBUET AND GIBBET-LAW. 
 
 The History of Halifax in Yorkshire, 
 12mo. 1T12, sets forth " a true account 
 of their ancient, odd, customary gibbet- 
 law ; and their particular form of trying 
 and executing of criminals, the like not 
 us'd in any other place in Great Britain." 
 The Halifax gibbet was in the form of the 
 guillotine, and its gibbet-law quite as re- 
 markable. The work referred to, which is 
 more curious than rare, painfully endea- 
 vours to prove this law wise and salutary. 
 It prevailed only within the forest of 
 Hardwick, which was subject to the lord 
 of the manor of Wakefield, a part of the 
 duchy of Lancaster. If a felon were 
 taken within the liberty of the forest with 
 cloth, or other commodity, of the value of 
 thirteen-pence halfpenny, he was, after 
 three market-days from his apprehension 
 and condemnation, to be carried to the 
 gibbet, and there have his head cut off 
 from his body. When first taken, he was 
 brought to the lord's bailiff in Halifax, 
 who kept the town, had also the keeping 
 of the axe, and was the executioner at the 
 gibbet. "This officer summoned a jury of 
 frith-burghers to try him on the evi- 
 dence of witnesses not upon oath: if ac- 
 quitted], he was set at liberty, upon pay- 
 
 ment of his fees ; if convicted, lie was set 
 in the stocks on each of tlie three subse- 
 quent market-days in Halifax, with the 
 stolen goods on his back, if they weru 
 portable; if not, they were placed before 
 his face. This was for a terror to others, 
 and to engage any who had aught against 
 him, to bring accusations, although after 
 the three market-days he was sure to be 
 executed for the ofi'ence already proved 
 upon him. But the convict had the sa- 
 tisfaction of knowing, that after he was 
 put to death, it was the duty of the coro- 
 ner to summon a jury, " and sometimes 
 the same jury that condemned him," to 
 inquire into the cause of his death, and 
 that a return thereof would be made into 
 the Crown-office ; " which gracious and 
 sage proceedings of the coroner in tliat 
 matter ought, one would think, to abate, 
 in all considering minds, that edge of acri- 
 mony which hath provoked malicious and 
 prejudiced persons to debase this laudable 
 and necessary custom." So says the book. 
 In April, 1650, Abraham Wilkinson 
 and Anthony Mitchell were found guilty 
 of stealing nine yards of cloth and two 
 colts, and on the 30th of the month re- 
 ceived sentence, " to suffer death, by 
 having their head? severed and cut off 
 from their bodies at Halifax gibbet," and 
 they suffered accordingly. These were 
 the last persons executed under Halifax 
 gibbet-law. 
 
 The execution was in this manner : — 
 The prisoner being brought to the scaffold 
 by the bailiff, the axe was drawn up by a 
 pulley, and fastened with a pin to the 
 side of the scaffold. " The bailiff, the 
 jurors, and the minister chosen by the 
 prisoner, being always upon the scaffold 
 with the prisoner, in most solemn manner, 
 after the minister had finished his minis- 
 terial office and christian duty, if it was 
 a horse, an ox, or cow, kc. that was taken 
 with the prisoner, it was thither brought 
 along with him to the place of execution, 
 and fastened by a cord to the pin that 
 stay'd the block, so that when the lime 
 of the execution came, (which was known 
 by the jurors holding up one of theii 
 hands,) the bailiff, or his servant, whip- 
 ping the beast, the pin was pluck'd out, 
 and execution done ; but if there wereny 
 beast in the case, then the bailiff, or his 
 servant, cut the rope." 
 
 73 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAKY 21. 
 
 THE HALIFAX GIBBET. 
 
 But if tlie lelon, after his apprehension, 
 or in his going to execution, happened to 
 make his escape out of the forest of Hard- 
 wick, which liberty, on the east end of 
 the town, doth not extend above the 
 breadth of a small river ; on the north 
 about six hundred paces; on the south 
 about a mile ; but on the west about ten 
 miles; — if such an escape were made, 
 then the bailiff of Halifax had no power 
 to apprehend him out of his liberty ; but 
 if ever the felon came agaia into the 
 liberty of Hardwick, and were taken, he 
 was certainly executed. One Lacy, who 
 made his escape, and lived seven years 
 out of the liberty, after that time coming 
 boldly within the liberty of Hardwick, 
 was retaken, and executed upon his for- 
 mer verdict of condemnation 
 
 The records of executions by the Ha- 
 hfax gibbet, before the time of Elizabeth, 
 are lost ; but during her reign twenty- 
 five persons suETered under it, and from 
 
 1G23 to 1650 there were twelve execu- 
 tions. The machine is destroyed. The 
 engraving placed above, represents the 
 instrument, from a figure of it in an old 
 map of Yorkshiie, which is altogether 
 better than the print of it in the work 
 before cited 
 
 The worthy author of the Halifax 
 gibbet-book seems by his title to be well 
 assured, th it the machine was limited to, 
 and to the sole use and behoof of, his 
 district ; but in this, as in some other 
 particulars, he is mistaken, 
 
 A small print by Aldegraver, one of 
 the little German masters, in 1553, now 
 lying before the writer, represents the 
 execution of Manlius, the Roman, by the 
 same instrument ; and he has a similar 
 print by Pens, an early engiaver of that 
 school. There are engravings of it in 
 books printed so early as 1510. In 
 Holimsbed's Chronicle there is a cit of 
 
 74 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— JANUaEY 21. 
 
 a man ^^ l.o had attempted the life of 
 Henry III. suffering by this instrument. 
 In Fox's " Acts and Monuments," there 
 is another execution in the same manner. 
 The " maiden" by which James, earl 
 of Morton, the regent of Scotland, was 
 put to death for high treason in 1581, 
 was of tliis form, and is said to have been 
 constructed by his order from a model of 
 one that he had seen in England : he was 
 the first and last person who suffered by 
 it in Scotland; and it still exists in the 
 parliament-house at Edinburgh. In "The 
 Cloud of Witnesses; or the last Speeches 
 of Scottish Martyrs since 1680," there is 
 a print of an execution in Scotland by a 
 similar instrument. The construction of 
 such a machine was in contemplation for 
 the beheading of lord Lovat in 1747 : he 
 approved the notion — " My neck is very 
 short," he said, " and the executioner 
 will be puzzled to find it out with 
 liis axe: if they make the machine, I 
 suppose they will call it lord Lovat's 
 maiden." 
 
 Randle Ilolmc in his " Armory" de- 
 scribes an heraldic quartering thus : — 
 " He beareth gules, a heading -block 
 fixed between two supporters, with an 
 axe placed therein ; on the sinister side a 
 maule, all proper." This agreeable bear- 
 ing he figures as tne reader sees it. 
 
 Holme observes, that " this was the 
 Jews' and Romans' way of beheading of- 
 fenders, as some write, though others say 
 they used to cut off the heads of such, 
 with a sharp, two-handed sword : how- 
 ever, this way of decollation was by lay- 
 ing the neck of the malefactor on the 
 block, and then setting the axe upon it, 
 which lay in a rigget in the two side- 
 Dosts or supporters ; the executioner with 
 
 the violence of a blow on the hean of thv 
 axe, with his heavy maul, iorced it througii 
 the man's neck into the block. I have 
 seen the draugnt of the like heading-in- 
 strument, where the weighiy axe (made 
 heavy for that purpose) was raised up 
 and fell down in such a riggetted frame, 
 which being suadenly let to fall, the 
 weight of it was sufficient to cut off a 
 man's head at one blow." 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 Remarkable instances of the mildness 
 of January, 1825, are recorded in the 
 provincial and London journals. In tfie 
 first week a man plantini? a hedge near 
 Mansfield, in Yorkshire, found a black- 
 bird's nest with four young ones in it. 
 The Westmoreland Gazette states, that on 
 the 13th a fine ripe strawberry was ga- 
 thered in the garden of Mr. W. White- 
 head, Storth End, near End-Moor, and 
 about the same tiir.e a present of the 
 same fruit was made by Thomas Wilson, 
 Esq. Thorns, Underbanow, to Mr. Alder- 
 man Smith Wilson, some of them larcer 
 in bulk than the common hazel-nut. In- 
 deed the forwardness of the season in the 
 north appears wonderful. It is stated in 
 the Glasgow Chronicle of the 11th, that on 
 the 7th, bees were flying about in the gar- 
 den of Rose-mount; on the 9th, the sky was 
 without a cloud ; there was scarcely a 
 breath of wind, the blackbirds were sing- 
 ing as if welcoming the spring ; pastures 
 wore a fine, fresh, and healthy appear- 
 ance ; the wheat-braird was strong, thick 
 in the ground, and nearly covering the 
 soil ; vegetation going on in the gardens ; 
 the usual syjring flowers making their ap- 
 pearance ; the Chris*jnas rose, the snow- 
 drop, the polyanthea, the single or border 
 anemone, the hepatica in its varieties, and 
 the mazerion were in full bloom ; the 
 Narcissus making its appearance, and the 
 crocusses showing colour. On the 11th, 
 at six o'clock, the thermometer in Nelson- 
 street, Glasgow, indicated 44 degrees 
 on the 9th, the barometer gained the ex- 
 traordinary height of 31-01 ; on the 11th, it 
 was at 30-8. The Sheffield Mercury re- 
 presents, that within six or seven weeks 
 preceding the middle of the month, the 
 barometer had been lower and higher than 
 had been remarked by any living indivi- 
 dual in that town. On the 23d of No- 
 vember it was so low as 27'5 ; and on 
 the 9th of January at 1 1 p. m. it stood at 
 30-65. In the same place the following 
 meteorological observations were mofle • 
 
 75 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUAPY 22. 
 
 January, 1825. 
 
 THEHMOMF.TER. 
 TEN o'clock a. M. DO. P. M. 
 
 lltli 42 ."^S 
 
 12tli 43 37 
 
 VM\\ 44 40 
 
 14th 44 43 
 
 BAnOMETEK. 
 TEN o'clock a. M. do. P. M. 
 
 llth 30-4 .... 30-3 
 
 12th 30-3 .... 30-2 
 
 13th 30-5 , . . . 29-9 
 
 14tl> 29-5 .... 29-7 
 
 At Paris, in the latter end of 1824, the 
 barometer was exceedingly high, consi- 
 dering the bad weather that had prevail- 
 ed, and the moisture of the atmosphere. 
 There l>ad been almost constant and in- 
 cessant rain. The few intervals of fair 
 weather, were when the wind got round a 
 few points to the west, or the northward 
 of west : but invariably, a few hours 
 after, the wind again got to the south- 
 west, and the rain commenced falling. It 
 appeared as if a revolution had taken 
 place in the laws of the barometer. The 
 barometer in London was at 30-48 in 
 May, 1824, and never rose higher during 
 Uie whole year. 
 
 Sanuarp 22. 
 
 St. Vincent. St. Anastasius. 
 
 St. Vincent was a Spanish martyr, said 
 to have been tormented by fire, so that he 
 died in 304. His name is in the church 
 of England calendar. Butler affirms that 
 his body was " thrown in a marshy field 
 among rushes, but a crow defended it 
 from wild beasts and birds of prey." The 
 Golden Legend says that angels had 
 the guardianship of the body, that the 
 crow attended to drive away birds and 
 fowls greater than himself, and that after 
 he had chased a wolf with his bill and 
 beak, he then turned his head towards 
 the body, as if he marvelled at the keep- 
 ing of it by the angels. His relics ne- 
 cessarily worked miracles wherever they 
 were kept. For their collection, separa- 
 tion, and how they travelled from place to 
 place, see Butler. 
 
 Brand, from a MS. note by Mr. Douce, 
 referring to Scot's " Discoverie of Witch- 
 craft," cites an old injunction to observe 
 whether the sun shines on St. Vincenl's- 
 day : 
 " Vincenti festo si Sol radiet memcr cste." 
 
 Jt iit thus done into English by Abraham 
 Fleming: 
 
 Remember on St. Vincent's day 
 If that the sun his beams displiy 
 
 Dr. Forster, in the " Perennial Calen- 
 dar," is at a loss for the origin of the com- 
 mand, but he thinks it may have been 
 derived from a notion that the sun would 
 not shine unominously on the day whereon 
 the saint was burnt. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1800. — On the 22d of January, in this 
 year, died George Steevens, Esq. F. R. S. 
 F. A. S. He was born at Stepney, in 
 1751 or 1752, and is best known as the 
 editor of Shakspeaie, though to the ver- 
 satility and richness of his talents there are 
 numerous testimonials. He maintained 
 the greatest perseverance in every thing 
 he undertook. He never relaxed, but 
 sometimes broke off favourite habits ol 
 long indulgence suddenly. In this way 
 he discontinued his daily visits to two 
 booksellers. This, says his biographer in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, he did " after 
 many years' regular attendance, for no 
 real cause." It is submitted, however, 
 that the cause, though unknown to others 
 may have been every way sufficing and 
 praiseworthy. He who has commenced 
 practice that has grown into a destroyei 
 ofhis time and desires to end it, must 
 snap it in an instant. If he strive to abate 
 it by degrees, he will find himself relax- 
 ing by degrees. 
 
 " Delusions strong as hell will bind 
 him fast," unless he achieve, not the de- 
 termination to destroy, but the act of de- 
 struction. The will and the power are 
 two. Steevens knew this, and though he 
 had taken snuff all his life, he never took 
 one pinch after he lost his box in St. 
 Paul's church-yard. Had he taken one 
 he might have taken one more, and then 
 only another, and afterwards only a little 
 bit in a paper, and then, he would have 
 died as he lived — a snuff-taker. No ; 
 Steevens appears to have discovered the 
 grand secret, thac a man's self is the 
 great enemy of himself, and hence his in- 
 tolerance of self - indulgence even in 
 degree. 
 
 His literary collections were remark- 
 ably curious, and as regards the days that 
 are gone, of great value. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 St. Vincent. 
 Early Witlow grass. Draha vcrrux. 
 
 76 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 23. 
 
 Sanuarp 23. 
 
 HILARY TERM begins. 
 
 St. Raymund of Pennafort, a. d 1275. 
 St. John the Almoner, a, d. 619. St. 
 Emerentia, a. d. 304. <S^ Clement of 
 Ancyia. St. Agathangelus. St. Ilde- 
 fousus, A. u. 0(37. St. LuscuiuSf 
 Abbot. 
 
 Tliis being the first day ol torm, the 
 judges of the different courts at Westmin- 
 ter, take their seats in Westminster-hall 
 to commence business. 
 
 The engraving represents the inte- 
 lior of the hall at the time when the 
 print from whence it is taken was en- 
 graved by C. Mosley. The drawing was by 
 (Jravelot, who died in 1773. 
 
 WESTMINSTER PIALL, WITH ITS SHOPS. 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 23 
 
 The shops within the hall are remark- 
 ably curioui from their situation, and in- 
 deed the courts themselves are no less 
 worthy of observation. It will be recol- 
 ected that the court of Chancery and the 
 court of King's Bench, at the upper end 
 were, until the coronation, enclosed from 
 sight and hearing ; in the print they are 
 open. This is the print alluded to in the 
 volume on " Ancient Mysteries," p. 266, 
 wherein is cited Ned Ward's remarks re- 
 specting the sempstresses, by whom some 
 of these shops were occupied. 
 
 It is of ancient custom on the first day 
 of term for the judges to breakfast with 
 the lord chancellor in Lincoln's-inn-hall, 
 and proceed with him in their respective 
 carriages to Westminster-hall. Being ar- 
 rived at the hall door in Palace-yard, and 
 having alighted with their officers and 
 train bearers, they formed a procession 
 along the hall until they came opposite to 
 the court of Common Pleas, before which 
 stood the Serjeants at law, who had pre- 
 viously arranged themselves in their full 
 dress wigs and gowns, and awaited the 
 coming of the judges, who were also in 
 their full dress. Tlien the Serjeants all 
 bowed, and their obeisance being acknow- 
 ledged by the judges in like manner, the 
 lord chancellor, being first, approached 
 the fiist Serjeant in the rank, and shook 
 bands with him, saying, " How d'ye do, 
 brother? I wish you a good term ;" where- 
 upon the Serjeant bowed and thanked his 
 lordship, and the chancellor bowing to 
 him, the serjeant again bowed ; and the 
 chancellor saluted and shook hands with 
 the next serjeant in like manner, and so 
 he did with each serjeant present, and 
 then proceeded with his officers to his 
 court. The lord chief justice of England 
 and each of the puisne judges of the court 
 of King's Bench, saluting and shaking 
 hands with each serjeant in the same man- 
 ner, followed the chancellor and went into 
 their court. In the same manner also did the 
 chief justice and puisne judges of the 
 court of Common Pleas, and entered their 
 court at the back of the serjeants. Lastly, 
 the lord chief baron and the puisne barons 
 of the Exchequer, having also so saluted 
 the Serjeants, returned back and entered the 
 court of Exchequer, which is at the right 
 hand immediately on entering the hall; 
 the entrance to the court of Common 
 Pleas being about midway on the same 
 side of the hall, whither, on the barons 
 having retired, the serjeants withdrew to 
 commence busines.? before the judges. 
 
 The site of the court of Chancery is on 
 the same side up the steps at the end of tiie 
 hall, and that of the court of King's Bench 
 level with it on the left-hand side. It 
 is to be noted, that one judge does not 
 salute the serjeants before the rest of the 
 judges begin to salute them, but each fol- 
 lows the other. Thus whilst the chancel- 
 lor is saluting the second serjeant the lord 
 chief justice salutes the first, and he sa- 
 lutes the second while the chancellor sa- 
 lutes the third, the next judge of the King's 
 Bench court saluting the first serjeant; 
 and so the judges proceed successively, 
 and close to each other, till all the ser- 
 jeants have been saluted. It is further 
 observable, that more extended greetings 
 sometimes pass between the judges and 
 serjeants who are intimate. 
 
 In 1825, the 23d of January, whereon 
 Hilary term commences, happening on 
 a Sunday, which is a dies non, or no day 
 in law. the courts were opened on the 
 24th, when the judges refreshed them- 
 selves in Lincoln's-inn-hall with the lord 
 chancellor, as usual, and departed at 
 half-past twelve o'clock. On retiring, 
 sir Charles Abbot, as lord chief justice, 
 took precedence of lord Gifford, the 
 master of the rolls, though he ranks as a 
 baron of the realm, and is deputy speaker 
 of the house of lords. The court of 
 Chancery inWestminstc-hall being under 
 reparation, the chancellor remained m 
 Lincoln's-inn to keep his term there. 
 For the same reason, the serjeants did 
 not range themselves in the hall at West- 
 minster, but awaited the arrival of the 
 judges of the Common Pleas in their ova 
 court; the carriages of the judges of th.« 
 King's Bench turned to the right at the 
 top of Parliament-street, and proceeded 
 to the new Sessions' house, where the 
 judges sit until the new court of King's 
 Bench in Westminster-hall shall be pre- 
 pared. 
 
 It is further to be remarked, that the 
 Side Bar in Westminster-hall stood, till 
 very lately, within a short space of the 
 wall, and at a few feet on the Palace-yard 
 side of the court of Common Pleas' steps. 
 Formerly, attorneys stood within this bar 
 every morning during term, and moved 
 the judges for the common rules, called 
 side-bar rules, as they passed to theii 
 courts, and by whom they were granted 
 them as of course. These motions have 
 been long discontinued ; the rules are 
 applied for and obtained at the rule-office 
 a« rules of course ; but each rule still ex 
 
 78 
 
Till-: EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 23. 
 
 presses that it has been granted upon a 
 " side-bar" motion 
 
 To recur to the engravms;, which exhi- 
 bits Westminster-hall at no distant period, 
 in a state very dissimilar to its more late 
 appearance. The original print by Mosley 
 bears the following versified inscription : 
 
 When fools fall out, for ev'ry flaw. 
 They run horn mad to go to law, 
 A hedge awry, a wrong plac'd gate. 
 Will serve to spend a whole estate. 
 Your case the lawyer says is good, 
 And justice cannot be withstood ; 
 By tedious process from above 
 From office they to office move ; 
 Thro' pleas, demurrers, the dev'l an 1 all, 
 At length they bring it to the hall; 
 The dreadful hall by Rufus rais'd. 
 For lofty Gothick arches prais'd. 
 
 The First of Term, the fatal day^ 
 Doth various images convey ; 
 First from the courts with clam'rous bawl 
 The criers their attorneys call ; 
 One of the gown, discreet and wise. 
 By proper means his witness tries ; 
 From Wreathock's gang — not right or laws 
 H'assures his trembling client's cause ; 
 This gnaws his handkerchief, whilst that 
 Gives the kind ogling nymph his hat ; 
 Here one in love with choiristers 
 JVIinds singing more than law affairs. 
 A Serjeant limping on beiiind 
 Shews justice lame, as uell as blind. 
 To gain new clients some dispute, 
 Others protract an ancient suit. 
 Jargon and noise alone prevail. 
 While sense and reason's sure to fail ; 
 4t Babel thus law terms began. 
 And now at Westm er go on. 
 
 The advocate, whose subornation of 
 perjury is hinted at, is in the foremost 
 group ; he is offering money to one of 
 ■' Wreathock's gang." This Wreathock 
 ^ was a villainous attorney, who re- 
 ceived sentence of death for his criminal 
 practices, and was ordered to be trans- 
 ported for life in 1 736. It is a notorious 
 fact, that many years ago wretches sold 
 themselves to give any evidence, upon 
 oath, that might be required ; and some 
 of these openly walked Westminster-hall 
 with a straw in the shoe to signify that 
 they wanted employment as witnesses ; 
 such was one of the customs of the " good 
 old times," which some of us regret we 
 were not born in. The " choirister " in 
 a surplice, bearing a torch, was probably 
 one ofthe choir belonging to Westminster- 
 abbey. To his right hand is the " limp- 
 ing Serjeant " with a stick ; liis serjeantship 
 being denoted by the coif, or cap, he 
 
 wears ; the coif is now diminished into a 
 small circular piece of black silk at the 
 top ofthe wig, instead of the cap repre- 
 sented in the engraving. The first shop, 
 on the left, is occupied by a bookseller ; 
 the next by a mathematical instrument 
 maker; then there is another bookseller; 
 beyond him a dealer in articles of female 
 consumption; beyond her a bookseller 
 again; and, last on that side, a second 
 female shopkeeper. Opposite to her, 
 on the right of the hall, stands a 
 clock, with the hands signifying it to be 
 about one in the afternoon ; the first shop, 
 next from the clock, is a bookseller's ; 
 then comes a female, who is a map and 
 printseller ; and, lastly, the girl who re- 
 ceives the barrister's hat into her care, 
 and whose line appears to sustain the 
 " turnovers " worn by the beaus of those 
 days with ••' rufiies," which, according to 
 Ned Ward, the sempstresses of Westmin- 
 ster-hall nicely " pleated," to the satis- 
 faction of the " young students " learned 
 in the law. 
 
 Enough has, probably, been said of the 
 engraving, to obtain legard to it as an 
 object worth notice. 
 
 The first day of term is occupied, in 
 the common law courts, by the exami- 
 nation of bail for persons who have been 
 arre.sted, and whose opponents will not 
 consent to the bail justifying before a 
 judge at his chambers. A versified ex- 
 emplification of this proceeding in the 
 court of King's Bench, was written when 
 lord Mansfield was chief, and Mr. VVilles 
 a justice of the court ; a person named 
 Hewitt was then cryer, Mr. Mingay, a 
 celebrated counsel, still remembered, is 
 represented as opposing the bail proposed 
 by Mr. Baldwin, another counsel : 
 king's-bench practice, chjp. 10. 
 op justifying bail. 
 
 Baldwin. Hewitt, call Taylor s biil, — for 1 
 Shall now proceed to justify. 
 
 Heu'itt. Where's Taylor's bail ? 
 
 \st Bail. 1 can't get in. 
 
 Hewitt. Make way. 
 
 Lord Mansfield, For heaven's sake 
 
 begin. 
 
 Hewitt. But where's the other ? 
 
 2d Bail. Here 1 
 
 stand. 
 
 Mingay. I must except to both. — Com- 
 mand 
 Silence, — and if your lordship crave it, 
 Austen shall read our affidavit. 
 
 Austen. Will. Priddle, late of Fleet-street, 
 gent. 
 Makes oath and saith, that late he went 
 
 79 
 
THE EVERY-DA\ BOOK.— JANUARY 23. 
 
 Tu Duke's-pioce, as he was directed 
 By notice, and he there expected 
 Vo find both bail — but none could tell 
 Where the first bail lived — 
 
 Miiigay. • Very well. 
 
 Austin. And this deponent further says, 
 Tliat, asking- who the second was, 
 He found he'd bankrupt been, and yet 
 Had ne'er obtained certificate. 
 When to his house deponent went. 
 He full four stories high was sent, 
 And found a lodging almost bare ; 
 No furniture, but half a chair, 
 A table, bedstead, broken fiddle 
 And a bu'-eau. 
 
 (Signed) William Priddle, 
 Swoin at my chambers. 
 
 Francis Biiller. 
 Hfitiffay. No affidavit can be fuller. 
 Well, fiend, you've heard this affidavit. 
 What do you say ? 
 
 2d Bail. Sir, by your leave, it 
 
 Is all a lie. 
 
 Mingay. Sir, have a care, 
 What is your trade 1 
 
 2d Bail. A scavenger. 
 
 Alingay. And, pray, sir, were you never 
 found 
 I ankrupt 1 
 
 2d Bail. I'm worth a thousand pound. 
 Minguy. A thousand pound, friend, boldly 
 said — 
 In what consisting ? 
 
 2rf Bail. Stock in trade. 
 
 Mingay. And, pray, friend, tell me, — do 
 you know 
 What sum you're bail for } 
 
 '2d Bail. Truly no. 
 
 Mingny. My lords, you hear, — no oaths 
 have check'd him : 
 I hope your lordships will — 
 
 IVilles. Reject him, 
 
 Mingay. Well, friend, now tell me where 
 
 ynu dwell. 
 \st Bail. Sir, 1 have liv'd in Clerkenwell 
 These ten years. 
 
 Mingay. Half-a-gnineadead. {Aside.) 
 
 ]My lords, if you've the notice read. 
 It says Dtike's-place. So I desire 
 A little further time t' inquire. 
 
 Baldwin. Why, Mr. Mingay, all this va- 
 pour ? 
 Willes. Take till to morrow. 
 
 lAird Mansfitld. Call the paper. 
 
 The preceding pleasantry came from 
 the pen of the late John Baynes, Esq. a 
 Yorkshire gentleman, who was born in 
 April, 1758, educated for the law at 
 Trinity college, Cambridge, obtained 
 prizes for proficiency in philosophy and 
 claiisical attainments, was admitted of 
 Gray's-inn, practised in his profession, 
 and would probably have risen to its 
 first honours. Mr. Nichols says " his 
 
 learning was extensive ; his abihties great 
 his application imwearied ; his integrity 
 animpeached. In religious principles he 
 was an Unitarian Christian and Protest- 
 ant; in political principles the friend of the 
 civil liberties of mankind, and the genuine 
 constitution of his country. He died 
 August 4, 1787, and was buried on the 
 9ih in Bunhill-fields' burying-ground, neat 
 to the grave of Dr. Jebb," his tutor at 
 college: "the classical hand of Dr. Parr" 
 commemorated him by an epitaph. 
 
 One of the best papers in Mr. Knight's 
 late "Quarterly Magazine," of good arti- 
 cles, is so suitable to this day, legally 
 considered, that any one sufficiently in- 
 terested to sympathize with " the cares 
 and the fears" of a young lawyer, or, 
 indeed, any one who dares to admit that 
 a lawyer may have bowels, as well as an 
 appetite, will sufi'er the Confessions of a 
 Barrister to be recorded here. 
 
 MY FIRST BRIEF 
 
 " A lawyer," says an old comedy 
 which r once read at the British Museum, 
 " is an odd sort of fruit — first rotten — 
 then green — and then ripe." There is 
 too much of truth in the homely figure. 
 The first years of a young barrister are 
 spent, or rather worn out, in anxious 
 leisure. His talents rust, his temper is 
 injured, his little patrimony wastes away, 
 and not an attorney shows a sign of re- 
 morse. He endures term after term, and 
 circuit after circuit, that greatest of all 
 evils — a rank above his means of support- 
 ing it. He drives round the country in 
 a post-chaise, and marvels what Johnson 
 found so exhilarating in its motion — that 
 is, if he paid for it himself. He eats 
 venison, and drinks claret ; but he loses 
 the flavour of both when he reflects that 
 his wife (for the fool is married, and 
 married for love too !) has perhaps just 
 dined for the third time on a cold neck 
 of mutton, and has not tasted wine since 
 their last party — an occurrence beyond 
 even legal mem.ory. He leaves the fes- 
 tive board early, and takes a solitary 
 walk — returns to his lodu'ings in the twi- 
 light, and sees on his table a large white 
 rectangular body, which for a moment he 
 supposes may be a brief — alas ! it is only 
 a napkin. lie is vex^d, and rings to 
 have It removed, when up comes his 
 clerk, who is drunk and insolent: he is 
 about to kick him down stairs, but stay.s 
 his foot on recollecting the arrears of the 
 
 80 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JAN fJARY 23. 
 
 fellow's WHges ; and contents himself with 
 w ndering where the fellow finds the 
 means of such extravagance. — Then in 
 court many are the vexations of the brief- 
 less. — The attorney is a cruel person to 
 them — as cruel as a rich coxcomb in a 
 ball-room, who delights in exciting hopes 
 only to disappoint them. Indeed I have 
 often thought the communications be- 
 tween the solicitors and the bar have no 
 slight resemblance to the flirtation be- 
 tween the sexes. Barristers, like ladies, 
 must wait to be chosen. The slightest 
 overture would be equally fatal to one 
 gown as the other. The gentlemen of 
 the bar sit round the table in dignified 
 composure, thinking just as little of briefs 
 as a young lady of marriage. An at- 
 torney enters — not an eye moves ; but 
 somehow or other, the fact is known to 
 all. Calmly he draws from his pocket a 
 brief: practice enables us to see at a 
 glance that the tormentor has left a blank 
 for the name of his counsel. He looks 
 around the circle as if to choose his man; 
 you cannot doubt but his eye rests on 
 you ; he writes a name, but you are too 
 far off' to read it, though you know every 
 name on your circuit upside down. Now 
 he counts out the fee, and wraps it up 
 with slow and provoking formality. At 
 length all being prepared, he looks to- 
 wards you to catch (as you suppose) your 
 eye. You nod, and the brief comes fly- 
 ing; you pick it up, and find on it the 
 name of a man three years your junior, 
 who is sitting next you : you curse the 
 attorney's impudence, and ask yourself 
 if he meant to insult you. — " Perhaps 
 not," you say, " for the dog squints." — 
 I received my maiden brief in London. 
 How well do I recollect the minutest 
 circumstances connected with that case ! 
 The rap at the door ! I am a connoisseur 
 in raps — there is not a dun in London 
 who could deceive me : I know their 
 tricks but too well ; they have no medium 
 between the rap servile, and the rap im- 
 pndent. This was a cheerful touch ; you 
 felt that the operator knew he should meet 
 with a face of welcome. My clerk, who 
 is not much under the influence of sweet 
 sounds, seemed absolutely inspired, and an- 
 swered the knock with astonishing velocity. 
 I could hear from my inner room the 
 murmur of inquiry and answer; and 
 though I could not distinguish a word; 
 the tones confirmed my hopes ; — I was 
 not long suffered to doubt — my client en- 
 tared, anil the roll of pure white papei 
 
 tied round with the brilliant red tape, 
 met my eye. He inquired respectfully, 
 and with an appearance of anxiety, which 
 marked him to my mind for a perfect 
 Chesterfield, if I was already retained in 
 
 V. ? The rogue knew well enough 
 
 that I had never had a retainer in my life. 
 1 took a moment to consider ; after making 
 him repeat the name of his case, I gravely 
 assured him I was at perfect liberty to 
 receive his brief. He then laid the papers 
 and my fee upon the table ; asked me if 
 the time appointed for a consultation 
 w ith the two gentlemen who were " with 
 me" would be convenient; and finding 
 that the state of my engagements would 
 allow me to attend, made his bow and 
 departed. That fee was sacred, and I 
 put it to no vulgar use. Many years have 
 now elapsed since that case was disposed 
 of, and yet how fresh does it live in my 
 memory! how perfectly do I recollect 
 every authority to which he referred ! how 
 I read and re-read the leading cases that 
 bore upon the question to be argued! One 
 case I so betlnanbed that the volume has 
 opened at it ever since, as inevitably as 
 the prayer-bock of a lady's maid proffers 
 the service of matrimony. My brief re- 
 lated to an argument before the judges of 
 the King's Bench, and the place of con- 
 sultation wasAyles's coff'ee-house, adjoin- 
 ing Westminster-hall. There was I be- 
 fore the clock had finished striking the 
 hour; my brief I knew by heart. I had 
 raised an army of objections to the points 
 for which we were to contend, and had 
 logically slain every one of them. I went 
 prepared to discuss the question thorough- 
 ly; and I generously determined to give 
 my leaders the benefit of my cogitations — 
 though not without a slight struggle at 
 the thought of how much reputation I 
 should lose by my magnanimity. I had 
 plenty of time to think of these things, for 
 my leaders were engaged in court, and 
 the attorney and I had the room to our- 
 selves. After we had been waiting about 
 an hour, the door flew open, and in strode 
 one of my leaders, the second in com- 
 mand, less in haste (as it appeared to me) 
 to meet his appointment, than to escape 
 from the atmosphere of clients in which 
 he had been just enveloped, during his 
 passage from the court. — Having shaken 
 
 oflfhis tormentors, ]Mr. walked up to 
 
 the fire — said it was cold — nodded kindly 
 to me — and had just asked what had been 
 the last night's division in the hous — 
 when the powdered head of an usher was 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 81 
 
 G 
 
niE EVERY-DA\ BOOK.—JANDARY 2^ 
 
 proln.ded through the half open door to 
 announce that " Jones and Williams was 
 called on." Down went the poker, and 
 
 away flew with streaming robes, 
 
 leaving me to meditate on the loss which 
 the case would sustain for want of his 
 assistance at the expected discussion. 
 Having waited some further space, I 
 heard a rustling of silks, and the great 
 
 , our commander in chief, sailed into 
 
 the room. As he did not run foul of me, I 
 think it possible I may not have been 
 invisible to him; but he furnished me 
 with no other evidence of the fact. He 
 simply directed the attorney to provide cer- 
 tain additional affidavits, tacked about and 
 sailed away. And thus ended the first 
 consultation. I consoled myself with the 
 thought that I had all my materials for 
 myself, and that from having had so much 
 more time for considering the subject than 
 the others, I must infallibly make the best 
 speech of the three. At length the fatal 
 day came. I never shall forget the thrill 
 
 with which I heard open the case, 
 
 and felt how soon it would be my turn to 
 speak. O, how I did pray for a long 
 speech ! I lost all feeling of rivalry ; and 
 would gladly have given him every thing 
 that I intended to use myself, only to 
 defer the dreaded moment for one half- 
 hour. His speech was frightfully short, 
 yet, short as it was, it made sad havoc 
 with my stock of matter. The next 
 speaker's was even more concise, and yet 
 my little stock suffered again severely. 
 I then found how experience will stand 
 in the place of study. These men could 
 not, from the multiplicity of their engage- 
 ments, have spent a tithe of the time upon 
 the case which I had done : and yet they 
 had seen much which had escaped my 
 research. At length my turn came. I 
 was sitting among the back rows in the 
 old court of King's Bench. It was on the 
 first day of Michaelmas term, and late in 
 the evening. A sort of "darkness visible'' 
 had been produced by the aid of a few 
 candles dispersed here and there. I arose, 
 but I was not peiceived by the judges, 
 who had turned together to consult, sup- 
 posing the argument finished. B 
 
 was the first to see me, and I received from 
 him a nod of kindness and encourage- 
 ment which I hope I shall never forget. 
 The court was crowded, for it was a 
 question of some interest ; it was a 
 dreadful moment — the ushers stilled the 
 audience into awful silence. I began, 
 and at the sound of an unkiiown voice. 
 
 every wig of the v/hite inclined plane, at 
 the upper end of which I was standing 
 turned round ; and in an instant I had 
 the eyes of seventy " learned friends " 
 looking me full in the face ! It is hardly 
 to be conceived by those who have not 
 gone through the ordeal; how terrific is 
 this mute attention to the object of it. 
 How grateful should I have been for any 
 thing which would have relieved me from 
 its oppressive weight — a buzz, a scraping 
 of the shoes, or a fit of coughing, would 
 have put me under infinite obligations to 
 the kind disturber. What I said I linow 
 not; I knew not then; it is the only 
 part of the transaction of which I am 
 ignorant ; it was " a phantasma, or 
 hideous dream." They told me, however, 
 to my great surprise, that I spoke in a 
 loud voice ; used violent gesture, and as 
 I went along seemed to shake off my trepi- 
 dation. Whether I made a long speech oi 
 a short one I cannot tell ; for I had no 
 power of measuring time. All I know 
 is, that I should have made a much longer 
 one, had I not felt my ideas, like Bob 
 Acre's courage, oozing out of my fingers' 
 ends. The court decided against us, 
 erroneously as I of course thought, for 
 the young advocate is always on the right 
 side. The next morning I got up early 
 to look at the newspapers, which I ex- 
 pected to see full of our case. In an 
 obscure corner,and in a small type, I found 
 a few words given as the speeches of my 
 
 leaders: and I also read that "Mr. . 
 
 followed on the same side '' 
 
 LEGAL GLEE. 
 
 It is affirmed of sir William Black- 
 stone, that so often as he sat down to the 
 composition of his Commentaries on the 
 Laws of England, he always ordered a 
 bottle of wine wherewith to moisten the 
 dryness of his studies ; and in proof that 
 other professional men sometimes solace 
 their cares by otherwise disporting them- 
 selves, there is a kind of catch, the words 
 of which, having leference to their art or 
 mystery, do so marvellously inspire them, 
 that they chant it with more glee than 
 gravity, to a right merry tune : — 
 
 A woman having settlement, 
 Married a man with none ; 
 
 The question was, he being dead 
 If that she had was gone i 
 
 82 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOQK.— JANUARY 24. 
 
 Quoth sir John Pratt, her settlement 
 
 Suspended did remain, 
 Living the husband — but, him dead. 
 
 It doth revive again, 
 
 CHORUS OF PUISNE JUDGES. 
 
 Living the husband — but, him dead, 
 It doth revive again. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Peziza. Peziza acetabulum. 
 
 SamiaiT) 24. 
 
 St. Timothy, disciple of St. Paul. St. 
 Baby las, a. d. 250. St. Suranus, 7 th cen- 
 tury. St. Macedonius. St. Cadoc, of 
 
 Wales. ■ 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1721. On the 24th of January in this 
 year, the two houses of parliament or- 
 dered several of the directors of the South 
 Sea company into the custody of the 
 usher of the black rod and serjeant at 
 arms : this was in consequence of a par- 
 liamentary inquiry into the company's 
 affairs, which had been so managed as 
 to involve persons of all ranks through- 
 out the kingdom in a scene of distress 
 unparalleled by any similar circumstance 
 in English annals. 
 
 SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 In 1711, the ninth year of queen Anne's 
 reign, a charter of incorporation was 
 granted to a company trading to the 
 South Seas ; and the South Sea com- 
 pany's affairs appeared so prosperous, 
 that, in 1718, king George I. being chosen 
 governor, and a bill enabling him to ac- 
 cept the office having passed ooth houses, 
 on the 3d of February, his majesty in 
 person attended the house of lords, and 
 gave tlie royal assent to the act, A brief 
 history of the company's subsequent pro- 
 gress is interesting at any time, and more 
 especially at a period when excess of spe- 
 culation may endanger private happiness, 
 and disturb the public welfare. 
 
 On the 27th of January, 1719, the 
 South Sea company proposed a scheme 
 to parliament for paying off the national 
 debt, by taking into its funds al. the debt 
 which the nation had incurred before the 
 year 1716, whether redeemable or irre- 
 deemable, amounting in the whole to the 
 sum of 31,664,551/. Is. Ud. For this 
 the company undertook to pay to the use 
 of the public the sum of 4,156,306/. ; be- 
 sides four ye-irs and a half's purchase for 
 
 all the annuities that should be subscribed 
 into its fund, and which, if all subscribed, 
 would have amounted to the sum of 
 3,567,503/. ; iraounting, with the above- 
 mentioned sum, to 7,723,809/. : in case 
 all the annuities were not subscribed, thf 
 company agreed to pay one per cent, fo 
 such unsubscribed annuities. 
 
 To this arrangement parliament ac- 
 ceded, and an act was passed to ratify 
 this contract, and containing full powers to 
 the company accordingly. In March fol- 
 lowing South Sea slock rose from 130 to 
 300, gradually advanced to 400, declined 
 to 330, and on the 7th of j4pril was at 
 340. This so encouraged the directors, 
 that on the 12th they opened books at the 
 South Sea house for taking in a subscrip- 
 tion for a portion of their stock to the 
 amount of 2,250,000/. every 100/. of 
 which they ofi'ered at 300/. : it was im- 
 mediately subscribed for at that price, to 
 be paid for by nine instalments within 
 twelve months. On the 21st, a genera) 
 court of the company resolved, that the 
 Midsummer dividend should be 10 per 
 cent., and that the aforesaid subscription, 
 and all other additions to their capital 
 before that time, should be entitled to the 
 said dividend. This gave so favourable 
 a view to the speculation, that on the 
 28th the directors opened a second sub- 
 scription for another million of stock, 
 which was presently taken at 400/. for 
 every 100/., and the subscribers had three 
 years allowed them for payment. On 
 the 20th of May, South Sea stock rose to 
 550. So amazing a price created a ge- 
 neral infatuation. Even the more pru- 
 dent, who had laughed at the folly and 
 madness of others, were seized with the 
 mania; they borrowed, mortgaged, and 
 sold, to raise all the money they could, in 
 order to hold the favourite stock ; while 
 a few quietly sold out and enriched them- 
 selves. Prodigious numbers of people 
 resorted daily from all parts of the king- 
 dom to 'Change-alley, where the assem- 
 bled speculators, by their excessive noise 
 and hurry, seemed like so many madmen 
 just escaped from cells and chains. All 
 thoughts of commerce were laid aside for 
 the buying and selling of estates, and 
 traffic in South Sea stock. Some, who 
 had effected sales at high premiums, were 
 willing to lay out the money on real pro- 
 perty, which consequently advanced be- 
 yond its actual value : cautious land- 
 owners justly concluded that this was the 
 time to get money without risk, and there- 
 
 83 
 
THE EVERY-DAi' BOOK.— JANUARY 24. 
 
 fore sold their prope.ty; shortly after- 
 wards they had an oppoitunity of pur- 
 chasing more, at less than half the price 
 they liad obtained for their own. 
 
 On the 2d of Jane, South Sea stock 
 rose to 890. On the 15th, many persons 
 -who accompanied the king on his foreign 
 journey, sold their stock, which suddenly 
 fell; but the directors promismg larger 
 dividends, it got up higher than ever. On 
 the 18th they opened books for a third 
 subscription of four millions more stock, 
 at 1000/. foi each 100/., and before the 
 end of the month it had advanced to 
 11 00/., between which and 1000/. it fluctu- 
 ated throughout the month of July. On 
 the 3d oi August they proposed to receive 
 subscriptions for all the unsubscribed an- 
 nuities, and opened books for the purpose 
 during the ensuing week, upon terms 
 which greatly dissatisfied the annuitants, 
 who, confiding in the honour of the di- 
 rectors, had left their orders at the South 
 Sea House, without any previous con- 
 tract, not doubting but they should be 
 allowed the same terms with the first 
 subscribers. Finding, to their great sur- 
 prise and disappointment, that, by the 
 directors' arrangements, they were only 
 to have about half what they expected, 
 many repaired to the South Sea House to 
 get their orders returned ; but these being 
 withheld, their incessant applications and 
 reflections greatly aff'ected the stock, in'o- 
 much that, on the 2'2d of the month, at 
 the opening of the books, it fell to 820. 
 The directors then came to the desperate 
 resolution of ordering the books to be 
 shut; and on the 24th they caused others 
 to be opened for a fourth money sub- 
 scription for another million of their 
 stock, at 1000/. for each 100/., payable by 
 five instalments within two years : this 
 million was subscribed in less than three 
 hours, and bore a premium the same 
 afternoon of 40 per cent. On the 26th 
 the stock, instead of advancing, fell below 
 830. The directors then thought fit to 
 lend their proprietors 4,000/. upon every 
 1000/. stock, for six months, at 4 per 
 cent. ; but the annuitants becoming very 
 clamorous and uneasy, the directors re- 
 solved that 30 per cent, in money should 
 be the half-year's dividend due at the 
 next Christmas, and that from thence, for 
 twelve years, not less than 50 per cent, in 
 money should be the yearly dividend on 
 their stock. Though this resolution raised 
 the stock to about 800 for the opening of 
 the books, it soon sunk again. 
 
 On the Q\ho^ September, the stock fdl to 
 640, on the 9th to 5:''0, and by the 19th 
 it came to 400. On the 23d the Bank of 
 England agreed with the South Sea com- 
 pany to circulate their bonds, &c. and to 
 take their stock at 400 per cent., in lieu of 
 3,775,000/., which the company was to 
 pay them. When the books were opened 
 at the Bank for taking in a subscription 
 for supporting the public credit, the con- 
 course was at first so great, that it was 
 judged the whole subscription, which was 
 intended for 3,000,000/., would have been 
 filled that day. But the fall of South Sea 
 stock, and the discredit of the company's 
 bonds, occasioned a run upon the most 
 eminent goldsmiths and bankers, some of 
 whom, having lent great sums upon the 
 stock and other public securities, were 
 obliged to shut up their shops. The 
 Sword-blade company also, who had 
 been hitherto the chief cash-keepers of the 
 South Sea company, being almost drawn 
 of their ready money, were forced to stop 
 payment. All this occasioned a great lun 
 upon the Bank. On the 30th South Sea 
 stock fell to 150, and then to 86. 
 
 " It is very surprising," says Maitland, 
 " that this wicked scheme, of French ex- 
 traction, should have met with encourage- 
 ment here, seeing that the Mississippi 
 scheme had just before neai-ly ruined that 
 nation. It is still more surprising, that 
 the people of divers other countries, not- 
 withstanding the direful effects of this 
 destructive scheme before their eyes, yet, 
 as it were, tainted with our frenzy, began 
 to court their destr-uction, by setting on 
 foot the like projects : which gives room 
 to suspect," says Maitland, " that those 
 destructive and fatal transactions were 
 rather the result of an epidemical distem- 
 per, than that of choice ; seeing that the 
 wisest and best of men were the greatest 
 sufferers; many of the nobility, and per- 
 sons of the greatest distinction, were un- 
 done, and obliged to walk on foot ; while 
 others, who the year before could hardly 
 pur-chase a dinner, were exalted in their 
 coaches and fine equipages, and possessed 
 of enormous estates. Such a scene of 
 misery appeared among traders, that it 
 was almost unfashionable not to be a 
 bankrupt : and the dire catastrophe was 
 attended with such a number of self-mur- 
 ders, as no age can parallel." 
 
 Hooke, the historian of Rome, was a 
 severe sufferer by the South Sea bubble. 
 He thus addresses loid Oxford, in a letter 
 
 8^ 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 24. 
 
 dated the 17th of October 1722 : " 1 can- 
 not be said at present to be in any form 
 
 life, but rather to live extempore. The 
 late epidemical (South Sea) distemper 
 seized me : I endeavoured to be rich, 
 imagined for a while that I was, and am 
 
 some measure happy to find myself at 
 ihis instant but just worth nothing. If 
 your lordship, or any of your numerous 
 friends, have need of a servant, with the 
 bare qualifications of being able to read 
 and write, and to be honest, I shall gladly 
 undertake any employments your lordship 
 shall not think me unworthy of." 
 
 In 1720, soon after the bursting of the 
 South Sea bubble, a gentleman called late 
 in the evening at the banking-house of 
 Messrs. Hankey and Co. He was in a 
 coach, but refused to get out, and desired 
 that one of the partners of the house would 
 come to him. Having ascertained that it 
 was really one of the principals, and not 
 a clerk, who appeared, he put into his 
 hands a parcel, very carefully sealed up, 
 and desired that it might be laid on one 
 side till he should call again, which would 
 be in the course of a few days. A few 
 days passed away — a few weeks, a few 
 months, but the stranger never returned. 
 At the end of the second or third year, the 
 partners agreed to open this mysterious 
 parcel, in the presence of each other. They 
 found it to contain 30,000/., with a letter, 
 stating that it was obtained by the South 
 Sea speculation, and directing that it 
 should be vested in the hands of three 
 trustees, whose names were mentioned, 
 ftnd the interest appropriated to the relief 
 of the poor, which was accordingly done. 
 
 It has been calculated, tliat the rise on the 
 original South-sea stock often millions, and 
 the subsequent advance of the company's 
 four subscriptions, inflated their capital 
 10 nearly three hundred millions. This 
 unnatural procedure raised bank stock 
 from 100/. to 260/. India, from 100/. to 
 405/. African, from 100/. to 200/. York- 
 buildings' shares, from 10/. to 305/. Lus- 
 tring, from 5/. 2s. 6d. to 105/. English 
 copper, from 5/. to 105/. Welch copper, 
 from 41. 2s. 6d. to 95/. Tlie Royal Ex- 
 change Assurance, from 51. 5s. to 250/. 
 The London Assurance, from 5/. to 175/., 
 to the great injury of the various pur- 
 chasers at such prices. 
 
 The South Sea scheme terminated in 
 the sudden downfai of the directors, 
 whose estates were confii;cated by parlia- 
 
 ment, and the proceeds applied to the re- 
 lief of many tiiousands of families, who 
 had been wholly ruined by the specula- 
 tion. These dupes of overweening folly 
 and misplaced confidence, were further 
 benefited by a remission in their favour 
 of the national claims on certain of the 
 South Sea company's real assets. The ex- 
 tent of these donations to the suff'erers 
 amounted to 40/. per cent, upon the stock 
 standing in their names. 
 
 OTHER BUBR1.es. 
 
 One consequence of the prosperous ap- 
 pearance that the South Sea scheme bore, 
 till within a short period before its failure, 
 was a variety of equally promising and 
 delusive projects. These were denomi- 
 nated bubbles. Alarmed at the destructive 
 issue of the master-bubble, government 
 issued the following manifesto : " The 
 lords justices in council, taking into con- 
 sideration the many inconveniences arising 
 to the public, from several projects set on 
 foot for raising of joint-stocks for various 
 purposes ; and that a great many of his 
 majesty's subjects have been drawn in to 
 part with their money, on pretence of 
 assurances that their petitions, for patents 
 and charters to enable them to carry on 
 the same, would be granted : to prevent 
 such impositions, their excellencies or- 
 dered the said several petitions, togellier 
 with such reports from the Board of 
 Trade, and from his majesty's attorney 
 and solicitor general, as had been obtained 
 thereon, to be laid before them ; and, 
 after mature consideration thereof, were 
 pleased, by advice of his majesty's privy- 
 council, to order that the said petitions be 
 dismissed." The applications thus re- 
 jected prayed patents for various fisheries, 
 for building ships to let or freight, for 
 raising hemp, flax, and madder, for mak- 
 ing of sail-cloth, for fire-assurances, for 
 salt- works, for the making of snuff in 
 Virginia, &c. 
 
 In defiance of this salutary order, the 
 herd of projectors, with an audacity that 
 passed on the credulous for well-ground- 
 ed confidence, continued their nefarious 
 traffic. Proclamations from the king, 
 and even acts of parliament, were utterly 
 disregarded ; and companies which had 
 been established by charter increased the 
 evil, by imitating the South Sea company's 
 fatal management, and taking in subscrip- 
 tions. Tills occasioned the lords justices 
 to is.sue another order, wherein they de- 
 clared that, having been attended by Mr. 
 
TIIEEVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 24. 
 
 attorney-general, they gave him express 
 orders to bring writs of scire facias against 
 the charters or patents of the York-build- 
 ing's company. Lustring company, Eng- 
 lish copper, Welsh copper, and lead, and 
 also aaiainst other charters or patents 
 which had been, or should be made use of, 
 or acted under, contrary to the intent or 
 meaning of an act passed the last ses- 
 sion of parliament, &c. 
 
 They likewise instructed the attorney- 
 general to prosecute, with the utmost 
 severity, all persons opening books for 
 public subscriptions ; or receiving money 
 upon such subscriptions ; or making or 
 accepting transfers of, or shares upon, 
 such subscriptions ; of which they gave 
 public notice in the Gazette, as "a farther 
 caution to prevent the drawing of unwary 
 oersons, for the future, into practices con- 
 trary to law." This effectually frustrated 
 the plans of plunder, exercised or con- 
 templated at that period. How necessary 
 so vigorous a resistance was must be ob- 
 vious from this fact, that innumerable 
 bubbles perished in embyro; besides an in- 
 credible number which could be named 
 that were actually set in motion, and to 
 support which the sums intended to be 
 raised amounted to about 300,000,000/. 
 Tl)e lowest advance of the shares in any of 
 these speculations was above cent, per 
 cent., most of them above 400/. per cent. ; 
 and some were raised to twenty times the 
 price of the subscription. Taking these 
 circumstances into account, the scanda- 
 lous projects would have required seven 
 hundred millions sterling, if such a sum 
 could have been realized in the shape of 
 capital. To such a height of madness 
 had the public mind been excited, that 
 even shares were eagerly coveted, and 
 bargained for, in shameless schemes which 
 vv^ere not worth the paper whereon their 
 proposals were printed, at treble the price 
 they nominally bore. From a list of only 
 a part of those that the air of 'Change- 
 alley teemed with, the names of a few are 
 here set forth : 
 
 Projecti 
 
 For supplying London with cattle. 
 For supplying London with hay. 
 For breeding and feeding cattle. 
 For making pasteboards. 
 For improving the paper manufacture 
 For dealing in lace, hollands,&c. 
 For a grand dispensary. 
 For a royal fishery. 
 For a fish pool. 
 
 For making glass-bottles. 
 For encouraging the breed of horses. 
 For discovering gold mines. 
 For an assurance againr.t thieves. 
 For trading in hair. 
 For loan offices. 
 For dealing in hops. 
 For making of china ware. 
 For furnishing funerals. 
 For a coral fishery. 
 For a flying machine. 
 For insuring of horses. 
 For making of looking-glasses. 
 For feeding of hogs. 
 For buying and selling estates. 
 For purchasing and letting lands. 
 For supplying London with provisions 
 For curing the gout and stone. 
 For making oil of poppies. 
 For bleaching coarse sugar. 
 For making of stockings. 
 For an air-pump for the brain. 
 For insurance against divorces. 
 For making butter from beech-trees. 
 For paving London streets. 
 For extracting silver from lead. 
 For making of radish oil. 
 For a perpetual motion. 
 For japanning of shoes. 
 For making deal boards of sawdust. 
 For a scheme to teach the casting of na- 
 tivities. 
 
 Joint Stock Companies of 1825. 
 
 Tlie large quantity of surplus capital 
 and consequent low rate of interes' 
 during the last, and in the present, yeai, 
 induce its possessors to embark their 
 money in schemes for promoting general 
 utility. One of the advantages resulting 
 from a state of peace is the influx ot 
 wealth that pours forth upon the country 
 for its improvement. Yet it behoves the 
 prudent, and those of small means, to be 
 circumspect in their outlays; to see with 
 their own eyes, and not through the me- 
 dium of others. The premiums that 
 shares in projects may bear m the mar- 
 ket, are not even a shadow of criterion 
 whereon to found a judgment for invest- 
 ment. This is well known to every discreet 
 man who has an odd hundred to put out ; 
 and he 'who cannot rely on his own dis- 
 crimination for a right selection from among 
 the various schemes that are proffered to 
 his choice, will do well to act as if none 
 of them existed, and place his cash where 
 the principal will at least be safe, and the 
 
 86 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 25. 
 
 interest, though small, be certain. This 
 month presents schemes for 
 Twenty Rail Road Companies, 
 Twenty-two Bankincr, Loan, Investment, 
 
 and Assurance Companies, 
 Eleven Gas Comp"! lies, 
 Eight British and Irish Mine Companies, 
 Seventeen Foreign Mine Companies, 
 Nine Shipping and Dock Companies, 
 
 and 
 Twenty-seven Miscellaneous Companies, 
 
 Including 
 A London Brick Company, 
 A Patent Brick Company, 
 A London Marine Bath Company, 
 A Royal National Bath Company, 
 A Great Westminster Milk Company, 
 
 and 
 A Metropolitan Water Company. 
 An Alderney Dairy Company, 
 A Metropolitan Alderney Dairy Com- 
 pany, 
 A South London Milk Company, 
 An East London Milk Company, 
 A Metropolitan Milk Company. 
 
 A correspondent in the " London Maga- 
 zine '' declares, that " if we named the se- 
 veral divisions ofthe year after the French 
 revolutionary fashion, by the phenomena 
 observable in them, we should, from our 
 experience of January, 1825, call it 
 Bubblose — it has been a month of most 
 flagitious and flourishing knavety." He 
 pleasantly assumes that Mr. Jeremiah 
 Hop-the-twig, attorney at law, benevo- 
 lently conceives the idea of directmg 
 ' suiplus capital " to the formation of " a 
 joint stock company for the outfit of 
 air-balloons, the purchase of herds of 
 swine, and the other requisites for a flou- 
 rishing lunar commerce ; Capital One 
 Million, divided into 10,000 shares of 
 100/. each." The method is then related 
 of opening an account with a respectable 
 banking-house, obtaining respectable di- 
 rectors, appointing his son-in-law the re- 
 spectable secretary, the son of a respected 
 director the respectable standing counsel, 
 and the self-nomination of the respectable 
 Mr. Jeremiah H. and Co. as the respect- 
 able solicitors. Afterwards come the 
 means of raising the bubble, to the admi- 
 ration of proper persons who pay a de- 
 posit of 51. per share ; who, when the 
 shares " look down," try to sell, but there 
 are " no buyers," the " quotations are 
 nommal;" a second instalment called 
 for, the holders hesitate ; " their shares 
 aiP forfeited;" the speculation is conse- 
 
 quently declared frustrated; and there 
 being only £10,000 in the bankers' hands 
 to pay " Mr. Hop-the-twig's bill ot 
 10,073/. 13*. 4rf. that respectable soli- 
 citor is defrauded ofthe sum of 73/. 1 "is Ad. 
 This is the rise and fall of a respectable 
 bubble." 
 
 Undoubtedly, among these various 
 schemes afloat, some will be productive 
 of great benefit to the country ; but it is 
 seriously to be considered whether the 
 estimation of some of them in a money 
 view be not too high, and forced to an 
 undue price by the arts of jobbmg : 
 
 Haste instantly and buy, cries one 
 Re^l Del Monte shares, for none 
 
 Will hold a richer profit ; 
 Another cries — No mining plan 
 Like ours — the Anglo-Mexican • 
 
 As for Del Monte, scoff it. 
 
 This grasps my button, and declares 
 There's nothing like Columbian shares. 
 
 The capital a million ; — 
 That, cries La Plata's sure to pay ; 
 Or bids me buy wi'ihout delay 
 
 Hibernian or Brazilian. 
 
 'Scaped from the torments of the mine 
 Rivals in Gas, an endless line, 
 
 Arrest me as I travel ; 
 Each sure my suffrage to receive, 
 If I will only give him leave. 
 
 His project to unravel. 
 
 By Fire and Life insurers next 
 I'm intercepted, pester'd, vex'd, 
 
 Almost beyond endurance ; 
 And though the schemes appear unsound, 
 Their advocates are seldom found 
 
 Deficient in assurance. 
 Last I am worried, shares to buy 
 In the Canadian company. 
 
 The Milk Association, 
 The Laundry-men who wash by steam, 
 Rail-ways, Pearl fishing, or the scheme, 
 
 For Inland Navigation. 
 
 New Monthly Mag. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 jtalkless moss. Phascum mtUicnm' 
 
 Samiarp 25. 
 
 Holiday at the Public Officeo ; except the Cxciai., 
 Stamps, and Cuetoms. 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul. Sts. Juren- 
 tinns and Maxim'imis, a. d. 363. St. 
 Projectus, a. d. 674. St. Poppo, a. d 
 1048. St. Apollo, A. i>. 393. St 
 Publius, A. D. 369. 
 
 87 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 25. 
 
 The Conversion nf St. Paul. 
 Ttns is a festival in the calendar of the 
 chinch of England, as well as in that of 
 the Romish church. 
 
 On this day prognostications of the 
 months were drawn for the whole year. 
 If fair and clear, there was to be plenty; 
 if cloudy or misty, much cattle would die; 
 if rain or snow fell then it presaged a 
 dearth; and if winJy, there would be 
 wars : 
 
 If Saint Paul's Day be fair and clear. 
 It does betide a happy year ; 
 But if it chance to snow or rain, 
 Then will be dear all kinds of grain : 
 If clouds or mists do dark the skie, 
 Great store of birds and beasts sliall die ; 
 And if the winds do fly aloft, 
 ihen wars shall vex the kingdome oft. 
 
 yVilhforcVs Nature's Secrets. 
 
 These prognostications are Englished 
 from an ancient calendar: they have 
 likewise been translated by Gay, who 
 enjoins, 
 
 Let no such vulgar tales debase thy mind, 
 Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and 
 v/ind. 
 
 The latter lines are allusive to the 
 popular supersthions, regarding these 
 days, which were before remarked by 
 bishop Hall, who observes of a person 
 vmder such influences, that " St. Paule's 
 day, and St. Swithine's, with the twelve, 
 are his oracles, which he dares believe 
 against the almanacke." It will be re- 
 collected that " the twelve " are twelve 
 days of Christmastide, mentioned on a 
 preceding day as believed by the ignorant 
 to denote the weather throughout the 
 year. 
 
 Concerning this day,Bourne says. " How 
 it came to have this particular knack of 
 foretelling the good or iU fortune of the 
 following year is no easy matter to find 
 out. The monks, who were undoubtedly 
 the first who made this wonderful obser- 
 vation, have taken care it should be hand- 
 ed down to posterity ; but why, or for 
 what reason, they have taken care to con- 
 ceal. St. Paul did indeed labour more 
 abundantly than all the apostles ; but 
 never that I heard in the science of as- 
 trology : and why this day should there- 
 fore be a standing almanac to the world, 
 rather than the day of any other saint, 
 
 will be pretty hard to find out." In an 
 ancient Romish calendar, much used by 
 Brand, the vigil of St. Paul is called 
 " Dies iEgyptiacus ;" and he confesses 
 his ignorance of any reason for calling it , 
 " an Egyptian-day." Mr. Fosbroke ex- 
 plains, from a passage in Ducange, thai 
 it was so called because there were tvo 
 unlucky days in every month, and St. j 
 Paul's vigil was one of the two in j 
 January. j 
 
 Dr. Forster notes, that the festival of 
 the conversion of St. Paul has alwa}s 
 been reckoned ominous of the future wea- 
 ther of the year, in various countries re- 
 mote from each other. 
 
 According to Schenkius, cited by Brand, 
 it was a custom in many parts of Ger- 
 many, to drag the images of St. Paul and 
 St. Urban to the river, if there was foul 
 weather on their festival. 
 
 Apostlf.-Spoons. 
 
 St. Paul's day being the first festival of 
 an apostle in the year, it is an opportunity 
 for alluding to the old, ancient, English 
 custom, with sponsors, or visitors at 
 christenings, of presenting spoons, called 
 apostle-spoons, because the figures of 
 the twelve apostles were chased, or carved 
 on the tops of the handles. Brand cites 
 several authors to testify of the practice. 
 Persons who could afford it gave the set 
 of twelve; others a smaller number, and 
 a poor person offered the gift of one, with 
 the figure of the saint after whom the 
 child was named, or to whom the child 
 was dedicated, or who was the patron 
 saint of the good-natured donor. 
 
 Ben Jonson, in his Bartholomew Fair, 
 has a character, saying, " And all this for 
 the hope of a couple of apostle-spoons, 
 and a cup to eat caudle in." In the 
 Chaste Maid of Cheapside, by Middleton, 
 " Gossip " inquires, " What has he given 
 her ? What is it. Gossip ?" Whereto the 
 answer of another " Gossip " is, " A faire 
 high-standing cup, and two great 'postle- 
 spoons — one of them gilt." Beaumont 
 and Fletcher, likewise, in the Noble 
 Gentleman, say : 
 
 " I'll be a Gossip. Bewford, 
 I have ari odd apostle-spoon." 
 
 The rarity and antiquity of apostle- 
 spoons render them of considerable value 
 as curiosities. A complete set of twelve 
 is represented in the sketch on the 
 opposite page, from a set of the 
 spoons themselves on the writer'.'* table 
 
 88 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY '..S. 
 
 A SET OF APOSTLE-SPOONS. 
 
 89 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 26. 
 
 The apostles on this set of spoons are 
 somewliat worn, and the stems and 
 bowls have been altered by the silver- 
 smith in conformity with the prevailirg 
 fashion of the present day ; to the eye ot 
 the antiquary, therefore, they are not so 
 interesting as they were before they un- 
 derwent this partial modernization : yet 
 in this state they are objects of regard. 
 Their size in the print is exactly that of 
 the spoons themselves, except that the 
 stems are necessarily fore-shortened in 
 the engraving to get them within the 
 page. The stem of each spoon measures 
 exactly three inches and a half in length 
 from the foot of the apostle to the com- 
 mencement of the bowl ; the length of 
 each bowl is two inches and nine-six- 
 teenths of an inch ; and the height of 
 each apostle is one inch and one-six- 
 teenth : the entire length of each spoon is 
 seven inches and one-eighth of an inch. 
 They are of silver; the lightest, which is 
 St. Peter, weighs 1 oz. 5 dwts. 9 gr. ; the 
 heaviest is St. Bartholomew, and weighs 
 1 oz. 9 dwts. 4 gr. ; their collective weight 
 is 16 oz. 14 dwts. 16gr. The hat, or flat 
 covering, on the head pf each figure, is 
 usual to apostles-spoons, and was pro- 
 bably affixed to save the features from 
 effacement. In a really fine state they 
 are very rare. 
 
 It seems from " the Gossips," a poem 
 by Shipman, in 1666, that the usage of 
 giving apostle-spoons' at christenings, 
 was at that time on the decline : 
 " Formerly, when they us'd to troul. 
 Gilt bowls of sack, they gave the bowl ; 
 Two spoons at least ; an use ill kept ; 
 'Tis well if now our own be left." 
 An anecdote is related of Shakspeare 
 and Ben Jonson, which bears upon the 
 usage: Shakspeare was godfather to one 
 of Jonson's children, and, after the christ- 
 ening, being in deep study, Jonson cheer- 
 ingly asked him, why he was so melan- 
 choly? " Ben," said he," I have been 
 considering a great while what should be 
 the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my 
 godchild, and I have resolved it at last." 
 " I prithee, what ?" said Ben, " Y faith, 
 Ben," answered Shakspeare, " I'll give 
 him a dozen good latten spoons, and thou 
 shalt translate them." The word latten, 
 intended as a play upon latin, is the name 
 for thin iron tinned, of which spoons, and 
 similar small articles of household use, are 
 sometimes made. Without being aware 
 of the origin, it is still a custom -with 
 many persons, to present suoons at christ- 
 
 enings, or on visiting the " lady in the 
 straw ;" though they are not now adorned 
 with imagery. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Winter hellebore. Helleborus hijemalis. 
 
 Bamiarp 26. 
 
 St. Polycarp. St. Paula. St. Conan. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 On winter comes — the cruel north 
 Pours his furious whirlwind forth 
 Before him — and we breathe the breath' 
 Of famish'd bears, that howl to death : 
 Onward he comes from rocks that blanch 
 O'er solid streams that never flow. 
 His tears all ice, his locks all snow, 
 Just crept from some huge avalanche. Incog 
 
 BEAR3 AKD BEES. 
 
 M. M. M. a traveller in Russia, com- 
 municates, through the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine of 1785, a remarkable method of 
 cultivating bees, and preserving them from 
 their housebreakers, the bears. The Rus- 
 sians of Borodskoe, on the banks of the 
 river Ufa, deposit the hives within exca- 
 vations that they form in the hardest, 
 strongest, and loftiest trees of the forest, 
 at about five-and-twenty or thirty feet 
 high from the ground, and even higher, if 
 the height of the trunk allows it. They 
 hollow out the holes lengthways, with 
 small narrow hatchets, and with chisels 
 and gouges complete their work. The 
 longitudinal aperture of the hive is stopped 
 by a cover of two or more pieces exactly 
 fitted to it, and pierced with small holes, 
 to give ingress and egress to the bees. 
 No means can be devised more ingenious 
 or more convenient for climbing the high- 
 est and the smoothest trees than those 
 practised by this people, for the construc- 
 tion and visitation of these hives. For 
 this purpose they use nothing but a very 
 sharp axe, a leathern strap, or a common 
 rope. Tlie man places himself against 
 the trunk of the tree, and passes the cord 
 round his body and round the tree, just 
 leaving it sufficient play for casting it 
 higher and higher, by jerks, towards the 
 elevation he desires to attain, and there to 
 place his body, bent as in a swing, his 
 feet resting against the tree, and preserv- 
 ing the free use of his hands. This done, 
 he takes his axe, and at about the height 
 of his body makes the first notch or step 
 in the tree ; then he takes his rope, the 
 two ends whereof he takes care to have 
 tied very fast, and throws it towards the 
 top of the trunk. Placed thus in his rope 
 by the middle of his body, and resting' 
 
 90 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 26. 
 
 his feet against the tree, he ascends by 
 two steps, and easily enables himself to 
 put one of his feet in the notch. He now 
 makes a new step, and continues to mount 
 in this manner till he has reached the 
 intended height. He performs all this 
 with incredible speed and agility. Being 
 mounted to the place where he is to make 
 the hive, he cuts more convenient steps, 
 md, by the help of the rope, which his 
 body keeps in distension, he performs his 
 
 necessary work with the above-mentioned 
 tools, which are stuck in his girdle. He 
 also carefully cuts away all boughs and 
 protuberances beneath the hive, to render 
 access as difficult as possible to the bears, 
 which abound in vast numbers through- 
 out the forests, and in spite of all ima- 
 ginable precautions, do considerable da- 
 mage to the hives. On this account the 
 natives put in practice every kind ol 
 means, not only for defending themselves 
 
 BUSSIAN TREE-CLIMBING AND BEAR TRAP. 
 
 91 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 27. 
 
 from these voracious animals, but for their 
 destruction. The method most in use 
 consists in sticking into the truniv of 
 the tree old blades of knives, standing up- 
 wards, scythes, and pieces of pointed iron, 
 disposed circularly round it, when the 
 tree is straight, or at the place of bending, 
 when the trunk is crooked. The bear has 
 commonly dexterity enough to avoid 
 these points in climbing up the tree ; but 
 when he descends, as he always does, 
 backwards, he gets on these sharp hooks, 
 and receives such deep wounds, that he 
 usually dies. Old bears frequently take 
 the precaution to bend down these blades 
 with their fore-paws as they mount, and 
 thereby render all this offensive armour 
 useless. 
 
 .-Vnother destructive apparatus has some 
 similitude to the catapulta of the ancients. 
 It is hxed in such a manner that, at the 
 instant the bear prepares to climb the 
 tree, he pulls a string that lets go the ma- 
 chine, whose elasticity strikes a dart into 
 the animal's breast. A further mode is 
 to suspend a platform by long ropes to 
 the farthest extremity of a branch of the 
 tree. The platform is disposed horizon- 
 tally before the hive, and there tied fast 
 to the trunk of the tree with a cord made 
 of bark. The bear, who finds the seat 
 very convenient for proceeding to the 
 opening of the liive, begins by tearing 
 the cord of bark which holds the plat- 
 form to the trunk, and hinders him from 
 executing his purpose. Upon this the 
 platform immediately quits the tree, and 
 swings in the air with the animal seated 
 upon it. If, on the first shock, the bear 
 is not tumbled out, he must either take a 
 very dangerous leap, or remain patiently 
 in his suspended seat. If he take the 
 leap, either involuntarily, or by his own 
 pood will, he falls on sharp points, placed 
 all about the bottom of the tree ; if he re- 
 solve to remain where he is, he is shot 
 by arrows or musket balls. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 White butterbur. Tressilairo alba. 
 
 Samiar|) 27. 
 
 St. John Chrysostom. St. Julian of 
 Mans. St. Marius. 
 
 THE SEASON 
 
 It is observed in Dr. Forster's " Per- 
 ennial Calendar," that " Buds and em- 
 biyo blossoms in their silky, downy coats, 
 
 often finely varnished to protect lliem froir 
 the wet and cold, are the principal bo. 
 tanical subjects for observation in Janu- 
 ary, and iheir structure is particularly 
 worthy of notice ; to the practical gar 
 dener an attention to their appearance is 
 indispensable, as by them alone can he 
 prune with safety. Buds are always 
 formed in the spring preceding that in 
 which they open, and are of two kinds 
 leaf buds and flower buds, distinguished 
 by a difference of shape and figure, easi- 
 ly discernible by the observing eye ; the 
 fruit buds being thicker, rounder, and 
 shorter, than the others — hence the gar- 
 dener can judge of the probable quantity 
 of blossom that will appear :" — 
 
 Lines on Buds, by Coivprr. 
 When all this uniform uncoloured scene 
 Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load, 
 And flush into variety again. 
 From dearth to plenty, and from death to life. 
 Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man 
 In heavenly truth ; evincing, as she makes 
 The grand transition, that there lives and 
 
 works 
 A soul in all things, and that soul is God. 
 He sets the bright procession on its way, 
 And marshals all the order of the year ; 
 He marks the bounds which winter may noi 
 
 pass, 
 And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, 
 Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ. 
 Uninjured, with inimitable art ; 
 And ere one flowery season fades and dies. 
 Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 
 
 " Buds possess a power analogous to 
 that of seeds, and have been called the 
 viviparous offspring of vegetables, inas- 
 much as they admit of a removal from 
 their original connection, and, its action 
 being suspended for an indefinite time, 
 can be renewed at pleasure." 
 
 On Icicles, by Cowper: 
 The mill-dam dashes on the restless wheel. 
 And wantons in the pebbly gulf below 
 No frost can bind it there ; its utmost force 
 Can but arrest the light and smoky mist. 
 That in its fall the liquid sheet throws wid?^ 
 And see where it has hung th' embroidered 
 
 banks 
 With foims so various, that no powers of art, 
 The pencil, or the pen, may trace the scene! 
 Here glittering turrets rise, upbeaiing liigh 
 (Fantastic misarrangement !) on the loof 
 Large growth of what may seem the sparkling 
 
 trees 
 And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops 
 That trickle down the brunches, fast con 
 
 geaJed, 
 Shoot into pillars of pellucid length, 
 And prop the pile they but adorned before, 
 
 \)2 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 2», 23, 30. 
 
 ILORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Earth Moss. Phascum cuspidatum. 
 Dedicated to St. Chrysostom. 
 
 S)anuar)) 28, 
 
 St. Jgnes.— Second Commemoration. 
 St. Ci/ril, A. D. 4 14. Sts. Thyrsus, Leu- 
 cms, and Callinicus. St. John of 
 Reomay, a. d. 540. Blessed Margaret, 
 Princess of Hungary, a. p. 1271. 
 St. PauUnus, a. u. 804. Blessed 
 Chark'magnc; Emperor, a. d. 814. 
 St. Glastiait, of Fife, a. d. 830. 
 St. Thyrsus. 
 
 Several churches in Spain are dedicated 
 to him. In 777, the queen of Oviedo and 
 Asturia presented one of them with a 
 silver chalice and paten, a wash-hand 
 basin and a pipe, which, according to 
 Butler, is " a silver pipe, or quill to suck 
 up the blood of Christ at the communion, 
 such as the pope sometimes uses — it sucks 
 up as a nose draws up air." 
 
 Chronolooy. 
 John Gotxlob Immanuel Breitkopf, a 
 celebrated printer, letter-founder, and 
 bookseller of Leipsic, died on this day, in 
 the year 1794 : he was born there No- 
 vember 23, 1719. After the perusal of a 
 work by Albert Durer, in which the shape 
 of the letters is deduced from mathema- 
 tical principles, he endeavoured to fashion 
 them accoiding to the most beautifid 
 models in matrices cut for the pur- 
 pose. His printing-office and letter- 
 foundery acquired very high reputation. 
 It contained punches and matrices for 
 400 alphabets, and he employed the types 
 of Baskerville and Didot. Finding that 
 engraving on wood had given birth to 
 printing, and that the latter had contri- 
 buted to the improvement of engraving, 
 he transferred some particulars, in the 
 province of the engraver, to that of the 
 printer ; and represented, by typography, 
 all the marks and lines which occur in 
 the modern music, with all the accurac:y 
 of engraving, and even printed maps and 
 mathematical figures with movable types ; 
 though the latter he considered as a mat- 
 ter of mere curiosity : such was also ano- 
 thei attempt, that of copying portraits by 
 movable types. He likewise printed, 
 with movable types, the Chinese charac- 
 ters, which are, in general, cut in pieces 
 of wood, so that a whole house is often 
 necessary to contain the blocks employed 
 
 for a single book. He iniproved type- 
 metal, by giving it that degree of hard- 
 ness, which has been a desideratum in 
 founderies of this kind; and discovered a 
 new method of facilitating the process of 
 melting and casting. From his iounderv 
 he sent types to Russia, Sweden, Poland, 
 and even America. He also improved 
 the printing-press. 
 
 Besides this, his inquiries into the origin 
 and progress of the art of printing, fur- 
 nished the materials of a history, which 
 he left behind in manuscript. lie pub- 
 lished in 1784, the first part of " An At- 
 tempt to illustrate the origin of playing- 
 cards, the introduction of paper made 
 from linen, and the invention of engraving 
 on wood in Europe ;" the latter part was 
 finished, but not published, before his 
 death. His last publication was a small 
 " Treatise on Bibliography," &o. pub- 
 lished in 1793, with his reasons for re- 
 taining the present German characters. 
 With the interruption of only five or six 
 hours in the twenty-four, which he allowed 
 for sleep, his whole life was devoted to 
 study and useful employment. 
 
 FI.ORAT. DIRECTORY. 
 
 Double Daisy, nellis perennis plenui, 
 Dedicated to St. Margaret of Hungary. 
 
 iamiarp 29. 
 
 St. Francis of Sales, a. d. 1622. St. 
 
 Sulpiciits Sevcrus, a. d. 420. St.frildas 
 
 the Abbot, a.d. 570. St. Gildas, the 
 
 Scot, A. D. 512. 
 
 This being the anniversary of the king's 
 accession to the throne, in 1820, is a 
 Holiday at all the public offices, except the 
 Excise, Stamps, and Customs. 
 
 FLORAL lURECTORY. 
 
 Flowering Fern. Osmunda regalis 
 Dedicated to St. Francis of Sales. 
 
 Sanuarp 30. 
 
 KING Charles's martyrdom. 
 
 Holiday at the Public Offices; except the 
 Stamps, Customs, and Excise. 
 
 St. Bathildes, Queen of Navarre, a. d. 680. 
 
 St. Martina. St. Aldegondes, a. d. 660. 
 
 ut. Barsimceus, a. d. 114. 
 St. Martina. 
 
 The Jesuit Ribadeneira relates that the 
 emperor Alexander IV., having decreed 
 that all christians should sacrifice to the 
 Roman gods, or die, insinuated to St 
 
 93 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 30. 
 
 Martina, that if she would conform to the 
 edict, he would make hev his empress 
 Dut on herbein^ taken to the temple, " by' 
 a sudden earthquake the blockish idol of 
 Apollo was broken in pieces, a fourth part 
 of his temple thrown down, and, with his 
 ruins, were crushed to death ; his priests 
 and many others, and the emperor him- 
 self, began to fly." Whereupon St. 
 Martina taunted the emperor ; and the 
 devil, in the idol, rolling himself in the 
 fiust, made a speech to her, and another 
 to the emperor, and " fled through the 
 air in a dark cloud ; but the emperor 
 would not understand it." Then the 
 emperor commanded her to be tortured. 
 Tliejesuit's stories of these operations and 
 her escapes, are wonderfully particular. 
 According to him, hooks and stakes did 
 her no mischief; she had a faculty of 
 shining, which the pouring of hot lard 
 upon her would not quench ; when in 
 gaol, men in dazzling white surrounded 
 her ; she could not feel a hundred and 
 eighteen wounds ; a fierce lion, who had 
 fasted three days, would not eat her, and 
 fire would not burn her; but a sword cut 
 her head off in 228, and at the end of 
 two days two eagles were found watching 
 her body. " That which above all con- 
 firmeth the truth of this relation," says 
 Ribadeneira, " is, that there is nothing 
 herein related but what is in brief in the 
 lessons of the Roman Breviary, com- 
 manded by public authority to be read 
 on her feast by the whole church," 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On this day, in the year 1649, king 
 Charles I. was beheaded. In the Com- 
 mon Prayer Book of the Church of Eng- 
 land, it is called " The Day of the Martyr- 
 dom of the Blessed King Charles I. ;" 
 and there is " A Form of Prayer, with 
 Fasting, to be used yearly" upon its re- 
 currence. 
 
 The sheet, which received the head of 
 Charles I. after its decapitation, is care- 
 fully preserved along with the commu- 
 nion plate in the church of Ashburnham, in 
 this county ; the blood, with which it has 
 been almos'. entirely covered, now appears 
 nearly black. The watch of the unfor- 
 tunate monarch is also deposited with the 
 linen, the movements of which are still 
 perfect. These relics came into the pos- 
 session of lord Ashburnham immediately 
 after the death of the king. — Brighton 
 Herald. 
 
 Lord Orford says, " one can scarce 
 conceive a greater absurdity than retain- 
 ing the three holidays dedicated to the 
 house of Stuart. Was the preservation o» 
 James I. a greater blessing to England 
 than the destruction of the Spanish ar 
 mada, for which no festival is established ? 
 Are we more or less free for the execution 
 of king Charles? Are we at this day 
 still guilty of his blood ? When is the 
 stain to be washed out? What sense is 
 there in thanking heaven for the restora- 
 tion of a family, which it so soon became 
 necessary to expel again ?" 
 
 According to the " Life of William 
 Lilly, written by himself," Charles L 
 caused the old astrologer to be consulted 
 for his judgment. This is Lilly's account: 
 " His majesty, Charles L, having in- 
 trusted the Scots with his person, was, 
 for money, delivered into the hands of 
 the English parliament, and, by several 
 removals, was had to Hampton-court^ 
 about July or August, 1647; for he was 
 there, and at that time when my house 
 was visited with the plague. He was 
 desirous to escape from the soldiery, and 
 to obscure himself for some time near 
 London, the citizens whereof began nov^ 
 to be unruly, and alienated in affection 
 from the parliament, inclining wholly 
 to his majesty, and very averse to me 
 army. His majesty was well informed 
 of all this, and thought to make good 
 use hereof: besides, the army and par- 
 liament were at some odds, who should 
 be masters. Upon the king's intention 
 to escape, and with his consent, madam 
 Whorewood (whom you knew very well, 
 worthy esquire) came to receive my 
 judgment, viz. In what quarter of this 
 nation he might be most safe, and not 
 to be discovered until himself pleased. 
 When she came to my door, I told 
 her I would not let her come into my 
 house, for I buried a maid-servant of the 
 plague very lately : however, up we 
 went. After erection of my figure, I 
 told her about twenty miles (or there- 
 abouts) from London, and in Essex, I 
 was certain he might continue undis- 
 covered. She liked my judgment very 
 well ; and, being herself of a sharp judg- 
 ment, remembered a place in Essex about 
 that distance, where was an excellent 
 house, and all conveniences for his re- 
 ception. Away she went, early next 
 morning, unto Hampton-court, to ac- 
 quaint his majesty ; but see the mis- 
 fortune: he, either guided by his own 
 
 9i 
 
THE EVP:[IY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 30. 
 
 approaching hard fate, or misguided by 
 Ashburnharn, went away in the night- 
 time westward, and surrendered him- 
 self to Hammond, in the Isle of Wight. 
 Whilst his majesty was at Hampton- 
 court, alderman Adams sent his majesty 
 one thousand pounds in gold, five hun- 
 dred whereof he gave to madam Whore- 
 wood. I believe I had twenty pieces of 
 that very gold for my share." Lilly pro- 
 ceeds thus : " His majesty being in 
 Carisbrook-castle, in the Isle of Wight, 
 the Kentish men, in great numbers, rose 
 in arms, and joined with the lord Gor- 
 ing ; a considerable number of the best 
 ships revolted from the parliament ; the 
 pitizens of London were forward to rise 
 •igainst the parliament ; his majesty laid 
 tis design to escape out of prison, by 
 sawing the iron bars of his chamber win- 
 dow ; a small ship was provided, and 
 anchored not far from the castle to bring 
 him into Sussex ; horses were provided 
 ready to carry him through Sussex into 
 Kent, that so he might be at the head of 
 the army in Kent, and fr(>m thence to 
 march immediately to London where 
 thousands then would have armed for 
 him. The lady Whorewood came to me, 
 acquaints me herewith. I got G. Farmer 
 (who was a most ingenious locksmith, 
 and dwelt in Bow-lane) to make a saw 
 to cut the iron bars in sunder, I mean to 
 saw them, and aqua fortis besides. His 
 majesty in a small time did his work ; 
 ihe bars gave liberty for him to go out ; 
 he was out with his body till he came to 
 his breast ; but then his heart failing, he 
 proceeded no farther : when this was 
 discoverecl, as soon after it was, he was 
 narrowly looked after, and no oppor- 
 tunity after that could be devised to en- 
 large him." 
 
 Lilly goes on to say, " He was be- 
 
 headed January 30, 1649. After the 
 execution, his body was carried to Wind- 
 sor, and buried with Henry \'IIIth, 
 in the same vault where his body was 
 lodged. Some, who saw him embowelled, 
 affirm, had he not come unto this untimely 
 end, he might have lived, according unto 
 nature, even unto the height of old age. 
 Many have curiously inquired who it was 
 that cut off his head : I have no permis- 
 sion to speak of such things ; only thus 
 much I say, he that did it is as valiant 
 and resolute a man as lives, and one of a 
 competent fortune. For my part, I do 
 believe he was not the worst, but the 
 most unfortunate of kings." 
 
 Lilly elsewhere relates, " that the next 
 Sunday but one after Charles I. was 
 beheaded, Robert Spavin, secretary unto 
 lieutenant-general Cromwell at that time, 
 invited himself to dine with me, and 
 brought Anthony Pierson, and several 
 others, along with him to dinner. Their 
 principal discourse all dinner-time was, 
 who it was beheaded the king : one said 
 it was the common hangman ; another, 
 Hugh Peters ; others also were nomi- 
 nated, but none concluded. Robert Spa- 
 vin, so soon as dinner was done, took me 
 by the hand, and carried me to the south 
 window ; saith he, ' These are all mistaken, 
 they have not named the man that did 
 the fact ; it was lieutenant-colonel Joice : 
 I was in the room when he fitted himself 
 for the work, stood behind him when he 
 did it; when done, went in again with 
 him. There is no man knows this but iCj/ 
 master, viz. Cromwell, commissary Ire- 
 ton, and myself.' — ' Doth not Mr. Rush- 
 worth know it V said I. ' No, he doth 
 not know it,' saith Spavin. The same 
 thing Spavin since hath often related 
 unto me when we were alone." 
 
 MOVEABLE FEASTS. 
 
 Shrove Tuesday regulates most of the 
 moveable feasts. Shrove Tuesday itself 
 is the next after the first new moon in the 
 month of February, If such new moon 
 should happen on a Tuesday, the next 
 Tuesday following is Shrove Tuesday. A 
 recently published volume furnishes a 
 
 list, the Introduction of which on the next 
 page puts the reader in possession of ser- 
 viceable knowledge on this point, and 
 affords an opportunity for affirming, 
 that Mr. Nicolas's book contains a va- 
 riety of correct and valuable informar 
 tion not elsewhere in a collected form : — 
 
 95 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JANUARY 30. 
 
 MOVEABLE LEASTS 
 
 " Tables, Cal€7ulars, Sfc. for the use of His- 
 torians. Antiquaries, and the Legal Pro- 
 fession, by N. H. Nicolas, Esq." 
 
 4dvent Sundajf, is the nearest Sunday to 
 the feast of St. Andrew, November 
 30th, whether before or after. 
 Ascension Day. or Holy Thursday, is the 
 Thursday in Rogation week, i. e. the 
 week following Rogation Sunday. 
 ^sh JFednesday, or the first day in lent, 
 
 is the day after Shrove Tuesday. 
 Carle, or Care Sunday, or the fifth Sun- 
 day in lent, is the fifth Sunday affer 
 Shrove Tuesday. 
 Corpus Christi, or Body of Christ, is a 
 festival kept on the Thursday after 
 Trinity Sunday ; and was instituted in 
 the year 1264. 
 
 Easter Day. The Paschal Sabbath. The 
 Eucharist, or Lord's Supper, is the 
 seventh Sunday after Shrove Tuesday, 
 and is always the first Sunday after 
 the first full moon, which happens on 
 or next after the 21st of March. 
 „ ^ ,, , fare the Monday and 
 
 Easter Monday ) ^^esday foUowmg 
 
 Easter Tuesday |_ faster day. 
 
 Ember Days, are the Wednesdays, Fri- 
 days, and Saturdays, after the first Sun- 
 day in lent ; after the Feast of Pente- 
 cost ; after Holy-rood Day, or the Feast 
 of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, 
 viz. 14th September ; and after St. 
 Lucia's day, viz. 1 5th December. 
 
 Ember Weeks, are those weeks in which 
 the Ember days fall. 
 
 The Exicharist. See Easter day. 
 
 Good Friday, is the Friday in Passion 
 Week, and the next Friday before Eas- 
 ter day. 
 
 Holy Thursday. See Ascension day. 
 
 Lent, a Fast from Ash Wednesday, to 
 the Feast of Easter, viz. forty days. 
 
 Lord's Supper. See Easter day. 
 
 Low Sunday, is the Sunday next after 
 Easter day. 
 
 Maunday Thursday, is the day before 
 Good Friday. 
 
 Midlent, or the fourth Sunday in Lent, is 
 the fourth Sunday after Shrove Tues- 
 day. 
 
 Palm Sunday, or the sixth Sunday in 
 Lent, is the sixth Sunday after Shrove 
 Tuesday. 
 
 Paschal Sabbath. See Easter day. 
 
 Passion IFeek, is the week next ensuing 
 after Palm Sunday 
 
 Pentecost or JVhlt Sunday, is the fif- 
 tieth day and stventh Sunday after 
 Easter day. 
 
 Quinquagesima Sunday, is so oameo 
 from its being about the fiftieth day 
 before Easter. It is also called Shrove 
 Sunday. 
 
 UcUck Sunday, is the third Sunday after 
 Midsummer-day. 
 
 Rogation Sunday, is the fifth Sunday af- 
 ter Easter day. 
 
 Rogation Days are the Monday, Tuesday, 
 and Wednesday following Rogation 
 Sunday. 
 
 Shrove Sunday, is the Sunday next be- 
 fore Shrove Tuesday. It is also called 
 Quinquagesima Sunday. 
 
 feptuagesima Sunday, so called from 
 its being about the seventieth day be- 
 fore Easter, is the third Sunday before 
 Lent. 
 
 Sexagesima Sunday, is the second Sun- 
 day before Lent, or the next to Shrove 
 Sunday, so called as being about the 
 sixtieth day before Easter. 
 
 Trinity Sunday, or the Feast of the Holy 
 Trinity, is the next Sunday after Pen- 
 tecost or Whitsuntide. 
 
 frhit Sunday. See Pentecost. 
 
 jr/'f M d r^"^^ ^^ Monday anu 
 
 /rr/-, tt"" ';■'' < Tuesday following 
 
 flhit Tuesday |whit Sunday. 
 
 JFhitsuntide, is the three days above- 
 mentioned. 
 
 The Figil or Eve of a feast, is the day 
 before it occurs. Thus the Vigil of the 
 feast of St. John the Baptist is" the 23d 
 of June. If the feast-day falls upon a 
 Monday, then the Vigil or the Eve is 
 kept upon the Saturday preceding. 
 
 The Morrow of a feast, is the day follow- 
 ing : thus the feast of All Souls, is No- 
 vember 2d, and the Morrow of All 
 Souls is consequently the 3d of Novem- 
 ber. 
 
 The Octave or Utas of each feast, is al- 
 ways the eighth day after it occurs ; 
 for example, the feast of St. Hillary, is 
 the! 13th of February, hence the Octave 
 of St. Hillary, is the 20th of that 
 month. 
 
 In the Octaves, means within the eight 
 days following any particular feast. 
 
 SEPTUAGEblMA 
 
 Is tne ninth Sunday before Easter Sunaay 
 
 98 
 
THE eVERY-DAY book.— JANUARY 31. 
 
 Sex AG ESI MA 
 
 Is the eighth Sunday before Easter. 
 
 QuiNQUAGESIMA 
 
 Is the seventh Sunday before Easter. 
 
 Quadragesima 
 
 Is the sixth Sunday before Easter, and 
 
 the first Sunday in Lent, which com- 
 mences on Ash Wednesday. 
 
 " The earliest term of Septuagesima 
 Sunday is the 18th of January, when 
 Easter day falls on the 22d of March ; 
 the latest is the 22d of February, when 
 Easter happens on the 25th of April " 
 
 Butler. 
 
 Shepherd in his " Elucidation of the 
 Book of Common Prayer" satisfactorily 
 explains the origin of these days : 
 
 "When the words Septuagesima, Sex- 
 agesima, and Quinquagesima were first 
 applied to denote these three Sundays, 
 the season of Lent had generally been 
 extended to a fast of six weeks, that is, 
 thirty-six days, not reckoning the Sun- 
 days, which were always celebrated as 
 festivals. At this time, likewise, the Sun- 
 day which we call the first Sunday in 
 Lent, was styled simply Quadragesitna, 
 or the fortieth, meaning the fortieth day 
 before Easter. Quadragesima was also 
 the name given to Lent, and denoted the 
 Quadragesimal, or forty days' fast. When 
 the three weeks before Quadragesima 
 ceased to be considered as weeks after 
 the Epiphany, and were appointed to be 
 observed as a time of preparation for 
 Lent, it was perfectly conformable to the 
 ordinary mode of computation to reckon 
 backwards, and for the sake of even and 
 round numbers to count by decades. 
 The authors of this novel institution, and 
 the compilers of the new proper offices, 
 would naturally call the first Sunday be- 
 fore Quadragesima, Quinquagesima ; the 
 second, Sexagesima ; and the third, Se{>- 
 uaagesima. This reason corresponds 
 -vith the account that seems to be at pre- 
 sent most generally adopted." 
 
 Tliere is much difference of opinion as 
 to whether the fast of Lent lasted an- 
 ciently during forty days or forty hours. 
 
 FtORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Maidenhair. Asplenlum tri- 
 
 chomanes. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Martina. 
 
 Saminrp 3!. 
 
 Kirvg Gioree IV. proclaiined. Holiiiay at the Ex- 
 chequer 
 
 St. Peter Nolasco, a. d. 125«. .S^ Se- 
 rapion, a. d. 1240. St. Cyrus and 
 John. St. Marcella, a. d. 4*10. St. 
 Maidoc, or Maodhog, alias Aidar, 
 otherwise Mogui, Bishop of Ferni, 
 A. D. 1632. 
 
 St. Peter Nolasco. 
 
 Ribadeneira relates, that on the 1st o' 
 August 1216, the virgin Mary with 
 beautiful train of holy virgins appeared 
 to this saint at midnight, and signified 
 it was the divine pleasure that a new 
 order should be instituted under the 
 title of Our Blessed Lady of Mercy, for 
 the redem.ption of captives, and that 
 king James of Aragon had the same 
 vision at the same time, and "this order, 
 therefore, by divine revelation, was 
 founded upon the 10th, or as others say, 
 upon the 23d of August." Then Su 
 Peter Nolasco begged for its support, 
 and thereby rendered himself offensive 
 to the devil. For once taking up his 
 lodging in private, some of the neigh- 
 bours told him, that the master of the 
 house, a man of evil report, had lately 
 died, and the place had ever since been 
 inhabited by " night spirits," wherein 
 he commended himself to the virgin and 
 other saints, and " instantly his admoni- 
 tois vanished away like smoke, leaving 
 an intolerable scent behind them." These 
 of course were devils in disguise. Then 
 he passed the sea in his cloak, angels 
 sung before him in the habit of his order, 
 and the virgin visited his monastery. 
 One night he went into the church and 
 found the angels singing the service 
 instead of the monks ; and at another 
 time seven stars fell from heaven, and on 
 digging the ground " there, they found a 
 most devout image of our lady under a 
 great bell," — and so forth. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Ilartstongue. Aspleninm Scolopendium. 
 Dedicated to St. Marcella. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 97 
 
 H 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK. -FEBRUARY. 
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 Then came cold February, sitting 
 
 In an old waggon, for he could not ride, 
 Drawne of two fishes, for the season fitting. 
 Which thiough tlie flood before did softly slyde 
 And swim away; yet had he by his side 
 His plough and harnesse fit to till the grouml, 
 And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride 
 Of hasting prime did make them burgeon round. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 This month has Pisces or the fishes for 
 its zodiacal sign. Numa, who was chosen 
 by the Roman people to succeed Ro- 
 mulus as their king, and became their 
 legislator, placed it the second in the 
 year, as it remains with us, and dedi- 
 cated it to Neptune, the lord of waters. 
 Its name is from the Februa, or Feralia, 
 sacrifices offered to the manes of the 
 gods at this season. Ovid in his Fasti 
 attests the derivation : 
 In ancient times, purgations had the name 
 Of Februa , various customs prove the same ; 
 The pontiffs from the rex andjlfntien crave 
 A lock of wool ; in former days they gave 
 To wool the name of Februa. 
 A pliant branch cut from a lofty pine. 
 Which round the temples of the priests they 
 twine. 
 
 In short, with whatsoe'er our hearts we hold 
 Are purified, was Februa termed of old ; 
 Lustrations are from hence, from hence the 
 
 name 
 Of this our month of February came ; 
 In which the priests of Pan processions made ; 
 In which the tombs were also purified 
 Of such as had no dirges when they died; 
 For our religious fathers did maintain, 
 Purgations expiated every stain 
 Of guilt and sin ; from Greece the custom 
 
 came. 
 But here adopted by another name ; 
 The Grecians held that pure lustrations could 
 Efface an impious deed, or guilt of blood 
 Weak men ; to think that water can make 
 
 clean 
 A bloody crime, or any sinful stain. 
 
 Massey's Ovid. 
 Our Saxon ancestors, according to Ver- 
 Is Februa called ; which if the priest demand, stegan, " called February Sproitt-kele, by 
 A. branch of pine is put into his hand ; kele meaning the keie-wurt, which we 
 
 98 
 
xIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 1 
 
 now call the colewurt, the greatest pot- 
 wurt in time long past tliat our ancesto'S 
 used, and the broth made therewith was 
 thereof also called kele ; for before we 
 borrowed from the French the name of 
 potage, and the name of herbc, the one 
 in OAir owne language was called kele, and 
 the Other ivurt ; and as this kele-wurt, 
 or potage-hearbe, was the chiefe winter- 
 wurt for the sustenance of the husband- 
 man, so was it the tirst hearbe that in 
 this moneth began to yeeld out wliole- 
 some yong sprouts, and consequently 
 gave thereunto the name of Sprout-kele." 
 The " kele " here mentioned, is the well- 
 known kale of the cabbage tribe. But 
 the Saxons likewise called this month 
 " Solmonath," which Dr. Frank Sayers in 
 his " Disquisitions " says, is explained 
 by Bede "mensis plancentarum," and 
 rendered by Spelrnan in an unedited 
 manuscript '■^pan-cake month," because 
 in the course of it, cakes were offered by 
 the pagan Saxons to the sun ; and " Sol," 
 or " soul," signified " food," or cakes." 
 In " The Months," by Mr. Leigh Hunt, 
 
 he remarks that " if February were not 
 tlie precursor of spring, it would be the 
 least pleasant season of the year, Novem- 
 ber not excepted. The thaws now take 
 place; and a clammy mixture of moisture 
 and cold succeeds, which is the most 
 disagreeable of wintry sensations." Y'et 
 so variable is our climate, that the Febru- 
 ary of 1825 broke in upon the inhabitants 
 of the metropolis with a day or two of 
 piercing cold, and realized a delightful 
 description of January sparkled from the 
 same pen. " What can be more delicately 
 beautiful than the spectacle which some- 
 times salutes the eye at the breakfast- 
 room window, occasioned by the hoar- 
 frost dew.' If a jeweller had come to 
 dress every plant over night, to surprise 
 an Eastern sultan, he could not produce 
 any thing like the * pearly drops,' or the 
 ' silvery plumage.' An ordinary bed of 
 greens, to those who are not at the 
 mercy of their own vulgar associations, 
 will sometimes look crisp and corrugated 
 emerald, powdered with diamonds.'' 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 Sunk in the vale, whose concave depth receives 
 The wateis draining from these shelvy banks 
 When the shower beats, yon pool with pallid gleam 
 Betrays its icy covering. From the glade 
 Issuing in pensive file, and moving slow, 
 The cattle, all unwitting of the change. 
 To quench their customary thirst advance. 
 With wondering stare and fruitless sean-h they trace 
 The solid margin : now bend low the head 
 In act to drink ; now with fastidious nose 
 Snuffing the marble floor, and breathing loud, 
 Fiom the cold touch withdraw. Awhile they stind 
 In disappointment mute ; with ponderous feet 
 Then bruise the surface: to each stroke the woods 
 Reply ; forth gushes the imprisoned wave. 
 
 St. Ignatius. St. Pioiiius, a. d. 250. St. 
 Bridget. St. Kinnia. St. Sigebert II. 
 King- 
 
 St. Bridget. 
 
 St. Bride, otherwise St. Bridget, con- 
 fers her name upon the parish of St. 
 Bride's, for to her its church in Fleet- 
 street is dedicated. Butler says she was 
 born in Ulster, built herself a cell 
 under a large oak, thence called Kill-dara, 
 
 yet he declares that " her five modern 
 lives mention little else but wonderful 
 miracles." According to the same author, 
 she flourished in the beginning of the 
 sixth century, her body v/as found in the 
 twelfth century, and her head " is now 
 kept in the church of the Jesuits at Lis- 
 bon." This writer does not favour us 
 with any of her miracles, but bishop Pa- 
 trick mentions, Uiat wild ducks swim- 
 ming in the water, or flying in the air, 
 obeyed her call, came to her hand, lei 
 
 or cell of the oak, was joined by others of her embrace them, and then she let them 
 
 her own sex, formed several nunneries, fly away again. He also found in the 
 
 and became patroness of Ireland. " But," breviary of Sarum, that when she was sent 
 
 says Butler, " a full account of her vir- a-milking W he-- "^'^ihev to make butter, 
 
 tues has not been transmitted down to us, she gave away au the milk to the poor; 
 
 together with the veneiation of her name ;" that when the rest of the maias brought 
 
 99 
 
TlIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 2 
 
 in their milk she prayed, and the butter 
 multiplied ; that the butter she gave away 
 she divided into twelve parts, " as if it 
 were for the twelve apostles ; and one 
 part she made bigger than any of the 
 rest, which stood for Christ's portion ; 
 though it is strange," says Patrick, " that 
 she forget to make another inequality by 
 ordering one portion more of the butter 
 to be made bigg;er than the remaining 
 ones in honour of St. Peter, the prince of 
 the apostles." • 
 
 BURIAL OF ALLELUIA. 
 
 In Mr. Fosbroke's " British Monarch- 
 ism," the observation of this catholic ce- 
 remony is noticed as being mentioned in 
 " Ernulphus's Annals of Rochester Cathe- 
 dral," and by Selden. From thence it ap- 
 pears to have taken place just before the 
 octaves of Easter Austin says, " that it 
 used to be sung in all churches from 
 Easter to Pentecost, but Damasus ordered 
 it to be performed at certain times, 
 whence it was chanted on Sundays from 
 the octaves of Epiphany to Septuagesima, 
 and on the Sundays from the octaves of 
 Pentecost and Advent. One mode of 
 burying the Alleluia was this : in the 
 sabbath of the Septiiageshna at Nones, 
 the choristers assembled in the great ves- 
 tiary, and there arranged the ceremony. 
 Having finished the last ' Benedicamus,' 
 they advanced with crosses, torches, holy 
 waters, and incense, carrying a turf (Gle- 
 bam) in the manner of a coffin, passed 
 through the choir and went howling to 
 the cloister, as far as the place of inter- 
 ment •, and then having sprinkled the wa- 
 ter, and censed the place, returned by the 
 same road. According to a story (whe- 
 ther true or false) in one of the churc.ies 
 of Paris, a choir boy used to whip a top, 
 marked with Alleluia, written in golden 
 \etters, from one end of the choir to the 
 other. In other places Alleluia was bu- 
 ried by a serious service on Septuagesima 
 Sunday." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lesser Water Moss. Fontinalls minor. 
 Dedicated to St. Ignatius. 
 
 Bay. Laurns nobilis. 
 Dedicated to St. Bridget. 
 
 Holiday at the Public Orficps, except Excise, Stamjis, 
 and Ciistiims. 
 
 The Purification. St. Laurence, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, a. d. 619 
 
 CANDLEMAS DAY. 
 
 This being the festival which catholics 
 
 call the Purification of the virgin, they 
 observe it with great pomp. It stands as 
 a holiday in the calendar of the church 
 of England. Naogeorgus thus introduces 
 the day ; or rather Barnaby Googe, m 
 his translation of that author's, " Popish 
 Kingdom :" 
 " Then comes the Day wherein the Virgin 
 
 offred Christ unto 
 The Father chief'e, as Moyses law 
 
 commaunded hir to do. 
 Then numbers great of Tapers large, 
 
 both men and women beare 
 To Church, being halowed there with pomp 
 
 and dreadful words to heare. 
 This done, eche man his Candell lightes 
 
 where chiefest seemeth hee, 
 Whose -Taper greatest may be seene 
 
 and fortunate to bee ; 
 Whose Candell burneth cleare and b».g!ii, 
 
 a wondrous force and might 
 Doth in these Candels lie, which if 
 
 at any time they light, 
 They sure beleve that neyther storme 
 
 or tempest dare abide. 
 Nor thunder in the skies be heard, 
 
 nor any Devil's spide. 
 Nor fearefuU sprites that w Ike by night, 
 nor hurts of frost or haile." — • 
 According to " The Posey of Prayers, or 
 the Key of Heaven," it is called Candle- 
 mas, because before mass is said this day, 
 the church blesses her candles for the 
 ivhole year, and makes a procession with 
 hallowed or blessed candles in the hands 
 of the faithful." 
 
 From catholic service-books, quoted 
 in " Pagano Papismus," some particulars 
 are collected concerning the blessing 
 of the candles. Being at the altar, 
 the priest says over them several prayers ; 
 one of which commences thus : " O Lord 
 Jesu Christ, who enlightenest every one 
 that cometh into the world, pour out thy 
 benediction upon these Candles, and 
 sanctifie them with the light of thy 
 grace," &c. Another begins: "Holy 
 Lord, Father Almighty, Everlasting God, 
 who hast created all things of nothing, 
 and by the labour of bees caused this 
 liquor to come to the perfection of a wax 
 candle ; we humbly beseech thee, that by 
 the invocation of thy most holy name, 
 and by the intercession of the blessed 
 virgin, ever a virgin, whose festivals are 
 this (lay devoutly celebrated, and by the 
 prayers of all thy saints, thou wouldst 
 vouchsafe to bless and sanctifie these can- 
 dles," &:c. Then the priest sprinkles the 
 candles thrice with holy water, saying 
 "Sprinkle me with," &c. and perfumes 
 them thrice with incense. One of the 
 
 l(;o 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUAEvY •;. 
 
 consecratory prayers begins : " O Lord 
 Jesu Christ, bless this creature of wax tc 
 Tjs thy suppliants ; and infuse into it, by 
 the virtue of the holy cross, thy heavenly 
 oenediction ; that in whatsoever places it 
 shall be lighted, or put, the devil may 
 depart, and tremble, and fly away, with 
 all his ministers, from those habitations, 
 and not presume any more to disturb 
 them," &c. There is likewise this bene- 
 diction : "I bless thee, O wax, in the 
 name of the holy trinity, that thou may'st 
 be in every place the ejection of Satan, 
 c.nd subversion of all his companions,' 
 &c. During the saying of these prayers, 
 various bowings and crossings are inter- 
 jected ; and when the ceremonies of con- 
 secration are over, the chieftst priest 
 goes to the altar, and he that officiates 
 receives a candle from him ; afterwards, 
 that priest, standing before the altar to- 
 wards the people, distributes the candles, 
 first to the priest from whom he received 
 a candle, then to others in order, all kneel- 
 ing (except bishops) and kissing the can- 
 dle, and also kissing the hand of the 
 priest who delivers it. When he begins 
 to distribute the candles, they sing, "A 
 light to lighten the gentiles, and the 
 glory of thy people Israel.'' After the 
 candles are distributed, a solemn proces- 
 sion is made ; in which one carries a 
 censer, another a crucifix, and the rest 
 burning candles in their hands. 
 
 The practice is treated of by Butler in 
 his notice of the festival under this 
 head, "On blessing of Candles and the 
 Procession." It is to be gathered from 
 him that "St. Bernard says the procession 
 was first made by St. Joseph, Simeon, and 
 Anne, as an example to be followed by 
 all the earth, walking two and two, hold- 
 ing in their hands candles, lighted from 
 fire, first blessed by the priests, and sing- 
 ing." The candle-bearing has reference to 
 Simeon's declaration in the temple when he 
 took Jesus in his arms, and affirmed that 
 he was a light to lighten the gentiles, and 
 the glory of Israel. This was deemed 
 sufficient ground by the Romish church, 
 whereon to adopt the torch-bearing of 
 Ihe pagans in honour of their own deities, 
 as a ceremony in honour of the presenta- 
 tion of Jesus in the temple. The pagans 
 used lights in their worship, and Constan- 
 tino, and other emperors, endowed churches 
 with land and various possessions, for the 
 maintenance of lights m catholic churches, 
 and frequently presented the ecclesiastics 
 with coffeis full of candles and tapers. 
 
 INIr. Fosbroke shows, from catholic autho- 
 rities, tliat liglit-beaiing on Candlemas 
 day is an old Pagan ceremony ; and 
 from Du Cange, that it was substituted 
 by pope Gelasius for the candles, which 
 in Febraary the Roman people used to 
 carry in tl»e I.upercalia. 
 
 Pope Innocent, in a sermon on this fes ■ 
 tival, quoted in " Pagano Papismus," in- 
 quires, " Why do we (the catholics) in 
 this feast carry candles?" and then he ex- 
 plains the matter by way of answer. 
 " Because," says he, " the gentiles dedi- 
 cated the month of February to the infernal 
 gods, and as, at the beginning of it, Pluto 
 stole Proserpine, and her mother, Ceres, 
 sought her in the night with lighted can- 
 dles, so they, at the beginning of this 
 month, walked about the city with lighted 
 candles ; because the holy fathers could 
 not utterly extirpate this custom, they or- 
 dained that Christians should carry about 
 candles in honour of the blessed virgin 
 i\Iary : and thus,'' says the pope, " what 
 was done before to the honour of Ce- 
 res is now done to the honour of the 
 Virgin." 
 
 Polydore Vergil, observing on the pagan 
 processions and the custom of publicly 
 carrying about images of the gods 
 with relics, says, " ()ur priests do the 
 same thing. We observe all these cere- 
 monies, but I know not whether the cus- 
 tom is as good as it is showy ; I fear, I 
 fear, I say, that in these things, we rather 
 please the gods of the heathen than Jesus 
 Christ, for they were desirous that their 
 worshippers should be magnificent in their 
 processions, as Sallust says ; but Christ 
 hates nothing more than this, telling us, 
 When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, 
 and irhen thou hast shut thy door pray to 
 thy Father. What will then become of 
 us, if we act contrary to his command- 
 ment? Surely, whatever may become of 
 us, we do act contrary to it." 
 
 Brand shows, from " Dunstan's Concord 
 of Monastic Rules," that the monks went in 
 surplices to the church for candles, which 
 were to be consecrated, sprinkled with 
 holy water, and censed by the abbot. 
 Every monk took a candle from the sa- 
 crist, and lighted it. A procession was 
 made, thirds and mass were celebrated, 
 and the candles, after the offering, were 
 offered to the priest. Tlie monks' can- 
 dles signified the use of those in the pa- 
 rable of the wise virgins. 
 
 In catholic countries the people joined 
 the priests in their public processions to 
 
 111 
 
rilE EVERY-DAY fJOOK.— FEBRUAttY 2. 
 
 the churches, every individual bearing a 
 burning candle, and the churches them- 
 selves blazed with supernumerary illumi- 
 nations at mid-day. 
 
 It is to be noted, that from Candlemas 
 the use of tapers at vespers and litanies, 
 which prevailed throughout the winter, 
 ceased until the ensuing All Hallow 
 Mass; and hence the origin of an old 
 English proverb in Ray's Collection—' 
 
 " Oa Candlemas-day 
 
 Throw candle and candlestick away." 
 
 Candlemas candle-carrying remained 
 in England till its abolition by an order 
 in council, in the second year of king 
 Edward VI. 
 
 The " Golden Legend" relates, that a 
 lady who had given her mantle to a poor 
 man for the love of our lady, would not go 
 to church on Candlemas-day, but went into 
 her own private chapel, and kneeling be- 
 fore the altar, fell asleep, and had a mira- 
 culous vision, wherein she saw herself at 
 church. Into this visionary church she 
 imagmed that a troop of virgins came, 
 with a noble virgin at their head, " crown- 
 ed ryght precyously," and seated them- 
 selves in order ; then a troop of young 
 men, who seated themselves in like order; 
 then one, with a proper number of can- 
 dles, gave to each a candle, and to the 
 lady herself he gave a candle of wax ; 
 then came St. Laurence as a deacon, and 
 St. Vincent as a sub-deacon, and Jesus 
 Christ as the priest, and two angels bear- 
 ing candles ; then the two angels began 
 the Introit of the mass, and the virgins 
 sung the mass ; then the virgins went 
 and each ofiered the candle to the priest, 
 and the priest waited for the lady to offer 
 her candle ; then " the glorious queue of 
 virgyns" sent to her to say that she was 
 not courteous to make the priest tarry so 
 long for her, and the lady answered that 
 the priest might go on with the mass, for 
 she should keep her candle herself, and 
 not offer it ; and the vir^ in sent a second 
 time, and the lady said she would not 
 offer the candle ; then " the queue of vir- 
 gyns" said to the messenger, " Pray her to 
 offer the candle, and if she will not, take 
 it from her by force ;" still she would not 
 offer the candle, and therefore the mes- 
 senger seized it; but the lady held so 
 fast and long, and the messenger drew 
 and pulled so hard, that the candle broke, 
 and the lady kept half. Then the lady 
 awoke, and found the piece of candle in 
 
 her hand ; whereat she marvelled, and 
 returned thanks to the glorious virgin, 
 who had not suffered her to be without a 
 mass on Candlemas-day, and all her Vie. 
 kept the piece of candle for a relic ; and 
 all they that were touched therewith were 
 healed of their maladies and sicknesses. 
 
 Poetry is the history of ancient times. 
 We know little of the times sung by Ho- 
 mer but from his verses. To Herrick 
 we must confess our obligation for ac- 
 quaintance with some of the manners 
 pertaining to this " great day in the 
 calendar." Perhaps, had he not written, 
 we should be ignorant that our forefathers 
 fared more daintily during the Christmas 
 holidays than at other seasons ; be un- 
 aware of the rule for setting out the due 
 quantum of time, and orderly succession, 
 to Christmas ever-greens ; and live, as 
 most of us have lived, but ought not to 
 live longer, without being informed, that 
 the Christmas-losr may be butnt until this 
 day, and must be quenched this night 
 till Christmas comes again. 
 
 Caiiilleinaa Eve. 
 End now the white-loafe and the pye, 
 And let all sports with Chiistmas dye. 
 
 * » » 
 
 Kindle the Christmas Brand, and then 
 
 Till sunne-set let it burne. 
 Which quencht, then lay it up agen. 
 
 Till Christmas next returne. 
 
 Part must be kept wherewith to teend 
 
 The Christmas Log next yeare , 
 
 And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend 
 
 Can do no mischiefe there, rr ■ , 
 Her rick. 
 
 How severely he enjoins the removal 
 of the last greens of the old year, and yet 
 how essential is his reason for their dis- 
 placement : 
 
 Candlemas Eve. 
 Down with the Rosemary, and so 
 Down with the Bales and ftlisletoe ; 
 Down with the Holly, Ivie, all 
 Wherewith ye drest the Christmas Hall ; 
 That so the superstitious find 
 No one least Branch there left behind : 
 For look, how many leaves there be 
 Neglected there, maids, trust to me, 
 So many goblins yoa shall see. 
 
 HerricK 
 Hearken to the gay old man again, and 
 participate in his joyous anticipations oi 
 pleasure from the natural products of the 
 new year. His next little poem is a col- 
 ly rium for the mind's eye ; 
 
 102 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 Ceremonies for Cayi/Uemasse Eve. 
 
 Down witli the Rosemary and Bayes, 
 
 Down vvitli the Misleto ; 
 Instead of Holly, now up-raise 
 
 The greener Box (lor show.) 
 
 The Holly hitherto did sway ; 
 
 Let Box now domineere, 
 Untill the dancing ikister-day, 
 
 On Easter's Eve appeare. 
 
 Then youthful Box, which now hath grace. 
 
 Your houses to renew, 
 Grown old, surrender must his place 
 
 Unto the crisped Yew. 
 
 When Yew is out, then Birch comes in, 
 
 And many Flowers beside, 
 Both of a liesh and fragrant kinne. 
 
 To honour Whitsontide. 
 
 Green Bushes then, and sweetest Bents, 
 
 With cooler Oken boughs. 
 Come in for comely ornaments 
 
 To re-adoru the house. 
 
 Thus times do shift ; each thing his turne do's 
 
 hold ; 
 New things succeed, as former things grow 
 
 old. Heirick. 
 
 Brand cites a curious anecdote con- 
 cerning John Cosin, bishop of Durham, 
 on this day, from a rare tract, entitled 
 " The Vanitie and Downefall of supersti- 
 tious Popish Ceremonies, preached in the 
 Cathedral Church of Durham, by one 
 Peter Smart, a prebend there, July 27, 
 1628," Edinborough, 4to. 1628. The 
 story is, that " on Candlemass-day last 
 past, Mr. Cozens, in renuing that popisli 
 ceremonie of burning Candles to the ho- 
 nour of our lady, busied himself from 
 two of the clocke in the afternoon till foure, 
 jn climbing long ladders to stick up wax 
 candles in the said Cathedral Church : tlie 
 number of all the Candles burnt that 
 evening was two hundred and twenty, 
 besides sixteen torches ; sixty of those 
 burnmg tapers and torches standing upon, 
 and near, the high Altar, (as he calls it,) 
 where no man came nigh." 
 
 A contributor to the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine informs Mr. Urban, in 1790, that 
 having visited Hanowgate for his health 
 a few years before, he resided for some 
 time at that pleasant market-town Rip- 
 pon, where, on the Sunday before Can- 
 dlemas-day, he observed that the colle- 
 giate church, a fine ancient building, was 
 one continued blaze of light all the after- 
 noon from an immense number of can- 
 dles. 
 
 Brand observes, that in the north of 
 
 England this day is called the " Wives* 
 least Day;" and he quotes a singular 
 old custom from Martm's book oti the 
 Western Islands, to this eliect • — " The 
 mistress and servants of each family dress 
 a sheaf of oats in women's apparel, put 
 it in a large basket, and lay a wooden 
 club by it, and this they call Brud's Bed; 
 and the mistress and servants cry three 
 times, ' Briid is come, Briid is welcome !' 
 This they do just before going to bed. 
 In the morning they look among the 
 ashes, and if they see the impression of 
 Brijd's club there, they reckon it a pre- 
 sage of a good crop, and prosperous year; 
 if not, they take it as an ill omen," 
 
 A. Dorsetshire gentleman communi- 
 cates a custom which he witnessed at 
 Lyme Regis in his juvenile days ; to 
 what extent it prevailed he is unable to 
 say, his knowledge being limited to the 
 domestic circle wherein he was included. 
 The wood-ashes of the family being sold 
 throughout the year as they were made, 
 the person who purchased them annually 
 sent a present on Candlemas-day of "a 
 large candle. When night came, this 
 candle was lighted, and, assisted by its 
 illumination, the inmates regaled them- 
 selves with cheering draughts of ale, and 
 sippings of punch, or some other ani- 
 mating beverage, until the candle had 
 burnt out. The coming of the Candle- 
 mas candle was looked forward to by the 
 young ones as an event of some conse- 
 quence ; for, of usage, they had a sort of 
 right to sit up that night, and partake of 
 the refreshment, till all retired to rest, 
 the signal for which was the self-extinc- 
 tion of the Candlemas candle. 
 
 Bishop Hall, in a Sermon on Candle- 
 mas-day, remarks, that " it hath been an 
 old (I say not how true) note, that hath 
 been wont to be set on this day, that if 
 it be clear and sun-shiny, it portends a 
 hard weather to come ; if cloudy and 
 louring, a mild and gentle season ensu- 
 ing." This agrees with cne of Ray s 
 proverbs : 
 
 '* The hind had as lief see 
 his wife on the bier. 
 As that Candlemas-day 
 
 should be pleasant and clear." 
 
 So also Browne, in his " Vulgar Er- 
 rors," affirms, that " there is a general 
 tradition in most parts of Europe, that 
 
 103 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 inferreth the coldness of succeeding win- 
 ter from the shining of the sun on Can- 
 dlemas-day, according to the proverbial 
 distich : 
 
 * Si Sol splendescat Marii purificante, 
 JS Jajor erit glacies post festum quam fuit ante.' " 
 
 The " Country Almanac" for 1676, in the 
 month of February, versifies to the san^e 
 eft«ct : 
 
 " Foul weather is no news ; 
 hail, rain, and snow, 
 Are now expected, and 
 
 esteeni'd no woe ; 
 Nay, 'tis an omen bad. 
 
 The yeomen say. 
 If Phoebus shows his face 
 the second day." 
 
 Country Alina7iac, [Feh.) 16/fi. 
 
 Other alnr^nacs prophesy to the like pur 
 
 port : 
 
 " If Candlemas-day be fair and bright, 
 Winter will have another flight ; 
 But if Candlemas-day be clouds and rain. 
 Winter is gone, and will not come again." 
 
 The next old saw is nearer the truth than 
 either of the preceding; 
 '• When Candlem-\s-day is come and gone. 
 The snow lies on a hot stone," 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Snowdrop. Gulanthns Nivalis 
 
 Dedicated to the Purification of the 
 
 Virgin Mary. 
 
 Holiday at the Exchequer. 
 
 St. Blase. St. Anncharius, a.d. 865. 
 St. fFerebiirge, Patroness of Chester. 
 St. Margaret, of England. 
 
 St. Blase. 
 
 This saint has the honour of a place in 
 the church of England calendar, on what 
 account it is difficult to say. All the 
 facts that Butler has collected of him are, 
 that he was bishop of Sebaste m Armenia, 
 receiver of the relics oi St. Eustratius, 
 and executor of his last wdl ; that he is 
 venerated for the cure of sore throats ; 
 principal patron of Ragusa, titular patron 
 of the wool-combers ; and that he was 
 tormented with iron combs, and martyred 
 under Licinius, in 316. 
 
 Ribadeneira is more diffuse. He re- 
 lates, that St. Blase lived in a cave, whi- 
 ther wild beasts came daily to visit him, 
 atid be cu'-eo by him ; " and if it ha)>- 
 
 oened that they came while he was at 
 ])rayer, they did not inteirupt him, but 
 waited till he had ended, 'and never de- 
 parted without his benediction. He was 
 discovered in his retirement, imprisoned, 
 and cured a youth who had a tish-bone 
 stuck in his throat by praying." Riba- 
 deneira further says that /Etuis, an ancient 
 Greek physician, gave the following 
 
 Receipt for a stoppage in the throat : 
 
 " Hold the diseased party by the 
 throat, and pronounce these words : — 
 Blase, the marti/r and servant of Jesus 
 Christ, commands thee to pass 2tp or 
 donin .'" 
 
 The same .Tesuit relates, that St. Blase 
 was scourged, and seven holy women 
 anointed themselves with his blood ; 
 whereupon their flesh was combed 
 with iron combs, their wounds ran no- 
 thing but milk, their flesh was whiter 
 than snow, angel-s came visibly and healed 
 their wounds as fast as they were made ; 
 and they were put into the fire, which 
 would not consume them ; wherefore 
 they were ordered to be beheaded, and 
 beheaded accordingly. Then St. Blase 
 was ordered to be drowned in the lake ; 
 but he walked on the water, sat down on 
 it in the middle, and invited the infidels 
 to a sitting ; whereupon threescore and 
 eight, who tried the experiment, were 
 drowned, and St. Blase walked back to be 
 behead td. 
 
 The " Golden Legend" says, that a 
 wolf having lun away with a woman's 
 swine, she prayed St. Blase that she 
 might have her swine again, and St. 
 Blase promised her, with a smile, she 
 should, and the wolf brought the swine 
 back ; then she slew it, and offered the 
 head and the feet, with some bread and 
 a candle, to St. Blase. " And he thanked 
 God, and ete thereof; and he sayd to 
 her, that every yere she sholde offre in 
 his chirche a candell. And she dyd all 
 her lyf, and she had moche grete pros- 
 peryte. And knowe thou that to the, 
 and to all them that so shal do, shal 
 well happen to them." 
 
 It is observed in a note on Brand, that 
 the candles offered to St. Blase were said 
 to be good for the tooth-ache, and for 
 diseased cattle. 
 
 " Theti foUoweth good sir Blase, who doth 
 a waxen Candell give, 
 \nd holy water to his men, 
 wheieby th°.y safely live 
 
 104: 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.- FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 I Jiveis Barrels oft have seene, 
 
 drawne out of water cleare, 
 Through one small blessed bone 
 
 of this same holy Martyr heare : 
 And caryed thence to other townes 
 
 and cities farre away. 
 Such superstition doth require 
 
 such earnest kinde of play." 
 
 The origin of St. Blase's fame has baf- 
 fled the inquiry of antiquaries ; it seems 
 to have rolled off with the darkness of 
 former ages, never to be known again. 
 To the wool-combers this saint is indebted 
 for the maintenance of his reputation in 
 England, for no otiier trade or persons 
 have any interest in remembering his 
 existence ; and this popularity with a 
 body of so much consequence may pos- 
 sibly have been the reason, and the only 
 reason, for the retention of his name in 
 the church calendar at the Reformation. 
 That it is not in the wane with them, is 
 clear from a report in the Leeds Merciirif, 
 of the 5th of February, 1 825. The article 
 furnishes the very interesting particulars 
 in the subjoined account :— 
 
 Celebration of 
 
 33t^i)op i^U^t'S dTri^tibal, 
 
 AT BRADFORD, 3d FLBRUAW, 1825. 
 
 The septennial festival, held in honour 
 of bishop Blase, and of the invention of 
 wool-combing attributed to that person- 
 age, was on this day celebrated at Brad- 
 ford with great gaiety and rejoicing. 
 
 There is no place in the kingdom where 
 the bishop is so splendidly commemo- 
 rated as at Bradford. In 1811, 1818, 
 and at previous septennial periods, the 
 occasion was celebrated with great pomp 
 and festivity, each celebration surpassing 
 the preceding ones in numbers and bril- 
 liance. The celebration of 1825 eclipsed 
 all hitherto seen, and it is most gratifying 
 to know, that this is owing to the high 
 prosperity of the worsted and woollen 
 manufactures, which are constantly add- 
 ing fresh streets and suburban villages to 
 the town. 
 
 The different trades began to ass?mble 
 at eight o'clock in the morning, but it was 
 near ten o'clock before they all were ar- 
 ranged in marching order in Westgate. 
 Tlie arrangements were actively super- 
 intended by Matthew Thompson, Esq. 
 The morning was brilliantly beautiful. 
 As early as seven o'clock, strangers pour- 
 
 ed into Bradford from the surrounding 
 towns and villages, in such numbers as 
 to line the roads in every direction ; and 
 almost all the vehicles within twenty 
 miles were in requisition. Bradford was 
 never before known to be so crowded 
 with strangers. Many thousands of indi- 
 viduals must have come to witness the 
 scene. About ten o'clock the procession 
 was drawn up in the following order : — 
 
 Herald bearing a flag. 
 Woolstaplers on horseback, each horse capa- 
 risoned with a fleece. 
 Worsted Spinners and Manufacturers on 
 horseback, in white stuff waistcoats, with 
 each a sliver over the shoulder, and 
 a white stuff sash ; the horses' 
 necks covered with nets 
 made of thick yarn. 
 Merchants on horseback, with coloured 
 sashes. 
 ThreeGuards. Masters'Colours. ThreeGuards. 
 Ap])rentiees and Masters' Sons, on hor-,e- 
 back, with ornamented caps, scarlet stuff 
 coats, white stuff waistcoats, and 
 blue pantaloons. 
 Bradford and Keighley Bands, 
 Mace-bearer, on foot. 
 Six Guards. King. Quien. Six Guards. 
 Guards. Jason. Prince^sMedea. Guards. 
 Bishop's Chaplain. 
 BISHOP BLASE. 
 Shepherd and Shepherdess. 
 Shepherd Swains. 
 Woolsorttrs, on horseback, with ornamented 
 caps, and various coloured slivers. 
 Comb Makers. 
 Charcoal Burners. 
 Cumbers' Colours. 
 Bind. 
 yVof.lcombers, with wool wigs, &C, 
 Band. 
 Dyers, vi\i\\ red cockades, blue aprons, an* 
 crossed slivers of red and blue. 
 
 The following were the numbers of the 
 different bodies, as nearly as could be 
 estimated : — 24 woolstaplers, 38 spinnen 
 and manufacturers, 6 merchants, 56 ap- 
 prentices and masters' sons, 160 wool- 
 sorters, 30 combmakers, 470 wool-combers, 
 and 40 di/ers. The King, on this occa- 
 sion, was an old man, named JFm.Cloxigh, 
 of Darlington, who had filled the legal 
 station at four previous celebrations. 
 Jason (the celebrated legend of the 
 Golden Fleece of Colchis, is interwoven 
 with the commemoration of the bishop,) 
 was personated by John Smith ; and the 
 fair Medea, to whom he was indebted 
 for his spoils, rode by his side. — BISHOP 
 BLASE was a personage of very be- 
 
 105 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 4. 
 
 coming gravity, also named John Smith ; 
 and he had enjoyed his pontificate several 
 previous commemorations; his chaplain 
 was James Bedhom. The ornaments of 
 the spinners and manufacturers had a 
 neat and even elegant appearance, from 
 the delicate and glossy whiteness of tlie 
 finely combed wool which they wore. 
 The apprentices and masters' sons, how- 
 ever, formed the most showy part of the 
 procession, their caps being richly adorned 
 with ostrich feathers, flowers, and knots 
 of various coloured yarn, and their stuff 
 garments being of the gayest colours; 
 some of these dresses, we understand, 
 were very costly, from the profusion of 
 their decorations. Tlie shepherd, shep- 
 herdess, and swains, were attired in light 
 green. The wool-sorters, from their num- 
 ber and the height of their plumes of 
 featliers, wliich were, for the most part, of 
 different colours, and formed in the shape 
 oi fleur-de-lis, had a dashing appearance. 
 The combmakers carried before them the 
 instruments here so much celebrated, 
 raised on standards, togeth r with golden 
 fleeces, rams' heads with gilded horns, 
 and other emblems. The combers looked 
 both neat and comfortable in their flow- 
 ing wig3 of well-combed wool ; and tlie 
 garb of the dyers was quite professional. 
 Several well-painted flags were displayed, 
 one of which represented on one side the 
 venerable Bishop in full robes, and on 
 the other a shepherd and shepherdess 
 under a tree. Another had a painting of 
 Medea giving iip the golden fleece to 
 Jason : a third had a portrait ofthe King : 
 and a fourth appeared to belong to some 
 association in the trade. The whole pro- 
 cession was from half a mile to a mile in 
 length. 
 
 When the procession was ready to 
 move, Richard Fawcett, Esq. who was on 
 horseback at the head of the spinners, 
 pronounced, uncovered, and with great 
 animation, the following lines, which it 
 had long been customary to repeat on 
 these occasions, and which, if they have 
 not much poetical elegance, have the 
 merit of expressing true sentiments in 
 simple language : — 
 
 Hail to the day, whose kind auspicious rays 
 Deign'd first to smile on famous bishop Blase ! 
 To the great autlior of our combing trade, 
 This day's devoted, and due honour's paid ; 
 To him whose fame tiiro' Britain's isle re- 
 sounds, 
 To ^'im whose goodness to the poor abounds j 
 
 Long shall his name in British annals shine, 
 And grateful ages offer at his shrine ! ' . 
 By this our trade are thousands daily fed. 
 By it supplied with means to earn then 
 
 bread. 
 In various forms our trade its work unparts, 
 In different methods, and by difli'erent arts, 
 Preserves from starving, indigents distress'd 
 As combers, spiirners, weavers, and the rest. 
 We boast no gems, or costly garments vain, 
 Borrow'd from India, or the coast of Spain ; 
 Our native soil with wool our trade supplies. 
 While foreign countries envy us the piize. 
 No foreign broil our common good annoys, 
 Our country's product all our art employs ; 
 Our fleecy flocks abound in every vale. 
 Our bleating lambs proclaim the joyful tale. 
 So let not Spain with us attempt to vie, 
 Nor India's wealth pretend to soar so iiigh ; 
 Nor Jason pride him in his Colchian spoil, 
 By hardships gain'd, and enterprising toil, 
 Since Britons all with ease attain the prize, 
 And every hill resounds with golden cries. 
 To celebrate our founder's great renown 
 Our shepherd and our chepherdess we crown; 
 For England's commerce, and for George's 
 
 5 way. 
 Each loyal subject give a loud HUZZA. 
 HUZZA ! 
 
 These lines were afterwards several 
 times repeated, in the principal streets 
 and roads through which the cavalcade 
 passed. About five o'clock they dispersed. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Great water moss. Foiitinalis Antejnjre- 
 tica. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Blase. 
 
 St. Andrew Corsini, a. d. 1373. St 
 Philens. St. Gilbert. St. Jane, or 
 Joan, Queen, a. d. 1505. St. Isidore, 
 of Pelusium, a. u. 449. St. Rembcrt, 
 Archbishop of Bremen, a. d. 888. 
 St. Modan, of Scotland, St. Joseph, 
 of Leonissa, a. d. 1612. 
 
 Goe plow in the stubble 
 
 for now is the season 
 Eor sowing of fitches, 
 
 of beanes, and of peason. 
 Sow runciuals timely, 
 
 and all that be gray, 
 But sow not the white, 
 
 till St. Gregorle's day. 
 
 7'?<wer 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Goldilocks. Polytricnm Commune. 
 Dedicated to 67. Jane, 
 
 106 
 
THE EVERY-DAV book.— FEBRUAllY 5— 1'3. 
 
 Indian Bay Laurus Lul'ica. 
 ' Dedicated to St. Margaret of England. 
 
 jTebruarj) 5. 
 
 Huliday at the Excliequer. 
 
 St. Agatha. The Martyrs of Japan. The 
 Martyrs of China. St. Avitus, Arch- 
 bishop, A. D. 525. St. Alice, or 
 Adelaide, a. d. 1015. St. Abraamius, 
 Bishop of Arbela. 
 
 St. Agatha. 
 This saint, who is in the calendar of 
 the church of England, was a Sicilian mar- 
 tyr about the year 251. Butler relates, 
 that before her death she was tortured, 
 and being refused physicians, St. Peter 
 iiimself came from heaven, healed her 
 wounds, and filled her prison with light. 
 He also as gtavely staters, that several 
 tinies when Catana was in danger from 
 the eruptions of mount A'tna, her veil 
 carried in procession averted the volcanic 
 matter from the city. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Primrose. Primula vulgaris. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Agatha. 
 
 Red Primrose. Primula aculis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Adelaide. 
 
 ;fcl)ruar)) 6. 
 
 Sexagesima Sunday. 
 
 St. Dornthj/, a. d. 308. St. Vedast, 
 Bishop, A. n. 5:J9. St. Amandus, a. d. 
 675. St. Barsannphius. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Blue Jacinth. Hyacinthus Orientalis 
 cocruleus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Dorothy. 
 
 #ieliruarp 7. 
 
 St. Romuald, a. d. 1027. St. Richard, 
 King of the Wc-t Saxons, a. d. 722. 
 St. Theodurus o' He'-aclea, a. d. 315. 
 St. Tresain, 6tn Cent. St. Augulus, 
 Bishop. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Roundleaved Cyclamen. Cyclamen Cotim. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Romuald. 
 
 fthvnnv}) 8. 
 
 St. Joh'i of Matha, a. d. 1213. St. Ste- 
 pher of Grandmont, a. c. 1124. St. 
 Purl, Bishop of Verdun, a. d, 631. 
 Si Cuthman. 
 
 floral riRECTORT. 
 
 Narrow Spring iVloss. Milium Androgy^ 
 •unm. 
 
 Dedicated to St. John of Matha. 
 
 Jfebniary 9. 
 
 St. Apollonia, a. d. 249. St. Nicepho- 
 rus, A. D. 260. St, Theliau, Bishop, 
 a. d. 580. St. Anshert, Abp. of Rou^n, 
 A. D. 695. <S^. Attractu or Turahata oi 
 Ireland. St. Herard or Eberhard. 
 
 FLORAL directory, 
 
 Roman Narcissus. Narcissus Romanus. 
 Dedicated to St. Apollonia. 
 
 jTebniari) lO. 
 
 St. Scholastica, a. d. 543. St. Coteris, 
 4 -.h Cent. St. fj'illiam of Maleval, a. n. 
 ) 1 5 7. St. Erlulph, Scotch Bishop. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mezereon. Daphne Mezereon. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Scholastica. 
 
 Silky P'orklMoss. Mninm heteomallum 
 
 Dedicated to St. Coteris. 
 
 fthvmvi^ 11. 
 
 St. Satnrninus Dativns, Sfc. of Africa, 
 A. D. 304. St. Severiniis, a. d. 507. 
 The Empress Theodora, a. d. 867. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Red Primrose. Primula J^erna rubra 
 Dedicated to St. Theodora. 
 
 fthxxmv^ 12. 
 
 St. Benedict of Anian, a. d. 821. St 
 Meletius^of Antioch. a. d. 381. St. 
 Enlulia of Barcelona. St. Anthony 
 Cauleas, a. d. 896. 
 
 HILARY TERM ends. 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Noble Liverwort. Anemone hepatica. 
 Dedicated to St. Eulalia. 
 
 ftU'xmv^ 13. 
 
 St. Catherine deRicci. a.d. 1589. St. Lici- 
 nius, Bishop, a.d. 618. St. Polyeuctus, 
 A. D. 257. St. Gregory II. Pope. St. 
 Martinianus, St. Modomnoe or Donii' 
 nick of Ossory, 6th Cent. St. Stephen, 
 Abbot, 6th Cent. Roger, Ah\>r,t,K.v 
 1175. 
 
 137 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Polvanthus. Primula polyantha. 
 Dedicated to St. Catherine de llicci. 
 
 fthnim'^ 14. 
 
 VALENTINE'S DAY. 
 St. Valentine. St. Maro, a, d. 433. 
 St. Abraames, A. D. 422. St. Au- 
 gentius, 5th Cent. St. Conran, Bishop 
 of Orkney. 
 
 St. Falentlne. 
 Of this saint, so celebrated among 
 
 young persons, little is known, e^copx 
 that he was a priest of Rome, and mar- 
 tyred there about 270. 
 
 It was a custom with the ancient Ro- 
 man youth to draw the names of girls in 
 honour of their goddess Februata-Juno 
 on the 15th of February, in exchange for 
 which certain Roman catholic pastors 
 substituted the names of saints in billets 
 given the day before, namely, on the lllb 
 of February. 
 
 Where can the postman be, I say ? 
 
 He ought iojiy — on sach a day . 
 
 Of all days in the year, yoM know, 
 
 Ii'f monstrous rude to be so slow 
 
 The fellow's so exceeding stupid — 
 
 Hark ! — there he is ! — oh ! the dear Cupid ! 
 
 Two liundred thousand letters beyond that's the way to reckon." " Ah, my 
 ihe usual daily average, annually pass child, that's not the way to reckon ; you 
 through the twopenny post-office m Lon- have taken something into the acconnc that 
 don on St. Valentine's Day. " Two has no business there : all Valentine- 
 tiundred thousand Iwopences," said an writers are not in love, nor are all lovers 
 old gentleman as he read this in a March Valentine-writers; and remember, my 
 newspaper, " are four hundred thousand dear girl, that as smiles on the face some- 
 pence," — and he was going to cast up the times conceal cruel dispositions, so there 
 amount — ''Why, papa," said his daughter, are some who write Valentines, and trifle 
 " that's just the number of young folks with hearts for the mere pleasure of in- 
 e must be lu io'2 with each other — flictinguain." " I will show vou what I 
 
 lUo 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14 
 
 mean," said the old gentleman, and tak- 
 ing a paper from a drawer, he held up 
 this exemplificatics : 
 
 Just then an unmarried ijentleman, 
 '* of a certain as^e," entered the room. 
 On becoming acquamted with the topic, 
 he drew from his pocket a small packet, 
 and said, with a merry smile, " Here was 
 my Valentine." It contained a rib of 
 some small animal completely enveloped 
 with white satin ribbon, ornamented by 
 a true lovei's knot at each end, and ano- 
 ther in the middle. Father and daughter 
 both had a laugh at the " old bachelor," 
 and he, laughing with them, put into the 
 young lady's hand the poetical address 
 that accompanied his rib : 
 
 Go contemplate this lovely sign ! 
 Haste thee away to reason's shrine, 
 
 And listen to her voice ; 
 No more illusive shades pursue, 
 To happiness this gives the clue, 
 
 Make but a prudent choice. 
 'Till Adam had a partner given, 
 Much as fair Eden bloom'd like heaven, 
 
 His bliss was incomplete ; 
 No social friend those joys to share. 
 Gave the gay scene a vacant air ! 
 
 She came — 'twas all replete. 
 
 And could not genuine Paradise, 
 The most extensive wish suffice. 
 
 Its guiltless lord possest ? 
 No — not without a kindred mate ; 
 How then in this degen'rate state, 
 
 Can man, alone be blest 1 
 
 But now the Muse withdraws her aid ; 
 Enough, thy folly to upbraid ; 
 
 Enough to make thee wise : 
 No more of pensive hours complain. 
 No more, that all life's joys are vain. 
 
 If thou tliis hint despise. 
 Feb, 13, 182—, ^ Frknd. 
 
 " Well now, this is capital !" exclaimed 
 the laughing lass. " After mch a Valen- 
 tine, you viust take the hint, my dear sir. 
 it's really a shame that so good-natured a 
 man should remain a bachelor. I recollect, 
 that when I could only just run about, 
 you used to be so kind to me; besides, 
 how you dandled and played with me ! 
 and since then, how you have read to me 
 and instructed me till I grew up ! Such a 
 man is the very man to be married : you 
 are every way domestic, and it's settled ; 
 you mmt get married." — " Well, then, will 
 you have me .'" he inquired, with a cheerful 
 laugh. " / have you ? No ! Why, you 
 are too old ; but not too old to find a 
 wife : there are many ladies whom we 
 know, of your age, wholly disengaged; 
 but you don't pay them any particular 
 attention." Her father interposed ; and 
 the gentleman she addressed playfully 
 said, " It is a little hard, indeed, that I 
 should have these fine compliments and 
 severe reproaches at the same time : how- 
 ever," taking her by the hand, " you will 
 understand, that it is possible I may have 
 paid particular attention to a lady at an 
 age when the affections are warmer ; I 
 did ; and I reconciled myself to rejection 
 by courting my books and the pleasures 
 of solitude — 
 
 Hast thou been ever waking 
 From slumbers soft and light. 
 
 And heard sweet music breaking 
 The stdlness of the night ; 
 
 When all thy soul was blending 
 With that delightful strain, 
 
 And night her silence lending 
 To rivet fancy's chain ; 
 
 Then on a sudden pausing. 
 
 Those strains have ceas'd to plav 
 A painful absence causing 
 
 Of bliss that died away ! 
 So from my soul has vanish 'd 
 
 The dream of youthful days ; 
 So Hope and Love are banish'd. 
 
 And Truth her pow'r displays. 
 
 The origin of so pleasant a day, the 
 first pleasant day in the year, whether its 
 season be regarded, or the mode of its 
 celebration, requires some little inves- 
 tigation ; nor nmst some of its past aiid 
 present usages be unrecorded here. 
 
 St. Valentine's Morimtg. 
 
 Hark ! through the sacred silence of ttie night 
 Loud chanticleer doth sound his clarion shrill, 
 
 Hailing with song the first pale gleam of light 
 Which floHts the dark brow of vou eastern bilL 
 
 109 
 
THE EVERY-Da^ BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 Britrlit star of morn, oh ! leave not yet the wave 
 To deck the dewy iVontlet of tlie {"ry ; 
 
 Nor tliou, Aurora, quit Tithonus' cave, 
 JSIor drive retiring darkness yet away. 
 
 Ere these my rustic hands a garland twine, 
 Ere yet my tongue endite a single song, 
 
 For her I mean to hail my Valentine, 
 
 Sweet maiden, fairest of the viigin throng. 
 
 Doih'eif'i, iflhceU, 
 
 Attend we upon Eli a. Ilark, how perfect simplicity of feeling, < Madam, 
 trinmpnantly that noble herald of the my liver and fortune are entirely at your 
 
 disposal,-' or putting a delicate question, 
 ' Amanda, have you a hhV//-/^ to bestow ." 
 But custom has settled these things, and 
 awarded the seal of sentiment to the 
 aforesaid triangle, while its less fortunate 
 neighbours wait at animal and anatomical 
 distance. 
 
 Not many sounds in life, and I ir 
 
 college of kindness proclaims the day ! 
 
 " Hail to thy returning festival, old 
 Bishop V^alentine ! Great is thy name in 
 the rubric, tliou venerable arch-flamen of 
 Hymen ! Immortal Go-between ! who and 
 what manner of person art thou ? Art 
 thou but a name, typifying the restless 
 principle which impels poor humans to 
 seek perfection in union .' or wert thou elude all urban and all rural sounds, ex- 
 
 indeed a mortal prelate, with thy tippet 
 and thy rochet, thy apron on, and decent 
 lawn sleeves ? Mysterious personage ! like 
 unto thee, assuredly, there is no other 
 mitred father in the calendar. — Thou 
 comest attended with thousands and ten 
 tliousands of little L9ves, and the air is 
 
 Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings ; 
 
 Singing Cupids are diy choristers, and thy 
 precentors ; and instead of the crosier, 
 the mystical arrow is borne before thee. 
 
 " In other wo.ds, this is the day on 
 which those charming little missives, 
 ycleped Valentines, cross and intercross 
 each other at every street and turning. 
 The weary and all for-spent twopenny 
 postman sinks beneath a load of delicate 
 embarrassments, not his own. It is 
 
 oeed in interest a knock at the door. It 
 ' gives a very echo to the throne where 
 Hope is seated.' But its issues seldom 
 answer to this oracle w'ithin. It is so 
 seldom that just the person we want to 
 see comes. But of all the clamorous 
 visitations, the welcomest in expectation 
 is the sound that ushers in, or seems to 
 usher in, a Valentine. As the raven him- 
 self was hoarse that announced the fatal 
 entrance of Duncan, so the knock of the 
 postman on this day is light, airy, confi- 
 dent, and befitting one that ' bringeth 
 good tidings.' It is less mechanical than 
 on other days ; you will say, 'That is not 
 the post, I am suie.' Visions of Love, of 
 Cupids, of Hymens, and all those de- 
 lightful, eternal common-places, which 
 * having been, will always- be ;' which no 
 scarcely credible to what an extent this schoolboy nor schoolman can write away; 
 ephemeral courtship is carried on in this having their irreversible throne in the 
 loving town, to the great enrichment of fancy and affections ; what are your trans- 
 porters, and detriment of knockers and ports, when the happy maiden, openinp 
 bell-wires. In these little visual inter- witli careful finger, careful not to break 
 
 pretations, no emblem is so common as 
 ihe heart, — that little three-cornered ex- 
 porent of all our hopes and fears, — the 
 bestuck and bleeding heart ; it is twisted 
 and tortured into more allegories and 
 affectations than an opera-hat. What 
 
 the emblematic seal, bursts upon the sight 
 of some well-designed allegory, some 
 type, some youthful fancy, not without 
 verses — 
 
 Lovers all, 
 
 A madiigal, 
 
 authority we have in history or mythology or some such device, not over abundant 
 
 for placing the head-quarters and metro- in sense— yOung Love disclaims it,— and 
 
 polls of god Cupid in this anatomical seat not quite silly— sometlrug between wind 
 
 rather than in any other, is not very clear; and water, a chorus where the sheep 
 
 out we have got it, and it will serve as 
 well as any other tiling. Else we might 
 easily imagine, upon some other system 
 which might have prevailed for any thino- 
 which our pathology knows to the con- 
 trary, a lover addressing his mistress, in 
 
 might almost join the shepherd, as they 
 did, or as I apprehend they did, in Ar- 
 cadia. 
 
 " All Valentines are not foolish, and I 
 shall not easily forget thine, my kind 
 friend (if I may have leave to call you 
 
 110 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— FEBRUAR T 14. 
 
 so) E. B. — E. B. lived opposite a young 
 muideti. whom he had often seen, unseen, 
 from his parlour window in C — e-street. 
 She was all joyousness and innocence, 
 and just of an age to enjoy receiving a 
 Valentine, and just of a temper to beai 
 the disappointment of missing one with 
 good humour. E. B. is an artist of no 
 common powers ; in the fancy parts of 
 designing, perhaps inferior to none ; his 
 name is known at the bottom of many a 
 well-executed vignette in the way of his 
 profession, but no further ; for E. B. is 
 modest, and the world meets nobody 
 half-way. E. B. meditated how he c uld 
 repay this young maiden for many a fa- 
 vour which she had done him unknown ; 
 for, when a kindly face greets us, though 
 but passing by, and never knows us 
 again, nor we it, we shoidd feel it as an 
 obligation ; and E. B. did. This good 
 aitist set himself at vork to please the 
 damsel. It was just before Valentine's 
 day three years smce. He wrought un- 
 seen, and unsuspected, a wondrous work. 
 We need not say it was on the finest gilt 
 paper with borders — full, not of common 
 hearts and heartless allegory, but all the 
 prettiest stories of love from Ovid, and 
 older poets than Ovid (for E. B. is a 
 scholar.) There was Pyramus and Thisbe, 
 and be sure Dido was not forgot, nor 
 Hero and Leander, and swans more than 
 sang in Cayster, with mottoes and fanci- 
 ful devices, such as beseemed, — a work 
 in short of magic. Iris dipt the woof. 
 This on Valentine's eve he commended 
 to the all-swallowing indiscrimmate ori- 
 fice — (O, ignoble trust!) — of the common 
 post ; but the humble medium did its 
 duty, and from his watchful stand, the 
 next mornmg, he saw the cheerful mes- 
 senger knock, and by and by the precious 
 charge delivered. He saw, imseen, the 
 happy girl unfold the Valentine, dance 
 about, clap her hands, as one after one 
 the pretty emblems unfolded themselves. 
 She danced about, not with light love, or 
 foolish expectations, for she had no lover; 
 or, if she had, none she knew that could 
 have created those biight images which 
 delighted her. It was more like some 
 fairy present; a God-send, as our famili- 
 arly pious ancestors termed a benefit 
 received, where the benefactor was un- 
 known. It would do her no harm. It 
 would do her good for ever after. It is 
 good to love the unknown. I only give 
 this as a specimen of E B., and his mo- 
 dest way of doing a concealed kindaess. 
 
 " Good morrow to my Valentine, sings 
 poor Ophelia; and no better wish, but 
 with better auspices, we wish to all faith- 
 ful lovers, who are not too wise to despise 
 old legends, but are content to rank 
 themselves humble diocesans with old 
 Bishop Valentine, and his true church." 
 
 Mr. Douce, whose attainments include 
 more erudition concerning the origi»3 and 
 progress of English customs than any 
 other antiquarian possesses, must be re- 
 ferred to upon tins occasion. He ob- 
 serves, in his " Illustrations of Shak- 
 speare," concerning St. Valentine's day, 
 that " it was the practice in ancient 
 Rome, during a great part of the month 
 of February, to celebrate the Lupercalia, 
 which were feasts in honour of Pan and 
 Juno, whence the latter deity was named 
 Febiuata, Februalis, and Februlla. On 
 this occasion, amidst a variety of cere- 
 monies, the names of young women were 
 put into a box, from which they were 
 drawn by the men as chance directed. 
 The pastors of the early christian church, 
 who by every possible means endeavoured 
 to eradicate the vestiges of pagan super- 
 stitions, and chiefly by some commuta- 
 tions of their forms, substituted, in the 
 present instance, the names of particular 
 saints instead of those of the women , 
 and as the festival of the Lupercalia had 
 commenced about the middle of February, 
 they appear to have chosen St. Valentine's 
 day for celebrating the new feast, because 
 it occurred nearly at the same time. This 
 is, in part, the opinion of a learned and 
 rational compiler of the 'Lives of the 
 Saints,' the Rev. Alban Butler. It should 
 seem, however, that it was 1 1 terly impos- 
 sible to extirpate altogether any ceremony 
 to which the common people had been 
 much accustomed : a fact which it were 
 easy- to prove in tracing the origin of 
 various other popular superstitions. Ano 
 accordingly the outline of the ancient 
 ceremonies was preserved, but modified 
 by some adaptation to the christian sys- 
 tem. It is reasonable to suppose that 
 tlie above practice of choosing mates 
 would gradually become reciprocal in tlie 
 sexes; and that all persons so chosen 
 would be called Valentines, from the day 
 on which the ceremony took place." 
 
 Leaving intermediary facts to tbe cu- 
 rious inquirer, we come immediately to 
 a few circumstances and sayings fiom 
 grave aulliors and gay poets respecting 
 
 11 r 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 this festival, as it is observed in our own 
 country. It is recorded as a rural tradi- 
 tion, that on St. Valentine's day each bird 
 of the air chooses its mate ; and hence it 
 IS presumed, that our homely ancestors, 
 in their lusty youth, adopted a practice 
 which we still find peculiar to a season 
 when nature bursts its imprisonments for 
 
 the coming |)leasures of the cheerfiil 
 spring. Lydgate, the monk of Bury, 
 who died in 1440, and is described by 
 Warton to have been " not only the poet 
 of his monastery, but of the world in 
 general," has a poem in praise of queene 
 Catherine, consort to Henry V., wherein 
 he says : 
 
 Seynte Valentine. Of custome yeere by yeere 
 
 Alen have an usaunce, in this regioun. 
 To loke and serche Cupides kalendere, 
 
 And chose theyr choyse, by grete affeccioun ; 
 
 Such as ben viove with Cupides mocioun, 
 Takyng theyre choyse as theyr sort doth lalie : 
 But I love oon whiche excellith alle. 
 
 Chducer imagines "Nature the vicare happiest of living things at this seison^ 
 of the Almightie Lord," to address the the birds, thus : 
 
 Foules, take hede of my sentence I pray, 
 
 And for your own ease in fordring of your need. 
 
 As fast as I may speak I will me speed : 
 Ye know well, how on St. Valentine's day 
 
 By my statute and through my governaunce. 
 Ye doe chese your Makes, and after flie away 
 
 With hem as I move you with pleasaunce 
 
 * * * * » 
 
 Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft, 
 Which drivest away the long night^s black, 
 Thus singen small^ foules for thy sake, 
 Will have they caus^ for to gladden oft, 
 Since each of them recovered hath his Make : 
 Full blissful may they sing, when they awake. 
 
 Our young readers are informed, that 
 the word " make" in Chaucer, now ob- 
 solete, signified mate. 
 
 ■Jago, a poet, who, if he has not soared 
 to greatness, has at least attained to the 
 easy versification of agreeable, and some- 
 times higher feelings, has left us a few 
 stanzas, which harmonize with the sup- 
 positions of Chaucer : 
 
 ^t. Valentines Day. 
 
 The tuneful choir in amorous strains 
 
 Accost their feathered loves ; 
 While each fond mate, with equal pains, 
 
 The tender suit appioves. 
 
 With cheerful hop from spray to spray 
 
 They sport along the meads j 
 In social bliss together stray. 
 
 Where love or ismy leads. 
 
 Through Spring's f?y &oeT.",s each happy pair 
 
 Their fluttering joys p'lrsue ; 
 Its various charms and produce shaie. 
 
 For ever kind and true. 
 
 Their sprightly notes from every slr.de 
 
 Their mutual love* proclaim; 
 Till Winter's chilling blasts invade. 
 
 And damp th' enlivening flame 
 
 Then all tlie jocund scene declines. 
 
 Nor woods nor meads delight ; 
 The drooping tribe in secret pines. 
 
 And mourns th' unwelcome sight. 
 
 Go, blissful warblers ! timely wise, 
 
 Th' instructive moral tell ; 
 Nor thou their meaning lays despise. 
 
 My charming Annabelle ! 
 
 Old John Dunton's " British ApoUo" 
 sings a question and answer: 
 
 Why, Valentine's a day to choose 
 A mistress, and our freedom lose ? 
 May I my reason interpose. 
 The question with an answer close? 
 To imitate we have a mind, 
 And couple like the winged kind. 
 
 Further on, in the same miscellany, is 
 another question and answer : 
 
 " Question. In chusing valentines (ac- 
 cording to custom) is not the party chu- 
 sing (be it man or woman) to make a 
 present to the party chosen ? 
 
 " Ansiver. We think it more proper tc 
 say, draioing of valentines, since the 
 most customary way is for each to take 
 his or her lot. And chance cannot be 
 termed choice. According to this me 
 
 112 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 thod, the obligations are equal, and there- 
 fore it was formerly the custom mutually 
 lo present, but now it is customary only 
 for the gentlemen." 
 
 This draiviuff of valentines is remark- 
 ed in Poor Robin's Almanac for 1676, 
 under St. Valentine's day : 
 
 " Now Andrew, Antho- 
 ny, and William, 
 For Valentines ttraw 
 Prue, Kate, Jilian " 
 Misson, a learned traveller, who died 
 in England about 1721, describes the 
 amusing practices of his lime : — " On 
 the eve of the 14th of February, St- 
 
 upon a young man which she calls hers. 
 By this means each has two valentines • 
 but the man sticks faster to the valentine 
 that is fallen to him, than to the valen 
 tine to whom he is fallen. Fortune hav- 
 ing thus divided the company into so 
 many couples, the valentines give balls 
 and treats to their mistresses, wear their 
 billets several days upon their bosoms or 
 sleeves, and this little sport often ends in 
 love. This ceremony is practised differ- 
 ently in different counties, and accord- 
 ing to the freedom or severity of madam 
 Valentine. There is another kind of 
 valentine, which is the first young man 
 
 Valentine's day, the young folks in Eng- or woman that chance throws in your 
 
 .and and Scotland, by a very ancient 
 custom, celebrate a little festival. An 
 equal number of maids and bachelors 
 get together, each writes their true or 
 some feigned name upon separate billets. 
 
 way in the street, or elsewhere, on that 
 day.'' 
 
 In some places, at this time, and more 
 particulaMy in London, the lad's valen- 
 tine is the first lass he sees in the morn- 
 
 which they roll up, and draw by way of ing, who is not an inmate of the house , 
 
 lots, the maids taking the men's billets, the lass's valentine is the first youth she 
 
 and the men the maids' ; so that each of sees. Gay mentions this usage on St. 
 
 the young men lights upon a girl that he Valentine's day : he makes a rustic 
 
 calls his valentine, and each of the girls housewife remind her good man, — 
 
 I early rose just at the break of day, 
 
 Before the sun had chas'd the stars away ; 
 
 A field I went, amid the morning dew 
 
 To milk my kine,(for so should house-wives do,) 
 
 Thee first I spied, and the first swain we see 
 
 In spite of Fortune shall our true-love be. 
 
 So also in the " Connoisseur" there is 
 mention of the same usage preceded by 
 certain mysterious ceremonies the night 
 Defore ; one of these being almost certain 
 to ensure an indigestion is therefore likely 
 to occasion a dream favourable to the 
 dreamer's waking wishes. — " Last Friday 
 was Valentine's day, and, the night before, I 
 got five bay-leaves,and pinned four of them 
 to the four corners of my pillow, and the 
 fifth to the middle; and then, if I dreamt 
 of my sweetheart, Betty said we should 
 be married before the year was out. But 
 to make it more sure, I boiled an egg 
 hard, and took out the yolk, and filled it 
 with salt ; and when I went to bed, ate 
 it, shell and all, without speaking or 
 drinking after it. We also wrote our 
 lovers' names upon bits of paper, and 
 rolled them up in clay, and put them 
 into water : and the first that rose up was 
 to be our valentme. Would you think 
 it, Mr. Blossom was my man. T lay 
 a-bed and shut my eyes all the morning, 
 till he came to our house ; for I would 
 not have seen another man before him 
 lor all the wc rid." 
 
 Shakspeare bears witness to the cus- 
 tom of looking for your valentine, or de- 
 siring to be one, through poor Ophelia's 
 singing 
 
 Good morrow ! 'tis St. Valentine's dav 
 
 All in the morning betime, 
 And I a maid at your window, 
 To be your valentine ! 
 
 Sylvanus Urban, in 1779, was informed 
 by Kitty Curious, that on St. Valentine's 
 day in that year, at a little obscure vil- 
 lage in Kent, she found an odd kind of 
 sport. The girls from five or six to 
 eighteen years old were assembled in a 
 ciowd, burning an uncouth ffigy which 
 they called a •* holly boy, and which 
 they had stolen from the iDoys; while in 
 another part of the village the boys 
 were burning what they called an " ivy 
 girl," which they had stolen from the 
 girls. The ceremony of each burning 
 was accompanied by acclamations, huz- 
 zas, and other noise. Kitty inquired the 
 meaning of this from the oldest people 
 in the piace, but she could learn no more 
 than that it had always been a sport 3< 
 that seasou. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 113 
 
THE EVERY-DA^ BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 A correspondent communicates to the bourhood a similar boon. This was done, 
 
 Euery-DaJ/iiooA a singular custom, which says our correspondent, as an emblem 
 
 prevailed many years since in the west of that the owl being the bird of wisdom, 
 
 England. Three single young men went could influence the feathered race to enter 
 
 out together before daylight on St. Valen- the net of love as mates on that day, 
 
 tine's day, with a clapnet to catch an old whereon both single lads and maidens 
 
 owl and two sparrows in a neighbouring should be reminded that happiness could 
 
 barn. If they were successful, and could alone be secured by an early union, 
 
 bring the birds to the inn without injury On this ancient festival, it was formerly 
 
 before the females of the house had risen, the custom for men to make presents tf 
 
 they were rewarded by the hostess with 
 three pots of purl in honour of St. Valen- 
 tine, and enjoyed the privilege of de- 
 manding at any other house in the neigh- 
 
 The day Samt Valentine, 
 When maids are brisk, and at the break of day 
 Start up and turn their pillows, curious all 
 To know what happy swain the fates provide 
 A mate for life. Then follows thick discharge 
 Of true-love knots and sonnets nicely penned. 
 
 the women. In Scotland these valentin: 
 gifts were reciprocal, as indeed they are 
 still in some parts. 
 Hurdis calls this 
 
 St. Valentine is the lover's saint. Not 
 that lovers have more superstition than 
 other people, but their imaginings are 
 more. As it is fabled that Orpheus 
 '* played so well, he moved old Nick ;" so 
 it is true that Love, " cruel tyrant,'' moves 
 the veriest brute. Its influence renders 
 the coarsest nature somewhat interesting. 
 A being of this kind, so possessed, is al- 
 most as agreeable as a parish cage with 
 an owl inside ; you hear its melancholy 
 tee-whit tee-who, and wonder how it 
 got there. Its place of settlement be- 
 comes a place of sentiment ; nobody can 
 liberate the starveling, and it will stay 
 there lis mural notes seem so many 
 calls for pity, which are much abated on the 
 recoilection,that there are openings enough 
 for its escape. The " tender passion" in 
 the two mile an Iiour Jehu of an eight- 
 horse waggon, puzzles him mightily. He 
 " sighs and drives, sighs and drives, and 
 drives and sighs again," till the approach 
 of this festival enables him to buy •' a va- 
 lentine," with a " halter" and a " couple 
 o' hearts" transfixed by an arrow in the 
 form of a weathercock, inscribed 
 
 " I'll be yours, if you'll be mine, 
 I am your pleasing Valentine." 
 
 This he gets his name written under by 
 the shopkeeper, and will be quite sure that 
 it is his name, before he walks after his 
 waggon,which he has left to go on, because 
 neither that nor his passion can brook 
 delay. After he is out of the town, he 
 looks behind him, lest any body should see, 
 and for a mile or two on the road, ponders 
 
 on the " two hearts made one," as a most 
 singular device, and with admired devo- 
 tion. He then puts it in the trusty pocket 
 under his frock, which holds tlie waggon 
 bill, and flogs his horses to quicken their 
 pace towards the inn, where " she," who is 
 " his heart's delight," has been lately pro- 
 moted to the rank of under kitchen-maid, 
 vice her who resigned, on being called 
 " to the happy estate of matrimony" by 
 a neighbouring carter. He gives her the 
 mysterious paper in the yard, she receives 
 it with a " what be this ?" and with a 
 smack on the lips, and a smack from the 
 whip on the gown. The gods have made 
 him poetical, and, from his recollection oi 
 a play he saw at the statute-fair, he tells 
 her that "love, like a worm in the mud, 
 has played upon his Lammas cheek" ever 
 since last Lammas-tide, and she knows 
 it has, and that she's his valentine. Witf 
 such persons and with nature, this is the 
 season of breaking the ice. 
 
 St. Valentine, be it repeated, is the 
 saint of all true lovers of every degree,, 
 and hence the letters missive to the fair, 
 from wooers on hisfestival,bear his name. 
 Brand thinks " one of the most elegam 
 jeu-d'esprits on this occasion," is one 
 wherein an admirer reminds his mistress 
 of the choice attributed by the legend 
 to the choristers of the air on this d; y, 
 and inquires of her — 
 
 Shall only you and I forbear 
 To meet and make a happy pair ? 
 Shall we alone delay t-o live '! 
 This day an age of bliss may give. 
 
 lU 
 
ri£E EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 Iiut, ah ! when 1 the proffer n.-u.ke. 
 Still coyly you refuse to take ; 
 My heart I dedicate in vain, 
 The too mean present you disdaia. 
 
 Yet since the solemn time allows 
 To choose the object of our vows ; 
 Boldly I dare profess my flame, 
 Proud to be yours by any name. 
 
 A better might have been selected from 
 the " Magazine of Magazines," the 
 " Gentleman's," wherein Mr. Urban has 
 sometimes introduced the admirers of la- 
 dies to the admirers of antiqmties — under 
 which class ladies never come. Thence, 
 ever and anon, as from some high barbi- 
 can or watchtower old, " songs of loves 
 and maids forsaken," have afoused the 
 contemplation from " facts, fancies, and 
 recollections" regarding other tmies, to 
 lovers " sighing like furnace" in our own. 
 Through Sylvanus, nearly a century ago, 
 there was poured this 
 
 Invocation of St. Valentine. 
 Haste, friendly Saint .' to my relief, 
 ]\Iy heart is stol'n, help ! stop the thief! 
 My rifled breast I search'd with care, 
 And found Eliza lurking there. 
 
 Away she started from my view. 
 Yet may be caught, if thou pursue ; 
 INor need I to describe her strive — 
 'J'lie fairest, dearest maid alive ! 
 
 Seize her — yet treat the nymph divine 
 With gentle us.ige, Valentine ! 
 Then, tell her, she, for what was done, 
 Must bring my heart, and give her own. 
 
 So pleasant, so descriptive an illustra- 
 tion of the present custom, requires a 
 companion equally amiable; 
 
 MY VALENTINE. 
 
 Mark'd you her eye's resistless glance, 
 That does the enraptur'd soul entrance 1 
 Mark'd you that dark blue orb unfold 
 V^olumes of bliss as yet untold? 
 And felt you not, as I now feel. 
 Delight no tongue could e'er reveal 1 
 
 Mark'd you her cheek that blooms and 
 
 glows 
 A living emblem of the rose ? 
 Mark'd you her vernal lip that breathes 
 The balmy fragrance of its leaves ] 
 And felt you not, as I now feel. 
 Delight no tongue can e'er reveal 1 
 
 Mark'd you her artless smiles that speak 
 The language written on her cheek, 
 Where, bright as morn, and pure as dew. 
 The bosom's thoughts arise to view 1 
 And felt you not, as I now feel. 
 Delight no toigue could e'er reveal 1 
 
 Mark'd you her face, and did not there. 
 Sense, softness, sweetness, all appear ! 
 Mark'd you her form, and saw not you 
 A heart and mind as lovely too ] 
 And felt you not, as I now feel. 
 Delight no tongue could e'er reveal ? 
 
 Mark'd you all this, and you have known 
 The treasured raptures that I own ; 
 Mark'd you all this, and you like me, 
 Have wandered oft her shade to see, 
 For you have felt, as I now feel. 
 Delight no tongue could e'er reveal ! 
 High Wycombe. 
 
 Every lady will bear witness that the 
 roll of valentine poesy is interminable ; 
 and it being presumed that few would 
 object to a peep in the editor's budget, he 
 ofiers a little piece, written, at the desire 
 of a lady, under an engraving, which re- 
 presented a girl fastening a letter to the 
 neck of a pigeon : — 
 
 THE COURIER DOVE. 
 
 " Va, porter cet ecrit \ I'objet de mon coeur 1" 
 
 Outstrip the winds my courier dove I 
 
 On pinions fleet and free, 
 And bear this let-ter to my love 
 
 Who's far away from me. 
 
 It bids him mark thy plume whereon 
 
 The changing colours range ; 
 But warns him that my peace is gone 
 
 If he should also change. 
 
 It tells him thou return'st again 
 
 To her who sets thee free ; 
 And O ! it asks the truant, when 
 
 He'll thus resemble thee \ 
 
 Lastly, from " Sixty-five Poems and 
 Sonnets," Sic. recemly published, he ven- 
 tures to extract one not less deserving the 
 honour of perusal, than either that he has 
 presented :— 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 No tales of love to you I send, 
 
 No hidden flame discover, 
 I glory in the name of friend. 
 
 Disclaiming that of lover. 
 And now, while each fond sighing youth 
 Repeats his vows of love and truth. 
 Attend to this advice of mine — 
 With caution choose a Valentinh. 
 
 Heed not the fop, who loves himself, 
 Nor let the rake your love obtain ; 
 Choose not the miser for his pelf, 
 
 The drunkard he^^d with cold disdain ; 
 The profligate with caution shun. 
 His I ace of ruin soon is run : 
 To none jf these your heart incline. 
 Nor choose from them a V.* Lr.N7 ik£ 
 
 115 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 But should some generous youth appear, 
 
 Whose honest mind is void of art, 
 Who shall liis Maker's laws revere, 
 
 And serve him with a willing heart ; 
 Who owns fair Virtue for his guide, 
 Nor from her precepts turns aside ; 
 To him at once your heart resign, 
 And bless your faithful Valentine. 
 
 Though in this wilderness below 
 
 You still imperfect bliss shall find, 
 Yet such a friend will share each woe. 
 And bid you be to Heaven reslgn'd : 
 While Faith unfolds the radiant prize, 
 And Hope still points beyond the skies, 
 At life's dark storms you'll not repine. 
 But bless the day of Valentine. 
 
 IFit at a pinch. 
 
 A gentleman who left his snuffljox at 
 
 a friend's on St. Valentine's Eve, 1825, 
 
 received it soon after his return home in 
 
 an envelope, sealed, and superscribed — 
 
 To J E , Esq. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I've just found proof enough, 
 You are ?iot worth a pinch of snuff; 
 Receive the proof, seal'd up with care, 
 And extract from it, that you are. 
 Valentine, 1825 * 
 
 ClIRONOLOGt. 
 
 Sir William Blackstone died on the 
 i4th of February, 1780. He was born at 
 the house of his father, a silkman, in 
 Cheapside, London, on the 10th of July, 
 1723 ; sent to the Charter-house in 1730 ; 
 entered Pembroke-college, Cambridge, 
 in 1738; of the Middle Temple, 1741; 
 called to the bar in 1746; elected re- 
 corder of Wallingford in 1749; made 
 doctor of civil law in 1750; elected 
 Vinerian professor of common law in 
 1 758 ; returned a representative to Par- 
 liament in 1761 ; married in 1761 ; be- 
 came a justice of the court of Common 
 Pleas in 1770. In the course of his life 
 he filled other ofifices. He was just and 
 benevolent in all his relations, and, on 
 the judicial seat, able and impartial. In 
 English literature and jurisprudence he 
 holds a distinguished rank for his " Com- 
 mentaries on the Laws of England." 
 This work originateil in the legal lectures 
 he commenced in 1753 : the first volume 
 was published in 1759, and the remain- 
 ing three in the four succeeding years. 
 Through these his name is popular, and 
 so will remain while law exists. The 
 work is not for the lawyer alone, it is for 
 every body. It is not so praiseworthy to 
 be learned, as it is disgraceful to bs igno 
 
 rant of the laws which regulate liberty 
 and property. The absence of all inform- 
 ation in some men when serving upon 
 juries and coroners' inquests, or as con- 
 stables, and in parochial offices, is scan- 
 dalous to themselves and injurious to 
 their fellow men. The " Commentaries" of 
 Blackstone require only common capacity 
 to understand. Wynne's " Eunomus " 
 is an excellent introduction to Blackstone, 
 if any be wanting. With these two 
 works no man can be ignorant of his 
 rights or obligations ; and, indeed, the 
 " Commentaries" are so essential, that 
 he who has not read them has no claim 
 to be considered qualified for the exercise 
 of his puljlic duties as an Englishman. 
 He is at liberty, it is true, for the law 
 leaves him at liberty, to assume the cha- 
 racter he may be called on to bear in 
 common with his fellow-citizens ; but, 
 with this liberty, he is only more or les« 
 than a savage, as he is more than a savage 
 by his birth in a civilized country, and 
 less than a savage in the animal instinct, 
 which teaches that self-preservation is the 
 first law of nature ; and still further is he 
 less, because, beside the safety of others, 
 it may fall to him, in this state of igno 
 rauce, to watch and ward the safety of the 
 commonwealth itself. 
 
 Blackstone, on making choice of his 
 profession, wrote an elegant little poem, 
 entitled " The Latvyer^s Farewell to his 
 Nrtrse." It is not more to be admired 
 for ease and grace, than for the strong 
 feeling it evinces in relinquishing the 
 pleasures of poesy and art, and parting 
 for ever from scenes wherein he had hap- 
 pily spent his youthful days. Its conclu- 
 sion describes his anticipations — ■ 
 
 Lost to the field and torn from you — 
 Farewell ! a long — a last adieu ! 
 Me wrangling courts and stubborn law 
 To smoke and crowds, and cities draw j 
 There selfish faction rules the day, 
 And pride and av'rice throng the way; 
 Diseases taint the murky air. 
 And midnight conflagrations glare : 
 Loose revelry and riot bold 
 In frighted streets their orgies hold; 
 Or when in silence all is drowned. 
 Fell murder walks her lonely round 
 No room for peace — no room for you 
 Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu f 
 
 A SUIT AT LAW. 
 
 Its origin and progress may be trnced 
 in the Tree engraved on the opposite 
 page. 
 
 116 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 THE TREE OF COMMON XAW. 
 
 117 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 1 . Tlie root of the engraved Tree exhibits 
 
 a diversity of suits and actions for 
 the remedy of different wrongs. 
 
 2. The trunk shows the growth of a suit, 
 
 stage by stage, until its conclusion. 
 
 3. The branches from each stage show 
 
 the proceedings of the plaintiff on 
 one side, and the proceedings of the 
 defendant on the other. 
 
 4. The leaves of each branch show certain 
 
 collateral proceedings whereby the 
 suit is either advanced or suspended. 
 
 5. Supposing the form of action suitable 
 
 to the case, and no stay of proceed- 
 ings, the suit grows, on the " sure 
 and firm set earth " of the law, into a 
 " goodly tree," and, attaining to 
 execution against either the plaintiff 
 or the defendant, terminates in con- 
 suming fire. 
 
 A few whimsical miscellanies are sub- 
 loined, not derogatory from the import- 
 ance or necessity of legislation, but 
 amusingly illustrative of legal practice in 
 the sinuosities it has acquired during suc- 
 cessive stages of desuetude and change. 
 Those only who know the law are ac- 
 quainted with the modes by which nume- 
 rous deformities in its application have 
 originated, or the means by which they 
 may be remedied ; while all who expe- 
 rience that application are astonished at 
 its expensiveness, and complain of it with 
 reason. 
 
 A legal practitioner is said to have de- 
 livered a bill containing several charges 
 of unmerciful appearance, to a client, who 
 was a tailor; and the tailor, who had 
 made a suit of clothes for his professional 
 adviser, is said to have sent him the fol- 
 lowing bill by way of set-off. 
 
 George Grip, Esq. 
 
 Dr. to Samuel Smart. 
 
 £. s. d. 
 
 Attending you, in conference, con- 
 cerning your proposed Suit, con- 
 ferring thereon when you could 
 not finally determine 6 8 
 
 Attending you again thereon, when 
 found you prepared, and taking 
 measures accordingly 6 8 
 
 Entering 3 4 
 
 Instructioua and warrant to woollen- 
 draper. 5 
 
 Carried forward. .. .£1 1 8 
 
 £. s. 
 
 Brought forward. .. . 1 ) 
 
 Copy thereof to keep 2 
 
 Instructions to foreman 6 
 
 Difficulty arising as to proceedings, 
 
 attending him in consultation ..0 6 
 
 Paid fees to woollen-draper 4 18 
 
 Attending him thereon 6 
 
 Perusing his receipt 3 
 
 Attending to file same 3 
 
 Filing 1 
 
 Attending button-maker, instructing 
 
 him 6 
 
 Paid his charges 2 19 
 
 Having received summons to pro- 
 ceed, perusing and considering 
 
 same C 
 
 Drawing consent, and copy to keep 4 
 
 Postage 1 
 
 Copy order thereon and entering . . 3 
 Appointing consultation as to further 
 
 proceedings, and attending same 13 
 Foreman having filed a demurrer, 
 
 preparing argument against same 6 
 Attending long argument on demur- 
 rer, when same overruled 10 
 
 Perusing foreman's plea 6 
 
 Excepting to same 6 
 
 Entering exceptions 3 
 
 Perusing notice of motion to remove 
 suit, and preparing valid objec- 
 tions to lay before you 10 
 
 Same being overruled, consent there- 
 to, on an undertaking 6 
 
 Expenses on removal of suit — paid 
 
 by you at the time 
 
 Writing you my extreme dissatisfac- 
 tion on finding the suit removed 
 into the King's Bench, and that 
 I should move the court, when 
 you promised to obtain a Rule as 
 soon as term commenced, and 
 
 attend me thereon 10 
 
 Conferring with you, in presence of 
 your attendant, at my house, on 
 the first day of term, when you 
 succeeded in satisfying me that 
 you were a Gerit. one, &c, and an 
 honourable man, and expressed 
 great dissatisfaction at the pro 
 ceedings had with the suit while 
 out of my hands ; receiving your 
 instructions to demand of your 
 Uncle that same should return to 
 me, on my paying him a lien he 
 claimed thereon, and received 
 from you his debenture for that 
 
 purpose 13 
 
 Perusing same, and attending him 
 in St. George's-fields therewith 
 
 and thereon 10 
 
 Paid him, principal and interest .. 2 10 
 
 Carr'-d forward. . . .^18 18 
 
 118 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 £. 
 Brought forward. ... 18 
 In consideration of circumstances, 
 
 no charge for receiving suit back. 
 Perusing letter unexpectedly re- 
 ceived from you, dated from your 
 own house, respecting short notice 
 
 of trial 
 
 Attending you thereon 
 
 Attending at Westminster several 
 mornings to try the suit, when at 
 
 last got same on 2 
 
 Paid fees 
 
 Fee to porter 
 
 It being determined that the suit 
 should be put into a special case, 
 drawing special instructions to 
 
 Boxmaker for same 13 
 
 Attending him therewith and thereon 6 
 Paid him his fee for special case . . 2 2 
 
 Paid his clerk's fee 2 
 
 Considering case, as settled 6 
 
 Attending foreman for his consent 
 to same, when he promised to 
 
 determine shortly 
 
 Attending him again thereon to ob- 
 viate his objections, and obtained 
 
 his consent with difficulty 
 
 Drawing bill of costs 15 
 
 Fair copy for Mr. to peruse 
 
 and settle 9 7 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 12 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Attending him therewith 
 
 Fee to him settling 
 
 Attending him for same 
 
 Perusing and considering same, as 
 
 settled 
 
 Attending ]Mr. again sug- 
 gesting amendments 
 
 Fee to him on amending 
 
 Perusing same as amended 
 
 Fair copy, with amendments, to keep 
 
 Entering 
 
 Fair copy for service 
 
 Thirty-eight various attendances to 
 
 serve same 6 
 
 Service thereof 
 
 Drawing memorandum of service . . 
 
 Attending to enter same 
 
 Entering same 
 
 Attending you concerning same . . 
 Accepted service of order to attend 
 at the theatre, and gave consent . 
 
 Retaining fee at box-office 
 
 Service of order on box-keeper .... 
 Self and wife, with six children, 
 two of her cousins, her brother, 
 and his son, two of my brothers, 
 my sister-in-law, three nephews, 
 four nieces, each attending for 
 four hours and a half to see the 
 Road to Ruin, and the Beggars' 
 Opera, eighty-five hours and a 
 
 6 & 
 
 6 8 
 
 6 8 
 
 Brouf;lit forward. ... 39 
 half, at 3s. 'id. per hour — very 
 
 moderate 17 
 
 Coach hire there and back 
 
 Attending you to acquaint you with 
 particulars in general, and con- 
 cerning settlement particularly.. 
 
 Instructions for receipt 
 
 Drawing receipt 
 
 Vacation fee 1 
 
 Refreshing fee 
 
 Perusing receipt, and amending same 
 
 Fair copy to keep 
 
 Engrossing on stamp 
 
 Paid duty and paper 
 
 Fee on ending 2 
 
 Letters and messengers 
 
 ». d 
 6 10 
 
 10 
 
 18 
 
 1 
 13 4 
 
 10 
 
 £63 9 
 
 To numerous, various, and a great 
 variety of divers, and very many 
 letters, messages, and attendances 
 to, from, on, and upon, you and 
 your agents and others, pending a 
 negotiation for settlement, far 
 too numerous to be mentioned ; 
 and an infinite deal of trouble, too 
 troublesome to trouble you with, 
 or to be expressed ; without more 
 and further trouble, but which 
 you must, or can, or shall, or 
 may know, or be informed of — 
 what you please 
 
 Carried forward . . . .£39 5 10 
 
 Item in a Bill of Costs 
 Attending A in conference concerning 
 the best mode to indemnify B against C's 
 demand for damages, in consequence of 
 his driving D's cart against E's house, 
 and thereby breaking the window of a 
 room occupied by F's family, and cutting 
 the head of G, one of his children, which 
 H, the surgeon, had pronounced dan- 
 gerous, and advising on the steps neces- 
 sary for such indemnity. Attending 
 I accordingly thereon, who said he could 
 do nothing without the concurrence of his 
 brother J, who was on a visit to his 
 friend K, but who afterwards consented 
 thereto, upon having a counter-indemnity 
 from Ij. Taking instructions for, and 
 writing the letter accordingly, but he 
 refused to accede thereto, in consequence 
 of misconduct in some of the parties 
 towards his distant relation M, because 
 he had arrested N, who being in custody 
 of O, the officer, at P's house, was unable 
 to prevail upon P and R to become bail. 
 Attending in consequence upon S, the 
 
 119 
 
THE F,VF,RY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 theriff, when he said, if he received an 
 undertaking to give a bail-bond at the 
 return of the wnt, the defendant should 
 Ue discharged. Attending T for under- 
 taking accordingly, conferring thereon ; 
 but he declined interfering without the 
 concurrence of V, to whom he was largely 
 indebted, in whose hands he had lodged 
 several title-deeds as a collateral security, 
 and who, it appeared, had sent the deeds 
 to his attorney U, for the purpose of pre- 
 paring a mortgage to W, in trust, for se- 
 curing his demand, and also of a debt due 
 to X. Attending afterwards on A's 
 clerk Y, communicating the result of our 
 numerous applications, and conferring 
 with him thereon, when he at length in- 
 formed me that Z had settled the busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Legal Recreations. 
 
 " To him that goes to law, nine things 
 are requisite : 1. A good deal of money — 
 2. A good deal of patience — 3. A good 
 cause — 4. A good attorney — 5. Good 
 counsel — 6. Good evidence — 7. A good 
 jury — 8. A good judge — and lastly, good 
 luck." 
 
 " Reason is the life of the law, nay, 
 the common law itself is nothing else but 
 reason." 
 
 If a man says of a counsellor of law. 
 Thou art a dajfa-doivn-dilly, an action 
 lies. So adjudged in Scaccario, and 
 agreed per totam curiam. — 1 Vin. Abb. 
 445. 
 
 He hath no more law than Mr. C.\i bull. 
 These words being spoken of an attorney, 
 the court inclined that they were action- 
 able, and that the plaintiff should have 
 judgment, though it was objected that the 
 plaintiff had not declared that C. had 
 a bull.— Siderfin, 327, pi. 8. Pasch. 
 19 Car. II. Baker v. Morfue. Tlie chief 
 justice was of opinion, that if C. had no 
 bull, the scandal was the greater. And 
 it was pronounced per curiam in the same 
 case, that to say of a lawyer, that he has 
 no more laiv than a goose, has been ad- 
 judged actionable. — Sid. 127, pi. 8. — 
 There is quaere added as to the saying. 
 He hath no more law than the man in the 
 moon (lb. 2 Kib. 209) ; the law, doubt- 
 less, contemplating the possibility of there 
 being a man in the moon, and of his 
 being a good lawyer. 
 
 Ml/ lord chief baron cannot hear of 
 one ear, adjudged actionable, there being 
 a colloquium of his administration of jus- 
 
 tice. But not so if there had been no 
 discourse of his justice. — 1 Vin. Ab. 446. 
 
 Adjudged, that the death ot a parson 
 is a non-residency, within 13 EUz. c . 20, 
 so as to avoid his leases. Mott v. Kales, 
 Crok. Eliz. 123 
 
 Eden and Whalley's case ; — " One 
 Eden confessed himself guilty of multipli- 
 cation, and that he had practised the 
 making of quintessence, and ihe philoso- 
 pher's stone, by which all metals might 
 be turned into gold and silver ; and also 
 accused Whalley, now a prisoner in the 
 Tower, of urging and procuring him to 
 practise this art ; and that Whalley had 
 laid out money in red wine and other 
 things necessary for the said art. And, 
 because this offence is only felony, Eden, 
 the principal, was pardoned by the ge- 
 neral pardon ; but Whalley, who was 
 but accessary in this case, was ex- 
 cepted as one of those who were in tlie 
 Tower. The question was moved, whe- 
 ther Whalley should be discharged ; — 
 Quaere, the statute of 5 Hen. IV^. 4, 
 which enacts, * that none should use to 
 multiply gold or silver, nor use the craft 
 of multiplication ; and if any the same 
 do, that he incur the pain of felony in 
 this case.' — Quaere — Whether there can 
 be any accessary in this new felony ? — 
 1 Dyer, 87, 6, Easter Term, 7 Ed. VI. 
 This statute was repealed by the stat. of 
 1 Will. & Mary." 
 
 la the case oi monopolized cards, there 
 was cited a commission in the time of 
 Henry V. directed to three friars and two 
 aldermen of London, to inquire whethei 
 the philosopher's stone was feasible, who 
 returned it was, and upon this a patent 
 was made out for them to make it.— 
 Moore, 675 ; Dancey's case 
 
 According to the Asiatic Researches, a 
 very curious mode of trying the title of 
 land is practised in Hindostan : — Two 
 holes are dug in the disputed spot, in 
 each of which the plaintiff and defendant's 
 lawyers put one of their legs, and remain 
 there until one of them is tired, or com- 
 plains of being stung by the insects, in 
 which case his client is defeated. In this 
 country it is the client, and not the lawyer, 
 who puts his /oo< into it. 
 
 Professional practice is frequently the 
 subject of theatrical exhibition. " Giovanni 
 in London'' has a scene before going to 
 trial, with the following 
 
 120 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 Trio. 
 
 F% St Lawyer, Second I,awyer, Giovanni. 
 
 Air — " Soldier, prve me one Pound." 
 
 First Lawyer. 
 
 Giovanni, give me one pound. 
 
 Second Lawyer. 
 Giovanni, give me two. 
 
 First Lawyer. 
 Trial it comes on to-day ; 
 
 Second Lawyer. 
 And nothing we can do. 
 
 First Lawyer. 
 You must give a fee, 
 Both to me — 
 
 Secoiid Lawyer, 
 And me. 
 
 Both LMwyers. 
 For, oh! the law's a mill 
 
 that without grist will never go. 
 
 Giova7ini, 
 Lawyer, there is one pound ; 
 
 (to second Lawyer) 
 Lawyer, there are two ; 
 
 (to first Lawyer) 
 And "ritv I am without a pound, 
 ^ to the law and you. 
 jf, oh ! I feel the law 
 Has clapp'd on me its paw ; 
 And, oh ! the law's a mill 
 
 that without grist will never go. 
 
 the heathens ; aiid it is observed by 
 Brand, that on Shrove Monday it was a 
 custom with the boys at Eton ta write 
 verses concerning Bacchus, in all kinds 
 of metre, which were afhxed to the col- 
 lege doors, and that Bacchus' verses 
 " are still written and put up on this day." 
 The Eton practice is doubtless a remnant 
 of the catholic custom. 
 
 CoIIop iifloutrap. 
 
 The Monday befure Shrove Tuesday 
 IS so called because it was the last day of 
 flesh-eating before Lent, and our ancestors 
 cut their fresh meat into coUops, or steaks, 
 for salting or hanging up till Lent was 
 over ; and hence, in many places, it is 
 Still a custom to have eggs and coUops, 
 or slices of bacon, at dinner on this day. 
 The Rev. Mr. Bowles communicates to 
 his friend Mr. Brand, that the boys in the 
 neighbourhood of Salisbury go about be- 
 fore Shrove-tide singing these lines : 
 
 Shrove-tide is nigh at hand, 
 And I am come a shroving ; 
 Pray, dame, something, 
 An apple or a dumpling. 
 Or a piece of Truckle cheese 
 Of your own making. 
 Or a piece of pancake. 
 
 Polydore Virgil afRrms of this season 
 and its delicacies, that it sprung from the 
 feasts of Bacchus, which were celebrated 
 in Rome with rejoicmgs and festivity at 
 the same period. This, therefore, is an- 
 othei adoption of the Romish church from 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Crocus. Croats Mces'iacus. 
 Dedicated to St. Valentine 
 
 #el)niar|) 15. 
 
 Sts. Faustbius and Jovita, a. d. 121. 
 St. Sigefride, or Sigfrid, of Sweden, Bp. 
 
 K. D. 1002. 
 
 SHROVE TUESDAY. 
 
 It is communicated to the Every-Day 
 Book by a correspondent, Mr. R. N. B — , 
 that at Hoddesdon in Hertfordshire, the 
 old curfew-bell, which was anciently 
 rung in that town for the extinction and 
 relighting of " all fire and candle light '' 
 still exists, and has from time immemorial 
 been regularly rang on the morning of 
 Shrove Tuesday at four o'clock, after 
 which hour the inhabitants are at liberty 
 to make and eat pancakes, until the bell 
 rings agam at eight o'clock at night. He 
 says, that this custom is observed so 
 closely, that after that hour not a pancake 
 remains in the town. 
 
 The Curffw. 
 I hear the far-off curfew sound, 
 Over some wide-water'd shore, 
 Swinging slow with sullen roar. 
 
 Milto'ii. 
 
 That the curfew-bell came in with Wil- 
 liam the Conqueror is a common, but 
 erroneous, supposition. It is true, that 
 by one of his laws he ordered the people 
 to put out their fires and lights, and go to 
 bed, at the eight-o'clock curfew-bell ; but 
 Henry says, in his " History of Great Bri- 
 tain," that there is sufficient e\ idence of 
 the curfew having prevailed in different 
 parts of Europe at that period, as a pre- 
 caution against fires, which were frequent 
 and fatal, when so many houses were 
 built of wood. It is related too, in 
 Peshall's " History of Oxford," that Alfred 
 the Great ordered the inhabitants of that 
 city to cover their fires on the ringing of 
 the bell at Carfax every night at eight 
 
 12L 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 o'clock ; " whicl) custom is observed to 
 this day, aixi the bell as constantly rings 
 at eight as Great Tom tolls at nine." 
 Wherever the curfew is now rung in 
 England, it is usually at four in the 
 morning, and eight in the evening, as at 
 Hoddesdon on Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 Concerning the curfew, or the in- 
 strament used to cover the fire, there is 
 a communication from the late Mr. 
 
 Francis Grose, the well remembered an- 
 tiquary, in the " Antiquarian Repertory" 
 (vol. i.) published by Mr. Ed. Jefiery. Mr. 
 Grose enclosed a letter from the Rev. F. 
 Gostling, author of the " Walk through 
 Canteibury," with a drawing of the uten- 
 sil, from which an engraving is made in 
 that work, and which is given here on 
 account of its singularity. No other re 
 presentation of the curfew exists. 
 
 " This utensil," says the Antiquarian 
 Repertory, " is called a curfew, or couvre- 
 feu, from its use, which is that of sud- 
 denly putting out a fire : the method of 
 applying it was thus ; — the wood and 
 embers were raked as close as possible to 
 the back of the hearth, and then the cur- 
 few was put over them, the open part 
 placed close to the back of the chimney ; 
 by this contrivance, the air being almost 
 totally excluded, the fire was of course 
 extinguished. This curfew is of copper, 
 rivetted together, as solder would have 
 been liable to melt with the heat. It is 
 10 inches high, 16 inches wide, and 9 
 inches deep. Th« Rev. Mr. Gostling, to 
 ■whom it belongs, says it has been in his 
 family for time immemorial, and was al 
 •ways called the curfew. Some others of 
 this kind are still remaining in Kent and 
 Sussex." It is proper to add to this account, 
 that T. Row, in the " Gentlemar's Maga- 
 zine," because no mention is made " of any 
 particular implement for extinguishing 
 the fire in any writer," is inclined to 
 think " there never was any such." Mr. 
 Fosbroke in the " Encyclopa;dia of An- 
 
 tiquities" says, " an instrument of copper 
 presumed to have been made for covering 
 the ashes, but of uncertain use, is en- 
 graved." It is in one of Mr. F.'s plates. 
 
 On T. Row's remark, who is also face- 
 tious on the subject, it may be observed, 
 that his inclination to think there never 
 was any such implement, is so far from 
 being warrantable, if the fact be even cor- 
 rect, that it has not been mentioned by 
 any ancient writer, that the fair inference 
 is the converse of T. Row's inclination. 
 Had he consulted "Johnson's Dictionary," 
 he would have found the curfew itself 
 explained as "a cover for a fire ; a fire- 
 plate. — Bacon." So that if Johnson is 
 credible, and his citation of authorities is 
 unquestionable. Bacon, no very modern 
 writer, is authority for the fact that there 
 was such an implement as the curfew. 
 
 Football at Kingston. 
 
 Mr. P., an obliging contributor, fur- 
 nishes the Every-Day Book witli a letter 
 from a Frknd, descriptive of a custom on 
 this day m the vicinity of London 
 
 122 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15 
 
 Respected Fiif.n(', 
 
 Having some business which called me 
 to Kingston-upon-Tliames on the day 
 called Shrove Tuesday, I got upon the 
 Hampton-court coach to go there. We 
 had not gone above four miles, when the 
 coachman exclaimed to one of the pas- 
 sengers, " It's Foot-ball day ;" not under- 
 standing the term, I questioned him what 
 he meant by it ; his answer was, that I 
 would see what he meant where I was 
 going — Upon entering Teddington, I 
 was not a little amused to see all the in- 
 habitants securmg the glass of all their 
 front windows from the ground to the 
 roof, some by placing hurdles before them, 
 and some by nailing laths across the 
 frames. At Twickenham, Bushy, and 
 Hampton-wick, they were all engaged in 
 the same way : havmg to stop a few hours 
 at Hampton-wick and Kingston, I had 
 an opportunity of seeing the whole of the 
 custom, which is, to carry a foot-ball from 
 door to door and beg money : — at about 
 12 o'clock the ball is turned loose, and 
 those who can, kick it. In the town of 
 Kingston, all the shops are purposely kept 
 shut upon that day ; there were several 
 balls in the town, and of course several 
 parties. I observed some persons of re- 
 spectability following the ball : the game 
 lasts about four hours, wlien the parties 
 retire to the public-houses, and spend the 
 money they before collected in refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 I understand the corporation of Kings- 
 ton attempted to put a stop to this prac- 
 tice, but the judges confirmed the right of 
 the game, and it now legally continues, to 
 the no small annoyance of some of the 
 inhabitants, besides the expense and 
 trouble they are put to in securing all 
 their windows. 
 
 I was rather surprised that such a cus- 
 tom should have existed so near London, 
 without my ever before knowing of it. 
 
 From thy respected Friend, 
 
 N S 
 
 Third Month, 1815. J . B. 
 
 Pancakes and Confession. 
 
 As fit — as a paiicake for Shvoie Tiiexday. 
 
 Sharspeare, 
 
 Pancake Day is another name for 
 Shrove Tuesday, from the custom of eat- 
 ing pancakes on this day, still generally ob- 
 served. A writer in the" Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine, 1 790," says, that " Shrive is an old 
 Saxon word, of which shrove is a corrup- 
 tion, and signifies confession. Hence 
 Shrove Tuesday means Confession Tues- 
 day, on which day all the people in every 
 parish throughout the kingdom, during 
 the Romish times, were obliged to con- 
 fess their sins, one by one, to their own 
 parish priests, in their own parish 
 churches ; and that this might be done 
 the more regularly, the great bell in every 
 parish was rung at ten o''clock, or per- 
 haps sooner, tliat it might be heard by all. 
 And as the Romish religion has given 
 way to a much better, I mean the protest- 
 ant religion, yet the custom of ringing 
 the great bell in our ancient parish 
 churches, at least in some of them, still re- 
 mains, and obtains in and about London 
 the name of Pancake-hell : the usage o\ 
 dining on pancakes or fritters, and such 
 like provision, still continues." In " Pas- 
 quil's Palinodia, 1634," 4to. it is merrily 
 observed that on this day every stomach 
 
 till it can hold no more. 
 Is fritter-filled, as well as heart can wish ; 
 And every mau and maide doe take their tume, 
 And tosse their pancakes up for feare they burne ; 
 And all the kitchen doth with laughter sound, 
 To see the pancakes fall upon the ground. 
 
 Threshing the Hen. 
 This singular custom is almost obso- 
 lete, yet it certainly is practised, even 
 now, in at least one obscure part of the 
 kingdom. A reasonable conjecture con- 
 
 cerning its origin is, that the fowl was a 
 delicacy to the labourer, and therefore 
 given to him on this festive day, for spcrt 
 and food. 
 
 At Shrovetide to shroving, go thresh the fat hen. 
 If blindfold can kill her, then give it thy men. 
 Maids, fritters and pancakes inough see you make. 
 Let slut have one pancake, for company sake. 
 
 123 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK —FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 So directs Tusser in his " Five Hundred 
 Points of Good Husbandry, 1620," 4 to 
 Oil tliis his anuotator, " Tusker Redivivus, 
 1710," (8vo. June, p. 15,) annexes an 
 account of the custom. " The hen is 
 hung at a fellow's back, who has also 
 some horse bells about him, the rest of 
 the fellows are blinded, and have boughs 
 in their hands, with which they chase 
 this fellow and his hen about some large 
 court or small enclosure. The fellow 
 with his hen and bells shifting as well as 
 
 he can, they follow the sound, and some- 
 times hit him and his hen, other times, ij 
 lie can get behind one of them, tliey 
 thresh one another well favour'dly ; but 
 the jest is, the maids are to blind the fel- 
 lows, which they do with their aprons, 
 and the cunning baggages will endear 
 their sweethearts with a peeping-hole, 
 whilst the others look out as sharp to 
 hinder it. After this the hen is boil'd 
 with bacon, and store of pancakes and 
 fritters are made." 
 
 THRESHING THE FAT HEN AT SHROVETIDE. 
 
 Tusser's annotator, "Redivivus," adds, 
 after the hen-threshing. "She that is not- 
 ed for lying a-bed long, or any other mis- 
 carriage, hath the first pancake presented 
 to her, which most commonly falls to the 
 dog's share at last, for no one will own it 
 their due. Thus were youth encourag'd, 
 sham'd, and feasted with very little cost, 
 and diWays their feasts were accompani- 
 ed ^ith exercise. The loss of which lauda- 
 
 ble custom, is one of the benefits we have 
 got by smoking tobacco." Old Tusser 
 himself, by a reference, denotes that this 
 was a sport in Essex and Suffolk. Mr. 
 Brand was informed by a Mr. Jones that, 
 when he was a boy in Wales, the hen 
 that did not lay eggs before Shrove Tues- 
 day was considered useless, and to be on 
 that day threshed by a man with a flaiJ ; 
 if he killed her he got her for his pajns. 
 
 lU 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 A HEN THAT SPOKE ON SHROVE TUESDAY. 
 
 On Shrove Tuesday, at a certain an- 
 cient borough in Stafi'ordshire, a hen was 
 set up by its owner to be thrown at by 
 himself and his companions, according to 
 (he usual custom on that day. This poor 
 hen, after many a severe bang, and many 
 a broken bone, weltering in mire and 
 blood, recovered spirits a little, and to 
 tne unspeakable surprise and astonish- 
 ment of all the company, just as her late 
 master was handling his oaken cudgel to 
 fling at her again, opened her mouth and 
 said — " Hold thy hand .a moment, hard- 
 hearted wretch ! if it be but out of 
 curiosity, to hear one of my feathered 
 species utter articulate sounds. — What 
 art thou, or any of thy comrades, better 
 than r, though bigger and stronger, and 
 at liberty, while I am tied by the leg? 
 What art thou, I say, that I may not 
 presume to reason with thee, though thou 
 never reasonest with thyself? What 
 have I done to deserve the treatment I 
 have suffered this day, from thee and thy 
 
 barbarous companions? Whom have I 
 ever injured? Did I ever profane the 
 name of my creator, or give one moment's 
 disquiet to any creature under heaven ^ 
 or lie, or deceive, or slander, or rob my 
 fellow-creatures ? Did I ever guzzle 
 down what should have been for the sup- 
 port and comfort (in effect the blood) of a 
 wife and innocent children, as thou dost 
 every week of thy life ? A little of thy 
 superfluous grain, or the sweeping of thy 
 cupboard, and the parings of thy cheese^ 
 moistened with the dew of heaven, was 
 all I had, or desired for my support ; 
 while, in return, I furnished thy table 
 with dainties. The tender brood, which 
 I hatched with assiduity, and all the 
 anxiety and solicitude of a humane 
 mother, fell a sacrifice to thy gluttony. 
 My new laid eggs enriched thy pancakes, 
 puddings, and custards ; and all thy most 
 delicious fore. And I was ready myself 
 at any time, to lay down my life to sup- 
 port thine, but the third part of a day. 
 
 125 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 Had I been a nun, and a hangman, and 
 been commanded by authority to take 
 away thy life for a crime that deserved 
 death, I would have performed my office 
 with reluctance, and with the shortest, 
 and the least pain or insult, to thee possi- 
 ble. How much more if a wise provi- 
 dence had so ordered it, that thou hadst 
 been my proper and delicious food, as I 
 am thine ? I speak not this to move thy 
 compassion, who hast none for thy own 
 offspring, or for the wife of thy bosom, 
 nor to prolong nay own life, which through 
 thy most brutal usage of me, is past 
 recovery, and a burden to me; nor yet to 
 teach thee humanity for the future. I 
 know thee to have neither a head, a 
 heart, nor a hand to shov/ mercy ; neither 
 brains, nor bowels, nor grace, to hearken 
 to reason, or to restrain thee from any 
 folly. I appeal from thy cruel and re- 
 lentless heart to a future judgment ; cer- 
 tainly there will be one sometime, when 
 the meanest creature of God shall have 
 justice done it, even against proud and 
 savage man, its lord ; and surely our cause 
 will then be heard, since, at present, we 
 have none to judge betwixt us. O, that 
 eome good Christian would cause this my 
 first, and last speech to be printed, and 
 published through the nation. Perhaps 
 the legislature may not think it beneath 
 them to take our sad case into considera- 
 tion. Who can tell but some faint re- 
 mains of common sense among the vulgar 
 themselves, may be excited by a suffering 
 dying fellow-creature's last words, to find 
 out a more good-natured exercise for 
 their youth, than this which hardens their 
 hearts, and taints their morals ? But I 
 find myself spent with speaking. And 
 now villain, take good aim, let fly thy 
 truncheon, and despatch at one manly 
 stroke, the remaining life of a miserable 
 mortal, who is utterly unable to resist, or 
 fly from thee." Alas! he heeded not. 
 She sunk down, and died immediately, 
 without another blow. Reader, farewell ! 
 but learn compassion towards an inno- 
 cent creature, that has, at least, as quick 
 a sense of pain as thyself. 
 
 This article is extracted from the 
 " Gentleman's Magazine," for the year 
 1749. It appeals to the feelings and the 
 ludgment, and is therefore inserted here, 
 lest one reader should need a dissuasive 
 against the cruelty of torturing a poor 
 animal on Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 Hens were formerly thrown at, as cocks 
 are still, in some p. aces. 
 
 THROWING AT COCKS. 
 
 This brutal practice on Shrove Tuesday 
 is still conspicuous m several parts of the 
 kingdom. Brand affirms that it was re« 
 tained in many schools in Scotland 
 within the last century, and he conjec- 
 tures " perhaps it is still in use :" a little 
 inquiry on his part would have discovered 
 it in English schools. He proceeds to 
 observe, that the Scotch schoolmasters 
 " were said to have presided at the 
 battle, and claimed the run-away cocks, 
 called fugees, as their perquisites." To 
 show the ancient legitiniacy of the usage, 
 he instances a petition in 1 355, from the 
 scholars of the school of Ramera to their 
 schoolmaster, for a cock he owed them 
 upon Shrove Tuesday, to throw sticks at, 
 according to the usual custom for their 
 sport and entertainment. No decently 
 circumstanced person however rugged 
 his disposition, from neglect in his child- 
 hood, will in our times permit one of his 
 sons to take part in the sport. This is a na- 
 tural consequence of the influence which 
 persons in the higher ranks of life can 
 beneficially exercise. Country gentle- 
 men threw at the poor cock formerly : 
 there is not a country gentleman now 
 who would not discourage the shocking 
 usage. 
 
 Strutt says that in some places, it was 
 a common practice to put a cock into an 
 earthen vessel made for the purpose, and 
 to place him in such a position that his 
 head and tail might be exposed to view ; 
 the vessel, with the bird in it, was then 
 suspended across the street, about 12 or 
 14 feet from the ground, to be thrown at 
 by such as chose to make trial of their 
 skill ; twopence was paid for four throws, 
 and he who broke the pot, and delivered 
 the cock from his confinement, had him 
 for a reward. At North Walsham, in 
 Norfolk, about 60 years ago, some wags 
 put an owl into one of these vessels ; and 
 having procured the head and tail of a 
 dead cock, they placed them in the same 
 position as if they had appertained to a 
 living one; the deception was successful ; 
 and at last, a labouring man belonging 
 to the towr, after several fruitless at- 
 tempts, broke the pot, but missed his 
 prize; for the owl being set at liberty, 
 instantly flew away, to his great astonish- 
 ment, and left him nothing more than 
 the head and tail of the dead bird, with 
 the potsherds, for his money and liis 
 trouble ; this ridiculous adventure ex- 
 
 126 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRCJARY 15. 
 
 posed Iiini to tlie continual laughter of 
 tlie town's people, and obliged him to 
 quit the place. 
 
 Shying at Leaden Cocks. 
 
 A correspondent, S. W., says, " It 
 strikes me that the game of pitching at 
 capons, practised by boys when I was 
 young, took its rise from this sport, (the 
 throwing at cocks,) indulged in by the 
 matured barbarians. The capons were 
 «eaden representations of cocks and hens 
 pitched at by leaden dumps." 
 
 Another correspondent, whose MS. 
 collections are opened to the Every-Day 
 Book, has a similar remark in one of his 
 common-place books, on the sports of 
 boys. He says, " Shying at Cocks. — 
 Probably in imitation of the barbarous 
 custom of ' shying' or throwing at the 
 living animal. Tiie * cock ' was a repre- 
 sentation of a bird or a beast, a man, a 
 horse, or some device, with a stand pro- 
 jecting on all sides, but principally be- 
 hind the figure. These were made of 
 lead cast in moulds. They were shyed at 
 with dumps from a small distance agreed 
 upon by the paities, generally regulated 
 by the size or weight of the dump, and 
 the value of the cock. If the thrower 
 overset or knocked down the cock, he 
 won it ; if he failed, he lost his dump. 
 " Shy for shy. — This was played at by 
 two beys, each having a cock placed at 
 a certain distance, generally about four 
 or five feet asunder, the players standing 
 behind their cocks, and throwing alter- 
 nately ; a bit of stone or wood was gener- 
 ally used to throw with : the cock was 
 won by him who knocked it down. 
 Cocks and dumps were exposed for sale 
 on the butchers' shambles on a small 
 boaid, and were the perquisite of the 
 apprentices, who made them ; and many 
 a pewter plate, and many an ale-house 
 pot, were melted at this season for shying 
 at cocks, which was as soon as fires were 
 lighted in the autumn. These games, 
 and all others among the boys of London, 
 had their particular times or seasons ; 
 and when any game was out, as it was 
 termed, it was lawful to steal the thing 
 played with ; this was called smugging 
 and it was expressed by the boys in a dog- 
 grel : viz, 
 
 "Tops are in. Spin 'em agin. 
 
 Tops are out. Smuggin about, 
 or 
 
 Tops are iu. Spin 'em agiu. 
 
 Dumps are out, iScc. 
 
 " The fair cock was not allowed to have 
 his stand extended behind, moie than hii 
 height and half as much more, nor much 
 thicker than himself, and he was not to 
 extend in width more than his height, 
 nor to project over the stand ; but frau- 
 dulent cocks were made extending later- 
 ally over the side, so as to prevent his 
 lying down sideways, and with a long 
 stand behind'; the body of the cock was 
 made thinner, and the stacid thicker, by 
 which means the cock bent upon being 
 struck, and it was impossible to knock 
 him over." This information may seena 
 trifling to some, but it will interest many. 
 We all look back with complacency on 
 the amusements of our childhood ; and 
 " some future Strntt," a century or two 
 hence, may find this page, and glean from 
 it the important difference between the 
 sports of boys now, and those of our 
 grandchildren's great grandchildren. 
 
 Cock-fighting. 
 
 The cruelty of cock-fighting was a chief 
 ingredient of the pleasure which intox- 
 icated the people on Shrove Tuesday. 
 
 Cock-fighting was practised by the 
 Greeks. Themistocles, when leading his 
 troops against the Persians, saw two 
 cocks fighting, and roused the courage of 
 liis soldiers by pointing out the obstinacy 
 with which these animals contended, 
 though they neither fought for their coun- 
 try, their families, nor their liberty. The 
 Persians were defeated ; and the Athenians, 
 as a memorial of the victory, and of the 
 incident, ordered annual cock-fighting in 
 the presence of the whole people. Beck- 
 mann thinks it existed even earlier. 
 Pliny says cock-fighting was an annual 
 exhibition at Pergamus. Plato laments 
 that not only boys, but men, bred fighting 
 birds, and employed their whole time in 
 similar idle amusements. Beckmann men 
 tions an ancient gem in sir William IJa 
 milton's collection, whereon two cocks 
 are fighting, while a mouse carries away 
 the ear of corn for which they contest : 
 " a happy emblem," says Beckmann, "of 
 our law-suits, in which the greater part 
 of the property in dispute falls to the 
 lawyers." The Greeks obtained their 
 fighting cocks from foreign countries; ac- 
 cording to Beckmann, the English im- 
 port the strongest and best of theirs from 
 abroad, especially from Germany. 
 
 Cuesar mentions the English cocks m 
 bis " Commentaries ;" but the earliest 
 
 127 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 notice of cock-fighting in England is by 
 Fitz-Stephens, who died in 1191. He 
 mentions this as one of the amusements 
 ot the Londoners, together with the game 
 f)t foot-ball. The whole passage is worth 
 transcribing. " Yearly at Shrove-tide, 
 the boys of every school brmg fighting- 
 cocks to their masters, and all the fore- 
 noon is spent at school, to see these cocks 
 fight together. After dinner, all the youth 
 of the city goeth to play at the ball m the 
 fields ; the scholars of every study have 
 their balls ; the practisers also of all the 
 trades have every one their ball in their 
 hands. Tlie ancienter sort, the fathers, 
 and the wealthy citizens, come on horse- 
 back, to see these youngsters contendinjj 
 at their sport, with whom, in a manner, 
 they participate by motion ; stirring their 
 own natural heat in the view of the active 
 youth, with wliose mirth and liberty they 
 seem to communicate." 
 
 Cock-fighting was prohibited in Eng- 
 land under Edward III. and Henry VIII., 
 and even later : yet Henry himself in- 
 dulged his cruel nature by instituting 
 cock-fights, and even James I. took great 
 delight in them ; and within our own 
 time, games have been fought, and at- 
 tendance solicited by public advertise- 
 ment, at the Royal Cock-pit, Whitehall, 
 which Henry VIII. built. 
 
 Beckmann says, that as the cock roused 
 Peter, so it was held an ecclesiastical duty 
 " to call the people to repentance, or at 
 least to church ;" and therefore, " in the 
 ages of ignorance, the clergy frequently 
 called themselves the cocks of the Al- 
 mighty." 
 
 Old Shrove-tide Revels, 
 
 On Shrove Tuesday, according to an 
 old author, " men ate and drank, and 
 abandoned themselves to every kind of 
 sportive foolery, as if resolved to have 
 their fill of pleasure before they were to 
 die." 
 
 The preparing of bacon, meat, and the 
 making of savoury black-puddings, for 
 good cheer after the coming Lent, pre- 
 ceded the day itself, whereon, besides 
 domestic feasting and revelry, with dice 
 and card-playing, there was immensity ol 
 mumming. The records of Norwich tes- 
 tify, that in 1440, one John Gladman, 
 who is there called " a man who was ever 
 trewe and feythfull to God and to the 
 kyng" and constantly disportive, made 
 A public disport with his neighbours, 
 
 crowned as king of christmas, on horse 
 back, having his horse bedizened with 
 tinsel and flauntery, and preceded by the 
 twelve months of the year, each month 
 habited as the season requued ; after 
 him came Lent, clothed in white and her- 
 ring-skins, on a horse v/ith trappings o 
 oyster-shells, " in token that sadnesse 
 shulde folowe, and an holy tyme ;" and 
 in this sort they rode through the city, 
 accompanied by otiiers in whimsical 
 dresses, " makyng myrtii, disportes, and 
 playes." Among much curious observa- 
 tion on these Shrove-tide mummings, in 
 the " Popish Kingdome" it is affirmed, 
 that of all merry-makers. 
 
 The chiefest man is he, and one 
 
 that most deserveth prayse 
 Among the rest, that can finde out 
 
 the fondest kinde of playes. 
 On him they look, and gaze upon, 
 
 and laugh with lustie cbeere, • 
 Whom boys do follow, crying foole, 
 
 and such hke other geare. 
 He in the mean time thinkes himselfe 
 
 a wondrous worthie man, &c. 
 
 It is further related, that some of the 
 rout carried staves, or fought in armour ; 
 otiiers, disguised as devils, chased all the 
 people they came up with, and frightened 
 the boys : men wore women's clothes, 
 and women, dressed as men, entered their 
 neighbours' or friends' houses ; some were 
 apparelled as monks, others arrayed 
 themselves as kings, attended by their 
 guards and royal accompaniments ; some 
 disguised as old fools, pretended to sit on 
 nests and hatch young fools ; others wear- 
 ing skins and dresses, became counterfeit 
 bears and wolves, roaring lions, and 
 raging bulls, or walked on high stilts, with 
 wings at their backs, as cranes : 
 
 Some like filthy forme of apes, 
 
 and some like fools are drest, 
 
 Which best beseeme those papistes all, 
 that thus keep Bacchus' feast 
 
 Others are represented as bearers of an 
 unsavoury morsel — 
 
 that on 
 
 a cushion soft they lay. 
 
 And one there is that, with a flap 
 doth keepe the files away 
 
 Some stuffed a doublet and hose with 
 
 rags or straw — 
 
 Whom as a man that lately dyed 
 of lionest life and fame, 
 
 In blanket did they beare about, 
 
 and streightways with the same 
 
 128 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 They hurl him up into the ayre, 
 
 not sutfring him to fall, 
 And this they doe at divers tymes, 
 
 the citie over all. 
 
 The Kentish " holly boy," and " ivy girl" 
 are erroneously supposed (at p_. 226,) to 
 have been carried about on St. Valentine's 
 day. On turning to Brand, who also 
 cites tlie circumstance, it appears they 
 were carried the Tuesday before Shrove 
 Tuesday, and most probably were the un- 
 recognised remains of the drest mawkin 
 of the " Popish Kingdome," carried 
 about with various devices to represent 
 the " death of good living," and which 
 our catholic neighbours continue. The 
 Morning Chronicle of March the 10th, 
 1791, represents the peasantry of France 
 carrying it at that time into the villages, 
 collecting money for the " funeral," and, 
 " after sundry absurd mummeries," com- 
 mitting the body to the earth. 
 
 Neogeorgus records, that if the snow 
 lay on the ground this day, snow-ball 
 combats were exhibited with great vigour, 
 till one party got the victory, and the other 
 ran away : the confusion whereof trou- 
 bled him sorely, on account of its disturb- 
 ance to the " matrone olde," and " sober 
 man," who desired to pass without a cold 
 salutation from the " wanton fellowes." 
 
 The " rabble-rout," however, in these 
 processions and mockeries, had the ho- 
 nour of respectable spectators, who seem 
 to have been somewhat affected by the 
 popular epidemic. The same author says 
 that, 
 
 the noble men, the rich 
 
 snd men of hie degree, 
 i^ast they with common people should 
 not seeme so mad to bee, 
 
 came abroad in " wagons finely framed 
 before" drawn by " a lustie horse and 
 "wift of pace," having trappings on him 
 from head to foot, about whose neck, 
 
 • and every place before, 
 
 A hundred gingling belles do hang, 
 to make his courage more, 
 
 and their wives and children being seated 
 in these " wagons," they 
 
 behinde themselves do stande 
 
 Well armde with whips, and holding faste 
 the bridle in their hande. 
 
 Thus laden and equipped 
 
 With all their force throughout the streetes 
 and market place they ron, 
 
 As if some whirlwinde mad, or tempest 
 great from skies should come 
 
 and thus furiously they drove without 
 stopping for people to get out of their 
 way: 
 
 Yea, sometimes legges or arms they breake, 
 and horse and cart and all 
 
 They overthrow, with such ^ force, 
 
 they in their course do fall! 
 
 The genteel " wagon'-drivers ceased nal 
 with the cessation of the vulgar sports on 
 foot, 
 
 But even till midnight holde they on, 
 their pastimes for to make, 
 
 Whereby they hmder men of sleepe, 
 
 and cause their heades to ake 
 
 But all this same they care not for, 
 nor do esteeme a h.eare. 
 
 So they may have their pleasure, &c. 
 
 apprentices' holiday. 
 
 Shrove Tuesday was until late years 
 the great holiday of the apprentices ; why 
 it should have been so is easy to imagine, 
 on recollecting the sports that boys were 
 allowed on that day at school. The in- 
 dulgencies of the ancient city 'prentices 
 were great, and their licentious disturb- 
 ances stand recorded in the annals of 
 many a fray. Mixing in every neigh- 
 bouring brawl to bring it if possible to 
 open riot, they at length assumed to de 
 termine on public aftairs, and went in 
 bodies with their petitions and remon- 
 strances to the bar of the house of com- 
 mons, with as much importance as theii 
 masters of the corporation. A satire of 
 1675 says, 
 
 They'r mounted high, contemn the humble 
 
 play 
 Of trap or foot-ball on a holiday 
 In Finesbury-fieldes. No, 'tis their brave 
 
 intent, 
 Wisely t' advise the king and parliament. 
 
 But this is not the place to notice their 
 manners further. The successors to their 
 name are of another generation, they have 
 been better educated, live in better times, 
 and having bettermasters,will make better 
 men. The apprentices whose situation 
 is to be viewed with anxiety, are the out- 
 door apprentices of poor persons, who 
 can scarcely find homes, or who being or- 
 phans, leave the factories or work-rooms 
 of their masters, at night, tc go where 
 they can, and do what they please, with- 
 out paternal care, or being the creatures 
 of any one's solicitude, and are yet ex- 
 pected to be, or become good members of 
 society 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 129 
 
 K 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 PANCAKES. 
 
 A MS. in the British Museum quoted 
 by Brand states, that in 1560, it was a 
 custom at Eton school on Shrove Tues- 
 day for the cook to fasten a pancake to a 
 crow upon the school door ; and as crows 
 usually hatch at this season, the cawing 
 of the young ones for their parent, 
 heightened this heartless sport. From a 
 question by Antiquarius, in the "Gentle- 
 man's Magazine," 1790, it appears that it 
 is a custom on Shrove Tuesday at West- 
 minster school for the under clerk of the 
 college, preceded by the beadle and the 
 other officers, to throw a large pancake 
 over the bar which divides the upper 
 from the lower school. Brand mentions 
 a similar custom at Eton school. Mr. 
 Fosbroke is decisive in the opinion that 
 pancakes on Shrove Tuesday were taken 
 from the heathen Fornacalia, celebrated 
 on the 18th of February, in memory of 
 making bread, before ovens were invented. 
 by the goddess Fornax. 
 
 rOOT-BALL. 
 
 This was, and remains, a game on 
 Shrove Tuesday, in various parts of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Sir Frederick Morton Eden in the 
 *' Statistical account of Scotland," says that 
 at the parish of Scone, county of Perth, 
 every year on Shrove Tuesday the bache- 
 lors and married men drew themselves up 
 at the cross of Scone, on opposite sides ; a 
 ball was then thrown up, and they played 
 from two o'clock till sun-set. The game 
 was this : he who at any time got the ball 
 into his hands, run with it till overtaken 
 by one of the opposite party ; and then, if 
 he could shake himself loose from those on 
 the opposite side who seized him, he run on; 
 if not, he threw the ball from him, unless 
 it was wrested from him by the other 
 party, but no person was allowed to kick 
 it. The object of the married men was to 
 hang it, that is, to put it three times into 
 a small hole in the moor, which was the 
 dool or limit on the one hand : that of 
 the bachelors was to drown it, or dip it 
 three times in a deep place in the river, 
 the limit on the other : the party who 
 could effect either of these objects won 
 the game ; if neither won, the ball was 
 cut into equal parts at sun-set. In the 
 course of the play there was usually some 
 violence between the parties ; but it is 
 a proverb in this part of the country that 
 "All is fair at the ball of Scone." Sir 
 Frederick goes on to say, that this custom 
 
 is supposed to have had its origin in the 
 days of chivalry ; when an Italian is 
 reported to have come into this part of 
 the country challenging all the parishes, 
 under a certain penalty in case of declin- 
 ing his challenge. All the parishes de- 
 clined this challenge except Scone, which 
 beat the foreigner, and in commemoration 
 of this gallant action the game was insti- 
 tuted. Whilst the custom continued, 
 every man in the parish, the gentry not 
 excepted, was obliged to turn out and 
 support the side to which he belonged, 
 and the person who neglected to do his 
 part on that occasion was fined ; but the 
 custom being attended with certain incon- 
 veniences, was abolished a few years be- 
 fore Sir Frederick wrote. He further 
 mentions that on Shrove Tuesday there is 
 a standing match at foot-ball in the parish 
 of Inverness, county of Mid Lothian, be- 
 tween the married and unmarried women, 
 and he states as a remarkable fact that the 
 married women are always successful. 
 
 Crowdie is mentioned by sir F. M. 
 Eden, (" State of the Poor,") as a never 
 failing dinner on Shrove Tuesday, with all 
 ranks of people in Scotland, as pancakes 
 are in England ; and that a ring is put into 
 the basin or porringer of the unmarried 
 folks, to the finder of which, by fair means, 
 it was an omen of marriage before the rest 
 of the eaters. Tliis practice on Fastens 
 Eve, is described in Mr. Stewart's " Po- 
 pular Superstitions of the Highlands," 
 with little difference ; only that the ring 
 instead of being in " crowdie " is in 
 " brose," made of the " bree of a good fat 
 iigget of beef or mutton." This with 
 plenty of other good cheer being des- 
 patched, the Bannich Junit, or " sauty 
 bannocks" are brought out. They are 
 made of eggs and meal mixed with salt 
 to make them " sauty," and being baked 
 or toasted on the gridiron," are regarded by 
 old and young as a most delicious treat " 
 They have a " charm" in them which en- 
 ables the highlander to " spell" out his 
 future wife : this consists of some article 
 being intermixed in the meal-dough, and 
 he to whom falls the "sauty bannock" 
 which contains it, is sure — if not already 
 married — to be married before the next 
 anniversary. Then the Bannich Brauder 
 or " dreaming bannocks" find a place. 
 They contain "a little of that 'substance 
 which chimney-sweeps call soot." In 
 baking them " the baker must be as mute 
 as a stone — one word would destroy the 
 
 130 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 16—17. 
 
 whole concern." Each person has one, 
 slips off quietly to bed, lays his head on 
 his bannoek, and expects to see his sweet- 
 heart in his sleep. 
 
 Snakspearein King Henry IV. says, 
 Be merry, be merry. 
 
 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all 
 
 And welcome merry Shrovetide, 
 Be merry, be merry, &c. 
 
 It is mentioned in the " Shepherd's Al- 
 manack"of 1676, that " some say, thunder 
 on Shrove Tuesday foretelleth wind, store 
 of fruit, and plenty. Others affirm that 
 so much as the sun shineth on that day, 
 the like will shine every day in Lent." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cloth of Gold. Crocus snlphurcus. 
 Dedicated to St. Sigifride. 
 
 ffthni^v^ 16. 
 
 St. Oneshnus. Sfs. E/ias, Jeremy, Tsaian, 
 Samuel, and Daniel, a. d. 309. <S^ Ju- 
 liana. St. Gregory X. Pope, a. d. 1276. 
 St. Tanco, or Tatta, of Scotland, a. d. 
 815. 
 
 Holiday at the Public Offices; except the Stamps, 
 Customs, and Excise. 
 
 Tliis is the first day of Lent. It is 
 called Ash Wednesday, because in the Ro- 
 man catholic church the priest blesses 
 ashes on this day, and puts them on the 
 heads of the people. Tliese ashes are 
 made of the branches of brushwood or 
 palms, consecrated the year before. The 
 ashes are cleaned, and dried, and sifted, 
 fit for the purpose. After the priest 
 has given absolution to the people, he 
 prays " Vouchsafe + to bless and sanctify 
 + these ashes — that whosoever shall 
 sprinkle these ashes upon them for the 
 redemption of their sins, they may obtain 
 health of body and protection of soul,' 
 &c. Prayers ended, the priest sprinkles 
 the ashes with holy water, and perfumes 
 them thrice with incense, and the people 
 corning to him and kneeling, he puts ashes 
 on their heads in the form of a cross with 
 other ceremonies. 
 
 Platina, a priest, and librarian to the 
 Vatican, who wrote the lives of the popes 
 re.'ates that Prochetus, archbishop of Ge- 
 
 neva, being at Rome on Ash Wednesday, 
 he fell at the feet of pope Boniface \'II I., 
 who blessed and gave out the ashes on 
 that day, in order to be signed with the 
 blessed ashes as others had been. Think- 
 ing him to be his enemy, instead of utter- 
 ing the usual form, " Remember, O man, 
 because thou art dust, thou shalt return to 
 dust," &c., the pope parodied the form 
 and said " Remember thou art a Gibelline, 
 and with the Gibellines thou shalt return 
 to ashes," and then his holiness threw the 
 ashes in the archbishop's eyes. 
 
 It is observed by Mr. Fosbroke that 
 ladies wore friars' girdles in Lent. This 
 gentleman quotes, from " Camden's Re- 
 mains," that sir Thomas More, finding his 
 lady scolding her servants during ].pnt, 
 endeavoured to restrain her. " Tusti, 
 tush, my lord," said she, "look, here is 
 one step to heavenward," showing him 
 a friar's girdle. " I fear me," said he, 
 " that one step, will not bring you up one 
 step higher." There are various instances 
 of belief in the virtues of garments that 
 had been worn by monks and friars; 
 some of them almost surpassing behef. 
 
 Ash Wednesday is observed in the 
 church of England by reading publicly 
 the curses denounced against impenitent 
 sinners; to each malediction the people 
 being directed to utter, amen. Many 
 who consider this as cursing their neigh- 
 bours, keep away from church on the oc- 
 casion ; which absence from tliese motives 
 Mr. Brand regards as " a folly and super- 
 stition worthy of the after-midnight, the 
 spirit-walking time of popery." On this 
 eloquent remark, and Mr. Brand is sel- 
 dom warmed to eloquence, it may be ob- 
 served, that persons far removed from 
 superstition and who have never ap- 
 proached " the valley of the shadow of po- 
 pery," deem the commination of the "Com- 
 mon Prayer Book," a departure from the 
 christian dispensation, and its injunctions 
 of brotherly kindness. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lilac Primrose. Primula acaulis plena. 
 Dedicated to St. Juliana. 
 
 jTeljruarj) 17. 
 
 St. Flavian, Archbishop of Constand- 
 nople, A. u. 449. Sts. Theodulus and 
 Julian. St. Silvin of Auchy, a. d 
 718. St. Loman, or Luman, Bishop 
 St. Fintan, Abbot. 
 
 131 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 17. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Scotch Crocus. Crocus Stisimius. 
 Dedicated to St. Flavian. 
 
 CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 On the 17th of February, 1563, died 
 Michael Angelo Buonarroti, as an artist 
 and a man one of the most eminent 
 ornaments of the times wherein he lived. 
 A bare record of his decease is not suffi- 
 cient. Thousands of readers have heard 
 his name; some know his works; few 
 know his character. 
 
 Michael Angelo was born in Tuscany, 
 on the 6th of March, 1474. Fascinated 
 by art at an early age, he executed a 
 facsimile of a picture in his thirteenth 
 year, which he presented to the owner 
 instead of the original, who did not dis- 
 cover the deception till a confidant of 
 Michael's began to laugh. He afterwards 
 studied under Ghirlandaio, and at fifteen 
 drew an outline round a drawing by his 
 master which showed its defects and his 
 own superiority. Studying in a garden 
 supplied by the celebrated Lorenzo de 
 Medici with antique statues and other 
 forms, he saw a student modelling figures 
 m clay, and emulous of excelling in the 
 same branch, begged a piece of marble, 
 and the use of implements, from one of 
 the workmen employed in making orna- 
 ments for Lorenzo's library. With these 
 he imitated an old head, or mask, of a 
 laughing faun, supplying the deficiencies 
 effected by time, by his own invention, 
 and making other additions. Lorenzo 
 saw it, and good humouredlj remarked, 
 "You have restored to the old faun all 
 his teeth, but don't you know that a man 
 of such an age has generally lost some ?" 
 As soon as Lorenzo departed, Michael 
 broke a tooth from the upper jaw, and 
 drilled a hole in the gum to denote that 
 it had decayed. Lorenzo at his next 
 visit was delighted by this docility, and 
 to encourage Michael assigned him an 
 apartment in his palace for a workroom, 
 seated him at his table, and introduced 
 him to the men of rank and talent who 
 daily resorted to Lorenzo, as the munifi- 
 cent patronof learning and the arts. He 
 justified this distinction by labouring 
 with intense aidour. At seventeen years 
 of age he sculptured in brass the battle 
 of Hercules with the Centaurs; a work 
 of which he said at seventy, "When I see 
 it now, 1 repent that I did not entirely 
 •levote myself to sculpture." His repu- 
 tation increased with his aoplication, for 
 
 application brought him nearer to excel- 
 lence. By the merit of a sleeping cupid 
 from his chisel, which was stained and 
 buried by a dealer to be dug up as an 
 antique, and purchased by cardinal 
 Giorgio under the persuasion that it was 
 one, he was invited to Rome. 
 
 On the elevation of Julius II. to the 
 pontificate he desired a mausoleum for 
 his remains, and commissioned Michael 
 Angelo to execute it. The design was 
 magnificent and gratified Julius. He 
 inquired the cost of completing it, " A 
 hundred thousand crowns," answered 
 Michael ; the pope replied, " It may be 
 twice that sum," and gave orders accord- 
 ingly. The pontiff" further determined on 
 rebuilding the cathedral of St, Peter on a 
 plan of corresponding grandeur wherein 
 the mausoleum should be erected. It 
 was for the prosecution of this vast struc 
 ture for Romish worship, that Leo X. sold 
 the indulgencies against which Luther 
 inveighed, and by establishing the right 
 of private judgment shook the papacy to 
 its foundations. While Michael was en- 
 gaged on the mausoleum, Julius caused a 
 covered bridge to be erected by which he 
 might pass from the Vatican to Michael's 
 study unobserved. Envy was excited in 
 the papal dependents by this distinction, 
 and insinuated so much toMichael's disad- 
 vantage that his unrestrained visits to the 
 Vatican were suddenly interrupted. " I 
 have an order not to let you enter, " said 
 the groom of the chamber : a prelate 
 inquired if he knew to whom he spoke; 
 " Well enough," answered the officer, 
 "and it is my duty to obey my orders." 
 "Tell the pope," said Michael indignantly, 
 " if he wants me, he shall have to seek 
 "me in another place." He returned home, 
 ordered his servants to sell his furniture 
 immediately, and follow him to Florence, 
 and the same evening left Rome. 
 
 The pope sent couriers to force his 
 return, but before he was overtaken he 
 had leached a territory wherein the papal 
 mandate was without authority. " Im- 
 mediately return to Rome on pain of our 
 disgrace," was the pope's letter. Michael's 
 answer was, that having been expelled 
 his holiness's antichamber without hav- 
 ing merited disgrace, he had left Rome to 
 preserve his character, and that he would 
 not return; for if he had been deemed 
 worthless one day, he could be little 
 valued the next, unless by a caprice thai 
 would neither be creditable to the pope 
 nor to himself. Having despatched the 
 
 132 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUAR / 17. 
 
 pope's couriers with tliis letter, he pro- 
 ceeded tu Horence. To the government 
 of this city Julius wrote : " We know 
 the humour of men of his stamp; if he 
 will return, we promise he shall be nei- 
 ther meddled with nor offended, and he 
 shall be reinstated in the apostolic grace." 
 Michael was unmoved. A second and a 
 third arrived, each more impressive, and 
 Michael remained unchanged ; but the 
 Gonfaloniere of Florence, to whom these 
 epistles were addressed, became alarmed 
 and expostulated: "You have done by 
 the pope what the king of France would 
 not have presumed to do; he must 
 be no longer trifled with ; we cannot 
 make war against his holiness to risk the 
 safety of the state ; and therefore you 
 must obey his will." Thus remonstrated 
 with, Michael entertained a proposal for 
 entering into the service of the sultan 
 Bajazet II., and building a bridge from 
 Constantinople to Pera. The sultan had 
 even sent him letters of credit on Flo- 
 rence and all the cities on his way ; and 
 appointed escorts of Janizaries to await 
 his arrival on the Turkish frontiers, and 
 conduct him, by whatever road he pleased, 
 to the Mahometan capital. To divert 
 Michael Angelo from this course, the 
 Gonfaloniere urged that it was better to 
 die under the pope's displeasure than to 
 live in the Turkish service ; and that if he 
 were appieliensive for his security at Rome, 
 the government of Florence would send 
 him thither as its ambassador, in which 
 character his person would be inviolable. 
 Michael, urged by these and other reasons, 
 relented, and met the pope at Bologna, a 
 city which had been betrayed to the papal 
 arms, and taken possession of by Julius in 
 great pomp just before Michael's arrival. 
 The cardinal Soderini, brother to the 
 Gonfaloniere, was to have introduced 
 Michael to the pope, but indisposition 
 constrained him to depute that office to 
 a prelate of his household. The pope 
 askanced his eye at Michael with dis- 
 pleasure, and after a short pause saluted 
 him, " Instead of your coming to us, you 
 seem to have expected that we should 
 attend upon you." Michael answered, 
 iiat his error proceeded from too hastily 
 feeling a disgrace he was unconscious of 
 naving merited, and hoped his holiness 
 would pardon what had passed. The offi- 
 cious prelate who had introduced him, not 
 thinking this apology sufficient, observed 
 to the pope, that great allowance was to 
 to be made for such men, who were igno- 
 
 rant of every thing but their art. "Tliou,'' 
 answered the pontifi, "hast vilified him; 
 I have not : thou art no man of genius but 
 an ignorant fellow; get out of my sight." 
 Tlie prelate was pushed from the room. 
 The pope gave Michael his benediction, 
 restored him to full favour, and desired him 
 not to quit Bologna till he had given him 
 a commission for some work. In a few 
 days, JMichael received an order from 
 Julius for a colossal statue of himself 
 in bronze. While it was modelling, the 
 pope's visits to Michael were as frequent 
 as formerly. This statue was grand, aus- 
 tere, and majestic : the pope familiarly 
 asked if the extended arm was bestowing 
 a blessing or a curse upon the people. 
 Michael answered that the action only 
 implied hostility to disobedience, and in- 
 quired whether he would not have a book 
 put into the other hand. " No," said the 
 pope, " a sword would be more adapted 
 to my character, I am no book-man." 
 Julius quitted Bologna, and left Michael 
 Angelo there to complete the statue ; he 
 effected it in sixteen months, and having 
 placed it in the fa^-ade of the church of St. 
 Petronio, returned to Rome. This product 
 of Michael's genius was of short existence. 
 The prosperity of Venice under united 
 councils, and a prudent administration of 
 its affairs, excited the hatred of the Euro- 
 pean powers. An infamous league was 
 entered into at Cambray for the ruin of 
 the Venetian government, and the parti- 
 tion of its terrritory ; Julius became 
 a party to this alliance, with the hope of 
 adding Romagna to the dominions of the 
 church, and retaining possession of Bo- 
 logna. Effecting his object, he withdrew 
 from the league ; and by a change of 
 policy, and a miscalculation of his strength, 
 quarrelled with Louis XII. who had as- 
 sisted him in subjecting Bologna. That 
 monarch retook the city, restored the 
 Bentivoglio family, which had been dis- 
 placed by the papal arms, and the popu- 
 lace throwing down Michael's statue of the 
 pope, dragged it through the streets, and 
 broke it to pieces. With the mutilated 
 fragments the duke of Ferrara cast a 
 cannon, which he named Julio, but pre- 
 served the head entire, as an invaluable 
 specimen of art, although it bore the 
 countenance of his implacable enemy. 
 
 Michael Angelo resumed Julius's mau- 
 soleum, but the pontiff had changed his 
 mind, and sorely against Michael's incli- 
 nation, engaged him to decorate the ceil- 
 ings and walls of the Sixtine chapel, with 
 
 133 
 
THE EVERY-DAY SOOK.— FEBRUARY 17. 
 
 paintings in fresco, to the memory ofSixtus 
 VI., tlie pope's uncle. For the purpose of 
 commencing these paintings, ropes were 
 let through the ceiling to suspend the scaf- 
 folding. Michael asked Bramante the 
 architect, who had arranged this machi- 
 nery, how the ceiling was to be completed 
 if the ropes were suffered to remain ? The 
 answer did not obviate the objection. 
 Michael represented to the pope that the 
 defect would have been avoided if Bra- 
 mante had better understood the applica- 
 tion of mechanical principles, and obtained 
 the pope's permission to take down the 
 inefficient contrivance and erect another. 
 This he effected ; and his machinery was 
 so ample and complete, that Bramante 
 himself adopted it in the building of St. 
 Peter's. Michael gave this invention to 
 the poor man who was his carpenter in 
 constructing it, and who realized a fortune 
 from the commissions he received for 
 others on the same plan. To indulge his 
 curiosity, and watch the progress of the 
 work, the pope ascended the ladder to the 
 top of Michael's platform almost daily. 
 He was of an impetuous temper, and im- 
 patient to see the general effect from below 
 before the ceiling was half completed : 
 Michael, yielding to his impatience, 
 struck the scaffold ; and so eager were 
 men of taste to obtain a view, that before 
 the dust from displacing the machinery 
 had settled, they rushed into the chapel to 
 gratify their curiosity. Julius was satis- 
 fied : but Michael's rivals, and Bramante 
 among the rest, secretly solicited the pope 
 to intrust the completion of the car- 
 toons to Raphael. Michael had intima- 
 tion of these wiles, and in the presence 
 of Bramante himself, claimed and ob- 
 tained of the pope the entire execution of 
 "his own designs. He persevered with in- 
 cessant assiduity. In twenty months 
 from the commencement of " this stupen- 
 dous monument of human genius" it was 
 completed, and on All Saints' day, 151'2, 
 the pontiff himself opened the chapel in 
 person with a splendid high mass, to 
 crowds of devotees and artists. Whatever 
 Julius conceived he hastened with the 
 ardour of youth ; he was old, and knowing 
 that he had no time to spare, he had so 
 harassed the progress of these cartoons by 
 his eagerness, that the scaffolding was 
 struck before they were thoroughly com- 
 pleted ; yet, as there was not any thing of 
 importance to be added, Michael deter- 
 mined not to undergo the labour of re- 
 erecting the machinery The pope loved 
 
 splendour, and wished them ornamented 
 with gold. Michael answered, " In those 
 days gold was not worn, and the charac- 
 ters I have painted were neither rich, nor 
 desirous of riches ; they were holy men 
 with whom gold was an object of con- 
 tempt." 
 
 Julius soon afterwards died ; and the 
 execution of his mausoleum was frustrated 
 by Leo X., to whose patronage Michael 
 was little indebted. He finished his cele- 
 brated cartoon of the Last Judgment, for 
 the east end of the Sistine chapel, in 1541. 
 On Christmas-day in that year the chapel 
 was opened, and residents in the most 
 distant parts of Italy thronged to see it. 
 In the following year, he painted the 
 Conversion of St. Paul, and the Crucifixion 
 of St. Peter, on the walls of the chapel 
 Paolina. In 1546, when he was 72 years 
 old, the reigning pope nominated him 
 architect of St. Peter's. Michael would 
 only accept the appointment on the con- 
 dition that he received no salary ; that he 
 should have uncontrolled power over the 
 subordinate officers ; and be allowed to 
 alter the original design conformably to 
 his own judgment. It was necessary 
 to adapt and contract that design to the 
 impoverished state of the papal exchequer. 
 Though numerous impediments were pui- 
 posely opposed to his progress with this 
 splendid edifice, he advanced it rapidly ; 
 and before he was 74, he had completed 
 the Farnese palace, built a palace on the 
 hill of the Capitol for the senator of 
 Rome, erected two galleries for sculpture 
 and painting on the same site, and threw 
 up a flight of steps to the church of the 
 convent of Araceli — an edifice remark- 
 able for its occupying the highest part of 
 the hill whereon the temple of Jupiter 
 Capitolinus formerly stood, and, more 
 especially, for Gibbon having mused there, 
 while listening to the vespers of the bare- 
 footed friars, and conceived the first 
 thought of writing his " History of the 
 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." 
 
 In 1550, Julius III. succeeded to the 
 pontificate, and Michael to new vexations. 
 His rivals endeavoured to displace him 
 him for unfitness in the conduct of St. Pe- 
 ter's. A committee of architects was 
 appointed to investigate the charge, in the 
 presence of the pope. The committee 
 alleged that the church wanted light ; and 
 they furnished the cardinals Salviati and 
 Marcello Cervino with plans, to show 
 that Michael had walled up a recess 
 for three chapels, and made only three 
 
 13i 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 17. 
 
 insufficient windows. '' Over those win- 
 dows are to be placed three others," an- 
 swered Michael. '" You never said that be- 
 fore.' answered one of the cardinals. To 
 this Michael indignantly replied, " I am 
 not, neither will I ever be, obliged to tell 
 your eminence, or any one else, what 1 
 ought or am disposed to do ; it is your 
 olKce to see that money be provided, to 
 keep off the thieves, and to leave the 
 building of St. Peter's to me." The pope 
 decided in Michael's favour. From that 
 time Julius prosecuted no work in paint- 
 ing or sculpture without JNlichael's ad- 
 vice ; and his estimation of him was so 
 high, that he told him at a public auai - 
 ence, that if he died before himself, he 
 should be embalmed, and kept in his own 
 palace, that his body might be as perma- 
 nent as his works. Soon after the death 
 of Julius HI. in 1555, Paul IV., the new 
 pontiff, expressed his displeasure of the 
 academical figures in the Last Judgment, 
 aud intimated an intention to " rpform" 
 the picture. Michael sent this message 
 to him : " What the pope wishes, is very 
 little, and may be easily effected ; for if 
 nis holiness will only ' reform' the opi- 
 nions of mankind, the picture will be 
 reformed of itself." This holy father 
 plunged Italy in blood by his vindictive 
 passions ; and while war ravaged its 
 plains, Michael, at the age of 82, retreated 
 far a while to a monastery. On coming 
 from his seclusion, he wrote to Vasari, 
 " I have had a great deal of pleasure in 
 visiting the monks in the mountains of 
 Spoleto : indeed, though I am now return- 
 ed to Rome, I have left the better half of 
 myself with them ; for in these trouble- 
 some times, to say the truth, there is no 
 happiness but in such retirement." The 
 death of this pope filled Rome with 
 " tumultuous joy," and the papal chair 
 was ascended by Pius IV., in whose pon- 
 tificate, wearied and reduced by the in- 
 cessant attacks and artifices of his ene- 
 mies. Michael, at the age of 87, resigned 
 his office of architect to St. Peter's ; but 
 the pope, informed of the frauds which 
 had occasioned it, reinstated him, and 
 to induce him to retain the appointment, 
 ensured strict adherence to his designs 
 until the building should be completed. 
 
 At the age of eighty-nine a slow fever 
 indicated Michael Angelo's approaching 
 decease. His nephew, Leonardo Buo- 
 narrotti, was sent for ; but not arriving, 
 and the fever increasing, he ordered the 
 persons who were in the house into his 
 
 chamber, and in the presence of them and 
 his physicians uttered this verbal will: — 
 " My soul I resign to God, my body to 
 the earth, and my worldly possessions to 
 my nearest of kin :'' then admonishing 
 his attendants, he said, " In your passage 
 through this life, remember the sufferings 
 of Jesus Christ." 
 
 Thus died one of the greatest artists, 
 and one of the noblest men of modern 
 times. The ceremony of his funeral was 
 conducted at Rome with great pomp, but 
 his remains were removed within a month 
 to Florence, and finally deposited in the 
 church of Santa Croce at Florence. In 
 1 720, the vault was opened ; the body 
 retained its original form, habited in the 
 costume of the ancient citizens of Flo- 
 rence, in a gown of green velvet, and 
 slippers of the same. 
 
 According to his English biographer, 
 Mr. Duppa, Michael Angelo was of the 
 middle stature, bony in make, rathei 
 spare, and broad shouldered ; his com- 
 plexion good, his forehead square and 
 " somewhat" projecting ; his eyes hazel 
 and rathei small ; his brows with little 
 hair; his nose flat from a blow given him 
 in his youth by Torrigiano ; his lips thin ; 
 his cranium large in proportion to his 
 face. Within these pages a detail of his 
 works will not be sought. The few par- 
 ticulars mentioned are from Mr. Duppa's 
 quarto life, where many of them are enu- 
 merated, and outline sketches of some of 
 them are engraved. 
 
 The portrait of Michael Angelo select- 
 ed by Mr. Duppa, to precede his life, 
 engraved by Bartolozzi, firm a profile in 
 Gori's edition of" Condivi's Memoir." He 
 says its original was a drawing supposed 
 to have been made by Julio Bonasoni, 
 from which Mr. Duppa presumes that ar- 
 tist to have etched a print bearing his name, 
 and dated in the year 1546. There is an 
 engraved portrait dated 1545, without 
 any artist's name attached. Mr. Duppa 
 says, "of these two prints Bonasoni's is 
 much the best ; and although the second 
 has a prior date, it appears to have been 
 engraved from the same original." That 
 " original," whatever it was, is no longer 
 in existence. Certainly Bonasoni's print 
 is better as a print, for it has the grace ol 
 that master's point, yet as a likeness the 
 print of 1545 seems to the editor of the 
 Every-day Book to have a stronger claim 
 to regard ; not because it is of prior date, 
 but because it has more decisive marks 
 of character. He conjectures, that the 
 
 135 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRU AK V 17. 
 
 anonymous print of 1545 may have been 
 executed from a bust or statue of Mi- 
 chael. There is a laboured precision in 
 the contour, and a close mannered mark- 
 ing of the features, that denote the " on - 
 ginal" to have been marble. The conjec- 
 ture is strengthened by the fact, that the 
 eye in the anonymous print is without 
 an iris; a deficiency which exists in no 
 engraved portraits unless they are exe- 
 
 cuted from a marble " original." While 
 correctness seems to have been the aim of 
 the engraver in this anonymous print, 
 elegance appears to have been the objec* 
 of the painter Bonasoni in his etching. Bo- 
 nasoni's portrait is comparatively common; 
 the anonymous one is rare ; a copy of it 
 from the print in the editor's posses- 
 sion, is executed on wood, by Mr. T.Wil- 
 liams, and placed under the reader's eye. 
 
 M JCTHIA'EL -AHGEI VS- EVONARO YV*% 
 
 Al D vXLV 
 
 T.WlLCfAMi 
 
 136 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBKUAEY 17. 
 
 Midiael Angelo was remarkable for 
 nothing but his genius. He slept little, 
 and was abstemious ; he was accustomed 
 to say, " However rich 1 may have been, 
 I have always lived as a poor man." He 
 obtained the reputation of being proud 
 and odd ; for he found little pleasure in 
 the society of men from whom he could 
 not learn, or whom he could not teach. 
 He was pleased by originality of charac- 
 ter in whatever rank he met with it ; and 
 cultivated in mature life the society of 
 persons respected for their talents and 
 learning. When young he endeavoured 
 to acquaint himself with every branch ot 
 knowledge that i^ould contribute to his 
 improvement. In common with all who 
 have obtained a deserved emmence, he was 
 never satisfied with his performances ; if 
 ne perceived an imperfection that might 
 have been avoided, he either threw aside 
 the work in disgust, or commenced it 
 anew. 
 
 He continued to study to the end of 
 his hfe. In his old age the cardinal 
 Farnese found him walking in solitude 
 amidst the ruins of the Coliseum and ex- 
 pressed his surprise. Michael answered, 
 " I go yet to school that I may continue 
 to learn." He lived much alone. His 
 great excess seems to have been indulg- 
 ence in reflection, and the labours of his 
 profession. The power of generalizing 
 facts, and realizing what he conceived, he 
 drew from this habit : without it some 
 men have become popular for a time, but 
 no man ever became great. 
 
 Grandeur is Michael Angelo's pre- 
 vailing sentiment. In his architecture of 
 St. Peter's, he seems to have been limited 
 by the impossibility of arriving to excel- 
 lence without adopting the ancient styles, 
 and the necessity of attempting something 
 great without them ; and to speak with 
 the severity of uncompromising truth he 
 failed. Of what else he did in that 
 science, and he did much, for which he 
 obtained deserved renown, there is nei- 
 ther room nor occasion to speak. In 
 painting and sculpture, if he did not 
 always succeed in embodying his feel- 
 ings, yet he succeeded more frequently 
 than any other artist since the revival of 
 arts; and, as his power was greater 
 than theirs, so he accomplished greater 
 works. His aim was elevated as that of 
 the giants who warred against the fabled 
 gods; in one respect he was unlike them— 
 be conquered. Majestic and wild as na- 
 
 ture in her undescribable sublimit/, he 
 achieved with corresponding greatness 
 and beauty. His forms and their intellec- 
 tual expression are of the highest order. 
 He never did any thing little. All was in 
 harmony with a mind which he created 
 of himself by adding fact to fact, by se- 
 vere reading, by close observation, by 
 study, by seclusion. He was the quar- 
 rier, and architect, and builder-up of his 
 own greatness. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds speaks with be- 
 coming deference of Michael Angelo's 
 powers. — "It will not be thought presump- 
 tuous in me to appear in the train, I can- 
 not say of his imitators, but of his ad- 
 mirers. I have taken another course, one 
 more suited to my abilities, and to the 
 taste of the times in which I live. Yet 
 however unequal I feel myself to that at- 
 tempt, were I now to begin the world 
 again, I would tread in the steps of that 
 great master : to kiss the hem of his gar- 
 ment, to catch the slightest of his perfec- 
 tions, would be glory and distinction 
 enough for an ambitious man. He was 
 the bright luminary from whom painting 
 has borrowed a new lustre, under whose 
 hands it assumed a new appearance, and 
 became another and superior art, and 
 from whom all his contemporaries 
 successors have derived whatever 
 have possessed of the dignified 
 majestic." 
 
 and 
 they 
 and 
 
 There are excellent casts from three of 
 Michael Angelo's statues exhibited by 
 Mr. West at Mr. Bullock's museum, in 
 Piccadilly ; they are, Christ, from the 
 church ofSta. Maria at Florence, Lorenzo 
 de Medici from his monument, and the 
 celebrated Moses, from the cliurch of St. 
 Pietro, in Vincoli, at Rome. The editor 
 of the Every-day Book has conversed with 
 persons who think themselves pupils and 
 students in sculpture and painting with- 
 out having seen these ! 
 
 Michael Angelo had studied anatomy 
 profoundly. Condivi, who was his pupi^, 
 and one of his biographers, says that his 
 knowledge of human anatomy and oi 
 other animals was so correct, that those 
 who had studied it as a profession all 
 their lives, scarcely understood it so well. 
 When he began to dissect he conceived 
 disgust from the offensiveness of the 
 operation and desisted ; but reflecting that 
 it was disgraceful to abandon what others 
 
 137 
 
iriE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 17. 
 
 ;ould achieve, he resumed ond pursued 
 >t to the fullest extent. Perceiving the 
 utility of Albert Durer's "Treatise on the 
 Proportions of theHumanBody," he deem- 
 ed it capable of improvement. Its rules 
 wore in his opinion insufficient and too 
 mechanical, and he contemplated a trea- 
 tise to exhibit the muscles in their various 
 action. A friend, whom he consulted on 
 the subject, sent him the body of a fine 
 young Moor, which he dissected and 
 made remarks on, but they were never 
 published. The result of his anatomical 
 knowledge may be seen in the powerful 
 muscular developement of his figures : he 
 left no part undefined. 
 
 Several remarks occur in the course of 
 Michael Angelo's letters concerning his 
 art. Speaking of the rivalry between 
 sculpture and painting, he says, " The 
 sculptor arrives at his end by taking 
 away vv^hat is superfluous ; the painter 
 produces his, by adding the materials 
 which embody the representation to the 
 mind : however, after all, they are both 
 produced by the same intelligence, and 
 the superiority is not worth disputing 
 about, since more time may be lost in the 
 discussion, than would produce the works 
 themselves." At one time, however, 
 Michael Angelo regarded painting with 
 less favour than he expresses in this 
 letter. It is addressed to Varchi, who 
 wrote a dissertation on the subject, and 
 sent it to him with an inquiry, which had 
 divided the amateurs of Florence, as to 
 whether painting or sculpture required 
 the most talent. Varchi's treatise has 
 the merit of having convinced Michael 
 Angelo that he was in error, and with 
 the truth and candour inseparable from 
 such a character he confessed hismi.stake. 
 " Of the relative importance of painting 
 and sculpture," says Michael Angelo, "I 
 thmk painting excellent in propvortion as 
 it approaches relievo, and relievo bad in 
 proportion as it partakes of the character 
 of a picture, and therefore I was used to 
 be of opinion, that painting might be 
 considered as borrowing light from sculp- 
 ture, and the diff'erence between them as 
 the sun and moon. Now, however, since 
 I have read your dissertation, which treats 
 the subject philosophicaHy, and shows, 
 that those things which have the same 
 end, are one, and the same, I have 
 changed my opinion, and say, that, if 
 greater judgment, labour, dirticulty, and 
 
 impediment, confer no dignity on the 
 work on which it is bestowed, painting 
 and sculpture may be considered without 
 giving the preeminence to either : and 
 since it has been so considered, no painter 
 ought to undervalue sculpture, and in 
 like manner, no sculptor ought to make 
 light of painting." 
 
 Great as Michael Angelo was in art, 
 his intellectual character was greater. 
 " No one," says Mr. Duppa, " ever felt 
 the dignity of human nature with its 
 noblest attributes more forcibly than 
 Michael Angelo, and his disgust at any 
 violation of principle was acute in pro- 
 portion to his sensibility and love of 
 truth." He despised and shrunk from 
 the shadow of a meanness : hating the 
 heartlessness of unmeaning profession, 
 he regarded the dazzling simulation 
 which constitutes the polish of society as 
 a soul-cloud. With these commanding 
 views of self dignity he poured out his 
 feelings to his friend Luigi del Ricco, ui 
 
 A MADRIGAL. 
 
 Translated by Robert Southey Esq. 
 (From Mr. Duppa s Life of Michael ^ngeln.j 
 
 111 halh he chosen his part who seeks to please 
 The worthless world, — ill hath he chosen his 
 
 part. 
 For often rriust he wear the look of ease 
 
 When grief is at his heart ; 
 And often in his hours of happier feeling 
 With sorrow must his countenance be hung, 
 And ever his own better thoughts concealing 
 Must in stupid grandeur's praise be loud, 
 And to the errors of the ignorant crowd 
 
 Assent with lying tongue. 
 Thus much would I conceal — that none should 
 
 know 
 What secret cause I have for silent woe ; 
 And taught by many a melancholy proof 
 That those whom fortune favours it pollutes 
 I from the blind and faithless world aloof. 
 Nor fear its envy nor desire its praise. 
 But choose my path through solitary ways. 
 
 It w^s one of Michael Angelo's high 
 qualities to bear about him an atmosphere 
 which the parasite dared not approach . 
 no heart-eater could live in it. 
 
 He justly estimated whatever was in- 
 fluential in society ; and hence though he 
 seemed to look down upon rank as an 
 accident of life, he was net regardless of 
 its use. To those whom distinctions had 
 raised, he paid the deference accorded to 
 their dignities. Yet towards him who 
 couched his integrity, he bore a lofty car- 
 riage, and when .le condesended to resent' 
 
 138 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— P" EBRUARY 17. 
 
 the attack, hurled an impetuous defiance 
 that kindled as it flew, and consumed the 
 insulting defamer, though he were enscon- 
 ced behind countless quarterings, or er- 
 mined and enthroned. To the constant 
 oalumny of jealous rivalry, and the daily 
 lie of envy and enmity, he was utterly 
 indifferent. When asked why he did not 
 resent the aspersions incessantly poured 
 upon him by one of his assailants, he an- 
 swered — " He who contends with the 
 worthless cati gain nothing worth possess- 
 ing." 
 
 Michael Angelo's temper was "sudden 
 and quick ;" but his nature was kind and 
 benevolent. Inferior artists frequently ex- 
 perienced his friendly disposition. He 
 sometimes made drawings and modelled 
 for them. To Minigella, a very indiffer- 
 ent hand, he gave the model of a crucifix 
 beautifully executed, from which the poor 
 fellow formed a mould and made casts 
 of papier mache to sell to the country 
 people. Friendship and esteem for par- 
 ticular individuals oftener induced him to 
 undertake works than proffers of large 
 sums. Yet he was not indifferent or in- 
 sensible to a just estimation of his talents 
 when they were undervalued. For Angelo 
 Doni, a Florentine of taste, he painted a 
 holy family, and sent it home with a note 
 requiring seventy ducats for it. Doni 
 told the messenger he thought forty were 
 enough ; Michael replied by demanding 
 the picture or a hundred ; Doni said he 
 was willing to pay the seventy ; Michael 
 demanded a hundred and forty, and Doni 
 paid the sum. 
 
 He honoured worthy men in every sta- 
 tion. His purse was open to their neces- 
 sities ; he condoled with them in their 
 atflictions, and lightened their oppressions 
 by his sympathies and influence. To 
 artists and men of talent his liberality 
 was munificent. He neither loved money 
 nor accumulated it. His gifts were the 
 free-will offerings of his heart, and hence 
 its dispensations were unaccompanied by a 
 notoriety which sullies the purity of pri- 
 mary obligation, by exposing the naked- 
 ness of its object. 
 
 Conver<5ing one day with his old and 
 faithful servant, he said, " What will be- 
 come of you, Urbine, if I should die?" " I 
 must then seen, another master" was the 
 
 reply. "Poor fellow," said Midiael, 
 " tliou shalt not need another master," and 
 he gave him two thousand crowns. This 
 vk'as a large sum in those days : Vasari 
 says such a donation would only have 
 been expected from popes and great em- 
 perors. Michael afterwaids jjrocuredhim 
 an appointment in the Vatican to take care 
 of the pictures, with a monthly salary of 
 six ducats; and preserving his regard for 
 the old man, Michael, though at that time 
 eighty-two years of age, sat up with 
 him by night in his last illness. "His 
 death has been a heavy loss to me," he 
 wrote to Vasari, " and the cause of exces- 
 sive grief, but it has also been a most im- 
 pressive lesson of the grace of God : fot 
 it has shown me, that he, who in his life- 
 time comforted me in the enjoyment of life, 
 dying has taught me how to die ; not with 
 reluctance, but even with a desire of death. 
 He lived with me twenty-six years, grew 
 rich in my service, and I found hint a 
 most rare and faithful servant ; and now 
 that I calculated upon his being the staff 
 and repose of my old age he is taken away, 
 and has left me only the hope of seeing 
 him again in paradise." 
 
 Michael Angelo was never married. 
 To one who lamented that he had no chil- 
 dren to inherit his property, Michael an- 
 swered, " My works must supply their 
 place; and if they are good for anything 
 they will live hereafter. It would have been 
 unfortunate for Lorenzo Ghiberti, had he 
 not left the doors of S. Giovanni, for his 
 sons and his nephews have long since 
 sold and dissipated his accumulated 
 wealth ; but his sculpture remains, and 
 will continue to record his name to future 
 ages." These "doors" were of bronze. 
 When Michael was asked his opinion of 
 them, he said they were fit to be the doors 
 of paradise. 
 
 Throughout the poetry of Michael An- 
 gelo, of which there is much in existence, 
 love is a pervading sentiment, though, 
 without reference to any particular ob- 
 ject. Condivi had often heard him dis- 
 course upon it as a passion platonically ; 
 and Mr. Duppa gives the following son- 
 net, translated from the Italian of Michael 
 Angelo by Mr. Wordsworth, as exempli- 
 fying Michael's turn of thought : 
 
 139 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— rEBRUARY 17. 
 
 SONNET, 
 By Michael Angelo. 
 
 Yett ! hope may with my strong- desire keep pace. 
 
 And I ht undeluded, unbetray'd ; 
 For, if of our affections none find grace 
 
 In sight of Heaven, then wherefore hath God made 
 The world which we inhabit 1 Better plea 
 Love cannot have, than that in loving thee. 
 
 Glory to that eternal Peace is paid, 
 Who such divinity to thee imparts 
 As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts. 
 
 His hope is treacherous only, whose love dies 
 With beauty, which is varying every hour.- 
 But in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power 
 Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower 
 
 That breathes on earth the air of Paradise. 
 
 The peisonal beauty and intellectual As an instance, a short poetica' suppli- 
 endowments of Vittoria Colonna, marchi- cation, translated by Mr. Du] pa into 
 ontss of Pescara, impressed Michael An- prose, is remarkable for its self-know- 
 gelo with sentiments of affectionate esteem, ledge and simplicity; it is hijre sub- 
 She admired his genius, and frequently jomed :— 
 left her residence at Viterbo for the sole 
 
 purpose of enjoying his society at Rome. " To the Supreme Being. 
 He addressed three sonnets and a ma- «]viy prayers will be sweet if thon 
 drigal to her. In her last moments he lendest me virtue to make them worthy 
 paid her a visit, and told Condivi he to be heard; my unfruitful soil cannot 
 grieved he had not kissed her cheek, as produce virtue of itself. Thou knowest 
 he had her hand, for there was little hope the seed, and how to sow it, that it may 
 of his ever seeing her again. He penned spring up in the mind to produce just and 
 an epitaph on her decease : the recoUec- pjous works : if thou showest not the 
 tion of her death constantly dejected him. hallowed path, no one by his own know- 
 To the purity of his thoughts, there is jedge can follow thee. Pour thou into my 
 a high testimony by Condivi. " In a long mj^j the thoughts that may conduct me 
 intimacy, I have never heard from his {„ thy holy steps; and endue me with a 
 mouth a single word that was not perfectly f^j^^^^ tongue, that £ may alway praise, 
 decorous, and had not for its object to gxalt, and sing thy glory." 
 extinguish in youth every improper and 
 
 lawless desire : his nature is a stranger Finally, it may be added, that 'n an 
 
 to depravity." He was religious, not by age of splendid vice, Michael Angcio waa 
 
 the show, but from feeling and conviction an illustrious example of virtue. 
 
 To Michael Angelo — Immortal 
 
 Michael ! to what thou wert, if I could raise 
 
 An aspiration, or a holy light, 
 V/ithin one reader, I'd essay to praise 
 
 Thy virtue ; and would supplicate the muse 
 For flowers to deck thy greatness : so I might 
 
 But urge one youthful artist on to choose 
 A. life like thine, I would attempt the hill 
 
 Where well inspiring floods, and thence would drink 
 Till — as the Pythoness of old, the will 
 
 No longer then controU'd by sease — I'd think 
 Alone of good and thee, and with loud cries, 
 
 Break the dead slumber of undeeming man, 
 Refresh him with a gush of truth, surprise 
 
 Him with thy deeds, and show him thine was Wisdom's plan. 
 
 140 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 18. 
 
 PISCES. 
 
 Tliis zodiacal sign is said to symbolize 
 the fishery of the Nile, which usually 
 commenced at this season of the year. 
 According to an ancient fable, it repre- 
 sents Venus and Cupid, who, to avoid 
 Typhon, a dreadful giant with a hundred 
 heads, transformed themselves into fish 
 rhis fabulous monster, it seems, threw tlie 
 whole host of heathen deities into confu- 
 sion. His story shortly is, that as soon 
 as he was born, he began to avenge the 
 death of liis brethren, the giants who had 
 warred against Olympus, by resuming the 
 conflict alone. Flames of fire darted 
 from his eyes and mouths ; he uttered 
 horrid yells, and so frightened the pagan 
 celestials, that Jupiter himself became a 
 
 ram, Juno a cow, Mercury an Tois, A polio a 
 crow, Bacchus a goat, Diana a cat, N'enus 
 a fish, &c. till Jupiter hurled a rock and 
 buried liim under TEtna. The idol Da- 
 gon, with a human head and arms, and 
 a fisii's tail, is affirmed to be the symbol 
 of the sun in Pisces, and to allegorize 
 tliat tlie earth teems witli corn and fruits. 
 The sun generally enters Pisces about 
 tlie period of February ; for instance, in 
 1824 on the 16lh, in 1825 on the 18th of 
 the month. The Romans imagined that 
 the entrance of the sun into Pisces was 
 attended by bad weather, and gales of 
 uncertainty to the mariner.* Thomson 
 sings, that in this month — 
 
 Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
 
 Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdued, 
 
 The frost resolves into a trickling thaw. 
 
 Spotted, the mountains shine ; loose sleet descends, 
 
 And floods the country round. The rivers swell. 
 
 Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, 
 
 O'er rocks and woods, iu broad, brown cataracts, 
 
 A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once ; 
 
 And where they rush, the wide resouuding plain 
 
 In left one slimv waste. Thomson. 
 
 fthnmx^ 18. 
 
 fit. Simeon, Bp. of Jerusalem, a.d.116. 
 Sts. Leo and Paregorius, 3d Cent 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On the 18th of February 1734, the 
 
 house of commons received a petition 
 
 from Mr. Samuel Buckley, a learned 
 
 printer ; setting forth that he had, at his 
 
 sole expense, by several years' labour, and 
 with the assistance of some learned per- 
 sons abroad and at home, made colieo 
 tions of original papers and letters re 
 lating to •* Thuanus's History," written 
 m Latin, in order to a new and accurate 
 edition, in 7 vols, folio, which was finish- 
 ed ; that the act of the 8th of Q. Anne, 
 
 • Dr. Fovster's Perenn. Cal. 
 
 141 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 19. 
 
 for the encouragement of learning, ex- 
 tended only to the authors, purchasers, or 
 proprietors of the copy-right of any book 
 in English, published after the 10th of 
 April,1710, and allowed the importation or 
 vending of any books in foreign language 
 printed beyond the seas ; so that any books, 
 first compiled and piinted in this kingdom 
 in any of those languages, might be re- 
 printed abroad and sold in this kingdom, 
 to the great damage of the fiist printer or 
 proprietor : he therefore prayed, that he 
 might be alloved the same benefit in his 
 copy of the " History of Thuanus," in 
 Latm, for fourteen years. Leave was 
 given to bring in the bill, and it after- 
 wards passed into an act. 
 
 The protection of this excellent work 
 was a justice due to the spirit and liber- 
 ality of Mr. Buckley. He had been 
 originally a bookseller. John Dunton 
 says of him, " He is an excellent linguist, 
 understands the Latin, French, Dutch, 
 and Italian languages, and is master of a 
 great deal of wit : he prints the ' Daily 
 Courant,' and ' Monthly Register,' which, I 
 hear, he translates out of the foreign pa- 
 pers himself:" — a great merit, it should 
 seem, in the eyes of old Dunton. 
 
 Mr. Buckley was a really learned 
 printer. Tlie collections for his edition 
 of Thuanus were made by Carte, who 
 had fled to France from an accusation of 
 high treason, during the rebellion of 1715 
 and while in that country possessed him- 
 self of so many materials for the purpose, 
 that he consulted Dr. Mead, the cele- 
 brated physician, and patron of literary 
 men, concerning the undertaking. By 
 the doctor's recommendation, it was in- 
 trusted to Mr. Buckley, who imported 
 the paper for it, which, with the mate- 
 rials, cost him 2,350/. He edited the 
 work with fidelity, and executed it with 
 elegance. 
 
 Mr. Buckley was the publisher of the 
 " Spectator," which appeared in folio 
 from his shop at the Dolphin in Little 
 Britain, a place then filled with book- 
 sellers. At the close of the seventh vo- 
 lume this popular work was suspended^ 
 but resumed by Buckley in Amen-corner. 
 He attained to opulence and respect- 
 ability, was in the commission of the 
 peace for Middlesex, and died, greatly 
 esteemed, on the 8th of September, 1741, 
 in the sixty-eighth year of his age .* 
 
 It is related of the great lord chancellor 
 
 * Mr. N'icho1>'( Lit. Anecdote*. 
 
 Hardvvicke, that he so highly regarded 
 " Thuanus's History," as to have resigned 
 the seals for the express purpose of bemg 
 enabled to read it in the original lan- 
 guage.* It has been computed that a 
 person who gave his attention to this 
 work for four hours every day, would not 
 finish the perusal in twelve months. It 
 comprehends the events of sixty-four 
 years, durnig the times wherein Thuanus 
 lived and flourished as an eminent French 
 author and statesman. His English 
 biographer quotes, as a character of his 
 writings, that, " in a word, they are cal- 
 culated to render those who attend to 
 them better and wiser men ."t 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Wall Speedwell. Veronica vivensh. 
 Dedicated to St. Simeon of Jerusalem.. 
 
 February 19. 
 
 St. Barbatus, or Barbas, Bp. a. d. 682. 
 
 This saint is patron of Benevento, of 
 which city he was bishop. Butler relates 
 no miracle of him, nor does it appear from 
 liim that any other name in the calendar 
 of the Romish church is affixed to this 
 day. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 A pretty trifle from the Greek is de- 
 scriptive of appearances about this pe- 
 riod :— 
 
 To a Lady on her Birthday 
 
 See amidst the winter's cold, 
 
 Tender infant of the spring ; 
 See tiie rose her bud unfold, 
 
 Every sweet is on the wnig. 
 
 Hark ! the purple flow'ret cries, 
 
 'Tis for thee we haste away, 
 *Tis for thee we brave the skies, 
 Smiling on thy natal day. 
 
 Soon shalt thou the pleasure prove. 
 Which awaits on virtuous love 
 
 Place us 'midst thy flowing hair. 
 Where each lovely grace prevails^ 
 
 Happier we to deck the fair, 
 Than to wait the vernal gales. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Field Speedwell. Veronica agrestis. 
 Dedicated to St. Barbatus. 
 
 * Biblint;. Diet. 
 
 t Mr. CoUiuson'j life of I'liuanug. 
 
 142 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— FEBKUARl' 20. 
 
 jfttruarp 20. 
 
 St. Tifrannio, Bp. &c. a. d. 310. Sts. 
 Sadoth,' Bp. &c. A. D. 342. St. Eleii- 
 therius, Bp. a. d. 532. St. Mildred, Ab- 
 bess. St. Eacherins, Bp. a. d. 743. 
 S^ Ulrick. 
 
 St. Mildred. 
 
 This saint was the first abbess of Min- 
 ster, in the isle of Thanet, founded by 
 Icing Egbert about 670, in satisfaction for 
 having murdered his two nephews, Ethel- 
 dred and Ethelbright; to which satisfac- 
 tion he was " miraculously terrified, by 
 seeing a ray of bright light dart from the 
 heavens upon their grave." In 1033, her 
 remains were removed to St. Augustine's 
 monastery at Canterbury, and venerated 
 above all the relics there, and worked 
 miracles, as all saints' relics did in those 
 favoured times. The churches of St. Mil- 
 dred, Bread-street, and St. Mildred in the 
 Poultry, London, are dedicated to her.* 
 
 In St. Mildred's church in the Poultry, 
 Thomas Tusser, whose " Five Hundred 
 Points of Good Husbandrie" have been 
 cited in former pages of this woik, was 
 buried, and on his tomb this 
 
 Here Thomas Tusseh, 
 
 clad in earth, doth lie, 
 That sometime made 
 
 The pointes of Husbandrie : 
 By him then learne thou maist ; 
 
 here learne we must, 
 When all is done, we sleepe, 
 
 and turne to dust : 
 And yet, through Christ, 
 
 to Heaven we hope to goe ; 
 Who reades his bookes, 
 
 shall find his faith was so.f 
 
 St. Ulrick. 
 
 Of this saint, who died the 28th of 
 February, 1154, Butler says little, 
 
 " The Flowers of the Lives of the 
 most renowned Saincts of the three 
 kingdoms, England, Scotland, and Ire- 
 land, written and collected out of the best 
 authours and manuscripts of our nation, 
 and distributed according to their feasts 
 in the calendar, By the R. Father, 
 riiEROME Porter, Priest and Monke oj 
 the holy order of Sainct Benedict, of the 
 Congregation of England, Prmted at 
 
 * Butlur's Lives of the Saints. 
 H Stow. 
 
 DowAY with licence, and approbation o 
 the (Jrdinary, M.dc.xxxii," relates of- this 
 saint, that he v/as born in a village called 
 Lenton, or Litton, near Bristol, with many 
 marvels concerning him, and among them 
 this : — He became a priest, but ke[il 
 hawks and dogs for sport, till he met a 
 beggar who asked alms. Ulrick said, he did 
 not know whether he had aught to bestow : 
 " Look in thy purse," quoth the beggar, 
 " and there thou shalt find twopence 
 halfpenny." Ulrick finding as he was told, 
 received thanks, and a prophecy that he 
 should become a saint, whereupon he 
 starved and hermitized at Hessleborough, 
 in Dorsetshire, about thirty miles from 
 Exeter. " The skin only sticking to his 
 bones," his daintiest food was oaten-bread 
 and water-gruel. He passed many nights 
 without sleep, never slept but when he 
 could not keep awake, and never went to 
 bed, "but, leaning his head to a wall, he 
 tooke a short allowance ;" and when he 
 awoke, " he would much blame and chas- 
 tise his body, as yielding vnto ouermuch 
 nicenesse." His pillow was ropes of hay, 
 his clothing poor, and lined next the skin 
 with a rough shirt of hair-cloth, til! his 
 flesh having overcome its uneasiness, he 
 wore next his skin an iron coat of mail. 
 In the sharpest cold of winter, having 
 first put ofi' his iron shirt, he was wont to 
 get into a vessel of cold water and recite 
 psalms. His coat of mail hanging below 
 his knees, he went to the knight who gave 
 it to him, to take counsel therein. His 
 military adviser persuaded him to send it 
 to London to be cut ; but he gave the knight 
 "a payre of sheares.'' The knight hesitated, 
 the other entreated. " The one falls to 
 his prayers, the other endeavours with 
 iron and steale to cut iron and steale, 
 ■when both their labours tooke prosperous 
 effect ; for the knight, in his cutting worke, 
 seemed rather to divide a piece of cloath 
 than a peece of iron." Then the saint, 
 " without any sheeres, pulled asunder 
 the little rings of that part of his coate 
 cutt off, and distributed them charitably 
 to all that desired, by virtue whereof 
 manie diseases were cured." Envying 
 such rare goodness, an infernal spirit, in 
 most horrible shape, dragged him into 
 the church, and ran him round the pave- 
 ment, till the apparition of a virgin stoppe'!^ 
 this rude behaviour ; however, the infernal 
 took advantage of the saint when he was 
 sick, and with a staflf he had in his hand 
 gave him three knocks on the head, and 
 departed. The devil tormented him other 
 
 143 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 21. 
 
 ways; he cast him into an intolerable 
 heat, then he gave him an intolerable cold, 
 and then he made him dream a dream, 
 vhereby the saint shamed the devil by 
 openly confessing it at church on Easter- 
 day before all the people. At length, 
 after other wonders, " the joints of his 
 "iron coate miraculously dissolved, and it 
 fell down to his knees." Upon this, he 
 foretold his death on the next Saturday, 
 and thereon he died. Such, and much 
 more is put forth concerning St. Ulrick, 
 by the aforesaid " Flowers of the Saincts," 
 which contains a prayer to be used pre- 
 paratory to the perusal, with these words, 
 " that this holy reading of their lives may 
 soe inflame our hearts, that we may follow 
 and imitate the traces of their glorious 
 example, that, after this mortall life, we 
 may be made worthie to enjoy their most 
 desired companie." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Navelwort. Cynoglossum ompkalodes 
 Dedicated to St. Mildred. 
 
 nes«, or the fear of evil. Children have 
 fallen from careless parents into the hand* 
 of the executioner, in whom the means 
 of distinguishing between right and wrong 
 might have become a stock for knowledge 
 to ripen on, and learning have preserved 
 the fruits to posterity. Let not him de- 
 spair who desires to know, or has powtr 
 to teach — 
 
 There is m every human heart. 
 Some not completely barren part. 
 Where seeds of truth and love might giow 
 And flowers of generous virtue blow ; 
 To plant, to watch, to water there, 
 This be our duty, be our care. 
 
 Bowring', 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On the 20th of February 1 749, Usher 
 Gahagan, by birth a gentleman, and by 
 education a scholar, perished at Tyburn. 
 His attainments were elegant and supe- 
 rior; he was the editor of Brindley's 
 beautiful edition of the classics, and 
 translated Pope's " Essay on Criticism " 
 into Latin verse. Better grounded in 
 learning than in principle, he concen- 
 trated liberal talents to the degrading 
 selfishness of robbing the community of 
 its coin by clipping. During his confine- 
 ment, and hoping for pardon, he translated 
 Pope's "Temple of Fame," and his " Mes- 
 siah," into the same language, with a de- 
 dication to the duke of Newcastle. To 
 the same end, he addressed prince George 
 and the recorder in poetic numbers. 
 These efforts were of no avail. Two of 
 nis miserable confederates in crime were 
 nis companions in death. He suffered 
 with a deeper guilt, because he had a 
 higher knowledge than ignorant and un- 
 thinking criminals, to whom the polity of 
 society, in its grounds and reasons, is un- 
 known. 
 
 Accomplishments upon vice are as 
 beautiful colours on a venomous reptile. 
 Learning is a vain show, and knowledge 
 mischievous, without the love of good- 
 
 /i^ljruarp 21. 
 
 St. Severianus, Bp. a. d. 452. Sta 
 German. Abbot, and Randaut, or 7?a»»- 
 doald, A. D. 666. Sts. Daniel and Ferda, 
 A. D. 344. B. Pepin, of Landen, a. d. 640. 
 
 BREAKFAST IN COLD WEATHER. 
 
 " Here it is," says the " Indicator," 
 " ready laid. Imprimis, tea and coffee ; 
 secondly, dry toast ; thirdly, butter ; 
 fourthly, eggs ; fifthly, ham ; sixthly, 
 something potted ; seventhly, bread, salt, 
 mustard, knives and forks, &c. One of 
 the first things that belong to a breakfast 
 is a good fire. There is a delightful mix- 
 ture of the lively and the snug in coming 
 down into one's breakfast-room of a cold 
 morning, and seeing every thing prepared 
 for us ; a blazing grate, a clean table-cloth 
 and tea-things, the newly-washed faces 
 and combed heads of a set of good-hu- 
 moured urchins, and the sole empty chair 
 at its accustomed corner, ready for occu- 
 pation. When we lived alone, we could 
 not help reading at meals : and it is cer- 
 tainly a delicious thing to resume an en- 
 tertaining book at a particularly interest- 
 ing passage, with a hot cup of tea at one's 
 elbow, and a piece of buttered toast in 
 one's hand. The first look at the page, 
 accompanied by a coexistent bite of the 
 toast, comes under the head of intensities." 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 The weather is now coid and mild 
 alternately. In our variable climate we 
 one day experience the severity of winter 
 and a genial warmth prevails the next 
 and, indeed, such changes are not unfre- 
 quently felt in the same day. Winter 
 however, at this time breaks apace, and 
 we have presages of the genial season. 
 
 Ui 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EEERUAIIY 22. 
 
 Oxer;, o'er tlie furrow'd soil, 
 
 Urging firm their annual toil ; 
 
 Trim cottages that here and there, 
 
 Speckling the social tilth, appear: 
 
 And spires, that as from groves they rise, 
 
 Tell where the lurking hamlet licj : 
 
 Hills white with many a bleating throng, 
 
 And lakes, whose willowy banks along 
 
 Herds or ruminate, or lave, 
 
 Immersing in the silent wave. 
 
 The sombre wood — the cheerful plain, 
 
 Green with the hope of future grain : 
 
 A tender blade, ere Autumn smile 
 
 Benignant on the farmer's toil, 
 
 Gild the ripe fields with mellowing band, 
 
 And scatter plenty through the land. 
 
 liaron Smith. 
 
 FLORAI. DIRECTORY. 
 
 White crocus. Crocus versicolor. 
 Dedicated to St. Servianus. 
 
 fthvmv^ 22. 
 
 The Chair of St. Peter at Antioch. St. 
 Mars;aret, of Cortona, a. d. 1 297. Sts, 
 Thalasius and Limneus. St. Baradat. 
 
 St. Margaret. 
 She was a penitent, asked public pardon 
 
 for her sins with a rope about her neck, 
 
 punished her flesh, and worked miracles 
 
 accordingly.* 
 
 Sts. Thalasius and Limneus. 
 
 St. Thalasius dwelt in a cavern, " and 
 was endowed with extraordinary gifts of 
 the Holy Ghost ; but was a treasure un- 
 known to the woild." St. lamneus was 
 his disciple, and " famous for miraculous 
 cures of the sick," while his master " bore 
 patiently the sharpest cholics, and other 
 distempers, without any human succour"* 
 
 St. Baradat. 
 
 This saint lived in a trellis-hut, exposed 
 to the severities of the weather, and 
 clothed in the skins of beasts.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Herb Margaret. Bellis perennis. 
 Dedicated to ist. Margaret, of Cortona. 
 
 SPORTING CALENDAR. 
 
 A valued correspondent obliges the 
 Every-Day Book with an original sketch, 
 hasty and spirited as its hero, when the 
 
 ButlerV SainU. 
 
 sports of tiie field allured him from the 
 pursuits of literature at college, and the 
 domestic comforts of wife and home. 
 
 To the Editor. 
 To disemburthen oneself of ennui, and 
 to find rational amusement for every sea- 
 son of the year, is a jjrand desideratum in 
 life. Luckily I have hit on't, and beg 
 leave, as being the properest place, to 
 give my recipe in the Everlasting Calen- 
 dar you are compiling. I contrive then 
 to give myself employment for every time 
 of year. Neither lively Spring, glowing 
 Summer, sober Autumn, nor dreary Win- 
 ter, come amiss to me ; for 1 have con- 
 trived to make myself an Universal 
 Sportsman, and am become so devoted a 
 
 fage of Diana, that I am dangling at her 
 eels all the year round without being 
 tired of it. In bleak and frozen January, 
 besides sliding, skating in figures, aiid 
 making men of snow to frighten children 
 with, by means of a lantern placed in a 
 skull at the top of them, I now and then 
 get a day's cock shooting when the frost 
 breaks, or kill a few small birds in the 
 snow. In lack of other game, a neigh- 
 bour's duck, or goose, or a chicken, shot 
 and pocketed as I sally out to the club 
 dinner, are killed more easily than my 
 dairymaid does it, poor things ! 
 
 In February, the weather being rainy 
 or mild, renders it worth my while to send 
 my stud into Leicestershire for hunting 
 again; and so my white horse Skyscra- 
 per, my old everlasting chestnut Silver- 
 tail, the only good black in the hunt Sul- 
 tan, and the brown mare Rosinante, to- 
 gether with Alfana the king of the Cock- 
 tails, a hack or two, and a poney for er- 
 rands, are "pykedofF" pack and bag- 
 gage for Melton; and then from the first 
 purple dawn of daylight, when I set off to 
 cover, to the termination of the day with 
 cards, I have plenty of rational amuse- 
 ment. Next month, forbearing March 
 hares, I shoot a few snipes before they 
 are all gone, and at night prepare my 
 fishing tackle for April, when the verdant 
 meadows again draw me to the riverside 
 to angle. 
 
 My wife has now rational employment 
 for the rest of the Srmimer in catching 
 and impaling the various flies of the sea- 
 son against my trout mania comes, which 
 is usual early in May, when all her maids 
 assist in this flyfowling sport. I have 
 generally been successful in sport, but I 
 shall never forget my disappointment 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 14^ 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 22. 
 
 wnen on throwing in a flyline which was 
 not baited by myself, I found that Sally, 
 mistaking her new employment, had bait- 
 ed my hook with an earwig. In June I 
 neglected my Grass for the same sport, 
 and often let it stand till the Hay is 
 spoiled by Swithin, who wipes his wa- 
 tery eyes with what ought to be my Win- 
 ter's fodder. This gives me rational, 
 though troublesome, employment in buy- 
 ing Hay or passing off' the old at market. 
 July, however, affords plenty of bobfish- 
 ing, as 1 call it, for roach, dace, perch, 
 and bleak. I also gudgeon some of my 
 neighbours, and cast a line of an evening 
 into their carp and tench ponds. I have 
 not, thank my stars, either stupidity or 
 patience enough for barbel. But in 
 Augtist, that is before the 12th, I get my 
 trolling tackle in order, and am reminded 
 of my old vermin college days, when 
 shutting my room door, as if I was 
 " sported in" and cramming Euclid, I 
 used to creep down to the banks of the 
 Cam, and clapping my hands on my old 
 rod, with his long line to him, exclaimed, 
 in true Horatian measure, the only Latin 
 line I ever cited in my life, 
 
 Progenie loiiga £iiutles capiat e Johannes, 
 
 But, oh! the 12th day o{ August, that 
 mountain holiday, ushered in by the ring- 
 ing of the sheep bell — 'tis then that, 
 iacketed in fustian, with a gun on my 
 shoulder, and a powder horn belted to my 
 side, I ramble the rough highland hilts in 
 quest of blackcocks and red game, get 
 now and then a chance shot at a ptarma- 
 gan, and once winged a Capercaille on a 
 pine tree at Invercauld. In hurrying 
 home for the First of September, I usually 
 pass through the fens of Lincolnshire, and 
 there generally kill a wild duck or two. 
 You must know I have, besides my point- 
 ers, setters, and spaniels, water dogs of 
 every sort. Indeed my dog establish 
 ment would astonish Acteon. There are 
 my harriers, Rockwood, Ringwood, 
 Lasher, Jewler, Rallywood, and twenty 
 more; my pointers, Ponto and Carlo; 
 my spaniek. Dash and Old Grizzle ; 
 Hedgehog and Pompey, my water dogs. 
 No one, I bet a crown, has better grey- 
 hounds than Fly and Dart are, nor a 
 surer lurcher than Groveller. I say no- 
 thing of those inferior " Lares," my ter- 
 riers — ratcatching Busy, Snap, and Nim- 
 bletoes, with whom, in the absense of 
 other game, I go sometimes for a frolic 
 
 to a farmhouse, disguised as a ratcatc^.cr, 
 and take a shilling for ferret work. 
 
 But now I come to thy shrine, O lovely 
 Saptembria, thou fairest nymyh in Di- 
 ana's train, with ••oiling blue eyes as sharp 
 and as true as those of a signal lieute- 
 nant ; I come to court thee again, and may 
 thy path be even paved with the skulls of 
 partridges. Again I come to dine with 
 thee on the leveret's back or pheasant's 
 wings. We've wildboars' bladders foi 
 wine bottles, ramshorns for corkscrews, 
 bugles for funnels, gunpowder for snufl, 
 smoke for tobacco, woodcock's bills for 
 toothpicks, and shot for sugar piuins ! I 
 dare not proceed to tell you how many 
 brace of birds Ponto and I bag the first 
 day of shooting, as the long bow, instead 
 of the fowling piece, might be called my 
 weapon. But enough rodomontading. 
 
 I now come to October. Pheasants 
 by all that's volatile ! And then, after 
 them, I go to my tailor and order two 
 suits — scarlet for master Reynard, and a 
 bottlegreen jacket for the harriers, top- 
 boots, white corderoy inexpressibles, and 
 a velvet cap. Then when the covers ring 
 attain with the hallowed music of harriers, 
 I begin skylarking the gates and setting 
 into wind to follow the foxhounds in 
 November. When 
 
 The dusky nighl ri:Ies dmon the sky, 
 
 And ushers in the morn. 
 The Hounds all make a jovial cry, 
 
 And the Huntsman winds his horn. 
 
 With three days in the week chace, and 
 pretty little interludes of hunting with 
 beagles, or of snipe shooting, I manage 
 to get thiough December to the year's 
 end. My snug Winter evenings are 
 spent in getting ready my guns, smacking 
 new hunting whips, or trying on new 
 boots, while my old hall furnishes ample 
 store of trophies, stags' horns hunted by 
 my great grandfather, cross bows, guns, 
 brushes won on rivals of Pegasus, and all 
 sorts of odd oldfashioned whips, horns, and 
 accoutrements, hanging up all round, 
 which remind me of those days of yore 
 when I remember the old squire and his 
 sporting chaplain casting home on spent 
 horses all bespattered from the chase, be- 
 fore I had ridden any thing but my rock- 
 ing horse. There then have I rational 
 amusement all the year round. And 
 much and sincerely do I praise thee, 
 Diana ! greatest Diana of the Ephesians 
 at thy feet will I repose my old and wea- 
 therbeaten carcass at last and invoke thy 
 
 146 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 tutelary protection for my old age, thou 
 who art Hunting, Skootiyig, and Fishing 
 personified, the true Diva Triformis of 
 Antiquity. 
 
 Imminens Villse tua Pinus esto, 
 Quam per exactos ego Isetus aiinos, 
 Veriis obliquum meditantis ictum, 
 Sanguine donem. 
 
 I have the honour to remain, 
 Yours ever, 
 
 Jack LARKiyc. 
 
 A.N ADDRESS TO THE MOON, 
 
 To a '• proper new" tune. 
 
 ORIGINAL, 
 
 No !— I have nothing new to say, 
 
 Why must ye wait to hear my story 1 
 Go, get thee on thy tracliless way, 
 
 There's many a weary mile before ye — 
 Get thee to bed, lest some poor poet, 
 
 Enraptur'd v.iih thy phiz should dip 
 A pen in ink to let thee know it. 
 
 And (mindful not to let thee slip 
 His fingers) bid thy moonship sta^ 
 And list, what he might have lo say 
 
 Yet I do love thee ! — and if aught 
 
 The muse can serve thee, will petition 
 Her grace t' attend thine airy court, 
 
 And play the part of first musician — 
 But *' ode," and *' lines," " address," and 
 " sonnet," 
 
 " To Luna dedicate," are now 
 So plentiful, that (fie upon it !) 
 
 She'll add no glory to thy brow, 
 But tell thee, in such strains as follow, 
 That thy mild sheen beats Phosphor hollow ! 
 
 That thou art " fairest of the fair," 
 
 Tho' Phoebus more that's grand possesses. 
 That tree and tower reflect thy glare, 
 
 And the glad stream thy ray confesses, 
 That, when thy silvery beams illumine 
 
 The landscape, nature seems bedight 
 With loveliness so rare, that few men 
 
 Have e'er been blessed with such a sight ! 
 And all such nioonshiiie : — but enough 
 Of this tame " milk and water" stuff. A 
 
 Jfeljniarp 23. 
 
 St. Milburge, 7th Cent. 
 She was sister to St. Mildred, wore a 
 hair cloth, and built the monastery of 
 Wenlock, in Shropshire. One day being 
 at Stokes, a neighbouring village, brother 
 Hierome Porter says, that " a young 
 gallant, sonne to a prince of that coun- 
 trey, was soe taken with her beautie, that 
 he had a vehement desire to carrie her 
 away by force tind marrie her." St. Mil- 
 burge fled from him and his companions 
 till she had passed a little brook, called 
 Corfe, which then suddenly swelled up 
 and threatened her pursuers with de- 
 struction, wherefore they desisted. She 
 ordered the wild geese who ate the corn 
 of her monastic fields to be gone else- 
 where, and they obeyed her as the waters 
 did. After her death, her remains were 
 discovered, in 1100, by two children 
 sinking up to their knees in her grave, 
 the dust whereof cured leprosies, restored 
 the sight, and spoiled medical practice 
 A diseased woman at Patton, drinking of 
 the water wherein St. Milburge's bones 
 were washed, there came from her sto- 
 mach " a filthie worme, ugly and horrible 
 to behold, having six feete, two homes 
 on his head, and two on his tayle." 
 Brother Porter tells this, and that the 
 " worme was shutt up in a hollow piece 
 of wood, and reserved afterwards in tiie 
 monasterie, as a trophie, and monument 
 of S. Milburg, untill by the lascivious 
 furie of him that destroyed all goodnes 
 in England, that, with other religious 
 houses, and monasteries, went to ruine."* 
 Hence the " filthie worme'' was lost, and 
 we have nothing instead but the Reform- 
 ation. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTOR y 
 
 Apricot. Prunus Armentaca. 
 Dedicated to St. Milburge. 
 
 St. Sercims, a.d. 307. St. Milburge. 
 B. Dositheiis. St. Peter Damian, Card. 
 Bp. a.d. 1072. St Boisil, Prior of 
 Mclross. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 If ice still remain let those who ttmpt 
 it beware ; — 
 
 The frost-bound rivers bear the weight 
 
 Of many a vent'rous elf; 
 Let each who crowds to see them skate 
 
 Be careful for himself: 
 
 For, like the world, deceitful ice 
 Who trusts it makes them rue : 
 
 'Tis slippery as the paths of vice. 
 And quite as faithless too. 
 
 • Porter's Flowers of t)ie Saiute 
 
 li7 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBEUARY 23. 
 
 STONING JEWS IN LENT.— A CUSTOM. 
 
 From the sabbath before Palm-Sunday, 
 to the last hour of the Tuesday after 
 Easter, " the Christians were accustomed 
 to stone and beat the Jews,"* and all 
 Jews who desired to exempt themselves 
 from the infliction of this cruelty, com- 
 muted for a payment in money. It was 
 likewise ordained in one of the Catholic 
 services, during Lent, that all orders of 
 men should be prayed for except the 
 Jews.f These usages were instituted 
 and justified by a dreadful perversion of 
 scripture, when rite and ceremony tri- 
 umphed over truth and mercy. Huma- 
 nity was dead, for superstition Molochized 
 the heart. 
 
 From the dispersion of the Jews they 
 have lived peaceably in all nations to- 
 wards all, and in all nations been perse- 
 cuted, imprisoned, tortured, and put to 
 death, or massacred by mobs. In Eng- 
 land, kings conspired with their subjects to 
 oppress them. To say nothing of the 
 well-known persecutions they endured 
 under king John, the walls of London 
 
 *Mr. Foebroke'n Brit Mon. 
 
 tIbi(L 
 
 were tepa red with the stones of tlieir 
 dwellings, which his barons had pillaged 
 and de^jtroyed. Until the reign of Henry 
 II., a spot of ground near Red-cross- 
 street, in London,was the only place in all 
 England wherein they were allowed to 
 bury their dead. 
 
 In 1262, after the citizens of I,ondon 
 broke into their houses, plundered their 
 property, and murdered seven hundred 
 of them in cold blood, King Henry III. 
 gave their ruined synagogue in Lothbury 
 to the friars called the fathers of the 
 sackcloth. The church of St. Olave in 
 the Old Jewry was another of their syna- 
 gogues till they were dispossessed of it r 
 were the sufferings they endured to be 
 recounted we should shudder. Our old 
 English ancestors would have laughed 
 any one to derision who urged in a Jew' 
 behalf, that he had *' eyes," or " hands, 
 ** organs, dimensions, senses, affections 
 passions ;" or that he was " fed with thf 
 same food, hurt with the same weapons 
 subject to the same diseases, healed by 
 the same means, warmed and cooled by 
 the same winter and summer as a Christ 
 
 148 
 
THE EVERY DAY BOOK,— FEBRUAllY 23. 
 
 ian i?." Tliey would liLive deemed a man 
 inud had one been found with a desire 
 lo prove that 
 
 the poor Jrtf', 
 
 In corporal surttrance feels a pang as great 
 As when a Chrisliaii dies. 
 
 To say nothing of their more obvious suf- 
 ferings for many centuries, the tide of 
 public opinion raged against the Jews 
 vehemently and incessantly. They were 
 addressed with sneers and contumely ; 
 the finger of vulgar scorn was pointed at 
 them ; they were hunted through the 
 streets in open day, and when protected 
 from the extremity of violence, it was 
 with tones and looks denoting that only 
 a little lower hate sanctuaried their per- 
 sons. In conversation and in books they 
 were a by-word, and a jest. 
 
 A work printed in 1628, for popular 
 entertainment, entitled " A Miscellany of 
 Seriousness with Merriment, consisting of 
 Witty Questions, Riddles, Jests," he. tells 
 this story as a good joke. A sea captain 
 on a voyage, with thirty passengers, being 
 overtaken by a violent tempest, found it 
 necessary to tin'ow half of them overboard, 
 in order to lighten the vessel. Fifteen 
 of the passengers were Christians, and 
 the other fifteen were Jevss, but in this 
 exigency they unanimously agreed in the 
 captain's opinion, and that he should 
 place the whole thirty in a circle, and 
 throw every ninth man over till only 
 fifteen were left. To save the Christians, 
 the captain placed his thirty passengers 
 in this order, viz. : four Christians, five 
 Jews ; two Christians, one Jew ; three 
 Christians, one Jew ; one Christian, two 
 Jews; two Christians, three Jews; one 
 Christian, two Jews; two Christians, one 
 Jew. He began to number from the first 
 of the four Christians thus : 
 CCCC. JJJJJ. CC. J. CCC. J. C. JJ. 
 
 CC. JJJ. C. JJ. CC. J. 
 By this device, the captain preserved all 
 the Christians, and deeped all the Jews. 
 
 Selden says, " Talk what you will of the 
 Jews, that they are cursed, they thrive 
 wherever they come: they are able to 
 oblige the prince of their country by 
 lending him money ; none of them beg ; 
 they keep together ; and for their being 
 hated, my life fjr yours, Christians hate 
 one another as much." This was true, 
 but it is also true that three quarters of a 
 
 century have not elasped since liatred to 
 the Jews was a national feeling. In 1753, 
 a bill was brought into the House of 
 Lords for naturalizing the Jews, and 
 relieving them from persecuting dis- 
 abilities. It passed there on the ground 
 that it would operate to the public 
 advantage, by encouraging wealthy per- 
 sons professing the Jewish religion to re- 
 move hither from foreign parts to the 
 increase of the capital, commerce, and 
 credit of the kingdom. The corporation 
 of London in common council assembled, 
 petitioned against it on the ground that 
 it would dishonour the christian religion, 
 endanger the constitution, and prejudice 
 the interest and trade of the kingdom in 
 general, and London in particular. A 
 body of London merchants an.d traders 
 also petitioned against it. Certain popu- 
 lar orators predicted that if the bill pass- 
 ed, the Jews would multiply so fast, be- 
 come so rich, and get so much power, 
 that their persons would be revered, their 
 customs be imitated, and Judaism be- 
 come the fashionable religion ; they fur- 
 ther alleged that the bill flew in the face of 
 prophecy, which declared that the Jews 
 should be scattered without a country or 
 fixed habitation till their conversion, and 
 that in short it was the duty of Christians 
 to be unchristian. But the bill passed 
 the commons after violent debates, and 
 received the royal sanction. The nation 
 was instantly in a ferment of horror and 
 execration ; and on the first day of the 
 next session of parliament, ministers were 
 constrained to bring in a bill to repeal 
 the act of naturalization, and to the foul 
 dishonour of the people of England at 
 that period, the bill was repealed. From 
 that hour to the present, the Jews have 
 been subjected to their old pains, penal- 
 ties, disqualifications, and privations. The 
 enlightenment of this age has dispelled 
 much of the darkness of the last. Yet 
 the errors of public opinion then respect- 
 ing the Jews, remain to be rectified now 
 by the solemn expression of a better^ 
 public opinion. Formerly, if one of the 
 " ancient people" had said in the implor- 
 ing language of the slave, "Am I not a 
 man, and a brother ?" he might have been 
 answered, "■ No, you are not a man, but 
 a Jew." It is not the business of the 
 Jews to petition for justice, but it is the 
 duty of Christians to be just. 
 
 In the " General Evening Post" of 
 June 21, 1777, a paragraph states, that 
 
 U'J 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 " the following circumstance is not more 
 ridiculous tlian true ;" and it proceeds to 
 relate, that some years before, at Stam- 
 ford, in the province of Connecticut, 
 America, it was determined to build a 
 church ; but " though the church was 
 much wanted, as many people in that 
 neighbourhood were at a loss for a place of 
 public worship, yet the work stood still a 
 considerable time for want of nails (for it 
 was a wooden building ;) at last, a Jew 
 merchant made them a present of a cask, 
 amoimting to four hundred weight, and 
 thus enabled the church to proceed." 
 Such an act might make some Christians 
 exclaim, " Almost thou persuades! me to 
 be a Jew rather than remain a Jew-op- 
 pressor under the name of a Christian." 
 It is not, however, on private, but on open 
 grounds and high principle, that justice 
 should spontaneously be rendered to the 
 Jews. The Jew and the Christian, the 
 Catholic and the Protestant, the Episco- 
 palian and the Dissenter, the Calvinist 
 and the Arminian, the Baptist and the 
 Unitarian, all persons, of all denomma- 
 tions, are willed and empowered by their 
 common document to acts of justice and 
 mercy, and they now meet as brethren in 
 social life to perform them ; but the un- 
 sued claim of their elder brother, the Jew, 
 is acknowledged no where, save in the 
 conscience of every " just man made per- 
 fect." 
 
 To extend the benefits of Education to 
 the children of the humbler classes of 
 Jews, is one of the first objects with their 
 opulent and enlightened brethren. The 
 " Examiner" Sunday newspaper of the 4th 
 of February, 18"25, cooperates in their 
 benevolent views by an article of inform- 
 ation particularly interesting : — 
 
 " On Friday last, the Jews held their 
 anniversary, at the London Tavern, 
 Bishopsgate-street, to celebrate their plan 
 for the education of 600 boys and 300 
 girls, instituted April 20, 1818, in Bell- 
 lane, Spitalfields. It was gratifying to 
 contrast the consideration in which the 
 lews are now held in this country with 
 
 their illiberal and cruel treatment in 
 former times ; and it was no less gratify- 
 ing to observe, that the Jews themselves 
 are becoming partakers of the spirit oi 
 the present times, by providing for the 
 education of the poor, which, till within 
 a very few years past, had been too much 
 neglected ; another pleasing feature in the 
 meeting was, that it was not an assem- 
 blage of Jews only, but attended by people 
 of other denominations, both as visitors 
 and subscribers. Samuel Joseph, Esq. 
 the president, was in the chair. Some 
 loyal and patriotic toasts were given, ap- 
 propriate addresses were delivered by 
 different gentlemen, and the more serious 
 business, of receiving and announcing new 
 subscriptions, was much enlivened by a 
 good band of vocal and instrumental 
 music. Among the subscriptions referred 
 to, one was of a peculiarly generous na- 
 ture. An unknown hand had forwarded 
 to the treasurer o.j the two last meetings 
 a sum of 200/. This year he received in- 
 structions to clothe all the children at the 
 expense of the same generous donor. The 
 procession of the children round the hall, 
 was an agreeable scene at tin's important 
 meeting. A poetical address in the He- 
 brew language was delivered by one of 
 the boys, and an English translation of i, 
 by one of the girls, each with propriety 
 of accent, and much feeling." 
 
 A record testifying the liberal disposi- 
 tion and humane attention of the Jews to 
 the welfare of their offspring, is not out 
 of place in a work which notices the pro- 
 gress of manners ; and it is especially 
 grateful to him who places it on this page, 
 that he has an opportunity of evincing his 
 respect for generous and noble virtues, in 
 a people whose residence in all parts of 
 the world has advantaged every state, and 
 to whose enterprise and wealth, as mer- 
 chants and bankers, every government in 
 Europe has been indebted. Their sacred 
 writings and their literature have been 
 adopted by all civilized communities, 
 while they themselves have been fugitives 
 every where, without security any where. 
 They are 
 
 -a people scatter'd wide indeed. 
 
 Yet from the mingling world distinctly kept ; 
 
 Ages ago, the Roman standard stood 
 
 Upon their ruins, yet have ages swept 
 
 O'er Rome herself, like an o'erwhelming flood, 
 
 Since down Jerus'lem's streets she pour'd her children's blood. 
 
 And still the nation hves ! 
 
 Mr. Bull's Museum. 
 
 150 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 24, 25. 
 
 jfebniarp 24. 
 
 St. Matthias, \Ue Ap-ule. Sts. Monta- 
 niis, Lnc'ni.f, F/avii'i, Julian, Victori- 
 cus, Prinwlus, Rhcnu.s, and Donutian, 
 A. D.259. St. Lelhiird, ox Luidhard, 
 Bp. A. D. 566. B. Uobert of Arbrissel, 
 A. D. 1116. St. Pretestatus, or Prix, 
 Abp. A. I). 549. St. Ethelbert, King. 
 
 St. Etheltiirt. 
 
 He was king of Konl, and, according 
 to Butler, the first cliiistian iving. It 
 was under him that St. Augustine found 
 favour when he landed in England with 
 his monks, and is said to have introduced 
 Christianity to the English people ; an 
 assertion wholly unfounded, inasmuch as 
 it had been diffused hither centuries be- 
 fore. Augustine established nothing but 
 monasteries and monkery, and papal 
 domination. 
 
 Bertha, the queen of Ethelbert, was a 
 convert, and her spiritual director offici- 
 ated, before Augustine's arrival, in the 
 little church of St. Martin, situated just 
 without Canterbury on the road to Mar- 
 gate ; the present edifice is venerable for 
 its site and its rude simplicity. 
 
 Ethelbert's powei is said to have ex- 
 tended to the Humber, and hence he is 
 often styled king of the English. lie 
 was subdued to the views of the papacy 
 by Augustine. Ethelbert founded Can- 
 terbury cathedral, and built wilhoul the 
 walls of the city, the abbey and chnr<li of 
 St. Peter and St. Paul, the ruins of 
 which are denominated at this day St. 
 Augustine's monastery and Ethelbert's 
 lower. The foundation of the cathedral 
 of Rochester, St. Paul's at London, and 
 other ecclesiastical structures, is ascribed 
 to him. Ho died in 616. Sometimes he 
 is called St. Albert, and churches are 
 tledicated to him under that name. 
 
 Chronology. 
 On the 24th of February, 1809, diea 
 Mr. Jennings of Galley-lane, near Barnet, 
 lierts. A few days previous to his de- 
 cease he called on Mr. Wm, Salmon, 
 his carpenter, at Shenley-hill, to go with 
 Iiim and fix upon a spot for his vault. 
 On the Sunday before his death he went 
 on horseback to Shenley-hill, and stopped 
 at the White Horse to have a glass cf 
 warm wine, with the same intention uf 
 going to Ridge ; and afterwards, seeing 
 the rev. Mr. Jefferson, endeavoured to 
 buy the ground, but differed with him 
 for two guineas. On the Monday, he 
 
 applied to Mr. Mars, of Barnet, for a 
 vault there, but Mr. Jefi'erson senomg 
 him a note acceding to his terms, he 
 opened it before Mr. Salmon and Dr. 
 Booth, and aftei he had read it, showed 
 it them, with this exclamation — "There, 
 see what these fellows will do !'' The 
 day before he died he played at whist 
 with Dr. Rumball, Dr. Booth, and his 
 son, in bed : in the course of the evening 
 he said, " The game is almost up." He 
 afterwards informed his son, he had lent 
 a person some money that morning, and 
 desired him to see it repaid. To some 
 friends he observed, that he should not 
 be long with them, and desiring them to 
 leave the room he called back his son, 
 for the purpose of saying to him, " I 
 gave William money for coals this morn- 
 ing ; deducting the turnpike, mind he 
 gives you eleven and eightpence in 
 change when he comes home. Your 
 mother always dines at three o'clock, get 
 your dinner with her, I shall be gone 
 before that time — and don't make any 
 stir about me." He died at half-past 
 two. This account is from the manu- 
 script papers of the late Mr. John Almon, 
 in possession of the editor. 
 
 Regarding the season, there is an old 
 proverb worthy noticing: 
 
 February fill dike, be it black or be it white 
 But if it be white, it's the better to like. 
 
 Old Proverb. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Fern. Osmimda regalis 
 Dedicated to St. Ethelbert. 
 
 jTfbruaii) 25. 
 
 St. Tarasius, a. v. 806. St. Victorinm, 
 i.D. 284. St. Tf'ulbiirg, Ahh&ss. St 
 Ccesariim, a.d. 369. 
 
 St. fValbiirg 
 Tliis saint, daughter of Richard, king 
 of the West Saxons, also a saint, became 
 a nun at Winburn in Dorsetshire, from 
 whence, twenty-seven years after she 
 had taken the veil, she went to Germany, 
 and became abbess of a nunnery at 
 Heidenheim in Suabia, where her brother 
 governed an abbey of monks, which at 
 his death, in 760, she also governed, and 
 died in 779. His relics were distributed 
 in the principal cities of the Low 
 Countries, and the cathedral of Canter- 
 
 151 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— FF.BRUARY 25. 
 
 bnry. Tlie catalogue of relics in tlie 
 e.ectoral palace of Hanover, published 
 there in 1713, mentions some of them 
 there in a rich shrine. Butler calls tliem 
 " rich particles." Part of her jawbone, 
 at Antwerp, was visited and kissed by 
 t.ie archduke Albert and Isabella in 1615. 
 An oily liquor flowed from her tomb, 
 and was a sovereign remedy, till the 
 chemists and apotlie(;aries somehow or 
 otlier got their simples and substances 
 into superior reputation. Strange to say, 
 these victors over relics have never been 
 c^Jiionized, yet their names would not 
 soiind badly in the calendar : for instance, 
 St. William Allen, of Plough-court ; St. 
 Anderson, of Fleet-street; St. Cribb, of 
 Ihrh Ilolborn; St. Hardy, of Walworth ; 
 St. Fidler, of Peckham ; St. Perfect, of 
 Hammersmith ; &c. 
 
 THE SF.ASON. 
 
 It is observed by Dr. Forster in the 
 * Perennial Calendar," that about tliis 
 season the purple spring crocus, crocus 
 veritns, now blows, and is the latest of our 
 crocuses. " It continues through March 
 like the rest of the genus, and it varies 
 with purple, with whitish, and with light 
 blue flowers. The flowers appear before 
 the leaves are grown to their full length. 
 The vernal and autumnal crocus have 
 such an affinity, that the best botanists 
 only make them varieties of the same 
 genus. Yet the vernal crocus expands 
 its flowers by the beginning of March at 
 farthest, often in very rigorous weather, 
 and cannot be retarded but by some vio- 
 lence offered ; while the autumnal crocus, 
 or saffron, alike defies the influence of 
 the spring and summer, and will not 
 blow till most plants begin to fade and 
 run to seed. 
 
 On the Seasons of Flowering, by White. 
 
 Say, what impels, amid surrounding snow, 
 Congealed, the Crocus' flamy bud to glow? 
 Say, what retards, amid the Summer's blaze. 
 The autumnal bulb, till pale, declining days? 
 Tlie God of Seasons, who.'^e pervading power 
 Controls tne sun, or sheds the fleecy shower: 
 He bids each flower his quickening word obey ; 
 Or to each lingering bloom enjoins delay. 
 
 We may now begin to expect a succes- 
 sion of spring flowers; something new 
 will be opening every day through the 
 rest of the season " 
 
 V LOW \ RS 
 
 A vvritsr urder tlie signature Crito in 
 
 tlie "Truth Teller" dilates most plea- 
 santly in his fourth letter concerning 
 flowers and their names. He says " the 
 pilgrimages and the travelling of the 
 mendicant friars, which began to be com- 
 mon towards the close of tiie twelfth cen- 
 tury, spread this knowledge of plants and 
 of medical nostrums far and wide. 
 Tiiough many of these vegetable specifics 
 have been of late years erased from our 
 Pharmacopoeias, yet their utility has been 
 asserted by some very able writers on 
 pliysic, and the author of these observa- 
 tions has himself often witnessed their 
 efficacy in cases where regular practice 
 had been unavailing. Mr. Abernethy 
 lias alluded to the surprising efficacy of 
 these popular vegetable diet drinks, in 
 his book on the ' Digestic Organs.* And 
 it is a fact, curiously corroborating their 
 utility, that similar medicines are used by 
 the North American Indians, whose saga- 
 city has found out, and known from time 
 immemorial, the use of such various herbs 
 as medicines, which the kind, hospitable 
 woods provide ; and by means of which 
 Mr. Whitlaw is now making many ex- 
 cellent cures of diseases.'' He then pro- 
 ceeds to mention certain plants noted by 
 the monks, as floweririig about the time of 
 certain religious festivals : " The snow- 
 drop, Galanthus nivalis, whose pure white 
 and pendant flowers are the first harbin- 
 gers of spring, is noted dov/n in some 
 calendars as being an emblem of the 
 purification of the spotless virgin, as it 
 blows about Candlemas, and was not 
 known by the name of snowdrop till 
 lately, being formerly called fair maid 
 OF FEBRUARY, in houour of our lady. 
 Sir James Edward Smith, and other 
 modern botanists, make this plant a 
 nntive of England, but I can trace most 
 of the wild specimens to some neighbour- 
 ing garden, or old dilapidated monastery ; 
 and I am persuaded it was introduced 
 into England by the monks subsequent 
 to the conquest, and probably since the 
 time of Chaucer, who does not notice it, 
 though he mentions the daisy, and various 
 less striking flowers. The lady smock, 
 Cardamine pratensis, is a word corrupted 
 of ' our lady's smock,' a name by which 
 this plant (as well as that of Chemise de 
 notre Dame) is still known in parts of 
 Europe : it first flowers about Lady Tide, 
 or the festival of the Annunciation, and 
 hence its name. Cross Flowfr, Poly- 
 ffd'ii f^ulgaris, which begins to flower 
 about the Invention of the Cross, May 3, 
 
 152 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 25. 
 
 ■was also called Rogation flower, and 
 was carried by maidens in the processions 
 in Ro2;ation week, in early times. The 
 monks discovered its quality of producing 
 milk in nursing women, and hence it was 
 called milkwort. Indeed so extensive 
 was the knowledge of botany, and of the 
 medical power of herbs among the monks 
 of old, that a few examples only can be 
 adduced in a general essay, and indeed it 
 appears that many rare species of exotics 
 were known by them, and were inhabit- 
 ants of their monastery gardens, which 
 Beckmann in his ' Geshiete der Erfin- 
 diengen,' and Dryander in the ' Hortns 
 Kewen.iis,' have ascribed to more modern 
 introducers. What is very remarkable is, 
 that above three hundred species of medi- 
 cal plants were known to the monks and 
 friars, and used by the religious orders 
 in general for medicines, which are now 
 to be found in some of our numerous 
 books of pharmacy and medical botany, 
 by new and less appropriate names ; just 
 as if the Protestants of subsequent times 
 bad changed the old names with a view 
 to obliterate any traces of catholic science. 
 Linnaeus, however, occasionally restored 
 the ancient names. The following are 
 some familiar examples which occur to 
 me, of all medicinal plants, whose names 
 liave been changed in later times. The 
 virgin's boiver, of the monastic physi- 
 cians, was changed into flammula Jovis, 
 by the new pharmaciens ; the hedge 
 hyssop, into gratiola ; the St. Johns icort 
 (so called from blowing about St. John 
 the Baptist's day) was changed into 
 bypericum; fleur de St. Louis, into iris; 
 J)alma Christi, into ricinus; our maste- 
 wort, into imperatoria; sweet bay., into 
 laurus ; our lady's sviock, into cardamine ; 
 Solomons seal, into convallaria ; our 
 lady's hair, into trichomanes ; balm, into 
 melissa ; »7jar;onm(, into origanum; crow- 
 foot, inio x3ia\iuc\x\\iiS; herb Trinity, into 
 viola tricolor; avens into caryophyllata ; 
 coltsfoot, into tussilago ; knee holy, into 
 rascus ; ivormwood, into absinthium ; 
 oscmary, into rosmarinus ; marygold, 
 into calendula, and so on. Thus the an- 
 cient names were not only changed, but 
 in this change all the references to religi- 
 ous subjects, which would have led people 
 to a knowledge of their culture among 
 the monastic orders, were carefully left 
 out. The THORN APPLE, datura stramo- 
 ni?im, is not a nati\c of England ; it was 
 introduced by the triars in early tim.es of 
 pilgrimage; and hence we sue it on old 
 
 waste lands near abbeys, and on dung- 
 hills, &c. Modern botanists, howevtT, 
 have ascribed its introduction to gipsies 
 although it has never been seen among 
 that wandering people, nor used by thptn 
 as a drug. I could adduce many other 
 instances of the same sort. But vain 
 indeed would be the endeavour to over- 
 shadow the fame of tlie religious orders 
 in medical botany and the knowledge of 
 plants ; go into any garden and the com- 
 mon name of marygold, our lady's seal, 
 our lady's bedstraw, holy oak, (corrupted 
 into holyhock,) the virgin's thistle, St. 
 Barnabys thistle, herb Trinity, herb St. 
 Christopher, herb St. Robert, herb St. 
 Timothy, Jacob's ladder, star of Bethle- 
 hem, now called ornithogalum; star of 
 Jerusalem, now made goat'sbeard ;;)fl**/o;j 
 flower, now passiflora ; Lent lilly, now 
 daflodil; Canterbury bells, {s>o called in 
 honour of St. Augustine,) is now made 
 into Campanula ; cursed thistle, now 
 carduus ; besides archangel, apple of Je- 
 rusalem, St. Paul's bctony, Basil, St 
 Berbe, herb St. Barbara, bishopsiveed, 
 herba Christi, herba Benedict, herb Si. 
 Margaret, (erroneously conrerted into 
 la belle Marguerite,) god's floiver, flos 
 Jovis, Job's tears, our lady's laces, our 
 lady's mantle, our lady's slipper, monk's 
 hood, friar's cowl, St. Peter's herb, and 
 a hundred more such. — Go into any gar- 
 den, I say, and these names will remind 
 every one at once of the knowledge of 
 plants possessed by the monks. Most of 
 them have been named after the festivals 
 and saints' days on which their natural 
 time of blowing happened to occur; and 
 others were so called, from the tendency 
 of the minds of the religious orders oi 
 those days to convert every thing into a 
 memento of sacred history, and the holy 
 religion which they embrticed." 
 
 It will be perceived that Crito is q 
 Catholic. His floral enumeration is 
 amusing and instructive ; and as his bi<i.» 
 is natural, so it ought to be inoffensive. 
 Liberality makes a large allowance for 
 educational feelings and habitual mis- 
 take ; but deceptive views, false reason- 
 ings, and perverted facts, cannot be useu, 
 by either Protestant or Catholic, with 
 impunity to himself, or avail to the cause 
 he espouses. 
 
 Leo the XII. the present pope, on the 
 24th of May, 1824, put forth a bull fr( m 
 St. Peter's at Rome. " We have resolveri," 
 he savs, "by virtue of the auihority giveu 
 
 153 
 
THE EVEKY-bAY BOOK.— FEBRUARY 26. 
 
 to us Dy neaven fully to unlock the sacred 
 treasure composed of the merits, suffer- 
 ings, and virtues of Christ our Lord, and 
 of his Virgin Mother, and of all the saints, 
 which the author of human salvation has 
 intrusted to our dispensation. Let the 
 earth therefore hear the words of his 
 mouth. We proclaim that the year of 
 Atonement and Pardon, of Redemption 
 and Grace, of Remission and Indulgence 
 is arrived. We ordain and publish the m.ost 
 solemn Jubilee, to commence in this holy 
 city from the first vespers of the nativity 
 of our most holy saviour, Jesus Christ, 
 next ensuing, and to continue during the 
 whole year 1825, during which time we 
 mercifully give and grant in the Lord a 
 Plenary Indulgence, Remission, and Par- 
 don of all their Sins to all the Faithful of 
 Christ of both sexes, truly penitent and 
 confessing their sins, and receiving the 
 holy communion, who shaU devoutly visit 
 the churches of blessed Peter and Paul, 
 as also of St. John Lateran and St. Mary 
 Major of this city for thirty successive 
 days, provided they be Romans or inha- 
 bitants of this city ; but, if pilgrims or 
 strangers, if they sliall do the same for 
 fifteen days, and shall pour forth their 
 pious prayers to God for the exaltation 
 of the holy church, the extirpation of 
 heresies, concord of catholic princes, and 
 the safety and tranquillity of christian 
 people." The pope requires "all the earth" 
 to " therefore ascend, with loins girt up, 
 to holy Jerusalem, this priestly and 
 royal city." — He requires the clergy to 
 explain " the power of Indulgences, what 
 is their efficacy, not only in the remission 
 of the canonical penance, but also of the 
 temporal punishment," and to point out 
 the succour afforded to those " now puri- 
 fying in the fire of Purgatory." However^ 
 in February, 1825, one of the public 
 journals contains an extract from the 
 French Journal des Dehats, which states 
 that there was " a great falling off in the 
 devotion of saints and pilgrims," and it 
 proves this by an article from Rome, 
 dated January 25, 1825, of which the 
 following is a copy : 
 
 " The number of pilgrims drawn to 
 Jerusalem (Rome) by the Jubilee is re- 
 markably sm.all, compared with former 
 Jubilees. Without adverting to those of 
 1300 and 1350, when they had at least a 
 million of pilgrims; in 1750, they had 
 1,300 pilgrims presented on the 24th of 
 December, at the opening of the holy 
 gate. That number was increased to 
 
 8,400 before the ensuing New Year's day. 
 This time (Christmas, 1824) they had no 
 more than thirty-six pilgrims at the open- ■ 
 ing of the holy gate, and in '.he course of 
 Christmas week, that number increased 
 only to 440. This is explained by the 
 strict measures adopted in the Italian 
 states with respect to the passports of pil- 
 grims. The police have taken into their 
 heads, that a vast number of individuals 
 from all parts of Europe wish to bring 
 about some revolutionary plot. They be- 
 lieve that the Carbonari, or some other 
 Italian patriots, assemble here in crowds 
 to accomplish a dangerous object. The 
 passports of simple labourers, and other 
 inferior classes, are rejected at Milan, and 
 the surrounding cities of Austrian Italy, 
 when they have not a number of signa- 
 tures, which these poor men consider 
 quite unnecessary. They cannot enter the 
 Sardinian states without great difficulty. 
 These circumstances are deplorable in the 
 eyes of religious men. We are all griev- 
 ed at this place." 
 
 On this, the Journal des Debuts re. 
 marks, " Notwithstanding the excuse for 
 so great a reduction of late years in the 
 number of these devotees, it has evidently 
 been produced by the diffusion of know- 
 ledge. Men, in 1825, are not so simple 
 as to suppose they cannot be saved, with- 
 out a long and painful journey to Jerusa- 
 lem (Rome.)" 
 
 Floral Directory. 
 Peach. Amygdalnn Persica. 
 Dedicated to St. fFalburg. 
 
 fthrmv^ 26. 
 
 St. Alexander. St. Porphyrins, Bishop 
 of Gaza, a. d. 420. St. Victor, or Vit- 
 tre, 7th Cent. 
 
 St. Alexander. 
 This is the patriarch of Alexandria so 
 famous in ecclesiastical history for his 
 opposition to Arius whom, with St. 
 Athanasius and Marcellus of Ancyra, as 
 his especial colleagues, he resisted at the 
 council of Nice, till Arius was banished, 
 his books ordered to be burnt, and an 
 edict issued denouncing death to any who 
 secreted them. On the death of St. Alex- 
 ander in 420, St. Athanasius succeeded 
 to his patriarchal chair. 
 
 FOGS. 
 
 The fogs of England have been at all 
 times the complaint of foreigners. Gou- 
 domar, the Spanish ambassadcr, when 
 
 154 
 
TIIL EVERY-DAY BOOK.— FEBRUARV 27, 28 
 
 some one who was going to Spain waited 
 on him to ask whether he had any com- 
 mands, replied, " Only my compliments 
 to the sun, whom I have not seen since 
 [ came to England." — Carraccioli, the 
 Neapolitan minister here, a man of a good 
 deal of conversation and wit, used to say, 
 that the only ripe fruit he had seen in 
 England were roasted apples .' and in a 
 conversation with George ]I. he took the 
 \iberty of preferring the ttioon of Naples 
 to the sun of England. 
 
 On seeing- a Ladv walking in the Snow. 
 
 I saw fair Julia walk alone, 
 
 When feather'd rain came softly down. 
 
 'Twas Jove descending from liis tower. 
 
 To court her in a silver shower, 
 
 A Wanton flake flew on her breast,' 
 
 As liiippy ilove into its nest, 
 
 But rivall'd by the whiteness there, 
 
 For grief dissolv'd into a tear, 
 
 And falling to her garment's hem. 
 
 To deck her waist, froze to a gem. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Lesser Periwinkle. Finca minor. 
 Dedicated to Ht. Victor. 
 
 jTcbruarp 27. 
 
 'Time is the stuff' that life is made of,' 
 says Young. 
 
 " Begone about your business," says the 
 dial in theXemple: a good admonition to 
 a loiterer on the pavement below. 
 
 The great P"rench chancellor, d'Agues- 
 seau, employed all his time. Observing that 
 madame d'Aguesseau always delayed ten 
 or twelve minutes before she came down 
 to dinner, he composed a work entirely in 
 this time, in order not to lose an instant; 
 the result was, at the end of fifteen years, 
 a book in three large volumes quarto, 
 which went through several editions. 
 
 St. Leandcr, Bishop, a. d. 596. St. Ju- 
 lian, Chronion, and Besas. St. Tha- 
 lilcEus. St. Gahnier, or Baldomerus, 
 A. D. 650. St. Nestor, a. d. 250. St. 
 Alnoth. 
 
 St. TlialilcBus. 
 This saint was a weeper in Syria. He 
 hermitized on a mountain during sixty 
 years, wept almost without intermission 
 for his sins, and lived for ten years in a 
 ■wooden cage. 
 
 St. Gahnier 
 Was a locksmith at Lyons, and lived in 
 great poverty, for he bestowed all he got 
 on the poor, and sometimes his tools. An 
 abbot gave him a cell to live in, he died 
 a subdeacon about 650, and his relics 
 worked miracles to his fame, till the Hu- 
 gonots destroyed them in the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 St. /ilaoth 
 
 Was bailiff to St. Wereburge, became 
 an anchoret, was killed by robbers, and 
 had his relics kept at Stow, near Wedon, 
 'n Northamptonshire. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Lungw ort. Pulmonaria Officinalis. 
 Dedicated to Leander. 
 
 4ftl)niarj) 28. 
 
 Martyrs to the Pestilencein Alexandria, 
 261, Sec. St. Proterius, Patriarch of Alex- 
 andria, 557. Sts. Romanus and Lupi- 
 cinus. 
 
 Sts. Roma?ms and Lupiciiats. 
 
 These saints were brothers, who founded 
 the monastery of Condate with a nunnery, 
 in the forest of Jura. St. Lupicinus pre- 
 scribed a hard regimen. He lived himself 
 on bread moistentd with cold water, used 
 a chair or a hard board for a bed, wore no 
 stockings in his monastery, walked in 
 wooden shoes, and died about 480. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Purple Crocus. Crocus vermis. 
 Dedicated to St. Proterius. 
 
 Five Sundays in February. 
 The February of 1824, being leap-year, 
 consisted of twenty-nine days ; it con- 
 tained five Sundays, a circumstance which 
 cannot again occur till another leap-year, 
 wherein the fiist of Febiuary shall fall oa 
 Sunday. 
 
 FOR THE MEMORY 
 
 Old Memorandum of the Months. 
 
 Thirty days hath September, 
 April, June, and November, 
 All the rest have thirty and one. 
 Except February, which hath twenty-eight 
 alone. 
 
 155 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 1. 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 — Sturdy March witli brows full sternly bent 
 And armed strongly, rode upon a ram , 
 The same which over Helle.spontus swam; 
 
 Yet in his hand a spade lie also lient, 
 And in a bag all sorts of weeds ysame. 
 
 Which on the earth he strewed as he went. 
 
 And fiU'd her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 M A Rcn is the third month of the year ; 
 with tlie ancients it was the first : ac- 
 cording to Mr. Leigh Hunt, from Ovid, 
 tlie Romans named it from Mars, the god 
 of war, because lie was the father of their 
 first prince. " As to the deity's nature, 
 March has certainly notliing in common 
 with it; for though it affects to be very 
 rough, it is one of the best natured months 
 in the year, drying up the superabundant 
 moisture of winter with its fierce winds, 
 and thus restoring us our paths through 
 the fields, and piping before the flowers 
 like a bacchanal. He sometimes, it must 
 ^e confessed, as if in a fit of the spleen, 
 hinders the buds which he has dried from 
 blowing ; and it is allowable in the less 
 robust part of his friends wut of doors, to 
 object to the fancy he has for coming in 
 Buch a cutting manner from the east. But 
 it may be truly said, that the oftener you 
 
 meet him firmly, the less he will shake 
 you ; and the more smiles you will have 
 from the fair months that follow him." 
 
 Perhaps the ascription of this month to 
 Mars, by the Romans, was a compliment 
 to themselves; they were the sons of 
 War, and might naturally deduce their 
 origin from the belligerent deity. Minerva 
 was also patroness of March. 
 
 Verstegan says of our Saxon ancestors, 
 that " the moneth of March they called 
 Lenct-monat, that is, according to our new 
 orthography, Leiiffth-moneth, because the 
 dayes did then first begin in length to 
 exceed the nights. And this moneth 
 being by our ancestors so called wheu 
 they received Christianity, and conse- 
 quently therewith the ancient chnstiac 
 custome of fasting, they called this chiefe 
 season of fasting the fast of Lend, because 
 of the Lenct-mo7iatf whereon the most 
 
 156 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 1, 
 
 part (if tKf time of this fasting aUvayes 
 fell ; and hereof it cometh that we now 
 cal it Lent, it being rather the fast of 
 Lent, thogh the former name of Lenct- 
 vionat be long since lost, and the name of 
 March borrowed in stead thereof." Lend, 
 or Lent, however, means Spring ; hence 
 March was the Spring-mouih. Dr. Sayer 
 says the Saxons likewise called it Rhed- 
 ti07iatfi,s. word derived by some from one of 
 their deities, named lllieda, to whom sacri- 
 fices were offered in March; others derive 
 it from rend, the Saxon word for council, 
 March being the month wherein wars or 
 expeditions were usually undertaken by 
 the Gothic tribes. The Saxons also called 
 it Hlyd-monath, from hlyd, which means 
 stormy, an I in this sense March was the 
 Stormy month. 
 
 No living writer discourses so agreea- 
 bly on the " Months" as Mr. Leigh Hunt 
 m his little volume bearing that title. He 
 says of March, that — "The animal creation 
 now exhibit unequivocal signs of activity. 
 The farmer extends the exercise of his 
 ploKgh; and, if fair weather continues, 
 iegins sowing barley and oats. Bats and 
 •eptiles break up their winter sleep : the 
 little smelts or sparlings run up the s-oft- 
 tned rivers to spawn : the field-fare and 
 woodcock return to tlieir northern quar- 
 ters ; the rooks are all in motion with 
 building and repairing their nests; hens 
 sit ; geese and ducks lay ; pheasants crow ; 
 the ring-dove coos ; young lambs come 
 tottering forth in mild weather; the 
 throstle warbles on the top of some naked 
 tree, as if he triumphed over the last lin- 
 gering of barrenness ; and, lastly, forth is- 
 sues the bee with his vernal trumpet, to 
 tell us that there is news of sunshine and 
 the flowers. — In addition to the last 
 month's flowers, we now have the crown- 
 imperial, the dog's-tooth violet, fritillaries, 
 the hyacinth, narcissus, (bending its face 
 like its namesake,) pilewort, scarlet ranun- 
 culus, great snow-drop, tulips, (which 
 turned even the Dutch to enthusiasts,) and 
 violets, proverbial for their odour, which 
 were perhaps the favourite flowers of 
 Shakspeare. Tlie passage at the begin- 
 ning of ' Twelfth Night,' in which he com- 
 uares their scent with the passing sweet- 
 ness of music is well-known, and proba- 
 bly suggested the beautiful one in lord 
 * Bacon's Essays,' about the superiority of 
 flowers in the open air, • where the scent 
 
 •omes and goes like the warbling of 
 mns'c' " 
 
 Now, Winter, dispossessed of siormSj 
 and weak from boisterous rage, 
 
 Ling'ring on the rerge of Spring, 
 
 Retires reluctant, and from time to time 
 Looks back, wliile at his keen and chilling 
 
 breath 
 Fair Flora sickens. 
 
 iHaitl) 1. 
 
 St. David, Archbishop, a. d. 544. St. 
 Swidhert, or Swibert, a. d. 713. St. 
 Albinus, Bishop, a. d. 549. St. Mo., 
 nan, a. d. 874. 
 
 ST. PAVIT). 
 
 Patron of JFaliis. 
 St. David, or, in Welcli, Dewid, was 
 son of Xantus, prince of Cardiganshire, 
 brought up a priest, became an ascetic in 
 the Isle of Wight, afterwards preached to 
 the Britons, founded twelve monasteries, 
 ate only bread and vegetables, and drank 
 milk and water. A synod being called 
 at Brevy, in Cardiganshire, a. d. 519, iu 
 order to suppress the heresy of Pelagius, 
 " St. David confuted and silenced the 
 infernal monster by his learning, elo- 
 qi.ence, and miracles." After the synod, 
 St. Dubritius, archbishop of Caerleon, re- 
 signed his see to St. David, which see is 
 now called St. David's. He died in 544. 
 St. Kentigern saw his soul borne by angels 
 to heaven; his body was in the church of 
 St. Andrew. In 962, his relics were 
 translated to Glastonbury.* 
 
 Butler conceals that St. David's mother 
 was not married to his father, but Ciessy 
 tells the story out, and that his birth was 
 prophecied of thirty years before it hap- 
 pened. 
 
 One of the miracles alleged of St. David 
 is, that at the anti-Pelagian synod he re- 
 stored a child to life, ordered it to spread a 
 napkin under his feet, and made an oration ; 
 that a snow white dove descended from 
 heaven and sat on his shoulders ; and that 
 the ground whereon he stood rose under 
 him till it became a hill, " on the top of 
 which hill a church was afterwards built, 
 which remains to this day." He assem. 
 bled a provincial synod to confirm the de- 
 crees of Brevy ; and wrote the proceedings 
 of both synods for preservation in his 
 own church, and to be sent lo the other 
 churches of the province ; but they were 
 lost by age, negligence, and the incursions 
 of pirates, who almost every summer came 
 
 * B'Jtler's Saiuts- 
 
 157 
 
THE EVERT-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 1. 
 
 iTi long boats fro.n the Orkneys, and wasted 
 the coasts of Cambria. He invited St. 
 Kined to this synod, who answered that 
 he had grown crooked, distorted, and too 
 weak for the journey ; whereupon ensued 
 " a double miracle," for " St. Kined hav- 
 ing been restored to health and straight- 
 uess by the prayers of St. David, by his 
 own prayers he was reduced again to his 
 former intirmity and crookedness." After 
 this synod he journeyed to the monastery 
 of Glastonbury, which he had built there 
 and consecrated, with intent to repair it, 
 and consecrate it again ; whereupon " our 
 Lord appearing to him in his sleep, 
 and forbidding him to profane the 
 «acred ceremony before performed, he, in 
 estimony, with his finger pierced a hole 
 .n the bishop's hand, which remained open 
 o the view of all men till the end of the 
 next day's mass." Before his death " the 
 angel of the lord appeared to him, and 
 said to him. Prepare thyself." Again: 
 " When the hour of his departure was 
 come, our Lord Jesus Christ vouchsafed 
 his presence, to the infinite consolation of 
 our holy father, who at the sight of him 
 exulted." More to the same purpose is 
 alleged by the catholic writers respecting 
 him. Such as, that at his death " being 
 associated to a troop of angels, he with 
 them mounted up to heaven," and that 
 the event was known " by an angel di- 
 vulging it." This is Cressy's account. 
 
 According to another biographer of St. 
 David, he was uncle to the famous prince 
 Arthur, or, strictly speaking, half uncle, if 
 St. David's illegitimacy be authentic. The 
 same author relates of him, that on his 
 
 way from building the church of Glaston- 
 bury he went to Bath, cured an infection 
 of the waters, and by his prayers and be- 
 nediction gave them the perpetual heat 
 they still retain. On the same authority, 
 St. David's posthumous virtue, in the reign 
 of king Stephen, occasioned the brook 
 above the church-yard of St. David's 
 church to run wine, by miracle : the well 
 near it, called Pisteldewy or the conduit 
 of David, sent forth milk instead of 
 water. Also a boy, that endeavoured to 
 take pigeons from a neat in St. David's 
 church at Lliannons, had his fingers mi- 
 raculously fastened to the stone, till by his 
 friends' watching, fasting, and praying 
 before the altar three days and nights, the 
 stone fell from his hand. " Manie thou- 
 sands of other miracles have been wrought 
 by the meritts of this holy man, which for 
 brevities sake we omitt. 1 only desire all 
 true hearted VVelchmen allwaies to ho- 
 nour this their great pairone and protec- 
 tor, and supplicate the divine goodnes to 
 reduce his sometimes beloved countrey out 
 of the blindnes of Protestancie, groveling 
 in which it lang lisheth. Not only in 
 Wales, but all England over is most fa- 
 mous in memorie of St. David. But in 
 these our unhappie dales the greatest part 
 of his solemnitie consisteth in wearing of 
 a greene leeke, and it is a sufficient theme 
 for a zealous Welchman to ground aquar- 
 rell against him, that doeth not honour 
 liis capp with the like ornament that 
 day." So saith Porter. 
 
 This legend has been the theme of suc- 
 cessive writers, with more or less of varia- 
 tion, and much of addition. 
 
 Inscription for a monument in the Vale of Ewias. 
 
 Here was it, stranger, that the Patron Saint 
 
 Of Cambria past his age of penitence, 
 
 A solitary man ; and here he made 
 
 His hermitage, the roots his food, his drink 
 
 Of Hodney's mountain stream. Perchance thy youth 
 
 Has read, with eager wonder, how the knight 
 
 Of Wales, in Ormandine's enchanted bower 
 
 Slept the long sleep : and if that in thy veins 
 
 Flow the pure blood of Britain, sure that blood 
 
 Hath flowed with quicker impulse at the tale 
 
 Of David's deeds, when thro' the press of war 
 
 His gallant comrades followed his ^reen crest 
 
 To conquest. Stranger ! HatterDl's mountain heights 
 
 And this fair vale of Ewias, and the stream 
 
 Of Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will ri.TO 
 
 More grateful, thus associate with the name 
 
 Of Da'^id, and the deeds of other days. 
 
 Mr. Soutiiey 
 
 153 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 1. 
 
 M* 2Babu)*£J Baiv 
 
 JVear'iHg the Leek. 
 
 Mr. Brady, in the " Clavis Calendaria," 
 affirms that the custom of wearing the 
 leek on St. David's day is derived from 
 St. David ; who, according to him, caused 
 the Britons under king Cadvvallader to 
 distinguish themselves from their enemies 
 during a great battle, wherein they con- 
 quered the Saxons by virtue of his prayers 
 and that regulation. Unfortunately he 
 lays no ground for this positive statement, 
 and the same misfortune attends almost 
 every representation in his book, which 
 would really be useful if he had pointed 
 to his sources of information. A work 
 professing to state facts without referring 
 to authorities has no claim to confidence, 
 whoever may be its author. 
 
 For any thing in the shape of ancient 
 and authentic statement to the contrai-y, 
 the institution of wearing the leek on St, 
 David's day by the saint himself, may 
 rest on a Jeffrey of Monmouth authority, 
 or on legends of no higher estimation 
 with the historian, than " The famous 
 History of the Seven Champions of Chris- 
 tendom," by Richard Johnson. 
 
 Shakspeare, whose genius appropriated 
 every thmg that his extraordinary faculty 
 of observation marked for its own, intro- 
 duces this custom of the Welch wearing 
 leeks upon St. David's day into his play 
 of King Henry V. 
 
 Enter Pistol to King Henry. 
 
 Pistol. Qui va la ? 
 
 K. Henry. A friend. 
 
 P. What's thy name? 
 
 K. H. Harry le Roy. 
 
 P. Le Roy ! a Cornish name : art thou 
 of Cornish crew ? 
 
 K. H. No, I am a Welchman. 
 
 P. Knovvest thou Fluellen ? 
 
 K.H. Yes. 
 
 P. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about 
 his pate 
 Upon St. David's day. 
 
 K. H. Do not you wear your dagger in 
 your cap that day, lest he knock that about 
 yours. 
 
 It is again referred to in a dialogue be- 
 tween Henry V. and Fluellen. 
 
 Fluellen. Your grandfather of famous 
 
 memory, an't please your majesty, and yoitf 
 great-uncle, Kdward, the black prince, as 
 1 have read in the chronicles, fought a 
 most prave pattle here in France. 
 
 K. Henry. They did, Fluellen. 
 
 F. Your majesty says very true; if your 
 majesties is remembered of it, the Welch- 
 men did goot service in a garden where 
 ieeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Mon- 
 mouth caps ; which, your majesty knows, 
 is an honourable padge of the service ; 
 and, I do believe, your majesty takes no 
 scorn to wear the leek upon SaintTavys day 
 
 K. H. I ivear it for a memorable 
 honour -.for I am a IFelch, you know, good 
 countryman. 
 
 This allusion by Fluellen to the Welch 
 having worn the leek in a battle under the 
 black prmce, is not, perhaps, as some 
 writers suppose, wholly decisive of its 
 having originated in the fields of Cressy or 
 Poictiers ; but it shows that when Shak- 
 speare wrote, Welchmen wore leeks. In 
 the same play, the well-remembered 
 Fluellen's enforcement of Pistol to eat 
 the leek he had ridiculed, further establishes 
 the wearing it as a usage. Fluellen wears 
 his leek in the battle of Agincourt, which 
 it will be recollected takes place in this 
 play, and is there mentioned, as well as 
 in the chronicles, to have been " fought 
 on the day of Crispin Crispianus," in the 
 month of October. The scene between 
 Fluellen and Pistol takes place the day 
 after this battle. 
 
 Enter Fluellen and Gotver. 
 
 Gotver. W^hy wear you your leek i(y> 
 day ? St. David's day is past. 
 
 Fluellen. There is occasions and causes 
 why and wherefore in all things. — The 
 rascally, scald, peggarly, pragging knave, 
 Pistol, a fellow look you now of no merits 
 he is come to me with pread and salt yes 
 terday, look you, and pid me eat my leek . 
 it was in a place where I could not preed 
 no contentions with him, but I will be so 
 pold as to wear it m my cap till I see him 
 once again, and then — {Enter Pistol) — 
 Got pless you, ancient Pistol ! you scurvy 
 knave, Got pless you ! 
 
 P. Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell 
 of leek. 
 
 159 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.--MARCn 1. 
 
 (7. T ppseech you heartily scur\7 knave, 
 ai my desires, and my requests, and my 
 Detitions, to eat, look you, this leek. 
 
 P. Not for Cadwallader, and all his 
 goats. 
 
 F. There is one goat for you. {strikea 
 him.) Will you be so goot, scald knave, as 
 eat it ? 
 
 P. Base Trojan, thou shall die. 
 
 F. I desire you to live in the mean 
 time, and eat your victuals ; come there is 
 sauce for it. — {strikes him.) If you can 
 mock a leek, you can eat a lack. 
 
 By beating and taunt, Fluellen forces 
 Pistol to eat the leek, and on its being 
 wholly svpallowed, Fluellen exhorts him 
 " when you take occasions to see leeks 
 hereafter, I pray you, mock at them, that 
 IS all !" Having thus accomplished his 
 purpose, Fluellen leaves Pistol to digestion, 
 and the consolation of Gower, who calls 
 him "counterfeit cowardly knave: will 
 you mock at an ancient tradition, begun 
 upon an honourable aspect, and worn as a 
 memorable trophy of predeceased valour, 
 and dare not avouch in your deeds any of 
 your words ?" 
 
 Here we have Gower speakmg of the 
 custom of the Welch wearing leeks as " an 
 ancient tradition," and as " a memorable 
 trophy of predeceased valour.'' Thoroughly 
 versed in the history of the few reigns pre- 
 cedmg the period wherein he lived, it is 
 not likely that Shakspeare would make a 
 character in the time of Henry V. refer to 
 ail occurrence under the black prince, 
 little more than half a century before the 
 battle of Agineourt, as an afi'air of " an- 
 cient tradition." Its origin may be fairly 
 referred to a very early period. 
 
 A contributor to a periodical work* 
 rejects the notion, that wearing leeks on St. 
 David's day originated at the battle be- 
 tween the Welch and the Saxons in the 
 sixth century ; and thinks it more probable 
 that leeks were a druidic symbol employ- 
 ed in honour of the British Cendven 
 or Ceres. In which hypothesis, he thinks, 
 there is nothing strained or far-fetched, 
 presuming that the Druids were a branch 
 of the PhcEnician priesthood. Both were 
 addicted to oak worship ; and during the 
 funereal rites of Adonis at Byblos, leeks 
 and onions were exhibited in " pots with 
 other vegetables, and called the gardens 
 of that deity." The leek was worshipped 
 at Ascalon, (whence the modern term of 
 Scallionsy) as it was in Egypt. Leeks and 
 
 • «' Oaiette of Fasliion," March 9, 1822. 
 
 onions were also deposited in the sacred 
 chests of the mysteries both of Isis and 
 Ceres, the Ceudven of the Druids ; teefe 
 are among the Egyptian hieroglyphics ; 
 sometimes a leek is on the head of Osiris ; 
 and at other times grasped in an extended 
 hand ; and thence, perhaps, the Italian 
 proverb, " Porro che Jiasce nella mano" 
 a leek that grows in the hand, for a virtue. 
 Porrus, a leek, is derived by Bryant from 
 the Egyptian god Pi-orus, who is the 
 same as the Beat Peor of the Phoenicians, 
 and the Bel or Bellinis of the Druids 
 These accordances are worth an ancient 
 Briton's consideration. 
 
 Ridicule of national peculiarities was 
 formerly a pleasantry that tli« English 
 freely indulged in. They seemed to think 
 that different soil was good ground 
 for a laugh at a person, and that it 
 justified coarse and insolent remarks. In 
 an old satirical tract there is the following 
 sneer at the Welch: 
 
 " A WELCHMAN, Is the Oyster that 
 the Pearl is in, for a man may be pickt 
 out of him. He hath the abilities of the 
 mind in potentid, and acta nothing but 
 boldnesse. His Clothes are in fashion 
 before his Bodie; and he accounts bold- 
 nesse the chiefest vertue. Above all men 
 he loves a Herrald, and speakes pedi- 
 grees naturally. He accompts none well 
 descended that call him not Cosen, and 
 prefers Oicen Glendower before any of 
 the nine worthies. The first note of his 
 familiaritie is the confession of his valour ; 
 and so he prevents quarrels. Hee 
 voucheth Welch a pure, an unconquered 
 language ; and courts Ladies with the 
 storie of their Chronicle. To conclude, 
 he is pretious m his own conceit, and 
 upon St. David's day without com- 
 parison."* 
 
 Not quite so flouting is a poetical satire 
 called, 
 The Welchmmi's Song in praise of Wales 
 
 I's come not here to tauke of Prut, 
 From whence the Welse dos take hur root j 
 Nor tell long pedegree of Prince Camber, 
 Whose linage would fill full a chamber ; 
 Nor sing the deeds of ould Saint Davie, 
 The Ursip of which would fill a navie, 
 But hark you me now, for a liddell tales 
 Sail make a great deal to the creddit of VValea, 
 
 "A wife, now the widdow of sir Thomas Overburve, 
 being a most exquisite and singular poem of fiis 
 choice of a wife, wlicreunto are added many tritfy 
 characters," &c. London, printed f«i VawreuM 
 Lisle, 4to. IC14. 
 
 160 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 2. 
 
 For Imr will tudge your eares, 
 Witli the praise of liur thirteen seers; 
 And make you as glad and merry, 
 As fourteen pot of perry. 
 
 Tiiere are four other stanzas ; one of 
 them mentions the leek : 
 
 15ut all this while was never think 
 A word in praise of our Welse drink : 
 Yet for auU that is a cup of bragat 
 AuU England seer may cast his cap at. 
 And what you say to ale of Webley, 
 Toudge him as well, you'll praise him trebly 
 As well as metheglin, or syder, or meath, 
 Sail sake it your dagger quite out o' the seath. 
 
 And oat cake of Guarthenion, 
 
 With a goodly leek or onion, 
 
 To give as sweet a rellis 
 
 As e'er did Harper Ellis.* 
 
 In " Time's Telescope," an annual vo- 
 lume alrealy mentioned for its pleasant 
 varieties and agreeable information, there 
 is a citation of flouting lines from " Poor 
 Robin's Almanac," of 1757, under the 
 month of March : 
 
 T\\e/irsl of this vionth some do keep, 
 For honest Taff to wear his leek ; 
 Who patron was, they say, of Wales, 
 And since that time, cuts-plutter-a nails. 
 Along the street this day doth strut 
 With hur green leek stuck in hur hat, 
 And if hur meet a shentleman 
 Salutes in Welch ; and if hur can 
 Discourse in Welch, then hur shall be 
 Amongst the green-horned Tafty's free. 
 
 The lines that immediately succeed the 
 above, and follow below, are a versified 
 record of public violence to the Welch 
 character, which Englishmen in this day 
 will read with surprise ; 
 
 But it would make a stranger laugh 
 To see th' English hang poor Taff; 
 A pair of breeches and a coat. 
 Hat, shoes and stockings, and what not j 
 All stuffed with hay to represent 
 The Cambrian hero thereby meant ; 
 With sword sometimes three inches broad, 
 And other armour made of wood. 
 They drag hur to some publick tree. 
 And hang hur up in effigy. 
 
 These barbarous practices of more 
 barbarous times have disappeared as 
 knowledge has advanced. 
 
 tablished in 1714 ; thsy celebrate it with 
 festivity in behalf of the Welch charity 
 school in Grays-inn-road, which was 
 instituted in 1718 for boarding, cloth- 
 ing, and educating 80 boys and 25 
 girls, born of Welch parents, in or with- 
 in ten miles of the metropolis, and not 
 having a parochial settlement within 
 those limits. This institution has the 
 king for patron as prince of Wales, and 
 is supported by voluntary contributions. 
 The " Ancient Britons," according to 
 annual custom, go in procession to the 
 royal residence on St. David's day, and 
 receive tlie royal bounty. The society 
 are in carriages, and each v.ears an 
 artificial representation of the leek in his 
 hat, composed of ribbands and silver foil 
 They have been sometimes accompanied 
 by horsemen decorated in the same way, 
 and are usually preceded by marshals, 
 also on horseback, wearing leeks of larger 
 dimension in their hats, and ornamented 
 with silk scarfs. In this state they pro- 
 ceed from the school-house to some adja- 
 cent church, and hear a discourse delivered 
 on the occasion, by a prelate or other 
 dignified clergyman. The day is con- 
 cluded by an elegant dinner under the 
 regulation of stewards, when a collection 
 is made for the institution, and a hand- 
 some sum is generally contributed. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 I-eek. Album Porrnm. 
 Dedicated to St. David. 
 
 St, David's day in London is the An- 
 niversary of " the most Honourable and 
 Loyal Society of Ancient Britons," es- 
 
 * " An Antidote against Melancholy," 4fc. 1661. 
 
 St. Ceada, or Chad. Martyrs under the 
 Lombards, 6th Cent. St. Simplicius, Pope 
 A. D. 483. St. Marnan, a. d. 620. St. 
 Charles the Good, Earl of Flanders, A. d. 
 1124. St. Joavan, or Joevin. 
 St. Chad, A.D. 673. 
 
 His name is in the calendar of the 
 church of England. He was founder of 
 the see, and bishop of Lichfield. Ac- 
 cording to Bede, joyful melody as of per- 
 sons sweetly singing descended from 
 heaven into his oratory for half an hour, 
 and then mounted again to heaven. This 
 was to presage his death, and accord 
 ingly he died, attended by his brotherlj 
 soul and musical angels. 
 
 St. Chad's JFell 
 
 Is near Battle-bridge. The miraculous 
 water is aperient, and was some years ago 
 quaffed by the bilious and other invalids, 
 who flocked thither in crowds, to drink at 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 161 
 
 M 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAECH 2- 
 
 tlip cost of sixpence, what peopleof these 
 latter da} s by " the ingenious chemists' 
 art," can make as (ffectual as St. Chad's 
 viitues," at the small price of one half- 
 penny." 
 
 If any one desire to visit this spot of 
 ancient renown, let him descend from 
 Holborn-bars to the very bottom of Grays- 
 inr-lane. On ihe left-hand side for- 
 merly stood a considerable hill, whereon 
 were wont to climb and browze certain 
 mountain goats of the metropqjis, in com- 
 mon language called swine ; the hill was 
 the largest heap of cinder-dust in the 
 neighbourhood of London. It was formed 
 by the annual accumulation of some 
 thousands of cart loads, since exported to 
 Russia for making bricks to rebuild Mos- 
 cow, after the conflagration of that capital 
 on the entrance of Napoleon. Opposite 
 to this unsightly site, and on the right- 
 hand side gf the road is an angle-wise 
 faded inscription : 
 
 It stands, or rather dejects, over an 
 elderly pair of wooden gates, one where- 
 of opens on a scene which the unaccus- 
 tomed eye may take for the pleasure- 
 ground of Giant Despair. Trees stand as 
 if made not to vegetate, clipped hedges 
 seem willing to decline, and nameless 
 weeds straggle weakly upon unlimited 
 borders. If you look upwards you per- 
 ceive painted on an octagon board 
 " Health Restored and Preserved." Fur- 
 ther on towards the left, stands a low, 
 old-fashioned, comfortable-looking, large 
 windowed dwelling; and ten to one, 
 but there also stands, at the open door, 
 an ancient ailing female, in a black 
 bonnet, a clean coloured cotton gown, and 
 a check apron ; her silver hair only 
 in part tucked beneath the narrow border 
 of a frilled cap, with a sedate and patient, 
 yet, somewhat inquiring look. This is " the 
 Lady of the fFell." She gratuitously 
 informs you, that " the gardens" of 
 " St. Chad's well" are " for circulation" 
 by paying for the water, of which you 
 may drink as much, or as little, or nothing, 
 as you please, at one guinea per year, 
 9*. 6d. quarterly, 4s. 6rf. monthly, or 
 
 Is fd. weekly. You qualify for a single 
 visit by paying sixpence, and a Jatge 
 glas>- tumbler full of warm water is handed 
 to you. As a stranger, you are told that 
 Sf. Chad's well was famous at one time. 
 Should you be inquisitive, the dame W'U 
 instruct you, with an earnest eye, that 
 " people are not what they were,'' " things 
 are not as they used to be," and she 
 " can't tell what'U happen next.'' Oracles 
 have not ceased. While drinking St. 
 Chad's water you observe an immense 
 copper into which it is poured, wherein 
 it is heated to due efficacy, and from 
 whence it is drawn by a cock, into the 
 glasses. You also remark, hanging on 
 the wall, a " tribute of gratitude" versi- 
 fied, and inscribed on vellum, beneath a 
 pane of glass stained by the hand of time 
 and let into a black frame : this is an 
 effusion for value received from St Chad's 
 invaluable water. But, above all, there 
 is a full-sized portrait in oil, of a stout, 
 comely personage, with a ruddy counte- 
 nance, in a coat or cloak, supposed scar- 
 let, a laced cravat falling down the breast, 
 and a small red night cap carelessly 
 placed on the head, conveying the idea 
 that it was painted for the likeness of 
 some opulent butcher who flourished in 
 the reign of queen Anne. Ask the dame 
 about it, and she refers you to " Rhone." 
 This is a tall old man, who would be 
 taller if he were not bent by years. " I 
 am ninety-four," he will tell you, " this 
 present year of our Lord, one thousand 
 eight hundred and twenty-five." All that 
 he has to communicate concerning the 
 portrait is, " I have heard say it is the 
 portrait of St. Chad." Should you ven- 
 ture to differ, he adds, "this is the opinion 
 of most people who come here." You 
 may gather that it is his own undoubted 
 belief. On pacing the garden alleys, 
 and peeping at the places of retirement, 
 you imagine the whole may have been 
 improved and beautified for the last time 
 by some countryman of William III., 
 who came over and died in the same 
 year with that king, and whose works 
 here, in wood and box, have been follow- 
 ing him piecemeal ever since. 
 
 St Chad's well is scarcely known iij 
 the neighbourhood, save by its sign-board 
 of invitation and forbidding externals 
 An old American loyalist, who has lived 
 in Pentonville ever since " the rebellion" 
 forced him to the mother country, enters 
 to " totter not unseen" between the 
 stunted hedo;erows : it was the first " place 
 
 162 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 3. 
 
 of pleasure'' he came to after liis arrival, 
 and he goes no where besides, — " every 
 thing else is so altered." For the same 
 reason, a tall, spare, thin-faced man, with 
 dull grey eyes and underhung chin, from 
 the neighbourhood of Bethnal-green, 
 walks hither fur his " Sunday morning's 
 exercise," to untruss a theological point 
 with a law clerk, who also attends the 
 place because his father, " when he was 
 prentice to Mr. the great law sta- 
 tioner in Chancery-lane in 1776, and 
 sat writing for sixteen hours a day, re- 
 ceived great benefit from the waters, 
 which he came to drink fasting, once a 
 week." Such persons from local attach- 
 ment, and a few male and female atrabi- 
 larians, who without a powerful motive 
 would never breathe the pure morning 
 air, resort to this spot for their health. 
 St. Chad's well is haunted, not frequented. 
 A few years and it will be with its water 
 as with the water of St. Pancras' well, 
 which is enclosed in the garden of a 
 private house, near old St.Pancras' church- 
 yard. 
 
 Holy Wells. 
 
 The holy wells of London have all de- 
 clined in reputation, even to St. Bride's 
 well, whose fame gave the name of Bride- 
 well to an adjoining hospital and prison, 
 and at last, attached the name to every 
 house of correction throughout the kin^g- 
 dom. The last public use of the water 
 of St. Bride's well drained it so much, 
 that the inhabitants of St. Bride's parish 
 could not get their usual supply. This 
 exhaustion was effected by a sudden de- 
 mand. Several men were engaged in 
 filling thousands of bottles, a day or two 
 before the 19th of July 1821, on which 
 day his majesty, king George IV^. was 
 crowned at Westminster ; and Mr. Walker 
 of the hotel. No. 10, Bridge-street, Black- 
 friars, purveyor of water to the coronation, 
 obtained it, by the only means through 
 which the sainted fluid is now attainable, 
 from the cast-iron pump over St. Bride's 
 well, in Bride-lane. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Dwarf Cerastium. Cerastium pumilum. 
 Dedicated to St. Chad 
 
 St. Cunegundes, Empress, a. v. 1040. 
 Sts. Marinus and Asterius, or Astyrius. 
 St. Emeterius, or Madir, and St. Cheli- 
 dnnius. St. JVinwaloe, Abbot, a. d. 
 529. St. Lamalisse, 7th Cent. 
 
 Sts. Emeterius and Chelidonius. 
 
 Two Spanish saints, famous against 
 hailstorms. When hailstorms come on, 
 the clergy proceed thus : 
 
 1. They make a procession to the church. 
 
 2. They put lighted candles on the altar. 
 
 3. They sing a hymn to these saints. 
 
 4. They chaunt the antiphona. 
 
 5. They sing the praises of these saints. 
 By the time this chain is linked, the 
 
 storm finishes. 
 
 Chronology 
 
 On the 3d of March, 1792, died Robert 
 Adam, Esq. He was born at Kirkaldy, 
 in Fifeshire, in 1728, educated at the uni- 
 versity of Edinburgh, devoted himself to 
 architecture, went to Italy to study its 
 ancient remains, became proficient in his 
 profession, and rose to its highest ho- 
 nours : he was appointed architect to 
 their majesties, and chosen fellow of the 
 Royal and Antiquarian Societies of Lon- 
 don and Edinburgh. In conjunction with 
 his brother, Mr. James Adam, who died 
 20th November 1794, he built some of the 
 finest of our modern mansions. His genius 
 and acquirements adorned London with 
 several structures, eminently superior in 
 beauty to those which arose around 
 him under the direction of other hands ; 
 but the work for which the Adams are 
 chiefly celebrated, is the elegant range of 
 buildings called the Adelphi. This Greek 
 word, denoting the relationship of brothers, 
 was conferred in compliment to the 
 brothers, by whose intellect and science, 
 in opposition to long vitiated taste, and 
 difiiculties deemed impracticable, these 
 edifices were elevated. It is related that 
 soon after their completion, a classically 
 educated gentleman being present at a 
 public dinner, and intending to toast the 
 Messrs. Adams, who were also present, 
 begged to give "the Adelphi ;"and that this 
 occasioned a worthy citizen to exclaim 
 '* Bless me ! it's a very odd toast ; what 
 
 1G3 
 
THE EVERY-DAl BOOK.- MARCH 3. 
 
 drink the health of a parcel of houses \ 
 However, oh, oh ! ah, ah ! I see ! yes, yes ! 
 oh, the witty rogue ! What, the street's in 
 a healthy spot? so it is; very healthy! 
 Come I'll drink its health with all my 
 heait '.—Here's the Adelphi Terrace ! I'll 
 stand up to it, {rising) and 1 hope it will 
 never go down !" 
 
 Garrick resided in one of the houses of 
 the Adelphi until his death, and was a 
 friend of the Adams, who indeed were 
 intimate with most of the eminent men 
 in art and literature. Before the Adelphi 
 was finished, the late Mr. Thomas Becket, 
 the bookseller, desired the corner house 
 of Adam-street, then building as a spa- 
 
 cious avenue by the Adams to their terrace 
 and the adjacent thoroughfares. Garrick 
 anxious to secure the commanding corner 
 for his friend Becket, wrote a warm- 
 hearted letter in his behalf to Messrs. 
 Adam. The letter has never been pub- 
 lished, and being in the possession of the 
 editor of the Every-Day Book, he inserts 
 a copy of it, with a correct facsimile of 
 the commencement and conclusion. This 
 hasty unstudied note, warm from the 
 feelings, is testimony of Garrick's zeal 
 for a friend's success, and of his qualifi- 
 cations as a solicitor to promote it : there 
 is in it 
 
 a grace beyond the reach of art. 
 
 
 I forgot to speak to you last Saturday about our friend Becket. — We shall all break 
 our hearts if he is not bookseller to y* Adelphi, & has not y* corner house that is to 
 be built. — Pray, my dear & very good friends, think a little of this matter, & if you 
 can make us happy, by suiting all our conveniences — ^we shall make his shop, as old 
 Jacob Tonson's was formerly, y* rendevouz for y« first people in England. — I have a 
 little selfishness in this request — I never go to coffee-houses, seldom to taverns, & 
 should constantly (if this scheme takes place) be at Becket's at one at noon, & 6 at 
 night ; as y^ monkey us'd to be punctual in Piccadilly. 
 
 When you left me on Saturday, whether I had exerted my spirits too much, or gave 
 too great a loose to my love of drinking with those I like, I know not ; but I wa 
 attack'd teriibly with a fit of ye stone, & had it all yesterday morning, till I was 
 relieved from torture, to ye great joy of my wife & family. — I was 4 hours upon ye 
 rack, & now as free from pain as ever I was. I am weak w^ my disorder ; but I could 
 eat turtle, & laugh with you again to day, as if nothing had ail'd me— 'tis a curs'd 
 disorder, 8c that you may never have that curse make y peace w"> heav'n by an act 
 
 164 
 
THE EVERY-DAV BOOK.— MARCH 4. 
 
 of righteousness, & bestow that corner blessing (I have mention'd) upon Bcctpt 
 his family — this is y^ pray'r & petition 
 
 Mr. Becket had the " corner blessing" 
 conferred upon him. — He removed into 
 the house from another part of the Strand, 
 and remained tenant to the " Adelphi," 
 until he retired into Pall Mall. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Fig Marygold. Mesembrianthe- 
 
 mnm aureum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Cunegundes. 
 
 i¥larrft4. 
 
 St. Casimir. St. Lucius, Pope, a. d. 253. 
 
 St. Adrian, Bishop, a. d. 874. 
 St. Casimir, 
 
 Was born a prince on the 5th of Octo- 
 ber, 1458, and died 4th March, 1482. He 
 was second son of Casimir III. king of 
 Poland ; and, according to Ribadeneira, he 
 wore under his princely attire a prickly 
 hair shirt, fasted rigorously, prayed at night 
 till he fell weary and exhausted on the 
 bare floor; often in the most sharp and bit- 
 ter weather went barefoot to church at mid- 
 night, and lay on his face before the door ; 
 studied to advance the catholic religion, 
 and to extinguish or drive heresy out of Po- 
 land ; persuaded his father to enact a law 
 that no new church should be built for 
 heretics, nor any old ones repaired ; in a 
 particular virtue " surpassed the angels ;" 
 committed suicide;resigned his soul amidst 
 choirs of priests ; had it carried to heaven 
 surrounded with a clear bright light by 
 angels; and thirty-six years after his death 
 he appeared in glittering armour and gal- 
 lantly mounted ; led the Polish army 
 through an impassable river, and con- 
 quered the M'uscovites ; and the next year 
 
 marched before his beloved Poles in the 
 air against the enemy, and as " he beat 
 them before, so he beat them again,'' 
 
 Chronology. 
 On the 4th of March, 1583, died Ber- 
 nard Gilpin. He was born at Kentmire, 
 inWestmoreland,1517, sent toQueen's col- 
 lege, Oxford, in 1553, read the writings of 
 Erasmus, excelled in logic and philosophy, 
 and studied Greek and Hebrew ; being a 
 Catholic he held a public disputation against 
 John Hooper, the Protestant, who was 
 martyred at the stake under Henry VHI 
 Appointed to hold a disputation against 
 Peter Martyr, another eminent reformer, 
 who read the divinity lecture in Oxford, 
 he diligently studied the scriptures and the 
 writings of the early fathers, and "was not 
 sorry to be overcome by the truth." Cuth- 
 bert Tunstall, bishop of Durham, gave him 
 a living, which he shortly afterwards re- 
 signed, because he desired to travel, and 
 could not hold it while absent with peace 
 of conscience. " But," saith the bishop, 
 " thou mayst hold it with a dispensation, 
 and thou shalt be dispensed withal." To 
 this Gilpin answered, that when he should 
 be called on for an account of his steward 
 ship, he feared it would not serve his turn 
 to answer, that he had been " dispensed 
 withal." Whereupon the bishop admired, 
 and " Father's soul !" said he, " Gilpin wil 
 die a beggar." He afterwards went to 
 Lovaine and Paris, from whence he re- 
 turned to England in the days of queen 
 Mary; and bishop Tunstall gave him 
 the rectory of Essingdon, by which he be- 
 came archdeacon of Durham, and preached 
 on scriptural authority against tks vices in 
 
 1G5 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MARCH 4. 
 
 ilie church. Those who hated his integrity 
 and feared his talents, sought his blood by 
 insnariug controversy. He avoided vain 
 jangling, and beat his adversaries in solid 
 argument. At one of these disputations, 
 carried on in an under tone vyith bishop 
 Tunstall's chaplains, and close behind the 
 bishop, who was sitting before the fire, the 
 bishop, leaning his chair somewhat back- 
 wards, hearkened to what was said ; and 
 when they had done, turning to his 
 chaplains, " Father's soul !" said the 
 bishop, " let him alone, for he hath more 
 learning than you all." He was twice ac- 
 cused of heresy to Tunstall, who abhorred 
 to shed blood ; but information being given 
 against him to Bonner, bishop of London, 
 an order was issued for his apprehension. 
 Gilpin had intelligence of the danger, yet 
 he only provided against it by ordering 
 William Airy, his house steward, to pro- 
 vide a long garment, that he might go the 
 more comely to the stake. The sudden 
 death of Mary cleared off the impending 
 storm. Not longafterwards,bishopTunstall 
 presented Gilpin to the rectory of Hough- 
 ton, a large parish with fourteen villages, 
 which he laboriously served. He built 
 a grammar school, from whence he sent 
 students almost daily to the university, 
 and maintamed them there at his own 
 cost. Honoured by the wise, and re- 
 spected by the noble, the earl of Bedford 
 solicited from queen Elizabeth the vacant 
 bishopric of Carlisle for Gilpin. A conge 
 d'elire was accordingly issued, but Gilpin 
 resisted the dignity against all entreaties. 
 " If I had been chosen to a bishopric 
 elsewhere," he said, " I would not have 
 refused it ; but in Carlisle I have many 
 friends and kindred, at whom I must con- 
 nive in many things, not without hurt to 
 myself, or else deny them many things, 
 not without hurt to them, which difficul- 
 ties I have avoided by the refusal of that 
 bishopric." He was chosen provost of his 
 own (Queen's) college in Oxford, but this 
 advancement he also declined. Yet he 
 did the office and work of a bishop, by 
 preaching, taking care of the poor, pro- 
 viding for the necessities of other churches, 
 erecting schools, encouraging learned men, 
 and keeping open house to all that 
 needed. Cecil, lord Burleigh, the queen's 
 secretary, having visited Gilpin at Hough- 
 ton, on his return towards Durham, when 
 he came to Rain ton-hill, reflected his eye 
 upon the open country he had passed, and 
 looking earnestly upon Gilpin's house, 
 said, " I do not blame this man for refusing 
 a bishopric. What doth he want that a 
 
 bisliopric could more enrich him withal! 
 besides that he is free from the great 
 weight of cares." Gilpin annually visited 
 the people of Ridsdale and Tindale, and 
 was " little else than adored by that hall 
 barbarous and rustic people." When at 
 Rothbury, in these parts, " there was a 
 pestilent faction among some of them 
 who were wont to resort to the church ; 
 the men being bloodily minded, practised 
 a bloody manner of revenge, termed by 
 them a deadly feud :" if one faction came 
 to the church the other kept away, inas- 
 much as they could not meet without 
 bloodshed. It so happened that when 
 Gilpin was in the pulpit both parties came 
 to the church ; one party stood in the chan- 
 cel, the other in the body of the church. 
 Each body was armed with swords and 
 javelins,and their weapons makinga clash- 
 ing sound, Gilpin, unaccustomed to such 
 a spectacle, was somewhat moved, yet he 
 proceeded with his sermon. A second 
 time the weapons clashed ; the one side 
 drew near to the other; and they were 
 about to coimneiK'O i)attle in the church. 
 Gilpin descended, stepped to the leaders 
 on each side, appeased the tumult, and 
 laboured to establish peace between them ; 
 but he could only obtain from these rude 
 borderers, that they would not break the 
 peace while Mr. Gilpin remained. On 
 this he once more ascended the pulpit, 
 and spent the allotted time in inveighing 
 against this unchristian and savage cus- 
 tom, and exhorthig them to forego it for 
 ever. Another incident, further illustrat- 
 ing the manners of the people, will be 
 mentioned below ; it may be added here, 
 however, that afterwards, when he revisit- 
 ed these parts, any one who dreaded a 
 deadly foe, found himself safer in Gilpin's 
 presence than with armed guards. In his 
 younger years, while on a ride to Oxford, 
 Gilpin overtook a youth who was one 
 while walking, and at another time run- 
 ning. He found that the lad came from 
 Wales, knew Latin, had a smattering of 
 Greek, and was bound for Oxford, with 
 intent to be a scholar. " Wilt thou," said 
 Gilpin, *' be contented to go with me ? I 
 will provide for thee." The youth as- 
 sented, Gilpin took him first to Oxford, 
 afterwards to Houghton, where he im- 
 proved him exceedingly in Greek and 
 Hebrew, and sent him at last to Oxford. 
 This youth was the learned Hugh Brough- 
 ton ; he is said to have requited this pro- 
 tection and care by something worse than 
 inconstancy. Gilpin's nature was kind 
 and charitable, he visited sick cbarabcs 
 
 165 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOiC.— MARCH 5, 6. 
 
 and prisons, and dispensed large boun- 
 ties. He was firm in rectitude ; and hence, 
 on one occasion, when bishop Tunstall 
 had inclined to his enemies, and insisted 
 on Gilpin's preaching, sorely against the 
 good man's petitions to be excused, and 
 repeated refusals, he at length mounted 
 the pulpit, and concluded his discourse by 
 denouncing the enormities in the bishop's 
 diocese ; looking at Tunstall, he said 
 "Lest your lordship should make answer, 
 that you had no notice of these things 
 given you, behold, 1 bring them to your 
 knowledge. Let not your lordship say 
 these crimes have been committed by the 
 faults of others, without your knowledge ; 
 for whatsoever either yourself shall do in 
 person, or suffer through your connivance 
 to be done by others, is wholly your own. 
 Therefore," thundered forth the faithful 
 preacher, " in presence of God, his angels 
 and man, I pronounce your fatherhood to 
 be the author of all these evils ; yea, and, 
 m that strict day of the general account, I 
 shall be a witness to testify against you, 
 that all these things have come to your 
 knowledge by my means : and all these 
 men shall bear witness thereof, who 
 have heard me speaking unto you this 
 day." Gilpin's adherents, terrified at this 
 unexpected and bold address, apprehend- 
 ed the worst consequences from the 
 bishop's power. " You have," said they, 
 " put a sword into his hand to slay you. 
 If heretofore he hath been offended with 
 you without a cause, what may you now 
 expect from him who, being provoked, 
 shall make use of his own power to in- 
 jure you by right or wrong." Gilpin an- 
 swered, " Be not afraid ; the Lord God 
 over-ruleth us all ; so that the truth may 
 be propagated, and God glorified, God's 
 will be done concerning me." After din- 
 ner, Gilpin waited on the bishop to take 
 leave of him, and return home. " It 
 shall not be so," said the bishop, " for I 
 will bring you to your house." When they 
 arrived at Mr. Gilpin's house, and had en- 
 tered the parlour, the bishop on a sudden 
 caught Mr. Gilpin by the hand, and ad- 
 dressed him in these words : — " Father 
 Gilpin, I acknowledge you are fitter to be 
 bishop of Durham, than myself to be par- 
 ton of this church of yours ; I ask forgive- 
 aess for errors past; forgive me, father. I 
 know you have hatched up some chickens 
 that now seek to pick out your eyes ; but 
 so long as I shall live bishop of Durham, 
 be secure : no man shall injure you " 
 Tlius the fearless integrity of Gilpin, by 
 
 which it was conceived he had jeopard- 
 ized his life, saved him trom his enemies 
 and advanced him beyond the reach of 
 their further hate. 
 
 After a life excellent for kindness, cha- 
 rity, and faithful dealing towards the peo- 
 ple intrusted to his care, he died at the 
 age of sixty-six worn out by labour in 
 well doing. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Chickweed. Alsine media. 
 Dedicated to St. Casimir. 
 
 iHard) 5. 
 
 Sts. Adrian and Eubulus, a. d. 309. 
 St. Kiaran, or Kenerin. St. Roger, a. d. 
 1236. 
 
 St. Piran. 
 
 Tliis saint, anciently of good repute in 
 Cornwall, is not mentioned by Butler. 
 According to Porter he was born in Ire- 
 land, and became a hermit there. He 
 afterwards came to England, and settling 
 at Cornwall, had a grave made for him, 
 entered into it, and dying on the 6th of 
 March, " in the glorie of a great light and 
 splendour that appeared at the same 
 instant," was buried at Padstow. " He 
 is reported," says Porter, " to have 
 wi'ought manie wonderfuU miracles in his 
 lifetime, which bicause they tend rather 
 to breed an incredulous amazement in the 
 readers, then move to anie workes of ver- 
 tues or pietie, we have willingly omitted." 
 We have had a specimen of such miracles 
 as father Porter deemed worthy of belief ; 
 those of St. Piran which would have caused 
 " incredulous amazement" in Porter's rea- 
 ders must have been " passing wonder- 
 full." 
 
 iS^ Piran's day is said to be a favourite 
 with the tinners ; having a tradition that 
 some secrets regarding the manufac- 
 ture of tin was communicated to their 
 ancestors by that saint, they leave the ma- 
 nufacture to shift for itself for that day 
 and keep it as a holiday. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Green Hellebore. Helleborus viridis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Adrian. 
 
 ilarcl) 6. 
 
 St. Chrodegang, Bishop, a. d, 766. B. 
 Colette. St. Fridolin, a. d. 538. St. 
 Baldrede. Sts. Kyneburge, Kynenoid, 
 and Tibba. St. Cadroe, x. d. *975. 
 
 167 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 6. 
 
 St. Bcldrede, 
 Bishop of Glasgow, died in London 
 L. D. 608, and his relics were famous in 
 many churches in vScotland. Bollandus 
 says, " he was wonderfully buried in three 
 pla<;es; seeing that three towns Aldham, 
 
 Tinningham, and Preston, contended for 
 his body." In those days when there 
 were no parish registers, these miracul- 
 ous powers of self-multiplication after 
 death, must have been sadly perplexingto 
 topographers and antiquaries. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Tlie " New-come" of the year is born to-day, 
 
 With a strong lusty laugh, and joyous shout. 
 Uprising, with its mother, it, in play, 
 
 Throws flowers on her ; pulls hard buds about. 
 To open them for blossom ; and its voice. 
 
 Peeling o'er dells, plains, uplands, and high groves, 
 Startles all living things, till they rejoice 
 
 In re-creation of themselves ; each loves, 
 And blesses each ; and man's intelligence. 
 In musings grateful, thanks All Wise Beneficence. 
 
 Sprikg commences on the 6th of 
 March, and lasts ninety-three days. 
 
 According to Mr. Howard, whose prac- 
 tical information concerning the seasons 
 is highly valuable, the medium tempera- 
 ture during spring is elevated, in round 
 numbers, from 40 to 58 degrees. " The 
 mean of the season is 48.94*' — the sun 
 effecting by his approach an advance of 
 11.18" upon the mean temperature of the 
 winter. This increase is retarded in the 
 forepart of the spring by the winds from 
 
 north to east, then prevalent ; and which 
 form two-thirds of the complement of the 
 season ; but proportionately accelerated 
 afterwards by the southerly winds, with 
 which it terminates. A strong evapora- 
 tion, in the first instance followed by 
 showers, often with thunder and hail in 
 the latter, characterises this period. The 
 temperature commonly rises, not by a 
 steady increase from day to day, but by 
 sudden starts, from the breaking in of sun- 
 shine upon previous cold, cloudy weather. 
 
 1G3 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH C. 
 
 At such times, the vapour appears to be 
 now and then thrown up, in too great 
 plenty, into the cold region above ; where 
 being suddenly decomposed, the tempera- 
 ture falls back for awhile, amidst wind, 
 showers, and hail, attended, in some in- 
 stances, with frost at night." 
 
 Our ancestors varied their clothing ac- 
 cording to the season. Strutt has given 
 the spring dress of a man in the four- 
 teenth century, Irom an illumination in a 
 manuscript of that age: this is a copy 
 of it. 
 
 In " Si/lvan Sketches," a new and 
 charming volume by the lady who wrote 
 the " Flora Domestica," it is delight- 
 fully observed, that, " the young and 
 'oyous STjirit of spring sheds its swee! 
 influence upon every thing : the streams 
 sparkle and ripple in the noon-day sun, 
 and the birds carol tipseyly their merriest 
 ditties. It is surely the loveliest season 
 of the year." One of our living min 
 strels sings of a spring day, that it 
 
 Looks beautiful, as when an infant wakes 
 From its soft slumbers ; 
 
 and the same bard poetically reminds us 
 with more than poetical truth, that at this 
 season, when we 
 
 See life and bliss around us flowing. 
 
 Wherever space or being is. 
 The cup of joy is full and flowing. 
 
 Bowring. 
 
 Another, whose numbers are choralled 
 by worshipping crowds, observes with 
 equal truth, and under the influence of 
 high feelings, for seasonable abundance, 
 that 
 
 To enjoy is to obey. 
 
 Watts. 
 
 Grateful and salutary spring the plants 
 
 Which crown our numerous gardens, and 
 
 Invite to health and temperance, in the simple meal, 
 
 Unpoisoned with rich sauces, to provoke 
 
 Th' unwilling appetite to gluttony. 
 
 For this, the bulbous esculents their roots 
 
 With sweetness fill ; for this, with cooling juice 
 
 The green herb spreads its leaves ; and opening buds. 
 
 And flowers and seeds, with various flavours. 
 
 Dodslei 
 
 Sweet is thy coming, Spring ! — and as I pass 
 
 Thy hedge-rows, where from the half-naked spray 
 
 Peeps the sweet bud, and 'midst the dewy grass 
 
 The tufted primrose opens to the day : 
 
 My spirits light and pure confess thy pow'r 
 
 Of balmiest influence: there is not a tree 
 
 That whispers to the warm noon-breeze ; nor flow'r 
 
 Whose bell the dew-drop holds, but yields to me 
 
 Predestinings of joy : O, heavenly sweet 
 
 Illusion ! — that the sadly pensive breast 
 
 Can for a moment from itself retreat 
 
 To outward pleasantness, and be at rest : 
 
 While sun, and fields, and air, the sense have wrought 
 
 Of pleasure and content, in spite of thought ! 
 
 Athe 
 
 In spring the ancient Romans cele- 
 Drated the Ludi Florales. These were 
 annual games in honour to Flora, accom- 
 panied by supplications for beneficent 
 mfluences on the grass, trees, flowers, and 
 other products of the earth, during the 
 jear. The Greeks likewise invoked 
 
 fertility on the coming of spring witb 
 many ceremonies. The remains of the 
 Roman festivals, in countries which the 
 Roman arms subdued, have been frequent- 
 ly noticed already ; and it is not purposed 
 to advert to them further, than by observ- 
 ing that there is considerable difficulty in 
 
 169 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 7. 
 
 so apportioning every usage in a modern 
 ceremony, as to assign each to its proper 
 origin. Some may have been common to 
 a people before they were conquered; 
 others may have been the growth of later 
 times. Spring, as the commencement of 
 the natural year, must have been hailed 
 by all nations with satisfaction; and was, 
 undoubtedly, commemorated, in most, by 
 public rejoicing and popular sports. 
 Chronologt. 
 Dr. Samuel Parr died on tlie 6th of 
 March, 1825. 
 
 A SPRING FESTIVAL. 
 
 The Germans retain many of the an- 
 nual customs peculiar to themselves before 
 the Roman conquest. Whether a cere- 
 mony described in the " Athenseum," as 
 having been observed in Germany of late 
 years, is derived from the victors, or from 
 the ancient nations, is not worth discussing 
 
 The approach of spring was there com- 
 memorated with an abundance of dis- 
 play. Its allegorical character was its most 
 remarkable feature. It was called Der 
 Sommera-gewhin, the acquisition of 
 summer ; and about thirty years ago was 
 celebrated at the begining of spring by 
 the inhabitants of Eisenach, in Saxony, 
 who, for that purpose, divided themselves 
 into two parties. One party carried 
 winter under the shape of a man covered 
 with straw, out of the town, and then, as 
 It were, sent him into public exile ; whilst 
 the other party, at a distance from the 
 town, decked spring, or, as it was vulgarly 
 called, summer, in the form of youth, with 
 boughs of cypress and May, and marched 
 in solemn array to meet their comrades, 
 the jocund executioners of winter. In 
 the meanwhile national ballads, celebrat- 
 ing the delights of spring and summer, 
 filled the skies ; processions paraded the 
 meadows and fields, loudly imploring the 
 blessings of a prolific summer ; and the 
 jovial merry-makers then brought the 
 victor-god home in triumph. In the 
 course of time, however, this ceremonial 
 underwent various alterations. The parts, 
 before personified, were now performed 
 by real dramatis personae ; one arrayed 
 cs spring, and another as winter, enter- 
 tained the spectators with a combat, 
 wherein winter was ultimately vanquish- 
 ed and stripped of his emblematical 
 attire ; spring, on the contrary, being 
 hailed as victor, was led in triumph, 
 amidst the loud acclamations of the mul- 
 titude, into the town. From this festival 
 originated a popular ballad, composed of 
 stanzas each of which c<«uclude thus : 
 
 Heigho ! heigho ! heigho ! Summer is at hand ; 
 
 Winter has lost the game, 
 
 Summer maintain'd its fame ; 
 Heigho ' heigho ! heigho I Summer is at hand 
 
 The day whereon the jubilee takes 
 place is denominated der Todten sonntag, 
 the dead Sunday. The reason may be 
 traced perhaps to the analogy which win- 
 ter bears to the sleep of death, when the 
 vital powers of nature are suspended 
 The conjecture is strengthened by this 
 distich in the ballad before quoted: 
 
 Now we've vanquish'd Death, 
 And Summer's return ensured : 
 Were Death still unsubdued. 
 How much had we endured ! 
 
 But of late years the spirit of this festival 
 has disappeared. Lately, winter was un- 
 couthly shaped ofwood, and being covered 
 with straw, was nailed against a large 
 wheel, and the straw being set on fire, the 
 apparatus was rolled down a steep hill ! 
 Agreeably to the intention of its inven- 
 tors, the blazing wheel was by degrees 
 knocked to pieces, against the precipices 
 below, and then — winter's effigy, to the 
 admiration of the multitude, split into a 
 thousand fiery fragments. This custom 
 too, merely from the danger attending it, 
 quickly fell into disuse ; but still a shadow 
 of the original festivity, which it was 
 meant to commemorate, is preserved 
 amongst the people of Eisenach. " Al- 
 though" says the writer of these particu- 
 lars, " we find winter no longer sent into 
 banishment, as in former times, yet an 
 attempt is made to represent and conci- 
 liate spring by oflTerings of nosegays and 
 sprays of evergreen, adorned with birds 
 or eggs, emblematical of the season." 
 Probably the latter usages may not 
 have been consequent upon the decline 
 of the former, but were coeval in their 
 origin, and are the only remains of an- 
 cient customs peculiar to the season. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lent Lily. Narcissus Pseudonarcissua 
 multiplex. 
 Dedicated to St. Colette 
 
 St. Thomas Jquiiias, a. s. 1274. Sts 
 Perpetua and Felicitas, a. d. 203. Si 
 Paul, Anchoret. 
 
 St. Perpetua. 
 
 This saint is in the church of Englana 
 calendar. She was martyred under the 
 emperor Severus in 205. 
 
 170 
 
THF, EVERY-DAY BOOK— MARCH 8, 9. 
 
 St. Paul tlie Anchoret. 
 This saint was " a man of profound 
 Ignorance." Butler says he was named 
 " the simple." He journeyed eight days 
 into the desert on a visit, and to become a 
 disciple of St. Antony, who told him he 
 •was too old, and bade him return home, 
 mind his business, and say his prayers ; 
 he shut the door upon him. Paul fasted 
 and prayed before the door till Antony 
 opened it, and out of compassion made 
 a monk of him. One day after he had 
 diligently worked at making mats and 
 hurdles, and prayed without intermission, 
 St. Antony bid him undo his work and 
 do it all over agam, which he did, without 
 asking for a morsel of bread though he 
 had been seven days without eating ; 
 this was to try Paul's obedience. Ano- 
 ther day when some monks came to 
 Antony for advice, he bid Paul spill a 
 vessel of honey and gather it up without 
 any dust: this was another trial of his 
 obedience. At other times he ordered 
 hira to draw water a whole day an.i pour 
 it out again ; to make baskets and pull 
 them to pieces ; to sew and unsew gar- 
 ments and the like : these were other 
 trials of his obedience. When Antony 
 had thus exercised him he placed him in 
 a cell three miles from his own, proposed 
 him as a model of obedience to his disci- 
 ples, sent sick persons to him, and others 
 possessed with the devil, whom he could 
 not cure himself, and "under Paul," Butler 
 says, " they never failed of a cure." He 
 died about 330. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Early Daffodil. Narcissus Pseudonarcis- 
 
 sus simples. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Perpetua. 
 
 i¥lard) 8. 
 
 St. John of God, a. n. 1550. St. Felia^, 
 A.D. 646. Sts. Apollonins, Philemoii, 
 &c. A.D. 311. St. Julian, Abp. of 
 Toledo, A.D. 690. St. Dutkak, Bp. of 
 Ross, A.D. 1253. St. Rosa, of Viterbo, 
 A.D. 1261. St. Senan, 5th Cent. St. 
 Psalmod, or Saumay, about 589. 
 
 Romish saints are like earthquakes, 
 wherein shocks crowd so fast they cannot 
 be noted. 
 
 An Earthquake in London. 
 
 On the 8th of March, 1750, an earth- 
 quake shook all London. The shock was 
 at half past five in the morning It 
 
 awoke people from their sleep and 
 frightened them out of their houses. 
 A servant maid in Charterhouse-square, 
 was thrown from her bed, and had her 
 arm broken ; bells in several steeples 
 were struck by the chime hammers ; grea' 
 stones were thrown from the new spire of 
 Westminster Abbey ; dogs howled in un 
 common tones ; and fish jumped haH 
 a yard above the water. 
 
 London had experienced a shock only 
 a month before, namely, on the 8th 
 of February 1750, between 12 and 1 
 o'clock in the day. At Westminster, the 
 barristers were so alarmed that they 
 imagined the hall was falling. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Everblowing Rose. Rosa Semperflorens 
 Dedicated to St. Rosa of Viterbo- 
 Great Jonquil. Narcissus Icetus. 
 Dedicated to St. Felix. 
 
 i¥lard) 9. 
 
 St. Frances, Widow, a. d. 1440. St. Gre- 
 gory, of Nyssa, Bp. 4th Cent. St. 
 Pucian, Bp. a. d. 373. St. Catherine, of 
 Bologna, a. d. 1463. 
 
 MISTS AND FALLS. 
 
 Scots' mists, like Scots' men, are pro- 
 verbial for their penetration; Plymouth 
 showers for their persevering frequency. 
 The father of Mr. Haydon, the artist, 
 relates that in the latter portion 
 of 1807, and the first three or four 
 months of 1808, there had been more 
 than 160 successive days in which rain, 
 in more or less quantities, had fallen 
 in that neighbourhood. He adds, in- 
 deed, by way of consolation, that in 
 winter it only rained there, while it 
 snowed elsewhere. It has been remarked 
 that in this opinion he might be correct ; 
 at least if he compared the climate of 
 Plymouth with that of the western high- 
 lands. A party of English tourists are 
 said to have stopped for several days at 
 an uncomfortable inn, near Inverary, by 
 the unremitting rams that fall in that 
 country about Lammas, when one oi 
 them pettishly asked the waiter, " Does 
 it rain here always ?'' " Na ! na I" re- 
 plied Donald, " it snaivs whiles," i. e. 
 sometimes. 
 
 floral DIRECTORY. 
 
 Petticoat Dafibdil. Narcissus Bulboco- 
 
 dium. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Catherine. 
 
 171 
 
THE EVERY-DA' BOOK.— MARCH 10. 
 
 M^vtf) 10. 
 
 Forty Martyrs of St. Sehastl, 
 St. Droctovceus, Abbot, a. d. 
 Alackessoge. 
 
 V. D. 320. 
 580. St. 
 
 The 10th of March, 1702, is erroneously 
 
 said to have been the day whereon died 
 sir Hugh Myddleton; a man renowned ill 
 English annals for having abundantly 
 supplied London with water, by conduct 
 ing the New River from Ware, in Hert- 
 fordshire, to the Clerkenwell suburb ol 
 the metropolis. 
 
 dramatic, entertainment. After manifold 
 windings and tunnellings from its source, 
 the New River passes beneath the arch in 
 the engraving, and forms a basin within 
 a large walled enclosure, from whence 
 diverging main pipes convey the water to 
 all parts of London. At the back of the 
 
 THE FIRST VIEW OF THE NEW RIVER- FROM LONDON. 
 
 This is seen immediately on coming boy angling on the wall, is a public-house 
 within view of Sadler's Wells, a place of with tea-gardens and a skittle-ground, 
 
 ' ' " commonly called, or known by the name 
 or sign of, the sir Hugh Myddleton, or of 
 the sir Hugh Myddleton's head," a por- 
 trait of sir Hugh hangs in front of the 
 house. To this stream, as the water 
 nearest London favourable to sport, an 
 glers of inferior note repair : — 
 Here " gentle anglers," and their rods withal. 
 
 Essaying, do the finny tribe inthrall. 
 
 Here boys their penny lines and bloodworms throw. 
 
 And scare, and catch, the " silly fish" below : 
 
 Backstickles bite, and biting, up they come. 
 
 And now a minnow, now a miller's thumb. 
 Here too, experienced youths of better taste 
 
 And higher aim resort, who bait with paste, 
 
 Or push beneath a gentle's shining skiu 
 
 The barbed hook, and bury it within ; 
 
 The more he writhes the better, if he die 
 
 Not one will touch him of the finny fry ; 
 
 If in strong agony the sufferer live. 
 
 Then doth the "gentle angler" joy receive, 
 
 Down bobs the float, the angler wins the prise, 
 
 And uow the gentle, now the gudgeon dies. 
 
 172 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOUK.— MARCH 10 
 
 Concerning Sir Hugh Myddleton there 
 Villi be occasion to speak again. 
 
 CLOVE OF DEFIANCE 
 
 In the Church. 
 
 In the notice of Bernard Gilpin, March 
 4, (p. 165,) it is said, " another incident 
 iiirther illustrating the manners of the 
 Northern Borderers will be mentioned 
 below." The observation refers to a ftin- 
 giilar challenge, which the arrangements 
 of that day could not include, and is now 
 inserted. 
 
 On a certain Sunday Mr. Gilpin going 
 to preach in those parts wherein deadly 
 y^^Krf* prevailed, observed a glove hanging 
 up on high in the church. He demanded 
 of the sexton what it meant, and why it 
 hung there. The sexton answered, that it 
 was a glove which one of the parish hung 
 up there as a challenge to his enemy, sig- 
 nifying thereby, that he was ready to enter 
 combat hand to hand, with him or any one 
 else who should dare to take the glove 
 down. Mr. Gilpin requested the sexton to 
 take it down. " Not I, sir," replied the 
 sexton, "I dare do no such thing." Then 
 Mr. Gilpin, calling for a long staff, took 
 down the glove himself, and put it in his 
 bosom. By and by, when the people 
 came to cliurch, and Mr. Gilpin in due 
 time went up into the pulpit, he in his 
 sermon reproved the barbarous custom 
 of challenges, and especially the custom 
 which they had, of making challenges by 
 the hanging up of a glove. " I hear," 
 said he, " that there is one amongst you, 
 who, even in this sacred place, hath hanged 
 up a glove to this purpose, and threateneth 
 to enter into combat with whosoever shall 
 take it down. Behold, I have taken it 
 down myself." Then plucking out the 
 glove, he showed it openly, and inveighing 
 against such practices m any man that 
 professed himself a Christian,endeavoured 
 \ o persuade them to the practice of mutual 
 love and charity. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 The memory of man supplies no re- 
 collection of so wet a season as from Sep- 
 tember 1824 to March 1825 ; it produced 
 the rot in sheep to an alarming extent. 
 In consequence of the animals being 
 killed in this disease, the mutton is un- 
 wholesome for human food, and produces 
 mortality even in dogs. The newspapers 
 
 relate that such mutton given to a 
 kennel of dogs rendered ibem fat, till on a 
 sudden their good looks declined, they 
 became lean, and gradually died, withoiit 
 any other cause being assignable for the 
 mortality, than the impure flesh of the 
 sheep. In such a season, therefore, fami- 
 lies should shrink from the use of mutton 
 as from a pestilence. There is no secu- 
 rity, but in entire abstinence. Almost 
 every hare shot during the same period 
 had a tainted liver. Under such circum- 
 stances lamb should be sparingly used, 
 and, if possible, refrained from altogether, 
 in order to secure mutton at a reasonable 
 price hereafter. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1792. John, earl of Bute, died. He 
 was prime minister soon after the acce.'*- 
 sion of George III.; and of all who guideil 
 the helm of state, the most unpopular. 
 
 On the 10th of March, 1820, died 
 Benjamin West, esq., president of the 
 Royal Academy, in the eighty-second yeai 
 of his age. It was his delight to gentlj 
 lead genius in a young artist ; and Mr. 
 William Behnes, the sculptor, was 
 honoured by the venerable president with 
 the means of transmitting his parting 
 looks to an admiring world, upon whom 
 he was soon to look no more. Mr. West's 
 sittings to Mr. Behnes were about two 
 months before his death. Expressing 
 himself to his young friend in terms o< 
 high satisfaction at the model, he en- 
 couraged him to persevere in that 
 branch of art which Mr. Behnes has since 
 distinguished, by admirable power of de- 
 sign and use of the chisel. To speak of 
 Mr. Behnes's model as a mere likeness, is 
 meagre praise of an effort which clearly 
 marks observation, and comprehension, of 
 Mr. West's great mental powers. The 
 bust, as it stands in marble, in sir John 
 Leicester's gallery, is a perfect resemblance, 
 of Mr. West's features, and an eloquent 
 memorial of his vigorous and unimpaired 
 intellect in the last days of earthly exis- 
 tence. If ever the noblest traits of humanity 
 were depicted by the hand of art, they 
 are on this bust. Superiority of mind is 
 so decidedly- marked, and blended, with 
 primitive simplicity, and a beaming look 
 of humanity and benevo'.ence, that it 
 seems the head of an apostle. 
 
 ^Ir. West was an American ; tie was 
 
 173 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— MARCH 10 
 
 boin at Springfield, in Pennsylvania, 
 on the 10th of October, 1738; his 
 ancestors and parents were " Friends :" 
 the family had emigrated from England 
 with the illustrious founder and legislator 
 of Pennsylvania, Wh.liam Penn: of 
 whose treaty with the Indians for a tract 
 of their territory, it is observed, that it 
 was the only christian contract unsanc- 
 tioned by an oath, and the only one never 
 violated.* The first of the family who 
 embraced Quaker principles was colonel 
 James West, the friend and companion in 
 arms of the great John Hampden. 
 
 Mr. West's genius developed itself very 
 early. When a child he saw an infant 
 smile in its sleep, and forcibly struck with 
 Its beauty, seized pens, ink, and paper, 
 which happened to lie by him, and en- 
 deavoured to delineate a portrait ; at tiiis 
 period he had never seen an engraving or 
 a picture. He was afterwards sent to 
 school in the neighbourhood, and during 
 hours of leisure was permitted to draw 
 with a pen and ink. It did not occur to 
 any of the family to provide him with bet- 
 ter materials, till a party of Indians being 
 amused with little Benjamin's sketches of 
 birds and flowers,taught him to prepare the 
 red and yellow colours with which they 
 painted their ornaments, and his mother 
 adding blue, by giving him a piece of 
 indigo, he became possessed of the three 
 primary colours. As he could not procure 
 camels' hair pencils, and did not even 
 know of their existence, he supplied the 
 deficiency by cutting fur from the end of 
 the cat's tail. From the frequent necessity 
 for repeating this depredation, his father 
 observed the altered appearance of his 
 favourite, and lamented it as the effect of 
 disease; the young artist, with due con- 
 trition, informed his father of the true 
 cause, and the old gentleman was higlily 
 pleased by his son's ingenuousness. Mr. 
 Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, 
 struck with the genius of the child, sent 
 him a box of paints and pencils, with 
 some canvass, and six engravings by 
 Grevling. Little West rose with the 
 dawn of the next day, carried the box 
 into the garret, prepared a pallet, began 
 to imitate the figures in the engravings, 
 omitted to go to school, and joined the 
 family at dinner, without mentioning how 
 he had been occupied. In the afternoon 
 he again retired to his garret ; and for 
 
 * Voltaire's Pliilosopliical Dictionary London 
 edit. vol. V p. 367. 
 
 several successive days thus devoted hin> 
 self to painting. The schoolmaster, how- 
 ever, sent, to know the reason of his ab 
 sence. Mrs. West recollecting that she 
 had seen Benjamin going up stairs every 
 morning, and suspecting that it was the 
 box which occasioned this neglect of the 
 school, affected not to notice the message, 
 but went immediately to the garret, and 
 found him employed on the picture. If 
 she had anger, it was changed to a different 
 feeling by the sight of his performance ; 
 she kissed him with transports of affection, 
 and assured him that she would intercede 
 to prevent his being punished. It seemed 
 ever the highest pleasure of Mr. West 
 emphatically to declare, that it was this 
 kiss that made him a painter. 
 
 After numerous indications of uncon- 
 trollable passion for his favourite and 
 only pursuit, a consultation of •' Friends" 
 was held, on the propriety of allowing 
 young West to indulge a taste, which the 
 strict discipline of the society inhibits : — 
 
 Genius has such resistless power 
 That e'en the Quaker, stern and plain, 
 Felt for the blooming painter boy. 
 
 The destiny he desired was fixed. In 
 1760 he left Philadelphia for Rome, pur- 
 sued his studies in the capital of art, 
 visited the galleries and collections of 
 Italy with an ardour that impaired his 
 health, came through France to London, 
 and was about to return to America, when 
 sir Joshua Reynolds, and Wilson, the 
 landscape painter, used their utmost per- 
 suasions to detain him in this country. 
 There was only one obstacle ; he had 
 formed an attachment on his native soil : 
 
 Wlieree'er he turn'd, whatever realms to 
 
 see, 
 His heart, untravcll'd, fondly turn'd 
 
 to her whom he loved. This difficulty 
 was overcome, for the lady. Miss Shewcll, 
 came over ; they were married in London, 
 in 1764. Thus " settled," in the following 
 year Mr. West was chosen a member and 
 one of the directors of the Society of 
 Artists, afterwards incorporated with the 
 Royal Academy, which he assisted in 
 forming, and over which he afterwards 
 presided till his death. 
 
 As an artist his works in the various 
 collections and edifices throughout Eng- 
 land exhibit his talents, but above all 
 " West's Gallery," now open in New- 
 man-street for public inspection, is an 
 assemblage of testimonials to the I'ustice 
 
 174 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— M ARCH 11,12. 
 
 of his fame among his adopted country- 
 men. His talent geiminated on the 
 shores of the Atlantic, but with us it 
 flourished. Ameiica at that period was 
 not sufficiently advanced to cultivate his 
 genius : now that she has risen in com- 
 merce and the arts, and taken her stand 
 among the nations, she will retain her 
 future Wests to adorn her greatness. May 
 the people of England and America con- 
 tend with each other no more but in works 
 of peace and good will ; and may the in- 
 terchange of talented individuals from 
 each, contribute to the prosperity and 
 moral grandeur of both countries ! 
 
 As a man, Mr. West's characteristics 
 were kindness and warmth of heart. 
 From accordant feelings, he painted with 
 delight and energy some of the most 
 affecting incidents m the New Testament 
 history. His " Christ healing the sick" 
 will be remembered by all who saw it, 
 with reverend solemnity. In his " Christ 
 Rejected-," the various bad passions in the 
 malignant spectators and abettors of the 
 outrage ; the patient suffering of the great 
 and all-enduring character ; the sympa- 
 thizing feelings of his adherents ; and the 
 general accessories, are great lineaments of 
 the designer's power. His " Death on the 
 Pale Horse," and more especially the 
 sketch for that painting, express masterly 
 thought and conception. These are Mr. 
 West's "large'' pictures. Some of his 
 smaller ones and his sketches, the beholder 
 studies and lingers over till his limbs and 
 body tire ; and he leaves the large assem- 
 blage of paintings in " West's Gallery" 
 with a conviction, that no artist has yet 
 fully occupied his place. Perhaps there 
 is only one who would have designed the 
 " Death on the Pale Horse" more effec- 
 tively, and he would have had no compeer 
 •^Mr. Fuseli ; whose compositions are of 
 a higher order than those of any other in 
 this country, and will be duly estimated 
 when the price set upon his works cannot 
 be useful to their author. No one is 
 valued till he is dead ; after the last sigh 
 has sobbed from the body, comes the time 
 for some to suspect that they had inflicted 
 pangs upon its infirmity when living, and 
 a desire to know more of a man, the 
 rufflings of whose dying pillow the breath 
 of their friendship might have smoothed, 
 and whom, to the extent of their compre- 
 hension they might have known, if their 
 little feelings, in a state too easy, had not 
 excluded him from their society. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Upright Chickweed. Veronica triphijllos 
 Dedicated to St. DroctavcEus, 
 
 iHarrI) 11. 
 
 St. Eulogius of Cordova, a. d. 859. Si. 
 Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, 
 A. D. 640. St. JEngiis, Bishop, *.. d 
 824. St. Constantine, 6th Cent. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1752. Papers were affixed in the 
 avenues to both houses of parliament, 
 giving notice that the farmers and their 
 servants intended to destroy the pheasant 
 and partridge eggs, and leverets, if the 
 country gentlemen, who had entered into 
 an association for the preservation of 
 game, did not desist. There were sad 
 heats at this time between the owners and 
 occupiers of land, from the obnoxiousness 
 of the game laws, and the severity of their 
 execution. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cornish Heath. Erica vaguus 
 Dedicated to St. Eulogius. 
 
 i^larri) 12. 
 
 St. Gregory the Great. St. Maximilian, 
 A. D. 296. St. Paul, Bishop of Leon, 
 about 573. 
 
 St. Gregory the Great. 
 
 He was praetor of Rome in 574, under 
 the emperor Justin ; next year he became a 
 monk, and by fasting and study so weak- 
 ened his stomach, that he swooned if he 
 did not frequently eat. "What gave him the 
 greatest affliction," says Butler, "was, his 
 not being able to fast on an Easter-eve ; a 
 day on which, says St. John the deacon, 
 * every one, not even excepting little chil- 
 dren are used to fast ;' whereupon, by pray- 
 ing that he might be enabled to fast, he 
 not only fasted, but quite forgot his ill- 
 ness." He determined to come to Britain 
 to propagate the faith ; but the whole city 
 rose in an uproar to prevent his depar- 
 ture, and the pope constrained him to re- 
 main. Pope Pelagius II. sent him as 
 nuncio to Constantinople, where Eutychius 
 fell into an error, importing that after tlie 
 resurrection glorified bodies would not be 
 palpable, but of a more subtile texture than 
 air. Whereupon, says Butler, St. Gre- 
 gory was alarmed, and clearly derrcn- 
 etrated that their bodies would be the 
 
 175 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 12 
 
 same which they had on earth, and Euty- 
 chius retracted his error : on his return to 
 Rome he took with him an arm of St. 
 Andrew, and the head of St. Luke. Pela- 
 gius made him his secretary, and after his 
 death was elected pope liimself. To 
 escape from the danger of this elevation, 
 he got himself carried out of Rome in a 
 wicker basket, and lay concealed in woods 
 and caverns for three days. He was 
 afterwards consecrated with great pomp, 
 and on that occasion sent a synodal epistle 
 to the other patriarchs, wherein he de- 
 clared that " he received the four councils 
 as the four gospels." Butler says, he ex- 
 tended his charity to the heretics, and 
 '•to the very Jews," yet he afterwards adds, 
 that in Africa " he extirpated the Dona- 
 ists." He subscribed himself in his let- 
 ters, "Servant of the Servants of God." 
 He sent to the empress Constantina a 
 veil which had touched the relics of the 
 apostles, and assured her that miracles 
 nad been wrought by such relics, and 
 promised her some dust-filings of the 
 chains of St. Paul. He sent St. Austin 
 and other monks to convert the English. 
 (See February 24, St Ethelbert.) He 
 died on the 25th of January, 604.* His 
 devotion to the church was constant ; he 
 was learned, enterprising, sincere, and 
 credulous, and, for the times wherein he 
 rved, charitable, and merciful. It should 
 be observed, that he was the author of 
 the church-singing called the Gregorian 
 chaunt. 
 
 Many miracles are related of St. Gre- 
 gory, as that going to bless a church 
 in honour of St. Agnes, which had 
 been used by the Arians, he caused the 
 relics to be placed on the altar, whereon 
 a hog went grunting out of the church with 
 a fearful noise ; whence it was averred 
 that the devil, who had been served in 
 it by the heretic Arians, was driven out 
 by the relics. Sometimes the 'amps were 
 miraculously lighted. One day a bright 
 cloud descended on the altar, with a 
 heavenly odour, so that from reverence 
 Qo one dared to enter the church. At 
 another time, when Gregory was transub- 
 stantiating the wafers a woman laughed ; 
 he asked her why she laughed ? to which 
 at length she answered, " because you 
 call the bread which I made with my own 
 hands the body of our Lord ;" whereupon 
 he prayed, and the consecrated bread 
 appeared tlesh to every one present ; and 
 
 • Buttler's Saintsi 
 
 the woman was converted, and the rest 
 were confirmed. At another time, sorhe 
 ambassadors coming to Rome for relics, 
 Gregory took a linen cloth which had 
 been applied to the body of a saint, and 
 enclosing it in a box gave it to therr. 
 While on their journey home they were 
 curious to see the contents of the box ; 
 and finding nothing within it but thft 
 cloth, returned to St. Gregory complain- 
 ing that he had deceived them. On this 
 he took the cloth, laid it on the altar, 
 prayed, pricked it with a knife, the cloth 
 shed blood, and the astonished ambassa- 
 dors reverently took back the box. Another 
 time one who had been excommunicated 
 by St. Gregory for having put away his 
 lawful wife, bargained with certain sor- 
 cerers and witches for revenge ; who, when 
 the holy pope rode through the city, sent 
 the devil into his horse, and made him 
 caper, so that he could not be held; then 
 with the sign of the cross the pope casi 
 out the devil, and the witches by miracle 
 becoming blind were converted, and Si. 
 Gregory baptized them ; yet he would not 
 restore their sight, lest they should read 
 their magical books again, but main- 
 tained them out of the church rents. 
 After his death there was a famine in 
 Rome, and the people being falsely per- 
 suaded that St. Gregory had wasted the 
 church property, gathered his writings 
 to burn them ; wherefore Peter, the dea- 
 con, who had been intimate with Gre- 
 gory, affirmed, that "he had often seen 
 the Holy Ghost in form of a dove upon 
 St. Gregory's head whilst he was writing, 
 and that it would be an insufferable 
 affront to burn those books, which had 
 been written by his inspiration ;" and to 
 assure them of this he offered to confirm 
 it by oath, but stipulated that if he died 
 immediately after he had taken the oath, 
 they should believe that he had told 
 them the truth : this being assented to, he 
 took the oath, and thereupon died, and 
 the people believed ; and " hence the 
 painters came to represent St. Gregory, 
 with a dove at his ear, to signify that the 
 Holy Ghost inspired and dictated what 
 he writ."* 
 
 It is also a legend concerning St. Gre- 
 gory, that when he fled from Rome to 
 avoid the dignity of popedom and lay hid, 
 a bright pillar of fire descending from hea- 
 ven, glittered above his head, and angels 
 appeared descending and ascending by 
 
 • Ribadeneira'* Seinrs. 
 
 176 
 
THE F.VERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 12. 
 
 ihe same fiery pillar upon him, where- 
 fore he was " miraculously betrayed."* 
 
 After St. Gregory's death there was a 
 hermit, who had left all his goods, and 
 left the world, and kept nothing but his 
 cat, and this cat he used to play with, 
 and hold in his lap tenderly : one day he 
 prayed that it might be revealed to him, 
 to the joy of what saint he should here 
 after come ; then St. Gregory was revealed 
 to him, and that he should come to his 
 joy ; wherefore the hermit sighed, and dis- 
 liked his poverty, because St. Gregory had 
 possessed so much earthly riches xand in 
 revelation it was commanded him to be 
 quiet, because he had more pleasure in 
 stroking and playing with his cat, than 
 St. Gregory had in all his riches. Then 
 the hermit prayed that he might have 
 the like merit and reward with St. Gre- 
 gory ; and in this story, lieth great moral. 
 
 DOMESTIC MEDICINE, 
 
 Although this is not a family receipt- 
 book, yet a prescription is extracted from 
 the "Yea and Nay Almanack for 1678," 
 because the remedy has been tried and 
 approved. 
 
 For the Eyes. 
 
 In the morning as soon as you rise, 
 instead of fasting spittle, or a cat's tail, 
 rub your eyes with a hundred broad 
 pieces of your own gold; and I tell thee 
 friend, it will not only do thy eyes good, 
 but thy purse also. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1689. King James II. landed at 
 Kinsale in Ireland, with an army he 
 brought from France, to assist in the 
 recovery of the throne he had abdicated. 
 He afterwards made a public entry into 
 Dublin, and besieged Londonderry, which 
 vigorously defended itself under the rev. 
 George Walker, and suffered dreadful 
 privations till it was relieved, and the 
 siege abandoned. He then held a parlia- 
 ment in Dublin, coined base money, and 
 committed various outrages, till William 
 III. signally defeated him at the battle of 
 the Boyne, and compelled him to fly to 
 France. 
 
 SOCIETY rOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF 
 LITERATURE. 
 
 Among the proposals in 1825, a year 
 
 Srolific of projects, there is one for a 
 oint Stock Company or Society for the 
 
 * Porter's Flowers. 
 
 Encouran^sment of Literature ; the capital 
 to be £100,000. in shares of £25. to be 
 increased, if advisable ; shareholders to 
 be allowed to subscribe at par; each 
 shareholder to be entitled to a copy of 
 every work published by the society, at 
 two-thirds of the publication price ; in- 
 terest 5 per cent., to be paid half yearly on 
 the instalments subscribed ; a deposit of 
 £l. per share to be paid on subscribing, 
 the remainder by instalments as the 
 extension of the society's concerns may 
 demand ; of the profits one-fourth to 
 form a fund for the benefit of authors, at 
 the discretion of the society ; two-fourths 
 to be divided among the proprietors an- 
 nually ; tlie remaining one-fourth to 
 accumulate into a perpetual triennial 
 fund, to meet unforeseen expenditure, the 
 possibility of loss, &c. &c. Sec. There is 
 not one word about the Encourarrement 
 0^ Literature beyond the title. This ab- 
 sence is the most intelligible part of the 
 proposals. 
 
 There was a Society for the Encou- 
 ragement of Learnintr, established in 
 May, 1736. The duke of Richmond 
 was president, sir Hugh Smithson, (after- 
 wards duke of Northumberland,) and sir 
 ITiomas Robinson, bart., were vice-pre- 
 sidents. The trustees were the earl of 
 Hertford, earl of Abercorn, Ilarley, earl 
 oi" Oxford, earl Stanhope, lord Percival, 
 Dr. Mead. Dr. Birch, Paul Whitehead, 
 Ward, the professor at Gresham college, 
 Sale, the translator of the Koran, and 
 other really eminent men; Alexander 
 Gordon, the author of " Iter Septentri- 
 onale," a " History of Amphitheatres," and 
 other learned and antiquarian works, was 
 their secretary. In the December of the 
 same year Gordon wrote a letter to Dr. 
 Richardson, master of Emanuel college 
 Cambridge, soliciting his interference 
 with Dr. Conyeis Middleton, to obtain 
 for the society the publication of the life 
 of Cicero. " They have already entirely 
 paved the way for the reception of au- 
 thors," says Gordon; " appointed book- 
 sellers for their service ; settled the regula- 
 tions concerning printers, and the printing 
 part;" and, " in fine nothing is ivanling 
 but to set out with some author of geniua 
 and note." Dr. Middleton chose to 
 publish his life of Cicero with a book- 
 seller, notwithstanding an army of really 
 great names had made all those arrange- 
 ments, and courted him to their en- 
 couragement. In the outset of this so- 
 ciety Mr. Clarke iu a letter to Mr. Bo'vyer 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 177 
 
 N 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 12. 
 
 expressed his conviction, that " it must 
 be at last a duwnriglit trading society," 
 and said " I hope you will take care to be 
 ine of their printers, for there will certainly 
 De a society for encouraging printing." 
 Mr. Bowyer took the hint, and printed for 
 them. The security was good, because 
 each member of such a society is 
 answerable individually for its debts. 
 At the end of three years " Dr. Birch, as 
 treasurer to the society, handed over to 
 Mr. Stephen le Bas, his successor in 
 office, the astonishing balance of 59/. 
 3s. Q^d. During that period the society 
 had printed only four books ; and then, 
 deeming the assistance of booksellers ne- 
 cessary, they entered into a contract for 
 tiiree years with A. Millar, J. Gray, and 
 J. Nourse; afterwards they contracted 
 with six other booksellers, whose profits 
 they retrenched : then they became their 
 own booksellers ; then they once more had 
 recourse to three other booksellers; and 
 finally, finding their finances almost ex- 
 iiausted, they laid before the public a 
 memorial of the Present State of Aflf'airs 
 of the Society, April 17, 1748," whereby 
 it appeared that they had incurred so 
 considerable a debt they could proceed 
 no further.* 
 
 Less than fifty years ago another 
 society existed, under the very title of 
 tiie Joint Stock Society proposed in 1825. 
 Mr. Tyson, in a letter of June 21, 1779, 
 to his friend Mr. Cough, the antiquary, 
 mentions that a bequest of £5. was " left 
 at the disposal of the Society for the En- 
 couragement of Litcratiire."f If the 
 liteiature of the present day owes its 
 existence to that society, its ofl'spring is 
 most ungrateful; the foster-parent is not 
 even remembered, nor is the time of its 
 birth or death recorded in any public 
 register. That it survived the bequest 
 alluded to, only a very short period, ap- 
 pears certain ; for in the verj- next year, 
 1780, Dr. Lettsom issued " Hints for esta- 
 blishing a Society for promoting useful 
 Literature." The doctor, a most bene- 
 volent man, and a good physician, dis- 
 pensed much charity in private as well as 
 in public, and patronized almost every 
 humane institution for the rolief and cure 
 of human infirmity; and hence his eye 
 was as microscopic in discernment, as his 
 hand was experimental in the healing of 
 griefs. Literature seems to have been to 
 him as a gentle river that he rilled into. 
 
 • Nicholii'8 Anecdotes 
 
 t Ibid. 
 
 and which he thought could be diverted, 
 or regulated by new ciiannels and shiicps ; 
 he appeared not to know, that it is an 
 ocean of mighty waters, with countless 
 currents and varying tides. He proposed 
 laigesses to indigent writers, and their 
 widows and orphans, and " honoraiv re- 
 wards '' to successful ones. Robertson, 
 Bryant, Melmoth, Johnson, Gibbon, and 
 many other "useful and accomplished 
 writers," were to have had the " honorary 
 rewards" of the encoui aging society. 
 Such honours, such a society was to 
 have forced on such men ! The doctor's 
 "hints" were not adopted, except that 
 to relieve the casualties of minor literary 
 men, and their dependents, there now 
 exists the Literary Fund. 
 
 In the records of foimer days there is 
 mention of a project for extracting, bot- 
 tling, and preserving sunbeams from cu- 
 cumbers, for use at that season when sun- 
 beams are rare, and cucumbers not at all. 
 The projector seems to have inferred, that 
 as cucumbers derived their virtue from 
 sunbeams, it would be virtuous in cucum- 
 bers to return the deposit. Whatever 
 virtue cucumbers had, it would not be 
 forced. Expeiiment, doubtless, disap- 
 pointed hope; the promising project ab- 
 sorbed the capital advanced, as completely 
 as the cholicky vegetables tenaciously 
 retained the solar rays; and the deposit 
 never found its way to the shareholders. 
 
 Any Society for the Encouragement of 
 Literature, suve one, is a fallacy — that one 
 is society itself. All interposition in its 
 behalf is feeble and doting interference. 
 A public Joint Stock Company can neither 
 create literary talent, nor by divided 
 eflbrts obtain so much ; nor with capital, 
 however great, reward it so well, as the 
 undivided interest, industry, and unshared 
 purse of the private publisher. 
 
 If a Society for the Encouragement of 
 Literature be instituted, when more in- 
 stitution is threatened, and less insti- 
 tution is necessary, than at any former 
 period, such society will be a hot-bed 
 for the cultivation of little more than 
 hopeful weeds. A k\r literary shoots 
 may be set in warm borders, and drawn 
 up under frames, to look handsome, 
 but they will not bear transplanting to 
 open ground. Their produce will be pre- 
 mature, of inferior quality, and not repay 
 the trouble and expense of rearing. If 
 left unsheltered, the first chill will kill 
 them. Weak suckers, however well fa- 
 voured, will never come to trees 
 
 178 
 
THE EVER\-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 13. 
 
 Tlie monarch of the forest, in natural 
 solitude, drinking sunshine and dews, un- 
 interrupted and untainted by human en- 
 croachments, and striking deep root be- 
 neath virgin earth, attains, in fulness of 
 time, to majestic growth. In like manner 
 the silent spirit of man, seeking peace in 
 solitary imaginings, penetrating below the 
 foundations of human knowledge, and 
 generalizing and embodying the objects of 
 sight and feeling, arrives to a grandeur 
 astonishing to men's eyes, because not 
 the work of men's hands. This self- 
 created power, is denominated Genius. 
 In an incipient state it evaporates beneath 
 the meddling touch, and at maturity soars 
 above its reach. Talent is ungovernable. 
 It directs itself, appoints its own trustees 
 for uses, and draws drafts upon the public 
 
 which are honoured at siglit. The de- 
 mand for talent is greater than the supply. 
 What is to be done? — nothing. What 
 can be done ? — nothing. Literature must 
 be let alone. Under bounties and draw- 
 backs, it becomes tortuous and illicit. 
 
 FLORAL DIRFXTORY. 
 
 Channelled Ixia. Ixia Bulbocodium. 
 Dedicated to St. Gregory. 
 
 iilard) 13. 
 
 St. Nicephorus, Patriarch of Constanti- 
 nople, A.D. 828. St. Enphrasia, a. d. 
 410. St. Theophanes, Abbot, a. d. 818. 
 St. Kennocha, a. d. 1007. St. Gerald, 
 Bishop, A. D. 732. <S^ Mochoemoc, in 
 Latin, Pulcherius, Abbot, a. d. 655 
 
 MID-LENT SUNDAY. 
 
 WINTER AND SPRING ALLEGORIZED— A SPORT. 
 
 Mothering Sunday. — Refreshment Sunday. — 
 Rose Sunday. 
 
 This is the fourth Sunday in Lent, and 
 noted as a holiday in the church of Eng- 
 land calendar. 
 
 On this day boys went about, in ancient 
 times, into the villages with a figure of 
 death made of straw ; from whence they 
 were generally driven by the country 
 people, who disliked it as an ominous 
 
 179 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MARCH 14. 
 
 tppearance, while some gave them money 
 to p,et the mawkin carried off. Its precise 
 meaning under tl)at form is doubtful, 
 though it seems likely to have purported 
 the death of Winter, and to have been only 
 a part of another ceremony conducted by 
 a larger body of boys, from whom the 
 death-carriers were a detachment, and 
 who consisted of a large assemblage car- 
 rying two figures to represent Spring and 
 Winter, whereof one weis called " Sommer 
 "tout" — 
 
 Apparelde all in greene, and drest 
 
 in youthful fine arraye ; 
 The o he • Wi er, cladde in mosse, 
 
 with heare all hoare and graye.* 
 These two figures they bore about, and 
 fought ; in the fight Summer, or Spring, got 
 the victory over Winter, and thus was 
 allegorized the departure or burial of the 
 death of the year, and its commencement 
 or revival as Spring. The custom described 
 on March the 6th, (p. 339,) was only a 
 variation of the present, wherein also the 
 boys carried about cracknels or cakes : — 
 Thus children also beare, with spcares, 
 
 their cracknelles round about. t 
 It is still a custom on Mid-Lent Sunday 
 )n many parts of England, for servants and 
 apprentices to carry cakes or some nice 
 eatables or trinkets, as presents to their 
 parents ; and in other parts, to visit their 
 mother for a meal of furmity, or to receive 
 cakes from her with her blessing. This is 
 called going a mothering. % Herrick men- 
 tions this custom in Gloucestershire : 
 rie to thee a simnell bring 
 'Gainst thou go'st a mutherin^ , 
 So that when she blesseth thee 
 Half that blessing thoul't give me. 
 Going a mothering is from the Roman 
 catholic custom of going to the mother- 
 church on Mid-Lent Sunday, to make of- 
 ferings at the high altar ; and that custom 
 of the Romish Church is derived from the 
 Hilaria, a heathen festival celebrated by 
 the ancient Romans, in honour of the 
 Mother of the Gods on the ides of March.§ 
 The offerings at the altars were in their 
 origin voluntary, and became church pro- 
 perty. At length the parish priests com- 
 pounded witn the church at a certain 
 sum, and these voluntary donations of the 
 people have become the dues known by 
 the name of Easter Offerings. 
 
 Mid-Lent, or Mothering Sunday is 
 /ike wise called Refreshment Sunday, " the 
 
 Gu"ge's Naogeorgus. t Ibid 
 
 \ '..ejitleiuan's Magazine. 
 * lotbroke'a British Mo na/^hi tni 
 
 reason of which," says WTieatly, (on 
 Ihe Common Prayer) " I suppose is the 
 Go«pel for that day, which treats of our 
 Saviour's miraculously feeding five thou- 
 sand ; or else, perhaps, from the first 
 lesson in the morning, which gives us the 
 story of Joseph entertaining his brethren." 
 It is also denominated Rose Sunday, from 
 the pope on this day carrying a golden 
 rose in his hand, which he exhibits on his 
 way to and from mass.* 
 
 On this day at Seville there is an usage 
 evidently the remains of an old custom. 
 Children of all ranks, poor and gentle, 
 appear in the streets fantastically dress- 
 ed, somewhat like English chimney- 
 sweepers on May-day, with caps of gilt 
 and coloured paper, and coats made of the 
 crusade bulls of the preceding year. 
 During the whole day they make an in- 
 cessant din with drums and rattles, and 
 cry " Saw down the old woman." At 
 midnightjparties of the commonalty parade 
 the streets, knock at every door, repeat 
 the same cries, and conclude by sawing in 
 two the figure of an old woman represent- 
 ing Lent. This division is emblematical 
 ofMid-Lent.f 
 
 ft ORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Heartsease. Viola Tricolor. 
 Dedicated to St. Euphrasia. 
 
 0[tlYX\) 14. 
 
 St. Maud, or Mathildis, Queen, a. d. 968. 
 
 Sts. Acepsimas, Bishop. Joseph, and 
 
 Aithilahas, a. d. 380. St. Boniface, 
 
 Bishop of Ross, about 630 
 Chronology. 
 
 1733. The Excise scheme was first 
 moved in the House of Commons, by 
 resolutions, which were powerfully re- 
 sisted, but on the 16th finally carried, and 
 the Excise bill brought in. On the 4th of 
 April the bill was read a first time, and 
 carried by a majority of 36; the majority 
 being 236, the minority 200. There were 
 petitions against it from every trading 
 town of the kingdom, and great tumults 
 in London ; the obnoxious members were 
 attacked on their way to parliament. 
 The measure was so unpopular that it was 
 for that time dropped, whereon public 
 feeling was manifested by general illumi- 
 nations, and other rejoicings. 
 
 1757. Admiral John Byng, second 
 son of lord viscount Torrington, was shot 
 at Portsmouth, under the sentence of a 
 
 • Shepherd, on Comtnoii Prayer, 
 t Doblado's Letters . 
 
 180 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 15, 16. 
 
 court martial, for not having done his 
 duty in an action between the British and 
 I'rencn fleets on the 20th of May prece- 
 ding. After he had made his defence, 
 and conducted himself throughout the 
 trial with coolness and courage, he was so 
 sure of acquittal, that he ordered his 
 coach to be in waiting to convey him to 
 London. He suffered on board the 
 Monarque with undaunted firmness, walk- 
 ing out of the cabin with unchanged 
 countenance to the quarter-deck,where the 
 marines were stationed to execute the 
 sentence. He desired to die with his eyes 
 uncovered ; but on its being represented 
 that his intrepid looks might intimidate 
 the soldiers, and frustrate their aim, he 
 tied a handkerchief over his eyes, and 
 then dropping another, five musket balls 
 passed through his body, and he fell dead 
 instantly. An historian of the day says 
 of liim, that " Whatever his errors and in- 
 discretions might have been, he seemed to 
 have been rashly condemned, meanly given 
 np, and cruelly sacrificed to vile con- 
 siderations." It is believed that popular 
 fury had been excited against him by 
 various arts, and especially by the sup- 
 pression of important passages in his 
 official despatches. He delivered a paper 
 to the marshal of the admiralty on the 
 morning of his death, wherein he ex- 
 pressed his conviction, that ho should 
 nereafter be regarded as a victim to divert 
 the indignation and resentment of an in- 
 jured and deluded people from the proper 
 objects, and that his very enemies be- 
 lieved him innocent. 
 
 1797. Courtney IN^elmoth died at 
 Bath, aged 89 years; he translated part of 
 'Cicero's Works," and" Pliny's Ji-pistles," 
 and wrote " Fitzosborne's Letters," and the 
 " Memoirs of a late eminent Advocate;" 
 Ms father was the author of " The great 
 Importance of a Religious Life." 
 
 1803. Frederick Klopstock, a German 
 writer, author of the" Messiah" and other 
 works, chiefly poetical, died at Hamburgh, 
 aged 80. His funeral was a public one, 
 and conducted with a marked solemnity, 
 denoting affectionate respect for his talents 
 and character. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mountain Soldanel. Soldanella Alpina. 
 Dedicated to St. Maud. 
 
 iBarrJb 15. 
 
 Chronology. 
 Forty-four years before Christ, Julius 
 Csesar was assassinated by Brutus and his 
 associates in the senate-house of Rome, in 
 the 56th year of his age. He is said to have 
 conquered three hundred nations, taken 
 eight hundred cities, defeated three hun- 
 dred millions of men, and slain one hun- 
 dred millions on the field of battle. He 
 was learned himself, and an encourager of 
 learning and the aits. He wrote the "Com- 
 mentaries on the wars of Gaul," a book 
 which bears his name, and which would 
 have been lost in the bay of Alexandria, 
 if he had not swam from his ship with his 
 book in one hand, and his arms in the 
 other. His ruling passion was ambition, 
 yet he was a slave to sensuality; with 
 talents that might have made him the 
 protector of Roman liberty he destroyed it. 
 1784. Dr. Thomas Franklin, transla- 
 tor of Sophocles, Phalaris, and Lucian, 
 died. He was born about 1720, and 
 wrote two tragedies, the " Earl of War- 
 wick" and " Matilda." 
 
 FLORAL niRECTORY. 
 
 Coltsfoot. Tiissilago Farfala. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Znchery. 
 
 Lasting Mercury. Mercurialis perennis 
 
 Dedicated to St. Abraham. 
 
 Sti Abraham, Hermit, and his neice, St. 
 Alary, 4th Cent. St. Zachary, Pope, 
 A. D. 752. 
 
 i¥larrJj 16. 
 
 St. Julian, of Cilicia. St.Finian, sui- 
 named Lobhar, or the Leper. 
 
 St. Finian. 
 He was descended from Alild, king of 
 Munster, built the abbey of Innis-Fallen 
 in an island on the lake of Loughlane, 
 county of Kerry ; another at Ardfinnan, 
 in Tipperary ; and a third at Cluin-more 
 Madoc, in Leinster, where he was buried.* 
 It is related of St. Finian, that he 
 visited St. Ruadanus, who had a miracu- 
 lous tree in his cell, dropping a liquor so 
 peculiar, into a vessel from nine o'clock to 
 sun-set, that it sufficed to dine him and 
 all his brotherhood every day. St. 
 Finian's visit was to persuade St. Ruada- 
 nus to live like other people ; therefore, 
 when St. Finian came to the tree, he 
 signed it with the sign of the cross, by vir- 
 tue of which the liquor ceased to flow 
 after nine o'clock. This was in the absence 
 of Ruadanus, who being informed on his 
 return, that St. Finian and others had 
 come to see him, he ordered his servant 
 
 * Butler's Sainu. 
 
 181 
 
THE EVERY DAY BOOK.— MAIICH If. 
 
 to prepare the miraculous water dinner as 
 usual ; the servant surprised to find the 
 vessel empty, told his master, who bade 
 him to fill it with common water from a 
 fountain, which he had no sooner done, 
 than the water was changed into the. 
 liquor that flowed from the tree. St. 
 Ruadanus ordered the man to carry it to 
 St. Finian, who making a cross over the 
 liquor, changed it back to water, and said 
 why is this liquor of a false name given to 
 me? St. Finian's companions urged him 
 to go and cross the fountain as he had 
 crossed the tree ; but Finian answered, it 
 would only grieve Ruadanus, who would 
 go to the next bog, and change the water 
 there into the same liquor. In the end, St. 
 Finian and his companions persuaded St. 
 Ruadanus not to work any more miracles, 
 but to live as others did, whereunto he 
 yielded. Thus St. Finian having out- 
 miracled the miracle of St. Ruadanus, and 
 stopped him from working the same 
 miracle again, departed with his com- 
 panions.* 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1723. March 1 6, a royal proclamation 
 was issued for a thanksgiving for our pre- 
 servation from the plague. 
 
 [It has been lately proved that the 
 plague is not contagious. Dr. Maclean 
 is understood to have established the fact 
 to the satisfaction of government, and it 
 is in contemplation to repeal the present 
 laws of quarantbu'.] 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Nodding Daflbdil. Narcissus nutans 
 Dedicated to St Julian. 
 
 iHarrf) 17. 
 
 St. Patrick. St. Joseph, of Arimathea. 
 St. Gertrude, Abbess, a. d. 626. 
 
 St. Patrick, 
 .Apostle of Ireland. 
 St. Patrick was born towards the end 
 of the fourth century, in Killpatrick, be- 
 tween Dunbriton and Glasgow. At six- 
 teen he was carried off with many of his 
 father's vassals into slavery, and compell- 
 ed for six months to keep cattle on the 
 mountains in Ireland, from whence he 
 escaped througn the humanity of some 
 sailors. He travelled into Gaul and 
 Italy, and received his apostolical mission 
 to convert tne Irish, from pope Celestine, 
 
 • Patrick's Devotions. 
 
 who died in 432. Determined on at- 
 tempting the conversion of the people, he 
 penetrated to the remotest corners of Ire- 
 land, baptized multitudes, ordained cler- 
 gy to preside over them, instituted monks, 
 gave alms to the poor of the provinces, 
 made presents to the kings, educated 
 children to serve at the altar, held coun- 
 cils, founded monasteries, restored health 
 to the sick, sight to the blind, raised dead 
 persons to life, continued his missions 
 during forty years, and died at Down in 
 Ulster, where he was buried. Such, in 
 brief, is Alban Butler's account, who as- 
 signs the year 464, for a period wherein 
 he lived. 
 
 Ribadeneira affirms it, as a most famous 
 miracle, and well known to the whole 
 world, that St. Patrick did so free Ireland 
 of all venomous beasts, that none could 
 ever since breed or live there, and that 
 even the very wood has a virtue against 
 poison, " so that it is reported of king's 
 college, Cambridge, that being built of 
 Irish wood, no spider doth ever come near 
 it." 
 
 Jocelin, a Cistercian monk of Furnesin 
 the twelfth century, wrote " The Life and 
 Acts of St. Patrick," wherein he relates 
 many extraordinary particulars, of which 
 the few that follow are specimens : S'.. 
 Patrick when a child in winter time 
 brought home some pieces of ice, his 
 nurse told him he had better have brought 
 home wood, whereupon he heaped to- 
 gether the ice, and prayed, and the ice 
 immediately became a bonfire. After this 
 his foster-father died, and to relieve his 
 nurse's distress, St. Patrick prayed, signed 
 him with the sign of the cross, and so 
 restored him to life. Then by the same 
 sign he freed a cow from an evil spirit ; 
 recovered five cows she had wounded ; 
 afid, by the same means, when his nurse 
 was ill and longed for honey, he " imme- 
 diately changed water into the best 
 honey." At another time, when she was 
 commanded to clean out some filthy 
 stables, St. Patrick prayed, and they were 
 cleaned without hands. Then St. Patrick 
 himself was carried into slavery, and sold 
 for a kettle ; but the kettle being placed on 
 the fire, the hotter the fire burned, the 
 colder became the kettle ; whereupon the 
 seller of St. Patrick returned the kettle, 
 took St. Patrick back, and the vessel wa? 
 restored to its wonted power of boiling. 
 St. Patrick desiring to eat meat, obtained 
 some pork, and having concealed it 
 loi a convenient season, presently 
 
 182 
 
THE EVEFIY-DAY BOOK.— MA IICII 17 
 
 he saw a man witli eyes before and 
 eyes behind, and asked liim wliy he was 
 so formed ; the seer answered, " I am the 
 servant of God ; with tlie eye3 in my 
 forehead I see things open to view, with 
 my eyes behind I see a monk hiding flesh 
 meat in a vessel to satisfy his appetite pri- 
 vately." Then the seer vanished. St. 
 Patrick repented, prayed for pardon, 
 besought for a sign that he h?d it, was 
 told by an angel to put the pork into water, 
 did as the angel bid him, and tiie pork 
 " immediately became fishes." Having 
 journeyed into Britain, he saw a leper 
 whom mariners would not carry in their 
 ship, whereon St. Patrick took a stone 
 altar consecrated by the pope, cast it into 
 the sea, caused the leper to sit on it, and 
 the leper immediately set sail on the stone, 
 kept company with the ship all the voy- 
 age, and got into port with her at the same 
 time. St. Patrick, returning to Ireland, 
 in approacliing the shore, saw a multitude 
 3f devils in the form of a globe surrounding 
 the whole island, when he " raised his sa- 
 cred right hand, made the sign of the 
 cross, and, unhurt and unterrified, passed 
 he over." Some fishermen in the county 
 of Leinster, drawing their nets from a 
 river loaded with fish, St. Patrick asked 
 tliem for some ; they refused him ; he 
 cursed them, and the river ; and from 
 that day the river never produced fish 
 Once when the chief king of Ireland or- 
 dered his subjects to prevent St. Patrick 
 from landing, they set a fierce dog at him, 
 whereupon the dog stiffened like a stone ; 
 then a gigantic man brandished his sword 
 at the saint, the man stiffened likewise, 
 but repented, and St. Patrick unstiffened 
 him, and baptized him. An old man, 
 would not believe St. Patrick's preaching. 
 St Patrick asked him whether he would 
 be persuaded by a miracle ; the old man 
 said he would, then St. Patrick prayed, laid 
 his hand on him, " and immediately the old 
 man became beautiful and young, and 
 flourished again, as in his early youth," 
 and was so made to believe. Having con- 
 verted Mochna, a virtuous swineherd, 
 while they were conversing together, a 
 staff from heaven fell between them, which 
 St. Patrick gave to Mochna for a pastoral 
 staff, consecrated him bishop of Edrum, 
 " and the staff is in that church still pre- 
 served, and called ihejlyini^ ^fcff-" 
 
 St. Patrick's nephew, St. Lumanus, being 
 desirous of taking a journey by sea when 
 wind and tide were against him, he 
 hoisted the sails, trusted in the merits of 
 
 St. Patrick, and, " O, miracle till then 
 inilieard and unknown! the ship, witliout 
 any pilot, sailed against wind and stream," 
 and he made a prosperous voyage. At 
 another time, St. Patrick seeing a hundred 
 men unable to stir a large stone, he, alone, 
 raised it up, and placed it where it was 
 wanted. He was accustomed to stop and 
 erect a cross at the iiead-stone of every 
 christian who was buried outside of a 
 burial-place ; one day, coming to the 
 graves of two men newly buried, and 
 observing that one of the graves only 
 had a cross over it, he stopped his cha- 
 riot, and speaking to the dead man below, 
 asked him what religion he had been, the 
 dead man answered a pagan, St. Patrick 
 inquired why then a cross was put over 
 him, the dead pagan replied, he who is 
 buried near me was a christian, and one 
 of your faith coming hither placed the 
 cross at my head ; the saint stepped out 
 of his chariot, rectified the mistake, and 
 went his way. One Foylge, an idolater, 
 strangled the driver of St. Patrick's cha- 
 riot, in his seat, wherefore the saint cast 
 his "holy curse'' at Foylge, who pierced 
 thereby, fell dead into hell ; but the devil 
 entering the dead body, walked about in 
 it, and seemed as if he were Foylge him- 
 self, till one day St. Patrick called at the 
 dead man's house, and asking the family 
 where Foylge was, they answered he was 
 at home, when the saint told them of 
 Foylge's death, and that Satan " had 
 entered into his corpse and occupied it 
 as his own proper vessel," then St. Pa- 
 trick gave notice to the devil to leave his 
 lodging in Foylge's body, which he did im- 
 mediately, and Foylge was buried. Preach- 
 ing on a journey to 14,000 men, " he first 
 fed them all with spiritual food," then 
 commanding a cow to be killed, with two 
 stags, and a couple of boars, the people 
 ate abundantly, the remnants were 
 gathered up ; and " thus with the flesh of 
 five animals, did St. Patrick plenteously 
 feed 14,000 men." Once when he was 
 preaching, by way of a strong argument, 
 he raised to life nineteen dead men, one 
 of whom had been buried for ten years. 
 After that, St. Patrick passing over a river 
 one of his teeth dropped into the water, 
 and his disciples could not find it till 
 night, when tlie tooth in the river shone 
 as a radiant star, and being so discovered 
 was brought to St. Patrick, who on that 
 spot built a church, and deposited his 
 tooth beneath the altar. Desiring to pass 
 an impassable river, and no boat being 
 
 183 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 17. 
 
 at hand. St. Patrick prayed, and dividing 
 the river, made himself and followers a 
 free passage, then " he blessed the river, 
 and being so blessed, it abounded in 
 fishes above all others." St. Mel being 
 denounced unjustly to St. Patrick, and 
 preferring to prove his innocence by a 
 miracle rather than by an oath, lie 
 ploughed up the earth on a certain hill, 
 and took by the ploughshare many and 
 large fishes out of the dry land ; there- 
 upon St. Patrick absolved him, but lest 
 St. Mel should continue to work miracles 
 presumptuously, " he bade him that he 
 should thenceforth plough on the land, 
 and fish in the water." Si. Patrick had 
 a goat, a thief stole it, and ate it, and 
 when accused, denied it ; but the goat 
 bleating in the stomach of the thief, pro- 
 claimed the merit of St. Piitrick ; and, to 
 increase the miracle, by the sentence of 
 the saint, all the posterity of the man 
 were marked with the beard of a goat. 
 St. Patrick having laboured to convert a 
 tyrant, who laughed him to scorn, he im- 
 mediately converted the tyrant, against his 
 will, into a fox ; which fox went off with a 
 hard run, and could never be found. 
 Another time being benighted in the 
 open air, violent rain fell around St. 
 Patrick and his companions, but did not 
 wet them a drop. On the same night, 
 the driver of his chariot could not for the 
 darkness find the horses to re-yoke them, 
 on which St. Patrick, drawing his right 
 hand from his sleeve, and lifting up his 
 fingers, they " shone even as sun-beams, 
 and wonderfully illumining the whole 
 country, turned darkness into light, and 
 night into day — then by the aid of the 
 radiant miracle, the chariot-driver found 
 his steed.'' After the death of St. Patrick, 
 there was no night for twelve days. 
 
 These are some of the miracles attri- 
 buted to St. Patrick by Jocelin, whose life 
 of him published in " Dublin, Printed for 
 the Hibernia Press Company, By .lames 
 Blyth," is sold in London by Messrs. 
 Keating and Brown, Catholic Printers 
 and Publishers, No. 38, Duke-street, 
 Grosvenor-square, in one volume 12mo, 
 containing 264 pages, price 2*. 6rf. in 
 boards. 
 
 To what extent Catholics believe such 
 miracles, as have been just related is 
 unknown to a Protestant ; but the publi- 
 cation of Jocelin's works by catholic 
 booksellers in a cheap form, seems to sig- 
 
 nify that it is held in repute by Catholic* 
 in a humble rank of life. To what extent 
 the catholic clergy have instructed this 
 class of their flocks, or rather to what ex- 
 tent they design to instruct them, is also 
 unknown to a Protestant ; but should the 
 higher classes of catholics enjoy the civil 
 rights, which the most wise and enlight- 
 ened of their Protestant fellow-subjects 
 deplore they do not possess, and most 
 anxiously desire they should possess, it is 
 not too much to hope that it will become 
 the anxious wish, as it is the positive duty 
 of the catholic clergy to inform the igno- 
 rant of their community, .'in union be- 
 tween the church of England, or any 
 other protestant church, and the church 
 of Rome, never can take place ; but pro- 
 testant churchmen, and Protestants of all 
 denominations, can and will unite with 
 Catholics, if Catholics can and will unite 
 with them, to enlighten the Egyptian 
 darkness, which enslaves the mind worse 
 than Egyptian bondage. The education 
 of helpless infancy, and the fixation of 
 just principles in youth, form the best se- 
 curity against criminal manhood. In this, 
 surely, both Protestants and Catholics will 
 concur, and their earnest cooperation to 
 obtain this security will be a linn pledge 
 that each desires the welfare of each. The 
 marked separation of churches and doc- 
 trines cannot much longer separate man 
 from man. In the bigotted and selfish 
 interests that dam the social affections, 
 there are incurable and daily widening 
 breaches : the issues alternate and vary, 
 but the first high tide of mutual kindness 
 will burst the restrictions, and sweep them 
 away for ever 
 
 This being the anniversary of the day 
 whereon St. Patrick died, it is commemo- 
 rated as a high festival in the catholic 
 church ; and it is celebrated to his honour 
 in that country ,with every demonst ation of 
 affection for his memory as the apost'.e 
 and patron saint of Ireland, that a warm- 
 hearted, enthusiastic, joyous people, can 
 possibly express. An eye-witness repre- 
 sents to the editor of the Everif-Dai/ Book 
 that St. Patrick's day in Dublin is a scene 
 of festivity and mirth unequalled by any 
 thing observable in this country. From 
 the highest to the lowest, all hearts seem 
 inspired by the saint's beneficence. At 
 day-break flags fly on the steeples, and 
 
 18-i 
 
IHE EVER'i-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 17. 
 
 the hells ring out incessant peals till mid- 
 night. The rich bestow their benevolence 
 on the poor, and the poor bestow their 
 blessings on the rich, and on each other, 
 and on the blessed St. Patrick. The '-green 
 immortal" shamrock is in every hat. Sports 
 of manly exercise exhibit the capabilities 
 of the celebrated "shillelah," and before 
 night many a head gives token of the 
 application of its wonderful powers, by a 
 muscular hand. Priestly care soothes 
 querulousness ; laughter drowns ca- 
 sualty ; innumerable bright-eyed, rosy- 
 cheeked, jaunty lasses dance with their 
 mirth-loving lads ; old women run about 
 with children in the hoods of their cloaks, 
 to publicly share care-drowning cups of 
 sweet consolation with each other; and by 
 the union of wit, humour, and frolic, this 
 miraculous day is prolonged till after the 
 morning dawn. 
 
 A popular song on this festal occasion 
 contains these verses : 
 
 Saint Patrick's, the holy and tutelar man ; 
 His beard down his bosom like Aaron's ran : 
 Sorac from Scotland, fromWales, will declare 
 
 that he came, 
 But I care not from whence now he's risen 
 
 to fame : — 
 The pride of the world and his enemies 
 
 scorning', 
 I will drink to St. Patrick, to-day, in the 
 
 morning ! 
 
 He's a desperate big, little Erin go hrah ; 
 He will paidon our follies and promise us 
 
 joy- 
 By the mass, by the Pope, by St. Patrick, so 
 
 long 
 As I live, I will give him a beautiful song ! 
 No saiat is so good, Ireland's country adorn- 
 ing; 
 Then hail to St. Patrick, to-day, in the 
 morning ! 
 
 In London St. Patrick's day is observed 
 at court as a high festival, and the nobility 
 crowd to pay their compliments in honour 
 of Irelaind's tutelar saint. For many 
 years it has been selected as an occasion 
 for soliciting and obtaining aid to a great 
 national object — the promotion of eduo 
 Hon. It is the anniversary of the "Benevo- 
 lent Society of St. Patrick," for clothing 
 and educating children of Irish parer>ts 
 •who need the assistance, by voluntary 
 contribution. The festival is attended by 
 Irishmen of different political parties and 
 religious persuasions, and many of the 
 highest rank. On this anniversary, in 
 1825, the marquess of Londonderry was 
 
 in the chair, with the duke of Leinsteron 
 his right, and the marquess of Lansdown 
 at his left hand : several of the king's 
 ministers and nobility were present. The 
 report stated, trhat 400 children were 
 educated in the school, the funds admitted 
 of only 240 being cloil ed, the rest were 
 supplied with shirts, shoes, and stockings ; 
 and the committee earnestly invited in- 
 spection of the schools from nine till two 
 every day, except on the sabbath and Mon- 
 day. A donation to the charity, from his 
 majesty of 100 guineas, was followed by 
 others, and by hopes that absent Irish- 
 men and Englishmen who could, would 
 cheerfully contribute towards an institution 
 which on its merits required general sup- 
 port. Speeches from the chairman and 
 noble guests, the chancellor of the ex- 
 chequer, Mr. O'Connell, Mr, Huskis.son, 
 and other distinguished characters, 
 breathed sentiments of universal good 
 will, and must have inspired every indi- 
 vidual to kindness, and desire of extend- 
 ing, and cementing, the conciliation so 
 happily commenced between the people 
 of both countries. 
 
 If is related that during the dinner, the 
 party at the head table were much amused 
 by a bottle of genuine {illegal) poteen, neat 
 as imported from the emerald isle, being 
 handed to the chancellor of the exchequer, 
 who, forgetting the good of the revenue in 
 the memory of St. Patrick, put a portion of 
 the naughty liqueur in his glass, and drank 
 it with becoming devotion. 
 
 In the forenoon of the same day, the 
 festival was celebrated at the Roman 
 catholic chapel in Sutton-street, Soho, 
 with an unusual degree of splendour. The 
 archbishop of Armagh in his mitre and 
 pontifical robes, officiated as high-priest, 
 assisted by the two English catholic 
 bishops, Poynter and Bramston, and one 
 of the Irish bishops, and several of the 
 minor clergy. A selection of music, 
 chiefly from Haydn's masses, was power- 
 fully performed by a very numerous choir, 
 accompanied by a full band ; and after ? 
 sermon by Dr. Poynter, a collection was 
 made, to the amount of £65., to assist the 
 chapel and the schools attached to it. 
 Order of St. Patrick. 
 
 To r^bruary, 1 783, letters patent created 
 1 Brotherhood Jenominated " Knights of 
 the illustrious order of St. Patrick," to con- 
 sist of the sovereign for the time being, as 
 sovereign of the order ; and fifteen knights 
 companions, the " lieutenant-general and 
 general governor of Ireland, or the lord 
 
 185 
 
THE EVERY-D/iY BOOK.— MARCJil 18. 
 
 deputy or deputies, or lord's justices, or 
 other chief governor or governors" for the 
 time being, officiating as deputy grand mas- 
 ters. Tlie statutes of the order of St. Patrick 
 direct the badge to be of gold, surmounted 
 with a wieath of shamrock or trefoil, sur- 
 rounding a circle of gold, bearing the 
 motto of the order in gold letters, Quis 
 separabit P with the date wdcclxxxiii, 
 wherein the order was founded, and en- 
 circling the cross of St. Patrick gules, 
 surmounted with a trefoil vert, each leaf 
 charged with an imperial crown or, upon 
 a field argent ; the badge, encircled witli 
 rays .n form of a star of silver of eight 
 points, four greater and four lesser, worn 
 on the left side of the outer garment. 
 
 The Shamrock. 
 
 The shamrock is the trefoil. The 
 Druids used it to cure diseases. The 
 Irish use it as a national cognizance. It is 
 said that when St. Patrick landed near 
 Wicklow to convert the Irish in 433, the 
 pagan inhabitants were ready to stone 
 him ; he requested to be heard, and en- 
 deavoured to explain God to them as the 
 Trinity in Unity, but they could not 
 understand him, till plucking a trefoil 
 from the ground, he said, " Is it not as 
 possible for the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost, as for these leaves, to grow upon 
 a single stalk," then the Irish were im- 
 mediately convinced.* 
 
 St. Patrick. 
 
 The Welch claim St. Patrick. Mr. 
 Owen in his " Cambrian Biography " 
 affirms, he was born at Aberllychwr in 
 Pembrokeshire, South Wales, where there 
 is a church dedicated to him. They call 
 him Padrig, the son of Mawrn or Maen- 
 vvyn, of the laird of Gwyr. Mr. Owen 
 cites from the genealogy of the British 
 saints, that, " It was the glory of the em- 
 peror Theodosius, in conjunction with 
 Cystonnin Llydaw, surnamed the blessed, 
 to have first founded the college of lUtyd, 
 which was regulated by Balerus, a man 
 from Rome ; and Padrig, son of Mawrn, 
 was the principal of it, before he was car- 
 ried away a captive by the Irishman." 
 In corroboration, Mr. Owen says, it is 
 recorded in the history of Wales, *' that 
 the Irish were enabled to settle them- 
 selves along nearly the whole extent of 
 its coast, in the beginning of the fifth 
 century, and continued there until nearly 
 the middle of the same era ; when they 
 were expelled from the north by the 
 
 • Brand 's Pop. Antiquitieii. 
 
 natives, assisted by the sons of Cunedda^ 
 and from the south with the aid oi 
 Urien." Thus Wales contends for the 
 honour of the birth-place of Patrick with 
 Scotland, while Ireland has the honour oj 
 the saint himself. 
 
 A London Bull. 
 The "Athenseum" affirms the following 
 to be a literal transcript of a letter sent to 
 a gentleman, who had recommended a 
 patient to that excellent institution called 
 the London Electrical Dispensary : — 
 
 " To Mr. G 
 
 "No. 5081. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " Having by your recommendation 
 been received a patient at the London 
 Electrical Dispensary, and being dis- 
 charged this day dead, I beg leave to re- 
 turn my humble and hearty thanks for the 
 same. 
 
 " March 7, 1810." 
 
 Except the No., date, and the word 
 dead, which are written, ^\\\hQ rest of the 
 letter is printed. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sweet Violet. Viola odurata. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Oertrude. 
 
 Shamrock Trifolium repens 
 
 Dedicated to St. Patrick. 
 
 ilard) ]8. 
 
 St. Alexander, Bp. of Jerusalem, a. n. 
 
 251. St. Cyril, Abp. of Jerusalem, 
 
 A. D. 386. St. Edivard, King, a. u. 
 
 979. St. Anselm, Bp. of Lucca, a. d. 
 
 1086. St. Fridian, Erigdiayi, or Frig- 
 
 dian, Bp. of Lucca, a. d. 578. 
 St. Edward. 
 
 This is the Enghsh king who was 
 stabbed in the back with a dagger, by or- 
 der of his stepmother, Elfrida, while 
 drinking on horseback at the gate oi 
 Corfe castle, in the isle of Purbeck. He 
 spurred his horse, which plunged him 
 into a deep marsh, and there he died ol 
 his wounds, in 979. Butler says his 
 body was discovered by a pillar of light, 
 and buried in Wareham church, and 
 worked miracles. His name is in the 
 church of England calendar. 
 
 It is an historical fact, that the wreicli 
 ed contriver of king Edward's muidei 
 passed the remainder of her days in dis- 
 mal horror ; and her nights brought no re- 
 pose from the afflictions of her conscience. 
 She obtained a kind of armour formed ol 
 
 186 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 19, 20. 
 
 crucifixes, wherein she encased herself, 
 performed peiumces, built monasteries, 
 and died universally execrated by the in- 
 dignant people. The treacliery of the 
 crime occasioned a general distrust, no 
 one would drink without security from 
 liim, who sat beside him, that he was safe 
 while the bowl was at his lips ; and hence 
 is said to have originated the customary 
 expression at table of " I pledge you," 
 when one person invites another to drink 
 first 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1745. Sir Robert Walpole, earl of 
 Orford, died, aged 71. 
 
 FLORAL DIRFXTORY. 
 
 Great Leopard Bane. Doroiiicinn Pur- 
 dulionetes. 
 
 Dedicated to St Cyril. 
 
 ilflard) 19. 
 
 St. Joseph. St. Alcmund, 819. 
 
 St. Joseph. 
 The church of Rome has canonized Jo- 
 seph ',h€ spouse of the Virgin Mary, and 
 honours him with offices and worship of 
 various forms. 
 
 Cl'KONOLOCY. 
 
 7'20, B. c. the first eclipse of the moon 
 on record happened on this day. 
 
 1355. Pressing for seamen to man the 
 navy commenced. 
 
 1668. Sir John Denham, poet, died in 
 London ; he was born in Dublin, 1615. 
 
 1719. A surprising meteor was seen 
 about eight o'clock in the evening, from 
 all parts of England, Scotland, and Ire- 
 land. To an observer in St. Paul's church- 
 yard, it appeared a ball of fire as large as 
 the moon, of a pale bluisli light, and with 
 little motioi., till in a moment it assumed 
 the shape of a common meteor with a 
 stream of light, double the diameter of its 
 firs' appearance, emitting a splendour by 
 which the smallest print might have been 
 read. Its duration was not above half a 
 minute, and its greatest light about the 
 tenth part of a minute. At Exeter its 
 light exceeded that of tlie sun at noon- 
 day, and there it seemed to break like a 
 skyrocket, into sparks of red fire, which 
 reflected that colour on the houses, and 
 shortly after a report, loud as cannon, 
 shook the windows, succeeded at the in- 
 terval of a minute by about thirty others; 
 " they sounded just as the tower guns did 
 in Mincing-lane, but shook the houses 
 and windows much more." Mr. Whistoo 
 
 calculated the greatest lieight of tins ex- 
 traordinary meteor to have been forty- 
 three or fifty-one statute miles : it gradu- 
 ally descended lower till it came to De- 
 vonshire, where it was about thirty-nine 
 miles high, and broke over the sea, near 
 the coast of Brittany ; its altitude then 
 being about thirty miles.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRr.CTORY. 
 
 Yellow Star of Bethlehem. Ormithoga- 
 lum luieam. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Joseph. 
 
 iWarrf) 20. 
 
 St. Cuthbert, Bp. of Lindisfarne, a. d 
 
 687. St. JVulJ'ran, A\)^. of Sens, a. d 
 
 720. 
 
 St. Cuthbert. 
 
 Of this saint theie will be mention 
 hereafter. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1727. Sir Isaac Newton died ; he was 
 born December 25th, 1642. 
 
 1751. Frederick, prince of Wales, fa- 
 ther of king George III. died aged 44. 
 
 1793. Died William Murray, earl of 
 Mansfield. He was born on the 2d of 
 Ma'ch, 1705, and during thirty years, and 
 until his death, presided as lord chief 
 justice of the court of King's Bench. He 
 was eminent as a lawyer, and dignified as 
 a judge. It is said that he altered the 
 common law of England, by ingrafting 
 upon it the civil law in his decisions. As 
 an elegant scholar, of highly cultivated and 
 vigorous intellect, he shone in the constel- 
 lation of great men, which arose in the 
 reign of queen Anne. In eloquence and 
 beauty of diction, he outrivalled his 
 predecessors, and has not been excelled 
 by any successor in the high ofrice he 
 filled. 
 
 1811. Napoleon, son of the late empe- 
 ror of France, by the empress Mana 
 Louisa, w as born, and received the title of 
 king of Rome. 
 
 On the 20th of March, the sun enters 
 the constellation '/* -^ries, or the Ram, 
 which is the first zodiacal sign ; and this 
 day is the first day of Spring 
 
 By an accident, the ronurks relating to 
 Spring tvere inserted under March 6, 
 instead of this day : and as the error is 
 thus particularly noticed, in order as fiir 
 as possible to rectify it, the reader will 
 please to consider all that has been said 
 
 * Wliiiton's Account of a Meteor, 8vo. 1719. 
 
 187 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 20. 
 
 on the siTth of March as applicable to the 
 twentieth alone. The editor, while ac- 
 knowledging, and craving pardon for a 
 vexatious and unpurposed misrepresenta- 
 tion, will endeavour to set a vi'atch upon 
 himself in future, to guard against a simi- 
 lar accident. 
 
 Aries, or the ram, as a zodiacal sign, 
 is said to have been derived by the 
 Greeks from the golden fleece brought 
 from Colchis by Jason, about 1263 years 
 before Christ ; but as it is a hieroglyphic 
 
 on Egyptian monuments, ii is of higher 
 antiquity, and symbolizes that season 
 when sheep yean their lambs. The peo- 
 ple of Thebes slew a ram in honour of 
 Jupiter Ammon, who personifies the sun 
 in Aries, and is represented by ancient 
 sculpture and coins with the horns of a 
 ram on his head. The Hebrews at this 
 season sacrifice a lamb, to commemorate 
 their deliverance from Egypt. Avies, or 
 the ram, was the ensign of Gad, one of 
 their le.iders 
 
 ARI3S, 
 
 VERNAL EQUINOX. 
 
 The remarks on i\\e.Vernal Equinox, im- 
 mediately following, are communicated by 
 a respected scientific friend to the editor. 
 
 This is a day of great consequence in 
 the year, and one that must excite many 
 associations in the mind of the astrono- 
 mer, and of every one who entertains a 
 due reverence for our sacred records. The 
 sun on this day passes the imaginary line 
 in the heavens, called the equator, or equi- 
 noctial ; it being the middle circle equally 
 distant in every part from the north or 
 the south poles. The line is passed to an 
 observer on Greenwich hill, at ten minutes 
 past nine in the morning ; and, conse- 
 quently, when it is on the meridian, or 
 Us highest point at noon, it will appear 
 to every observer in the united kingdom 
 at some distance from the equator. It is 
 commonly said, that at this time the day 
 is equal to the night all the world over ; 
 but this is a vulgar error. The day is not 
 equal to the night in this country ; that is, 
 the sun appears for more than tv/elve hours 
 
 above the horizon, and, consequently, a 
 less time than twelve hours elapses be- 
 fore it shines again to us in the morning. 
 Besides, the fallacyof this common saying 
 is perceived at once by any one who con- 
 siders, that the inhabitant of the north 
 pole, if there is any inhabitant there, has 
 already seen for some days the sun above 
 his horizon, and it will not set to him for 
 above six months. The day then is not 
 equal to the night, either in the united 
 kingdom, or at the north pole. We will 
 leave to the astronomer to determine at 
 what part of the earth this circumstance 
 really takes place; in the investiga- 
 tion of the problem he may encounter 
 some difficulties, of which at present he 
 is probably not aware. The sun crosses 
 the equinoctial line at ten minutes past 
 nine; it was therefore at its rising south 
 of that line, and at its setting it will be 
 north of that line. The line it marks out 
 in the heavens is an arc of a spiral; but 
 had it risen and set in the equinoctial 
 line, the arc would have been circular. 
 
 183 
 
THE EVERY- DAY BOOK.— MARCH 20. 
 
 To leave, however, the circumstances 
 peculiarly relative to astronomy, let us 
 consider this day in another point of 
 view. The sun and the moon are the 
 'egulatorsof days, and months, and years, 
 «nd times, and seasons. Every nation in 
 the world pays some regard to their mo- 
 tions ; and in this country they are the 
 subjects of legislative enactments — enact- 
 ments which have been laughed at by our 
 makers of almanacs ; disregarded by the 
 church, though sanctioned in its rubrics ; 
 and set at naught by courts of justice, 
 whose openings at certain periods depend 
 on prescribed appearances in the heavens. 
 Of this, hereafter, sufficient proof will be 
 given ; and, in thus noticing the errors 
 of past times, there is a chance, that a 
 statute of importance, certainly, as it has 
 been thought worthy of legislation, should 
 not be hereafter violated without the in- 
 terposition of the legislature. 
 
 Our ancestors began their year about 
 this time, and not without reason ; for 
 they had for it the sanction of a divine 
 command. To the Israelites it was coni- 
 manded, that this should be the beginning 
 of their sacred year, on which the great 
 festivals prescribed by their law should 
 depend. Their civil year begins in Sep- 
 tember, and they continue to observe the 
 command, having an almanac founded on 
 the complicated motions of the sun and 
 moon, whose calculations are of a very 
 subtle nature, and whose accuracy far 
 exceeds that of the polished nations of 
 Europe. That the year should begin 
 either at the vernal or the spring equinox, 
 or at the autumnal equinox, good reasons 
 may be given ; but for our taking the first 
 of January for the commencement of the 
 year, nothing more can be said, than the 
 eld theme. 
 
 Sic volu, sit Jitbeo, stet pro rntinne voluntas. 
 — Such is my will, the sun and moon may 
 move as they please. 
 
 Except for the refraction of the atmos- 
 phere, the inhabitants of the equator would 
 have at all times twelve hours' day and 
 twelve hours' night ; the sun being north 
 or south of this circle not causing any 
 difference, for the equator and ecliptic 
 being both great circles of the sphere, the 
 two points of intersection must be in the 
 same diameter. 
 
 By the almanac it will be found, that 
 there are nearly eight days more in the 
 interval between the vernal and the 
 autumnal equinox, than between the latter 
 and the return of the vernal equinox. 
 
 As, therefore, from the \crn;'I to tlic 
 autumnal equinox, the sun is on the 
 northern side of the equator, our summer 
 occurring during this period, gives us an 
 advantage of nearly eight days, in this 
 respect, over the southern iiemisphere. 
 This difference arises from the oval or ellip- 
 tical form of the earth's orbit. The earth, 
 therefore, being at different distances from 
 the sun during the year, it is found to 
 move with different velocities ; moving 
 slowest when furthest from the sun, and 
 quickest when nearest to that luminary. 
 It happens to be at its greatest distance 
 just after our Midsummer, and moving 
 consequently slower during our spring 
 and summer months ; our summer is 
 about eight days longer than that of the 
 southern hemisphere, our winter eight 
 days shorter than theirs. 
 
 Tlie annexed diagram will exhibit the 
 equinoctial condition of the earth ; the 
 sun's rays at their noon falling vertically 
 to tiie 11 habitants of the equator. 
 
 CARE SUNDAY. 
 
 Care Sunday ; care away, 
 Palm Sunday, and Easter day. 
 
 Care Sunday is the fifth Sunday from 
 Shrove Tuesday, consequently it is the 
 next Sunday before Palm Sunday, and 
 the second Sunday before Easter. Why 
 it is denominated Care Sunday is very 
 uncertain. It is also called Carle Sun- 
 day, and in some parts Carl'ing Sunday. 
 A native of Newcastle-upon-Tyne* ob- 
 serves, that in I'hat town, and many other 
 places in the north of England, peas after 
 having been steeped a night in water, are 
 fried with butter, given away, eaten at a 
 kind of entertainm.ent on Carle Sunday, 
 and are called Callings, " probably as we 
 call the presents at fairs, fairings." To 
 this he attaches a query, whether Carlera 
 may not be formed from the old plura* 
 termination in en, as hose?;, SfC." The 
 only attempt at a derivation of the word 
 Care, is, that " the Friday on which 
 
 • Mr. Brand. 
 
 189 
 
THE EVERY 'DAY BOOK.— MARCH 21 
 
 Christ was crucified, is called in German 
 both Gute Freytag and Carr Freytag ;" 
 and that the word karr signified a satis- 
 faction for a fine, or penalty * The in- 
 lert-ncri is corroborated, by the church of 
 Rome anciently using rites on this day 
 poouliar to Good Friday, whence it was 
 also called Passion Sunday. It is noted 
 in an old calendar, that on this day " a 
 dole is made of soft beans,'' which was 
 also " a rite in the funeral ceremonies of 
 heathen Rome/' This " dole" of soft 
 beans on Care Sunday, accounts for the 
 present custom of eating fried peas on 
 the same day. No doubt the beans were 
 a very seasonable alms to help out the 
 poor man's lent stock of provision. " In 
 Northumberland the day is called Carling 
 Siindai/. The ycjmanry in general steep 
 peas, and afterwards parch them, and eat 
 them on the afternoon of that day, call- 
 ing them curlings. This is said by an old 
 author, to have taken its rise from the 
 disciples plucking the ears of corn, and 
 rubbing them in their hands."-)- Ilence 
 it is clear, that the custom of eating peas 
 or beans upon this day, is only a conti- 
 nuation of the unrecollected " dole" of the 
 Romish church. It is possible, however, 
 that there may have been no connection 
 between the heathen funeral rite of giving 
 beans, and the church donation, if the lat- 
 ter was given in mere charity ; for there 
 was little else to bestow at such a time of 
 the year, when dried pulse, variously 
 cooked, must have been almost the only 
 winter meal with the labourer, and u 
 frequent one with his employer. 
 
 The couplet at the head of this article 
 Mr. Nichols says he heard in Notting- 
 hamshiie. There is another, 
 
 Tid, Mid. Misera, 
 
 Carling, Palm, Paste Egg day. 
 
 The first line is supposed to have been 
 formed from the beginning of Psalms, &c. 
 viz. Te deum-^Mi deus — Miserere mei.J 
 
 But how is it that Care Sunday is 
 also called Carl Sunday and Carling Sun- 
 day ; and that the peas, or beans, of the 
 day are called car lings .^ Carle, which 
 now means a churl, or rude boorish fel- 
 low, was anciently the term for a working 
 countryman or labourer; and it is only 
 altered in the spelling, without the slightest 
 deviation in sense, from the old Saxon 
 
 * Brand's Pop. Antiq. from Marshal on the Saxon 
 Gospels, 
 t Gentleman's Magazine, 1786. 
 t Brand's Pop. Antiquities 
 
 word ceorl, the name for a husbandman. 
 The older denomination of the day, then, 
 may not have been Cure but Carl Sunday, 
 from the benefactions to the carles or 
 carlen. These are still the northern 
 names for the day; and the dialect in 
 that part of the kingdom is nearer to 
 Saxon etymology. But whether the day 
 were called Carle or Care Sunday it is 
 now little known, and little more can be 
 said about it, without the reader feeling 
 inclined to .'^ay or sing, 
 
 " Begone dull Care." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Dog's Violet. Fiola Canina. 
 Dedicated to St. fVulfrun. 
 
 ilard) 21. 
 
 St. Benedict, or Bennet, Abbot, a. d. 
 543. St. Serapion, called the Sindo- 
 nite, A. D. 388. St. Serapion, Abbot 
 St. Serapion, Bishop, 4th Age. St. 
 Enna, or Endeus, Abbot, 6th Cent 
 
 St. Benedict, or Bennet, 
 Founder of the order of St. Benedict. 
 
 The accounts of distinguished persons 
 of the Romish church written by its 
 ecclesiastics are exceedingly curious. 
 The rev. Alban Butler states of St. Bene- 
 dict, that he was born in Umbria about 
 480, sent to school at Rome, and after- 
 wards being determined to leave the 
 world, " therefore left the city privately, 
 and made the best of his way to the de- 
 serts." Here he remained secreted at a 
 place called Sublacum, till a " certain 
 pious priest," whilst preparing a dinner 
 on Easter-day, heard a voice say to him, 
 " you are preparing for yourself a ban- 
 quet whilst my servant Benedict at Subla- 
 cum is distressed with hunger." Then 
 the priest found out Benedict, and invited 
 him to eat, "saying it was Easter-day, on 
 which it was not reasonable to fast." 
 Bennet answered, he did not know it ; and 
 Alban Butler says, " nor is it to be won- 
 dered at that he should not understand the 
 Lunar cycle, which at that time was 
 known by very few." Soon after, some 
 shepherds found him hear his cave, and 
 " took him for a wild beast ; for he was 
 clad with the skins of beasts, and they 
 imagined no human creature could live 
 among those rocks." From that time he 
 began to be known and visited, and the 
 de/il carne to him " in the shape of a little 
 
 190 
 
THE EVKRY-DAY BOOK —MARCH 21. 
 
 blackbird.'' After this. Benedict rolled 
 himself in briars and nettles, till he was 
 covered with blood ; and his fame spread- 
 ing still more abroad, several forsook the 
 world to live with him ; and he became 
 an abbot, and built twelve monasteries. 
 In one of these, a monk becoming sloth- 
 ful, St. Benedict said, " I will go and 
 torrect him myself;" and Butler says, 
 " such indeed was the danger and enor- 
 mity of this fault, as to reciuire the most 
 speedy and effectual remedy ;" wherefore 
 St. Benedict coming to the lazy monk " at 
 the end of the divine office,saw a little black 
 boy leading him by the sleeve out of the 
 church, "and applied the "speedy and eflec- 
 tuai remedy" to the monk's shouldei's,in the 
 shape of a cudgel ; and so " the sinner was 
 freed from the temptation" of the little 
 black boy, who was the devil. Then by 
 Benedict's prayers a fountain sprung up ; 
 and a monk cleaving wood with a hedg- 
 ing bill, and the iron falling into the 
 water, by holding the wooden handle in 
 the water, the iron miraculously swam up 
 to it of its own accord. Such growing 
 fame brought to Benedict " many who 
 came clad in purple with gold and pre- 
 cious stones." " He seemed," says Alban 
 Butler, " indued with an extraordinary 
 power,commanding all nature, and foresee- 
 ing future events ; he baffled the various 
 artifices of the devil, with the sign of the 
 cross; rendered the heaviest stone light; 
 by a short prayer raised to life a novice 
 who had been ciuslied by the fall of a 
 wall ;" and after other wonders died, about 
 the year 543, aged 63.* 
 
 Pope St. Gregory, of whom some 
 account is given on his festival, (see 
 March 12,) wrote the life and miracles 
 of St. Benedict.f This work of many 
 chapters relates howBenedict dispossessed 
 a certain clerk of the devil ; how he 
 miraculously discovered the hiding of a 
 flagon of wine ; how in a scarcity two 
 hundred bushels of meal were miracu- 
 lously brought to his monastery ; how a 
 boy marvellously cast out of his grave, 
 was miraculously kept in it by St. Bene- 
 dict putting the host on his body ; how a 
 glass bottle cast down on the stones was 
 not broken ; how an empty tun was filled 
 with oil by his prayers ; how he gave 
 another monk a slap in the face and drove 
 
 * Alban Butler, the English biographer of St. 
 Benedict, and tlie rest of the saints, died in May, 
 773, aged fti. 
 
 + Pope St. Gregory's labour is translated under tlie 
 title of "The Life and Miracles of our Hnlie Father 
 St. Benedict — I'ermiisti Haperiorum. Printed 34). 
 62S.' IPmo. 
 
 the devil out of him ; how he saw the soul 
 of his sister in form of a dove ; how he 
 foretold his own death ; how he per- 
 formed miracles too many to be liere re- 
 lated ; all which, however, may be seen 
 in the said life of St. Benedict, by the 
 said pope St. Gregory, who it will be 
 remembered is called by way of distinction 
 St. Gregory the Great. 
 
 St. Benedict founded the order of monks 
 under his name. A reader wiio desires 
 to be acquainted with its rules may con- 
 suit Mr. Fosbroke's "Britisli Monachism," 
 who remarks, that monkery is an institu- 
 tion founded upon the first principles of 
 religious virtue, wrongly understood and 
 wrongly directed. He then proceeds to 
 remark, that, " If man be endowed with 
 various qualities, in order to be severely 
 punished for using them, God is made 
 the tempter of vice, and his works foolish. 
 If voluntary confinement, vegetable eat- 
 ing, perpetual praying, wearing coarse 
 clothing, and mere automatical action 
 through respiration, be the standard of 
 excellence, then the best man is only a 
 banel organ set to psalm-tunes." 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1556. Thomas Cranmer, archbishop 
 of Canterbury, was burnt for heresy at 
 Oxford, between Baliol college and St. 
 Mary's church. 
 
 A correspondent,LF.CTOR, communicates 
 that there is against the south wall of 
 Camberwell church, an inscription com- 
 memorative of "Bartholomew Scott, esq. 
 justice of peace in the county of 
 Surrey," in which he is said to have mar- 
 ried " Margaret, the widow of the right 
 reverend prelate and martyr, Thomas 
 Cranmer, archbishop of Canterburie." 
 Strype, (Life, p. 418. b. lii. ch. xxviii.) 
 says, that the name of Cranmer's last 
 wife was Ann; and that she survived 
 him, was living towards the latter end of 
 archbishop Parker's time, and " for he"* 
 subsistence enjoyed an abbey in Notting- 
 hamshire." He does not seem very san- 
 guine on this head, but gives the passage 
 on authority of " a very angry book, 
 writ against the execution of justice in 
 England by cardinall Alien." Fox, in his 
 " Actes and Monumentes," says, that 
 Cranmer's wife was " a Dutchewoman, 
 kynne to the wyfe of Osiaiider ;" and that 
 Cranmer having " sold hys plate, and 
 payed all his debts, so that no man could 
 ask him a grote," left his wife and children 
 unorovided. The marriage of " Bartholo- 
 
 191 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 22. 
 
 mew Scott, esq." with Cranmer's widow, 
 was certainly an act of noble disinterested- 
 ness. He is celebrated for his never- 
 dying virtues, and described as a " valiant, 
 wise, and religious gentleman," of" right 
 worshipful and ancient familie." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Bulbous Fumitory. Fumaria biilbosa. 
 Dedicated to St Bennet. 
 
 Mm\) 22. 
 
 St. Basil of Ancyra, a. d. 362. St. 
 
 Paul, Bp. St. Lea, a. d. 384. St 
 
 Deogratias, Bp. of Carthage, a.d. 4'^7. 
 
 St. Catharine of Sweden, Abbess, a. d. 
 
 1381. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1687. John Baptist Lulli, the cele- 
 brated musician, died, aged 54. He was 
 born at Florence, in 1634, and from being 
 page to madame Montpensier, niece to 
 Louis XIV. became superintendent of 
 music to that monarch. 
 
 The Plague in London. 
 
 In March, 1665, London abounded in 
 wealth and grandeur, in comparison with 
 its state in former ages. Goldsmiths' shops 
 shone with plate all along the south-side 
 of the street called Cheapside, then named 
 Goldsmiths'-row. The Strand then united 
 London and Westminster by a range of 
 palaces, inhabited by the nobility, with 
 gardens in the rear reaching to the 
 lliames, from whence through water- 
 gates they descended by stairs to take 
 water. Each of these mansions was 
 named after its owner or occupier ; as 
 Essex, Arundel, Norfolk, Salisbury, Wor- 
 cester, Exeter, Hungerford, Howard, York, 
 
 and Northumberland. They were buih 
 at equal distances from each other, in the 
 grandest style of antique architecture. 
 Such was- London in March 1665, when 
 it was visited by the plague, which raged 
 with such unabating fatality, that three, 
 four, and tive thousand of the inhabitants 
 died weekly. Deaths increased so fast 
 that the usual mode of interment could 
 no longer be observed ; large pits were 
 dug at' HoUywell-mount, and in other 
 suburbs of the city, to which the dead 
 were carried in carts, collected by the ring 
 of a bell, and the doleful cry of " Bring 
 out your dead." The bodies were brought 
 out of the houses, and placed in the carts 
 with no other covering than rugs or sheets 
 tied round them, and were thrown into the 
 pits in promiscuous heaps. Trade was at a 
 stand, the shops were shut up, every day 
 had the appearance of a sabbath ; grass 
 grew on the Royal Exchange, and most 
 of the public streets ; and Whitechapel 
 might be mistaken for green fields. 
 
 THE season. 
 
 Dr. Forster observes, in his " Peren- 
 nial Calendar," that about this time spi- 
 ders begin to appear in the gardens, for 
 in winter they are only seen m houses; 
 and that the species which inhabits our 
 dwellings, is quite distinct from the gar- 
 den spider. These are a very interesting 
 tribe of insects, in spite of their ugly ap- 
 pearance, and the general dislike which 
 most persons, especially females, attach to 
 them, in common with earwigs and other 
 unsightly insects. Naturalists have found 
 out this curious propensity in spiders, 
 that they seem remarkably fond of music, 
 and have been known to descend from 
 the ceiling during concerts, and to retire 
 when the strain was finished ; of which 
 the following old verses, from the " An- 
 thologia Borealis et Ausiralis," remind 
 us: — 
 
 To a Spider which inhabited a Cell. 
 
 In this wild, groping, daik, and drearie cove. 
 
 Of wife, of children, and of health bereft, 
 I hailed thee, friendly spider, who hadst wove 
 
 Thy mazy net on yonder mouldering raft : 
 Would that the cleanlie housemaid's foot had left 
 
 Thee tarrying here, nor took thy life away ; 
 For thou, from out this scare old ceiling's cleft. 
 
 Came down each morn to hede my plaintive lay ; 
 Joying like me to heare sweete musick play, 
 Wherewith I'd fein beguile the dull dark lingering day, 
 
 192 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 23, 24, 25. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Pilewort. Ficaria verna. 
 Dedicated to St. Catharine of Sweden. 
 
 iHard) -23. 
 
 Sf. Alphonsiis Taribius, Abp. of Lima, 
 A. D. 160(i. Sts. Victorian, &c. a. d. 
 484. St. Edelwald, a. d. 699. 
 
 St. Edelwald. 
 This was an English benedictine 
 monk of Rippon, who became a hermit, 
 and was buried by St. Cuthbert in St. 
 Peter's church, at Lindisfarne. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1801. Paul, emperor of Russia, was 
 strangled at St. Petersburg 
 
 floral direciory. 
 
 Peerless Daflbdil. Narcissus incompa- 
 
 rabilis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Alphonsus. 
 
 iiflarrib 24. 
 
 Caml)ridge Term ends. 
 
 St. Iren(Biis, Bp. of Sirmium, a d. S04. 
 St. Simon, an Infant Martyr. 67. 
 1 fniliam of Norwich. 
 
 I St. Simon, an Infant. 
 
 , The Jews are said to have murdered 
 this infant in 1472. After having delibe- 
 rated at their synagogue in the holy week, 
 on the preparations for their passover, 
 they came to the resolution of crucifying 
 a child on Good Friday, and having 
 stolen Simon, they made him the victim, 
 and sung around his body while elevated. 
 Whenever an act of cruelty was to be 
 perpetrated on the Jews, fables like these 
 were forged, and the brutal passions of 
 the mob let loose upon the life and wealth 
 of fugitive Israelites. 
 
 St. IVilliam of Norwich, a. d. 1137, 
 Was another of these pretended mar- 
 tyrs to Jewish hatred. Weever states, 
 that " the Jews in the principal cities of 
 the kingdom, did use sometimes to steal 
 away, and crucify some neighbour's male 
 child," as if it were a common practice. 
 Since protestantism, no such barbarities 
 have been imputed to the Jews 
 
 Chronology. 
 1580. Tlie first bombs were thrown 
 upon the town of Wachtendonck in Guel- 
 derland. Ilie invention is commonly at- 
 tributed to Galen, bishop of Munster. 
 
 172G. Daniel Whitby, the learr.pd 
 commentator on the New Testament, died. 
 He was born at Rushden, Norlhan)pion- 
 shire, in 1638, and was eminent foi ability' 
 and honesty throughout his life. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Saxifrage. Chrysosplemim oppc- 
 
 sitifolinm. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Irenceus. 
 
 ilard) 25. 
 
 Lady Day. Holiday at the Public OiTices, except 
 the Excise, Stamp, and Custom. 
 
 The Annunciation of the Blessed Firgin 
 Mary. St. Cammin, Abbot, a. d. 653. 
 
 ?Catrp JBay* 
 
 The Roman Catholic festival of the 
 Annunciation is commonly called in 
 England lady day, an abridgement of 
 the old term Our Lady's Day, or the Day 
 of our blessed Lady. 
 
 This is a '• gaudy day " in the Romish 
 church. Deemrrig the mother of Christ 
 an intercessor and mediatrix, it offers 
 innumerable honours and devotions to 
 her. Hail Mary ! resounds in the masses 
 to her praise ; and the worshippers of her 
 shrines and resemblances, are excited to a 
 fervour of devotion which would astonish, 
 if it were not known that sculpture, 
 painting, poetry, vocal and instrumental 
 music, have been added to revive the 
 recollection of monkish fables, and early 
 impressions in her behalf. 
 
 In the (i^oltlcn Hfgcntf, a book for- 
 merly read instead of the New Testament, 
 but now, in degree, supplanted by But- 
 ler's more voluminous and almost equally 
 miraculous " Lives of the Saints," there 
 is a story in honour of the virgin, con- 
 cerning a noble and ignorant knight, 
 who, to amend his life, entered an abbey, 
 but was so incapable of learning, that he 
 could say nothing but Ave Maria, which 
 words he continually repeated wherever 
 he was. When this knight died he was 
 buried in the church-yard of the abbey, 
 and there afterwards grew out of his 
 grave a fair flenr de lis, and in every 
 flower grew, in letters of gold, the words 
 Ave Maria ; and at the miracle, the 
 brethren marvelled, and opened the 
 sepulchre, and found the root oixhe flenr 
 de lis came out of the mouth of the said 
 knight ; and then they understood that 
 he was to be honoured for his great df vo- 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 193 
 
 O 
 
THE EVEIlY-n\Y BOOK.— MARCH 25. 
 
 tion to the virgin, by using the words Ave 
 Maria. 
 
 There is another story in the " Golden 
 Legend " of" another knyght." " He had 
 a fayre place bisyde the hye waye 
 where moche people passed, wiiome he 
 robbed," and so he did all his life; yet 
 he had " a good custom" of saluting the 
 virgin every day, by saying Ave Maria, 
 and so he went on committing highway 
 robberies, and saluting the virgin day by 
 day, till his people having put " a holy 
 man " in bodily fear and robbed him, 
 the said " holy man " desired to be 
 brought before their master,the knight, and 
 seeing him, required him to summon all 
 his attendants, which the knight did ; 
 but the " holy man " objected that one 
 of them was not present. Then the knight 
 perceived that his chamberlain was not 
 there, and called for him ; and when the 
 holy man saw the chamberlain, he con- 
 iured him to declare who he was, and the 
 chamberlain being so enforced answered, 
 " I am no man, but am a devil in the form 
 of a man •," and he acknowledged that he 
 had abided with the knight fourteen years, 
 and watched him night and day, hoping 
 the knight might leave off saying the 
 salutation Ave Maria, that so he miglit 
 strangle him, " and brynge him to hell," 
 because of his evil life ; but, because there 
 passed no day without the knight saying 
 Ave Maria, the devil could not have him 
 for all his long waiting. Then the 
 knight fell down at the feet of the holy 
 man, and demanded pardon of his sins, 
 and the " holy man " commanded the 
 devil to depart ; wherefore says the 
 " Golden Legend," " let us pray to the 
 gloryous virgyn Mary, that she kepe us 
 from the devyll." 
 
 The festival of the annunciation is kept 
 at Rome by sumptuous shows. The author 
 of " Rome in the nineteenth Century'' re- 
 lates the pope's proceedings on the occa- 
 sion : " We drove through streets lined 
 with expecting crowds, and windows 
 hung with crimson and yellow silk dra- 
 peries, and occupied by females in their 
 most gorgeous attire, till we made a stop 
 near the church before which the pope's 
 horse-guards, in their splendia full-dress 
 uniforms, were stationed to keep the 
 ground ; all of whom, both officers and 
 men, wore in their caps a sprig of myrtle, 
 as a sign of rejoicing. After waiting a 
 short time, the procession appeared, 
 headed by another detachment of the 
 guards, mounted on prancing black 
 
 chargers, who rode forward to clear ihr 
 way, accompanied by such a flourish ol 
 trumpets and kettle-drums, that it looked 
 at first like any thing but a peaceable or 
 religious proceeding. This martial array 
 was followed by a bareheaded priest, on 
 a white mule, bearing the host in a gold 
 cup, at the sight of which every body fell' 
 upon their knees. The pope used for- 
 merly to ride upon the white mule him- 
 self, and all the cardinals used to follow 
 him in their magnificent robes of state, 
 mounted either on mules or hoises; and 
 as the Eminentissimi are, for the most 
 part, not very eminent horsemen, they 
 were generally fastened on, lest they 
 should tumble off. This cavalcade must 
 have been a very entertaining sight. 
 Pius VL, who was a very handsome 
 man, kept up this custom, but the (then) 
 present pope (Pius VH.) is far too infirm 
 for such an enterprise ; so he followed the 
 man on the white mule, in a state coach ; 
 at the very sight of which, we seemed to 
 have made a jump back of two hundred 
 years at least. Jt was a huge machine, 
 composed almost entirely of plate-glass, 
 fixed in a ponderous carved and gilt 
 frame, through which was distinctly visi- 
 ble the person of the venerable old pope, 
 dressed in robes of white and silver, and 
 incessantly giving his benediction to the 
 people, by a twirl of three fingers ; which 
 are typical of the Father, the Son, and 
 the Holy Ghost ; the last being represented 
 by the little finger. On the gilded back 
 of this vehicle, the only part that was not 
 made of glass, was a picture of the pope 
 in his chair of state, and the virgin Mary 
 at his feet. Tliis extraordinary machine 
 was drawn by six black horses, with 
 superb harness of crimson velvet and 
 gold ; the coachmen, or rather postillions, 
 were dressed in coats of silver stuff, with 
 crimson velvet breeches, and full bot- 
 tomed wigs well powdered, without hats. 
 Three coaches, scarcely less antiquely 
 superb, followed with the assistant car- 
 dinals, and the rest of the train. In the 
 inside of the church, the usual tiresome 
 ceremonies went on that take place when 
 the pope is present. He is seated on a 
 throne, or chair of state ; the cardinals, 
 in succession, approach and kiss his iiand, 
 retire one step, and make three bows oi 
 nods, one to him in front, and one on the 
 right hand, and another on the left; 
 which are intended for him (as the per- 
 sonification of the Father,) and for tht 
 Son, and for the Ilolv (jliost, on eithei 
 
 194 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 26, 27. 
 
 sidfi of liim; and all the cardinals having 
 gone through these motions, and the 
 inferior priests having kissed his toe — 
 that is, the cross, embroidered on his 
 shoe — high mass begins. The pope 
 kneels during the elevation of the host, 
 prays in silence before the high altar, 
 gets up and sits down, reads something 
 out of a great book which they brmg to 
 him, with a lighted taper held beside it; 
 and, having gone through many more 
 such ceremonies, finally ends as he began, 
 with giving his benediction with three 
 fingers, all the way he goes out. During 
 all the time of this high mass, the pope's 
 military band, stationed on the p.'atform 
 in front of the church, played so many 
 clamorous martial airs, that it efi'ectually 
 put to flight any ideas of religious so- 
 'emnity " 
 
 In England, Ladi/ Day is only remem- 
 bered as the first quarter-day in the year, 
 and is therefore only kept by tenants who 
 truly pay rent to their landlords. A few 
 years ago a country gentleman wrote a 
 letter to a lady of rank in town, and sent 
 it through the general post with the fol- 
 lowing address : 
 "To 
 
 "Tlie 25th of March, 
 
 "Foley-place, London." 
 
 The postman duly delivered the letter at 
 the house of Lady Day for whom it was 
 intended. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 168(5. Parochial charity schools, for 
 the education of the children of poor per- 
 sons, were instituted in London and its 
 vicinity. 
 
 1748. A fire broke out at one o'clock 
 in the morning in 'Change-alley, Corn- 
 hill, London, which raged for ten hours, 
 consuming all the buildings in 'Change- 
 alley and Birchin-lane ; and in Cornhill, 
 from 'Change-alley to St. Michael's-alley, 
 mcluding several celebrated taverns and 
 coffee-houses, and many valuable shops, 
 including five booksellers. There were 
 eighty houses destroyed by this confla- 
 gration. 
 
 1809. Anna Seward, the friend of Dr. 
 Darwin, and recollected for her life of 
 him, and for her poetry and correspond- 
 ence, died in the bishop's palace at 
 f-ichfield, aged 66. She was born at 
 Eyan, in Derbyshire. Her poetry is easy, 
 'ather than vigorous. 
 
 FLORAL DIRF.CTORY. 
 
 Marigold. Calendula Officinalis. 
 Annunciation of V. Mary. 
 
 Mm\) 26. 
 
 Oxford Term ends. 
 
 St. Ludger, Bp. of Munster, a.d. 809 
 St. Braulio, Bp. of Saragossa, a. d 
 646. 
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 Now in many situations may be heard 
 the cuckoo. Its distant note intmiating 
 dislike to human approach, comes upon 
 the ear as a soft welcome from a shy 
 stranger : — 
 
 Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove. 
 
 Thou messenger of spring ! 
 How heaven repairs thy rural seat, 
 
 And woods thy welcome sing. 
 
 What time the daisy decks the green 
 
 Thy certain voice we hear ; 
 Hast thou a star to guide thy path. 
 
 Or mark the rolling year? 
 
 Delightful visitant ! with thee 
 
 I hail the time of flowers, 
 And hear the sounds of music sweet 
 
 From birds among the bowers. 
 
 Tlie school-boy wandering thro* the wood 
 
 To pull the primrose gay. 
 Starts — the new voice of spring to hear 
 
 And imitates thy lay. 
 
 Soon as the pea puts on its bloom, 
 
 Tnoufliest thj vocal vale. 
 An annual guest in other lands. 
 
 Another spring to hail. 
 
 Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green^ 
 
 Thy sky is ever clear ; 
 Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 
 
 No winter in thy year I 
 
 O ! could I fly, I'd fly with thee ; 
 
 We'd make with social wing 
 Our aimual visit o'er the globe. 
 
 Companions of the spring. Logan. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lurid Henbane. Hyoscy-amus Scopolia. 
 Dedicated to St. Braulio 
 
 iHard) 27. 
 
 St. John of Egypt, Hermit, a. d. SM. 
 St. Rupert, or ilobert, Bp. of Saltz- 
 bourg. 
 
 St. John of E;ypt 
 Was a hermit, inured to obedience by 
 an ancient holy anchoiet, " who madi 
 
 195 
 
THE EVERl-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 27. 
 
 t\m \r-'*fx a dry stick for a whole year, as 
 if it were a live plant." He walled him- 
 self up at the top of a rock, " from the for- 
 tieth or forty-second to the ninetieth 
 year of his age," and "drew the admira- 
 tion of the whole world on him," says 
 
 Butler, by " the lustre of his mirarles, 
 and the "fame of his predictions.'' 
 Chronology. 
 1801. The peace of Amiens between 
 France and England was signed in 
 France. 
 
 PALM SUNDAY 
 
 This is the first Sunday before Easter, 
 and is sometimes called Passion Sunday. 
 It is denominated Palm Sunday, because 
 on this day the Roman catholic church 
 ordains boughs or branches of palm trees 
 to be carried in procession, in imitation 
 o( those strewed before Christ when he 
 rodf into Jerusalem. In this monkish 
 procession the host was carried upon an 
 ass, branches and flowers were strewed 
 on the road, the richest cloths were laid 
 down, and others were hune up. The 
 
 palms were consecrated by the priest, 
 and after they were used they were pre- 
 served to be burned for holy ashes, to lay 
 on the heads of the people on ^sh Wed- 
 nesday in the following year, as before- 
 mentioned (see p. 261,) on that day. 
 
 On Palm Suneiap, the palm flowers and 
 leaves to be consecrated by the officiating 
 prelate or priest were laid upon the high 
 altar, and those for the poor laitt/ being 
 placed upon the south step of the alt.u 
 the priest arrayed in a red cope pi a- 
 
 196 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 27. 
 
 ceeded to consecrate tliem by a prayer, 
 commencing " I conjure thee, thou crea- 
 ture of flowers and branches, in the name 
 of God the Father," &c. This was to 
 displace the devil or his influences, if he 
 or they lurked or were hidden in or about 
 the " creature of flowers and branches." 
 Then followed a prayer wherein he said, 
 with crosses, " We humbly beseech thee 
 that thy truth may + sanctify this crea- 
 ture of flowers and branches, and slips 
 of palms,or boughs of trees,which weoflfer," 
 &c. Then the " creature of flowers and 
 branches " was fumed with smoke of 
 frankincense from the censers, and there 
 were other prayers with crossings, and 
 they were sprinkled with lioly water with 
 this supplication : " Bless + and sanc- 
 tify + these branches of palms, and other 
 trees and flowers," &c. Then the sacrists 
 distributed the palms to the abbots, priors, 
 and nobler persons, and the flowers and 
 leaves to the others. When this was 
 done the procession moved, and after- 
 wards made a stand while two priests 
 brought a Pascal in which the crucifix 
 was laid ; afterwards the banner and 
 cross-bearers filed off" to the right and to 
 the left, and the boys and monks of the 
 convent arranged themselves, and, after 
 a short service, the priests with the tomb, 
 headed by the banner and cross, passed 
 between the monks, who knelt as they 
 passed. When they came to the city- 
 gates they divided again on two sides, 
 and the shrine being put on a table, was 
 covered with cloth. Above the entrance 
 of the gates, in a place handsomely pre- 
 pared with hangings, were boys with 
 other singers whom the chanter had ap- 
 pointed, and these sang, " Gloria, Laus," 
 " Glory, praise," &c. After having made 
 a procession through the city, they re- 
 turned to the convent-gate, where the 
 shrine was laid on the table and covered 
 with cloth, and a religious service was 
 performed. The monks then returned to 
 the church, and stood before the crucifix 
 uncovered, while mass was performed ; 
 and after they had communicated, the 
 deacon first and the rest afterwards, they 
 offered their palms and flowers, at the 
 altar.* 
 
 It was also an old Roman catholic cus- 
 tom on Palm Sunday, to draw about the 
 lown a wooden ass with a figure on it, 
 representing Christ riding into Jerusalem, 
 
 * Foibroke'» Britiili MonarV 
 Antiq. Sec. 
 
 Brand's Pop. 
 
 and the people strewing palms before it 
 Googe's Nuogeorgus says : — 
 
 A woodden Asse they have, and 
 
 Image great that on him rides, 
 But undenieatti the Asse's feete 
 
 a table broad there slides. 
 Being borne on wheeles, which ready dresl, 
 
 and al things meete therforc. 
 The Asse is brought abroad and set 
 
 before the churche's doore : 
 The people all do come, and bowes 
 
 of trees and Palmes they here, 
 Which things against the tempest great 
 
 the Parson conjures there. 
 And straytvvayes downe before the Asse, 
 
 upon his face he lies, 
 Whome there an other Priest doth strike 
 
 with rodde of largest sise : 
 He rising up, two lubbours great 
 
 upon their faces fall. 
 In straunge attire, and lothsomely, 
 
 with filthie tune, they ball : 
 Who, when agaitie they risen are, 
 
 with stretching out their hande. 
 They poyut unto the wooden knight, 
 
 and, singing as they stande. 
 Declare that that is he that came 
 
 into the worlde to save. 
 And to redeeme such as in him 
 
 their hope assured have : 
 And even the same that long agone, 
 
 while in the streate he roade, 
 The people mette, and Olive-bowes 
 
 so thicke before him stroade 
 This being soung, the people cast 
 
 the braunches as they passe. 
 Some part upon the Image, and 
 
 some part upon the Asse : 
 Before whose feete a wondrous heape 
 
 of bowes and braunches ly : 
 This done, into the Church he strayght 
 
 is drawne full solemly : 
 The shaven Priestes before them marchc. 
 
 the people follo%v fast. 
 Still striving who shall gather first 
 
 the bowes that downe are cast: 
 For falsely they beleeve that these 
 
 have force and vertue great, 
 Against the rage of winter stormes 
 
 and thunders flashing keate. 
 In some place wealthie citizens, 
 
 and men of sober chere. 
 For no small summe doe hire this Asse 
 
 with them about to here. 
 And manerly they use the same, 
 
 not suffering any by 
 To touch this Asse, nor to presume 
 
 unto his presence ny. 
 For they suppose that in this thing, 
 
 they Christ do lightly serve, 
 And well of him accepted are, 
 
 and great rewardes deserve. 
 
 When the wooden ass had performed 
 
 197 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 27. 
 
 in the chutch procession, the boys hired 
 "him : 
 
 The Sexten pleasde with price, and looking 
 
 well no harme be done : 
 They take the Asse, and through the streets 
 
 and crooked lanes they rone, 
 Whereas they common verses sing, 
 
 according to the guise. 
 The people giving money, breade, 
 
 and egges of largest sise. 
 Of this their gaines they are compelde 
 
 the maister halfe to give, 
 Least he alone without his portion 
 
 of the Asse should live. 
 
 On the Romish processioning on Palm 
 Sunday, it is observed by an old writer 
 that, "Among x thousand, scarce one 
 knew what this meant. They have their 
 laudable dumme ceremonies, with Lentin 
 crosse and Uptide erosse, and these two 
 must justle til lent break his necke. Then 
 cakes must be caste out of the steple, that 
 al the boyes in the parish must lie scam- 
 bling together by the eares, tyl al the 
 parish falleth a laughyng. But, lorde, 
 what asses-play made they of it in great 
 cathedral churches and abbies. One 
 comes forth in his albe and his long stole 
 (for so they call their girde that they put 
 about theyr neckes,) thys must be leashe 
 wise, as hunters weares their homes. — 
 This solempne Syre played Christe's part, 
 a God's name. Then another companye 
 of singers, chyldren and al, song, in prick- 
 song, the Jewe's part — and the Deacon 
 read the middel text. The Prest at the 
 Alter althis while, because it was tediouse 
 to be unoccupyed, made Crosses of Palme 
 to set upon your doors, and to beare in 
 your purses, to chace away the Divel."* 
 
 Dr. Fulke, opposing the Catholics, ob- 
 serves on their carrying of the host on 
 Palm Sunday, — " It is pretty sport, that 
 you make the priests carry this idol to 
 supply the room of the ass on which Christ 
 did ride. Thus you turn the holy mys- 
 tery of Christ's riding to Jerusalem to a 
 May-game and pagent-play." In the 
 accounts of St. Andrew Hubbard's pa- 
 rish, there are Palm Sunday charges for the 
 following items : In 1520, eightpence for 
 the hire of an angel. In 1535-7, an- 
 other eightpence for a priest and a child 
 that played as a messenger : in that year 
 the angel was hired for fourpence. By 
 the churchwardens of St. Mary-at-hill, in 
 1451, fourpence was paid to one Lore- 
 
 * From a "Dialogue, concerning: the chyefest 
 etreiniiriyes hy the Imives of i\j.ti-C!irisl, 1664," 
 iXiiio. Qnoleid by Brand. 
 
 man for playing the prophet on Palm 
 Sunday. Though Ro-man catholic ceremo- 
 nies were generally disused under Henry 
 VHL, yet he declared that the bearing of 
 palms on Palm Sunday was to be con- 
 tinued and not cast away ; and it appears, 
 that they were borne in England untii 
 the second year of Edward VI. In 
 " Stowe's Chronicle," by Howes, the prac- 
 tice is said to 'nave been discontinued in 
 1548.* 
 
 It was likewise a Roman catholic cus- 
 tom to resort to " our lady of Nants- 
 well," at Little Conan, in Cornwall, with 
 a cross of palm ; and the people, after 
 making the priest a present, were allowed 
 to throw the cross into the well ; if it 
 swam, the thrower was to outlive the 
 year ; if it sunk, he was not.f 
 
 Recently, it is related, that on the Sa- 
 turday before Palm Sunday, the boys of 
 the grammar-school at Lanark, according 
 to ancient usage, parade the streets with 
 a palm, or, its substitute, a large tree of 
 the willow kind, salix cafrea, in blossom, 
 ornamented with daffodils, mezereon, and 
 box-tree. This day there is called Palm 
 Saturday, and the custom is supposed to 
 be " a popish relic of very ancient stand- 
 ing."I Mr. Douce, in a manuscript note^ 
 cited by Mr. Ellis, says " I have some- 
 where met with a proverbial saying, that he 
 that hath not a palm in his hand on Palm 
 Sunday, must have his hand cut off." 
 
 According to Stowe, in the week before 
 Easter, there were great shows in London 
 for going to the woods, and fetching into 
 the king's house a twisted tree, or iviihe ; 
 and the like into the house of every man 
 of note or consequence. 
 
 Palm Sunday remains in the English 
 calendars. It is still customary with 
 men and boys to go a palming in London 
 early on Palm Sunday morning ; that 
 is, by gathering branches of the willow or 
 sallow with their grey shining velvet- 
 looking buds, from those trees in the vici- 
 nity of the metropolis : they come home 
 with slips in their hats, and sticking in the 
 breast button holes of their coats, and a 
 sprig in the mouth, bearing the " palm" 
 branches in their hands. This usage 
 remains among the ignorant from poor 
 neighbourhoods, but there is still to be 
 found a basket woman or two at Covent- 
 garden, and in the chief markets with 
 this " palm," as they call it, on the Satur- 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 + Carew. 
 t Sinclair'* Statist. Ati;. 
 
 198 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 28, 29. 
 
 day before Palm Sunday, which they sell 
 to "those who are willing to buy; but tiio 
 demand of late years has been very little, 
 and hence the quantity on sale is very 
 imall. Nine out of ten among the pur- 
 chasers buy it in imitation of others, they 
 care not why ; and such purchasers, be- 
 ing Londoners, do not even know the 
 tree which produces it, but imagine it to 
 be a " real" palm tree, and " wonder" they 
 never saw any " palm" trees, and where 
 they grow. 
 
 fLOUAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sweet scented Jonquil. Narcissus Odortis. 
 Dedicated to ,S^ John of Egypt. 
 
 Priscns, Mulchus, and yllexander, Mar- 
 tyrs, A.u. 260. St. Sijrtiis III. Pope, 
 A.D. 440. St. Gontran, King and Con- 
 fessor, A.D. 593. 
 
 Chronology. 
 On tlvs day in 1 380, gunpowder was 
 first used in Europe by the Venetians 
 against the Genoese. Its power is said 
 by the Germans to have been discovered 
 accidentally byBerthold Schwartz; but our 
 Roger Bacon who died in 1278, certainly 
 was acquainted with it. Gunpowder was 
 known in India very early, and from thence 
 the knowledge of it was obtained by the 
 Arabians, who employed it in a battle 
 near Mecca so long ago as the year 690. 
 1 677. Wenceslaus Hollar, the engraver, 
 died at Westminster. His view of Lon- 
 don in Howell's " Londinopolis," and the 
 numerous plates he executed for Dug- 
 dale's " Monaslicon," " Warwickshire," 
 " St. Paul's," " Origines Juridiciales," 
 and other works have made him well 
 known to the topographer and portrait 
 collector; but his " muff's" and " insects" 
 are particularly beautiful. His style almost 
 .peculiar to himself,is known at a glance by 
 the experienced eye ; Gaywood, in por- 
 traits, and King, m views, were inferior 
 artists of the same school. Merian, in 
 some insects, rivals him formidably. Hol- 
 lar's labour was immense as may be seen 
 from Vertue's catalogue of his prints; yet 
 ne often worked at fourpence an hour, and 
 perished in poverty. 
 
 1801. Sir Ralph Abercrombie died in 
 Egypt. He received his death-wound on 
 the 21st., during his memorable victory 
 over the French at Alexandria. 
 
 1802. Pallas, a new planet, was dis- 
 covered by Dr. Olbers, of Bremen in 
 Germany 
 
 FLOUAL rnRLCTORY. 
 
 Lesser Leopardsbane. Doronicum Pla^i- 
 
 taginenm. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Prisons. 
 
 iBarfi^29. 
 
 Sts. Jonas, Barachisius, &c. a. d. All. 
 
 Sts. y^rinogastes, Archiniinns, and Sa- 
 
 tuTus, A. D. 457. St. Eustasius, oi 
 
 Eustachius, Abbot, a. b. 625. St. 
 
 Gundlens, a Welsh King, 5lh Cent. 
 
 St. Mark, Bishop, 4th Cent. 
 Chronology. 
 
 1315. Raymond Lulle, the most cele 
 brated chemist and alchymist of his time, 
 was stoned to death by the natives of 
 Mauritania, whither he had gone on a 
 religious mission, at the age of eighty. 
 His attention was directed to chemistry 
 by the power of love. A lady, very 
 handsome, with whom he was passion- 
 ately enamoured, refused to marry him. 
 One day, when he renewed his solicita- 
 tion, she showed her bosom inflamed 
 by a cancer. Young Lulle instantly took 
 leave, with the resolution to cure, and it 
 possible, conquer the heart of his mistress. 
 He searched with all the ardour, which 
 aflfection and compassion could inspire, 
 into the secrets of medicine and chemistry, 
 and had the good fortune to cure, and to 
 marry her. After her death he attached 
 himself to the church. The inhabitants 
 of the island of Majorca, where he was 
 born, in 1236, revere him as a martyr. 
 
 1461. The battle which decided the 
 claims of the houses of York and Lancas- 
 ter was fought between Towton and Sax- 
 ton, two villages near Yoik. It com- 
 menced in a snow storm at day break, 
 was contested with fearful obstinacy till 
 three in the afternoon, and terminated in 
 a deluge of blood. Eight and thirty 
 thousand human beings were left dead 
 on the field ; of whom the heralds ap- 
 pointed to number the slain, leturned 
 that twenty-eight thousand were Lancas- 
 trians. Edward, duke of York, who won 
 the day, rode from the scene of carnage 
 to York, where he ordered the death of 
 several prisoners ; while Henry VI. ol 
 Lancaster, who lost the crown, escaped 
 with great difficulty to the bordere. 
 
 floral riRECTORY. 
 
 Oxelip. Primula elatior 
 
 Dedicated to St. Eustasius. 
 
 Fumitory. Fumaria officinalis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Jonas 
 
 199 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 30,31. 
 
 Mm]) 30. 
 
 St. John CUmacus. St. Zozimns, Bishop 
 of Syracuse, a. n. 660. St. Regulus, 
 or Rienl, Bishop of Senlis. 
 
 St. John CUmacus, a. d. 605, 
 Was caverned as a hermit in a rock 
 near Mount Sinai, in Syria, and became 
 at seventy-five, abbot and superior-general 
 of all the monks and hermits of the 
 country. He admired one of the princi- 
 pal citizens of Alexandria in Egypt, who, 
 petitioning to become a monk, was or- 
 dered to remain without the gate, and 
 manifested his obedience by staying there 
 for seven years, and begging prayers for 
 his leprous soul of every passenger. St. 
 John also admired a monkish cook, 
 because he generally cried while he 
 cooked, and assigned as a reason, that 
 " the fire he always had before his eyes, 
 reminded him of that fire which will burn 
 souls for all eternity."* It is related that 
 a woman who had committed so enormous 
 a sin that she dare not confess it, came to 
 St. John, who bade her write it, and seal 
 it, and give it to him, and he would pray 
 for her ; this she did, and shortly after 
 St. John died. The woman sorely afraid 
 that her written secret would be read, 
 wept and prayed at St. John's tomb, and 
 begged he would appear and tell her 
 what he had done with the paper; on a 
 sudden, St. John came forth habited like a 
 bishop, with a bishop on each side of 
 him, and he said to the woman, " Why 
 troublest thou me so much, and these 
 saints with me ? thou sufferest us to have 
 no rest : look here, our clothes are all 
 wet with thy tears.'' Then he delivered to 
 tier the paper, sealed as she had given it 
 to him, and said, " See here, look at the 
 seal, open the writing, and read it." So 
 she did ; and she found all her sin " de- 
 faced clean out ;" and instead thereof was 
 written, " All thy sins are forgiven, and 
 put away by the prayer of St. John, my 
 servant." Then she returned thanks, and 
 St. John and his two bishops returned to 
 their sepulchres. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Rough Carameni. Cardemeni hhsnta. 
 
 Dedicated to St. John of CUmacus, 
 
 Lesser Daffodil. A\ireissus minor. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Zozimns. 
 
 iHardj 31. 
 
 St. Benjamin, Deacon, jNIartyr, a. d. 421, 
 St. Acacius, or Achates, Bishop o* 
 Antioch, a. d. 230, or 251. St. Guy 
 A. D. 1046. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1814. On this day the sovereigns who 
 have since formed ihe holy alliance, en- 
 tered Paris at the head of the Russian 
 troops. The capitulation of this capital 
 was succeeded by the return of the Bour- 
 bons to France. 
 
 iHaunti|) COurstrai), 
 
 * Butler'.i Saints, 
 
 SHERE THURSDAY. 
 
 Maundy Thursday is always the 
 Thursday before Easter; its name has 
 occasioned some trouble to antiquaries. 
 One writer conceives maundi/ to be cor- 
 rupted from the mandate of Christ to liis 
 disciples to break bread in remembrance 
 of him : or from his other mandate, after 
 he had washed their feet, to love one 
 another.* With better reason it is con- 
 ceived to be derived from the Saxon word 
 mand, which afterwards became maund, 
 a name for a basket, and subsequently for 
 any gift or offering contained in the 
 basket. Thus Shakspeare says, " a thou- 
 sand favours from her maund she drew :" 
 and Hall in his satires, speaks of " a 
 maund charged with household merchan- 
 dize :" so also Drayton tells of " a little 
 wiaujirf being made of osiers small;" and 
 Herrick says, 
 
 *' Behold, for us, the naked graces stay 
 "WWh mannds oi roses, for to strew theway,'* 
 
 The same poet speaks of maundie as 
 alms : 
 
 " All's gone, and death hath taken 
 
 Away from us 
 
 Our maundie, thus 
 The widdowes stand forsaken." 
 
 Thus then, " Maundij Thursda;/, the day 
 preceding Good Friday, on which the 
 king distributes alms to a certain number 
 of poor persons at Whitehall, is so named 
 from the maunds in which the gifts were 
 contained."f 
 
 * Diinton's Rritisli Apollo. 
 
 + Arclidcaron Narcs's " Glossary," wherein Ihc 
 authorities briefly cited above artesetfoith at lari^e. 
 
 200 
 
lllE F,VERY-DAY BOOK.— MARCH 31. 
 
 According to annual custom, on Maun- 
 dy Thursday, 1814, tlie royal donations 
 wcro distributed at the Lliapel Royal, 
 ^^'l.itellall. In the morning, Dr. Carey, 
 tlie sub-almoner, and Mr. Ilanby, the 
 secretary to the lord high almoner, Mr. 
 Nost, and others belonging to the lord 
 chamberlain's office, attended by a party 
 of iiie yeomen of the guard, distributed 
 to seventy-five poor women, and seventy- 
 five poor men, being as many as the king 
 was years old, a quantity of salt fish, con- 
 sisting of salmon, cod, and herrings, 
 pieces of very fine beef, five loaves of 
 bread, and some ale to drink the king's 
 health. Mr. Hanby gave notice that in 
 future their cases must be certified by the 
 minister of the parish, by order of the 
 lord almoner. At three o'clock they 
 assembled again, the men on one side the 
 criapel, and the women on the other. A 
 procession entered, of those engaged in 
 the ceremony, consisting of a party of 
 yeoman of the guard, one of them car- 
 rying a large gold dish on his head, con- 
 taining 150 bags, with seventy-five silver 
 pennies in each, for the poor people, 
 •which was placed in the royal closet. 
 Tliey were followed by the sub-almoner in 
 his robes, with a sash of fine linen over 
 his shoulder and crossing his waist. He 
 was followed by two boys, two girls, the 
 secretary, and another gentleman, with 
 similar sashes, &c. Sec, all carrying large 
 nosegays. The church evening service 
 was then performed, at the conclusion of 
 which the silver pennies were distributed, 
 and woollen cloth, linen, shoes and stock- 
 ings, to the men and women, and a cup 
 of wine to drink the king's health. 
 
 Anciently, on Maundy Thursday, the 
 kings and queens of England washed and 
 kissed the feet of as many poor men and 
 women as they were years old, besides 
 bestowing their maundy on each. This 
 was in imitation of Christ washing his dis- 
 ciples' feet. Queen Elizabeth performed 
 this at Greenwich, when she was thirty- 
 nine years old, on which occasion the feet 
 of the same number of poor persons were 
 first washed by the yeomen of the laun- 
 dry with warm water and sweet herbs, 
 afterwards by the sub-almoner, and lastly, 
 by the queen herself; the person who 
 washed, making each time a cross on the 
 pauper's foot above the toes, and kissing 
 it. This ceremony was performed by the 
 queen, kneeling, being attended by thirty- 
 nine ladies and gentlewomen. Clothes, 
 victuals, and money were then distributed 
 
 among the poor.* James II. is said to 
 have been the last of our monarchs who 
 pei formed this ceremony in person. It 
 was afterwards performed by tire almoner 
 On the 5th of April, 1731, it being 
 Maundy Thursday, the king being then 
 in his forty-eighth year, there was distri- 
 buted at the Banquetting-house, White- 
 hall, to forty-eight poor men and forty- 
 eight poor women, boiled beef and shoul- 
 ders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, 
 which is called dinner; after that, large 
 wooden platters of fish and loaves, viz. 
 undressed, one large old ling, and one 
 large dried cod ; twelve red herrings, and 
 twelve white herrings, and four half quar- 
 tern loaves. Each person had one platter 
 of this provision ; after which was distri- 
 buted to them shoes, stockings, linen and 
 woollen cloth, and leathern bags, with 
 one-penny, two-penny, three-penny, and 
 four-penny pieces of silver, and shillings; 
 to each about four pounds in value. His 
 grace, the lord archbishop of York, lord 
 high almoner, performed the annual cere- 
 mony of washing the feet of the poor in 
 the Royal Chapel, Whitehall, as was for- 
 merly done by the kings tliemselves.f 
 
 This day was also called Shere Thurs- 
 day, and by corruption Chare Thursday. 
 Shere Thursday signified that it was the 
 day whereon the clergy were wont to 
 shere or shear their heads, or get them 
 shorn or shaven, and to clip their beards 
 against Easter-day.| In the miraculous 
 legend of St. Brandon it is related that 
 he sailed with his monks to the island of 
 sheep,"and on sherethursdaye,3.her souper, 
 he wesshe theyr feet and kyssed them 
 lyke as our lorde dyd to his dyscyples."§ 
 Maundy Thursday is nowhere observed 
 in London except, as before stated, at the 
 Chapel Royal. 
 
 A Holiday at all the Public Offices. 
 
 This and Christmas-day are the only two 
 close holidays now observed throughout 
 London, by the general shutting up of 
 shops, and the opening of all the churches. 
 The dawn is awakened by a cry in the 
 streets of " Hot-cross-buns ; one-a-penny 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine, 
 t Lainbarde. 
 
 t Brand's Pop. Antiq. Nar-es's Glossary, C.'uyra 
 and shere. 
 I Gulden Legend. 
 
 201 
 
rilE EVERYDAY BOOK.— MARCH 31. 
 
 buns, two-a-penny buns ; one-a-penny, 
 two-a-penny, hot-cross-buns !" This pro- 
 ceeds from some little "peep-o'-day boy," 
 willing to take the " top of the morning" 
 oefore the rest of his compeers. He 
 carries his covered buns in a basket 
 hanging on one arm, while his other hand 
 is straightened like an open door, at the 
 side of his mouth, to let forth his childish 
 voice, and he " pipes and trebles out the 
 sound" to the extremity of his lungs. 
 Scarcely has he departed before others 
 come ; "another and another still suc- 
 ceeds," and at last the whole street is in 
 one " common cry of buns." Old men 
 and young men, young women and old 
 women, big children and little children, 
 are engaged in this occupation, and 
 " some cry now who never cried before." 
 The bun-venders who eclipse the rest in 
 voice and activity, are young women who 
 drive fruit-barrows — barrows, by the bye, 
 are no more, but of them by and bye. A 
 couple of these ex-barrow-women trip 
 along, carrying a wicker clothes-basket 
 between them, in which the " hot-cross- 
 buns" are covered, first by a clean flannel 
 or green baize, and outwardly by a clean 
 white cloth, which coverings are slowly 
 and partially removed, for fear of letting 
 the buns cool, when a customer stops to 
 buy, oi calls them to the door. They 
 continue their lengthened cry, with a 
 volume of concerted sound, unequalled by 
 other rivals in the ephemeral Good Friday 
 trade. These scenes and sounds continue 
 till church-time, and resume in the after- 
 noon. It partially commences on the 
 evening before Good Friday, but with 
 little success. 
 
 Some thirty or forty years ago pastry- 
 cooks and bakers vied with each other 
 for excellence in making hot-cross-buns ; 
 the demand has decreased, and so has the 
 quality of the buns. But the great place 
 of attraction for bun-eaters at that time 
 was Chelsea ; for i/ie7-e were the two 
 " roi/al bun-houses." Before and along 
 the whole length of the long front of each, 
 stood a flat-roofed, neat,wooden portico or 
 piazza of the width of the foot-path, be- 
 neath which slielter " from summer's 
 heat and winter's cold," crowds of per- 
 sons assembled to scramble for a chance 
 of purchasing " royal hot cross Chelsea 
 buns," within a reasonable time ; and 
 several hundreds of square black tins, 
 with dozens of hot buns on each tin, were 
 disposed of in every hour from a little 
 a'.'.er six in the morning, till after the 
 
 same period in the evening of Good 
 Friday. Those who knew what was 
 good, better than new comers, gave the 
 preference to the " old original royal 
 bun-house," which had been a 6?i)t-house 
 " ever since it was a house," and at which 
 " the king himself once stopped," and 
 who could say as much for the other? 
 This was the conclusive tale at the doo"-, 
 and from within the doors, of the " old 
 original bun-house." Alas ! and alack ! 
 there is thathouse now ; and there is the 
 house that was opened as its rival ; but 
 where are ye who contributed to their 
 renown and custom, among the appren 
 tices and journeymen, and the little com- 
 fortable tradesmen of the metropolis, and 
 their wives and children — where are ye ? 
 With ye hath the fame of" Chelsea buns " 
 departed, and the " royal bun-houses " 
 are little more distinguished than the 
 humble graves wherein ye rest. 
 
 Formerly " hot-cross-buns " were com- 
 monly eaten in London by families at 
 breakfast, and some families still retain 
 the usage. They are of the usual form 
 of buns ; though they are distinguished 
 from them inwardly by a sweeter taste, 
 and the flavourof all-spice, and outwardly 
 by the mark or sign of the cross. The 
 " hot-cross-bun " is the most popular 
 symbol of the Roman catholic religion in 
 England that the reformation has left. Of 
 the use of the cross, as a mark or sign in 
 papal worship and devotion, most readers 
 are aware ; for it has been insisted on by 
 Roman catholic writers from the days of 
 Constantine to Alban Butler himself, whc 
 giving example of its great virtue on 
 Good Friday, says, " to add one more in- 
 stance, out of many, St. Teresa assures 
 us, in her own life, that one day the 
 devil, by a phantom, appeared to sit on 
 the letters of her book, to disturb her at 
 her devotions ; but she drove him away 
 thrice by the sign of the cross, and at 
 last sprinkled the book with holy water; 
 after which he returned no more."* In 
 the houses of some ignorant people, a 
 Good Friday bun is still kept " for luck," 
 and sometimes there hangs from the 
 ceiling a hard biscuit-like cake of open 
 cro**-work, baked on a Good Friday, to 
 remain there till displaced on the next 
 Good Friday by one of similar make; and 
 of this the editor of the Every- Day Hook 
 
 * Butler's Moveable Feasts, 1774, 8vo. p. 379. 
 
 202 
 
THE EVFKYDAY BOOK.— MARCH 
 
 nas heard affirmed, tliat it preserves the 
 house from fire ;" " no fire ever happened 
 in a house that had one." This un- 
 doubtedly is a relic of the old supersti- 
 tion ; as is also a vulgar notion in the 
 west of England, that the straight stripe 
 down the shoulders of the ass, inter- 
 sected by the long one from the neck to 
 the tail, is a cross of honour conferied 
 upon him by Christ, and that before Christ 
 rode upon the ass, that animal was not so 
 distinguished. 
 
 Hot-cross-buns are the ecclesiastical 
 Euloffiee, or consecrated loaves, bestowed 
 in the church as alms, and to those who 
 from any impediment could not receive 
 the host. They are made from the dough 
 from whence the host itself is taken, and 
 are given by the priest to the people af- 
 ter mass, just before the congregation is 
 dismissed, and are kissed before they are 
 eaten. They are marked with the cross 
 as our Good Friday buns are. Winckel- 
 man relates this remarkable fact, that at 
 Herculaneum were found two entire 
 loaves of the same size, a palm and a 
 naif, or five inches in diameter. They 
 were marked by a cross, within which 
 were four other lines ; and so the bread 
 of the Greeks was marked from the ear- 
 liest periods. Sometimes it had only four 
 lines, and then it was called quadra. This 
 bread had rarely any other mark than a 
 cross, which was on purpose to divide, 
 and break it more easily.* 
 
 The TenebrcB, a Roman catholic ser- 
 vice signifying darkiiess, is performed on 
 and before Good Friday, to denote the 
 circumstances and darkness at the cruci- 
 fixion. This \s partly symbolized by a 
 
 triangular candlestick with fourteen yel- 
 low wax candles and one white one • 
 seven of these yellow candles being on 
 one side, the seven other yellow ones on 
 the other side, and the white wax candle 
 being at the top. The fourteen yellow 
 candles represent the eleven apostles, the 
 virgin Mary, and the women that were 
 with her at the crucifixion ; the white 
 candle at the top is to represent Christ. 
 Fourteen psalms are sung, and at the end 
 of each psalm one of the yellow candles is 
 put out till the whole fouiteen are extin- 
 guished, and the white candle alone left 
 alight. After this and the extinction ot 
 the light on the altar, " the white candle 
 is taken down from the top of the trian- 
 gular candlestick, and hid under the 
 altar." The putting out of the fourteen 
 candles is to denote the flight or mourn- 
 ing of the apostles and the women ; and 
 the hiding of the white candle denotes that 
 Christ is in the sepulchre ; then a noise 
 is made by beating the desks or books, 
 and by beating the floor with the hands 
 and feet, and this noise is to represent 
 the earthquake and the splitting of the 
 rocks at the crucifixion.* 
 
 In the church of St. Peter's at Rome 
 on Good Friday, the hundred burning 
 lamps on the tomb of St. Peter are extin- 
 guished, and a stupendous illuminated 
 cross depends from the immense dome 
 of the cathedral, as if it hung self-sup- 
 ported. But to relate the papal cere- 
 monies pertaining to the fast of lent, and 
 its ensuing festival, would fill volumes of 
 this size, and we hasten from the devices 
 of men to contemplate works which all 
 his art is incompetent to rival. 
 
 Nature ' to me, thou art more beautiful 
 111 tliy most simple forms, than all that man 
 Hath made, with all his genius, and his power 
 Of combination : for he cannot raise 
 One structure, pinnacled, or domed, or gemm'd. 
 By architectural rule, or cunning hand, 
 Like to the smallest plant, or flower, or leaf. 
 Which living hath a tongue, that dotii discourse 
 l\Iost eloquent of Him, the great Creator 
 Of all living things. Man's makings fail 
 To tell of aught but this, that he, the framer 
 Sought also to create, and fail'd, because 
 No life can he impart, or breath infuse. 
 To give inertness being. 
 
 • Fosbroke's Brit. Monach. Herculaneum it will 
 bf remeni'.iereri was overwhelmed and destroyed by 
 tie voltanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius, A. D. 7'J 
 
 * Butler's Moveable IVatl*. 
 
 203 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL. 
 
 APRIL. 
 
 Next came fresh April, full of lustyhed, 
 And wanton as a kid whose home new buds ; 
 Upon a bull he rode, the same which led 
 Europa fioting through th' Argolick fluds : 
 His horns were gilden all with golden studs. 
 And garnished with garlands goodly dight 
 Of all the fairest flowers and freshest buds 
 Which th' earth brings forth ; and wet he seem'd in sight 
 With waves, through which he waded for his love's delight. Spenser. 
 
 This IS the fourth month of the year. 
 Its Latin name is Aprilis, from aperio, to 
 open or set forth. The Saxons called it, 
 Oster or Eastermonath, in which month, 
 the feast of the Saxon goddess, Eastre, 
 Easter, or Eoster is said to have been 
 celebrated.* April, with us, is some- 
 times represented as a girl clothed in 
 green, with a garland of myrtle and haw- 
 thorn buds ; holding in one hand prim- 
 roses and violets, and in the other the 
 zodiacal sign, Taurus, or the bull, into 
 which constellation the sun enters during 
 this month. The Romans consecrated 
 the first of April to Venus, the goddess of 
 beauty, the mother of love, the queen of 
 laughter, the mistress of the graces ; and 
 the Roman widows and virgins assembled 
 in the lem.ple of Virile Fortune, and dis- 
 
 * Sayer's Disquisitions. 
 
 closing their personal deformities, prayed 
 the goddess to conceal them from theii 
 husbands.* 
 
 In this month the business of creation 
 seems resumed. Tiie vital spark rekin- 
 dles in dormant existences; and all things 
 " live, and move, and have their being." 
 The earth puts on her livery to await the 
 call of her lord ; the air breathes gently 
 on his cheek, and conducts to his ear the 
 warblings of the birds, and the odours of 
 new-born herbs and flowers ; the great 
 eye of the world " sees and snines'' with 
 bright and gladdening glances ; the wa- 
 ters teem with life , man himself feels the 
 revivifying and all-pervading influercej 
 and his 
 
 spirit holds communion sweet 
 
 With the blighter spirits of the sky. 
 
 • Lenipriere. 
 
 204 
 
THE EVEEY-DAT BOOK. —APRIL 1 
 
 St. Hugh, Bp. A.D. 1132. St. Mellto, 
 Bp. A. D. 175. -S^. Gilbert, Bp. of 
 Cathness, a. d. 1240. 
 
 On the fiist of April, 1712, Lord Bo- 
 lingbroke stated, that in the wais, called 
 the " glorious wars of queen Anne," the 
 duke of Marlborough had not lost a single 
 battle — and yet, that the French had car- 
 ried their point, the succession to the 
 Spanish monarchy, the pretended cause 
 of these wars. Dean Swift called this 
 statement " a due donation for * All 
 Fools' Day !' " 
 
 On the first of April, 1810, Napoleon 
 married Maria Louisa, archduchess of 
 Austria, on which occasion some of the 
 waggish Parisians called him " n7i poisson 
 d'Avril," a term which answers to our 
 April fool. On the occasion of his nup- 
 tials. Napoleon struck a medal, with Love 
 bearing a thunderbolt for its device. 
 
 It is customary on this day for boys ♦o 
 practise jocular deceptions. When they 
 succeed, they laugh at the person whom 
 they think they have rendered ridiculous, 
 and exclaim, " Ah ! you April fool .'" 
 
 Thirty years ago, when buckles wers 
 worn in shoes, a boy would meet a per- 
 son in the street with — " Sir, if you please, 
 your shoe's imlmckled,'' and the moment 
 the accosted individual looked towards 
 his feet, the informant would cry — " Ah ! 
 you April fool !" Tiventy years ago, 
 when buckles were wholly disused, the 
 urchin-cry was — " Sir, your shoe's tin- 
 tied ;" and if the shoe-wearer lowered his 
 eyes, he was hailed, as his buckled pre- 
 decessor had been, with the said — " Ah ! 
 you April fool !" Now, when neither 
 buckles nor strings are worn, because in 
 the year 1825 no decent man " has a shoe 
 to his toot,'' the waggery of the day is — 
 " Sir, there's something out of your poc- 
 ket." "Where?" "There!" "What?" 
 " Your hand, sir — Ah ! you April fool !" 
 
 AH ! YOU APIUL FOOL 1 
 
 205 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AFIIII 1 
 
 Or else some lady is humbly bowed to, 
 and gravely addressed with " Ma'am, I 
 beg your pardon, but you've somethins; 
 on your face !" " Indeed, my man ! 
 what is it ?" " Your nose, ma'am — Ah ! 
 you April fool !" 
 
 The tricks that youngsters play off on 
 the first of April are various as thei-r 
 fanc^es. One, who has yet to know the 
 Juimours of the day, they send to a cob- 
 bler's for a petmy worth of the best " stir- 
 
 rap oil ;" the cobbler receives the money 
 and the novice receives a hearty cut ot 
 two from the cobbler's strap : if he does 
 not, at the same time, obtain the informa . 
 tion that he is " an April fool," he is sure 
 to be acquainted with it on returning to 
 his companions. The like knowledge is 
 also gained by an errand to some shop 
 for half a pint of " pigeon's milk," or an 
 inquiry at a bookseller's for the "Life 
 and Adventures of Eve's Mother." 
 
 Then, in-door young ones club their wicked wits. 
 
 And almost frighten servants into fits — 
 
 " Oh, John ! James ! John 1 — oh, quick ! oh ! Molly, oh 
 
 Oh, the trap-door ! oh, Rlolly ! down below !" 
 
 " What, what's the matter!" scream, with wild surprise 
 
 John, James, and Molly, while the young ones' cries 
 
 Redouble till they come ; then all the boys 
 
 Shout " Ah 1 you April fools !" with clamorous noise ; 
 
 And little girls enticed down stairs to see, 
 
 Stand peeping, clap their hands, and cry " te-hee !" 
 
 Each gibing boy escapes a different way. 
 
 And meet again some trick, " as good as that," to play. 
 
 Much is written concerning the custom 
 of fool-making on the first of April, but 
 with this result only, that it is very an- 
 cient and very general.* As a better 
 opportunity will occur hereafter, nothing 
 will be said here respecting " fools" by 
 profession. 
 
 Tlie practice of making fools on this 
 day in North Britain, is usually exercised 
 by sending a person from place to place 
 by means of a letter, in which is wrhten 
 
 " On the first day of April 
 Hunt the gowk another mile." 
 
 This is called " hunting the g02vk ;" 
 and the bearer of the " fools' errand'' 
 is called an " April goivk.'' Brand 
 says, that goivk is properly a cuckoo, and 
 is used here metaphorically for a fool ; 
 this appears correct ; for from the Saxon 
 " geac, a cuckoo," is derived geck,\ which 
 means " one easily imposed on." Mal- 
 volio, who had been " made ^fool" by a 
 letter, purporting to have been written by 
 Olivia, inquires of her 
 
 " Why have you suffered me to be — 
 — Made the most notorious geek and g^lll 
 That e'er invention play'd on ?" 
 
 Olivia affirms, that the letter was not 
 written by her, and exclaims to Malvolio 
 
 "Alas, poor/io/ / how have they baffled thee !" 
 
 • Erand. 
 
 t Ash. 
 
 Geek is likewir.e dorivj.ble " from tht 
 Teutfr.'iir; geck,joc^i,i."* 
 
 The " April fool" is among the Swedes. 
 Tor?er.^ one of their travellers, says, 
 " Wo set sail on the first of April, and the 
 v^nd made April fools of us, for we 
 were forced to return before Shagen." 
 On the Sunday and Monday preceding 
 Lent, people are privileged at Lisbon to 
 play the fool : it is thought very jocose 
 to pour water on any person who passes, 
 or throw powder in his face ; but to d 3 
 boUi is the perfection of wit.f Tiie 
 Hindoos also at their Hull festival keep 
 a general holiday on the 31st of March, 
 and one subject of diversion is to send 
 people on errands and expeditions that 
 are to end in disappointment, and raise a 
 laugh at the expense of the persons sent. 
 Colonel Pearce says, that " high and low 
 join in it ; and," he adds, "the late Suraja 
 Doulah, I am told, was very fond of 
 making Iluli fools, though he was a mus- 
 sulman of the highest rank. They carry 
 the joke here (in India) so far, as to sena 
 letters making appointments, in the nama 
 of persons, who, it is known, must be 
 absent from their house at the time fixed 
 upon ; and the laugh is always in pro- 
 portion to the trouble given. "| 
 
 The April fool among the French is 
 called " un poisson b '4vril." Their trans- 
 
 • Janiicsnr., in Nare's Glossary. 
 
 t Soutliey, (juotcd in Krand, as also Toreen. 
 
 t Asiat. Ref. in Brand, froci jMaurice. 
 
 206 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 2 
 
 ormalion of the term is nol well accounted 
 /or, but their customs on the day are 
 similartoouis. In one instance a "joke " 
 was carried too far. At Paris, on tlie 
 1st of April, 1817, a youno lady pocketed 
 a watch in the house of a friend. She 
 was arrested the same day, and taken 
 before the correctional police, when 
 being chartj;ed with the fact, she said it 
 was an A))ril trick (nil poisson d'^vril.) 
 She was asked whether the watch was in 
 her custody? She denied it; but a mes- 
 senger was sent to her apartment, and it 
 was found on the chimney-place. Upon 
 which the young lady said, she had 
 made the messenger iin poisson d'Avril, 
 " an April fool." The pleasantry, how- 
 ever, did not end so happily, for the 
 young lady was jocularly recommende I 
 to remain in the house of correction till 
 the 1st of April, 1818, and then to be dis- 
 charged as un poisson d'Avril.* 
 
 It must not be forgotten, that the 
 practice of " making April fool " in Eng- 
 land, is often indulged by persons of 
 maturer years, and in a more agreeable 
 way. Tliere are some verses that plea- 
 santly exemplify this :t 
 
 To a Lady, who threatened to make the 
 Author an Apkil Fool. 
 
 \Vliy strive, dear grirl, to make a fool 
 
 Of one not wise before, 
 Vet, having 'scaped from folly's school. 
 
 Would fain go there no more? 
 
 Ah ! if I must to sclionl again, 
 
 Wilt thou my teacher be ? 
 I vn sure no lesson will be vain 
 
 \Vhich thou canst give to me. 
 
 One of thy kind and gentle looks, 
 
 Thy smiles devoid of art. 
 Avail, beyond all crabbed books, 
 
 To regulate my heart. 
 
 Thou need'st not call some fairy elf. 
 
 On any April-day, 
 To make thy bard forget himself. 
 
 Or wander from his way. 
 
 One thing he never can forget, 
 
 Whatever change may be. 
 The sacred hour when first he met 
 
 And fondly gazed on thee. 
 A seed then fell into his breast ; 
 
 Tliy spirit placed it there : 
 Need 1, my Julia, tell the rest ? 
 
 rhou seest the blossoms here. 
 
 * Mom. Chron. June 17, 1817. 
 + Cited by Brand from JuJia, or Last Follies, 
 1798, 4to. 
 
 ri.ORAL DIRF.CTORY. 
 
 Annual Mercury. Mcrcuriulis annua 
 Dedicated to St. Hugh. 
 
 gpnl 2. 
 
 St. Francis of Paula. St. Apian, a. d. 
 306. 5^ Theodosia, a. d. 308. St. 
 Nicctius, Abp. of Lyons, a. d. 577. 
 St. E/jOa, Abbess, and her companions, 
 A. D. 870, or 874. B. Constantine 
 II. king of Scotland, a. n. 874. St 
 Bronacha, or Bronanna, Abbess. 
 
 St. Francis of Paula 
 
 Was a Calabrian, and at fifteen years 
 old shut Jiimself up in a cave, in a rock 
 on the coast. Before twenty he was 
 joined by two others, and the people 
 built them three cells ; the number in- 
 creased, and so arose the order of friar 
 Minims, which means the least of tlie 
 friars. Constant abstinence from flesh, 
 and all food made of milk or eggs, was one 
 of their rules. In 1479, being invited to 
 Sicily, "he was received there as an 
 angel from heaven, wrought miracles, 
 and built several monasteries." He pro- 
 phesied, held burning coals in his hand 
 without being burnt, restored his nephew 
 to life, cured people of the plague, received 
 the host with a cord about his neck on 
 Maundy Thursday, died on the 2d of 
 April, 1508, aged ninety-one, and was 
 buried till 1562 when-the hugonots burnt 
 his bones with the wood of a crucifix.* 
 
 Besides this, it is related, that the ele- 
 ments lost their force against him; that 
 he walked upon fire ; entered into a 
 burning oven without harm ; and made a 
 sea voyage on his own cloak instead of a 
 ship, and had a companion on board with 
 liim.f 
 
 According to another account he was 
 much worried by the devil. Once while 
 he was at prayers the devil called him 
 three times by his own name. Another 
 time he was so possessed by the fiend, that 
 he had no other way to get rid of him, 
 than by stripping and beating himself 
 with a hard cord, crying while he did it, 
 "thus brother ass thcu must be beater,- ;" 
 after which he ran into the snow and 
 made seven snowballs, intending to 
 swallow them if the devil )iad not taken 
 his leave. Tlien a whole parcel of devils 
 came one night, and gave him a grievous 
 
 * Butler. 
 
 i Ribadeneira. 
 
 207 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 2. 
 
 beating ; this was because he lodged in a 
 cardinal's palace, and it occasioned him 
 to shift his lodging. Afterwards, when at 
 prayers, he saw upon the roof of the house 
 whole companies of these infernals. He 
 was a bird-fancier. A bird sat singing on a 
 fig-tree by the side of his cell, he called 
 it to him ; the bird ca ne upon his hand, 
 and he said to it — " Sing, my sister, and 
 praise the Lord," and the bird sat singing 
 till he gave it liberty to go away. Going 
 to Venice with his companions, and hear- 
 ing birds singing in a wood, he proposed 
 to sing the canonical hours, but the 
 monks could not hear themselves for the 
 chanters of the grove, wherefore, he 
 entreated the feathered choir to be silent, 
 and they remained so till he pave them 
 liberty to proceed. At another place 
 when he was preaching, he could not be 
 heard for the swallows, which were mak- 
 ing their nests ; he said to them — " Sister 
 swallows, it is time for me to speak ; as 
 you've said enough, be quiet," and so 
 they were. It was customary with 
 him when one of his friars had committed 
 a fault to take off the friar's hood, and 
 throw it into the fire, from whence afier 
 staying there a proper time, he com- 
 manded it to be restored to the friar, and 
 the hood was then taken out of the fire 
 without having sustained injury. More to 
 the like effect, and of equal credibility, is 
 related of this saint in the Golden Legend. 
 Chronology. 
 1801. Lord Nelson's victory at Co- 
 penhagen, when eighteen sail of the line 
 were either captured or destroyed. 
 
 FLOKAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 White Violet. Viola alba. 
 Dedicated to St. Francis of Paula. 
 
 Good Friday is the Friday in Passion- 
 week, and consequently the Friday next 
 before Easter-day. 
 
 Easter-day is always the first Sun- 
 day after the first fall moon, which hap- 
 pens on or next after the 21st of March; 
 but if the/?<// moon happens upon a Sun- 
 day, Easter-day is the Sunday following. 
 Octave or Utas of a Feast. 
 
 TheOctave or Utas of each feast is always 
 the eighth day after it occurs ; for exam 
 pie, the feast of St. Hillary is the ■ 13th 
 of January, hence the octave of St. Hil- 
 lary is the 22d of January. 
 
 -f-4.'t' These Correctioxs would have been 
 made hi the sheet itself, but a great nutnber 
 of copies havi)iif bee7i printed, before the 
 error was discovered, it became necessary 
 to postpone the rectijication^ See Note 
 below.* 
 
 *^* An error nnder the above title having 
 crept into the Every-Day Book, at p. 190, 
 and also extended to the list, of ^^ Moveable 
 feasts," the reader will please to correct 
 that list, <^c. by the following statement. 
 
 Shrove Sunday is the Sunday next 
 before Shrove Tuesday. It is also called 
 Quinquagesima Sunday. 
 
 Shrove Tuesday is always the seventh 
 Tuesday before Easter-day. 
 
 Care, or Carle Sunday is the fifth Sun- 
 day in Lent, and the second Sunday before 
 Easter-day. 
 
 Maundy Thursday, also called Chare 
 or Shete Thursday, is the day before 
 Good Friday, 
 
 (faster* 
 
 Easter-oay IS distinguished by its 
 peculiar name, through our Saxon ances- 
 tors, who at this season of the year held 
 a great festival, in honour of the goddess 
 Eastor, probably the Astarte of the eastern 
 nations. The French call this festival 
 Paques, derived from the Greek pascha, 
 which is also derived from the Hebrew 
 pesech, meaning passover ; and whence 
 we have the English word paschal, applied 
 to the lamb, which formed part of the 
 evening meal, the last of which our sa- 
 viour partook, before his death, with his 
 twelve missionaries. In Cambridgeshire 
 the word pasch is still in use, and applied 
 to a flower which appears at this time on 
 the Gogmagog hills and its environs The 
 day is of importance in a civil, as well as 
 in a religious, li^ht ; for on this day de- 
 pend the openings of our courts of law, 
 which take place after it, and the festivals 
 of the church are arranged in conformity 
 to it. By the act of parliament on this 
 subject, and the rule given in conformity 
 
 * Mr. Nicolas oblicrinfrly informs wie, that 
 since his " Notitia Historica " was printed, he 
 has ascertained that the rule laid down for 
 Shrove Tuesday, in that work, was not correct, 
 and that having made some alterations in the 
 event of a second edition being demanded, and 
 finding I had cited tlie part containing the 
 error, he thought it right to send me a copy of 
 his corrections, from whence the preceding list 
 is formed. There can scarcely be a doubt that a 
 second edition of Mr. Nicolas's " Notitia His. 
 torica " will be required speedily, because the 
 .series of Tallies, Calendars, and miscellaneous 
 information which it contains must be eminently 
 useful, not only to the legal profession, anti. 
 quaries, and every historic.il and topographic 
 cal inquirer, but to general readers, many ot 
 whom daily suffer inconvenience without pucfc 
 s. soarce of reference. W H 
 
 lOS 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— APRIL 2 
 
 to It 111 the " Common Piayer-Book," 
 which of course every body has an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing, " Eastku-day is always 
 the first Sunday after the Full Moon, 
 which happens upon, or next after, the 
 twenty-first day of March ; a)id if the 
 Full Moon happen upon a Sunday, Easter- 
 day is the Sunday after." 
 
 One would think, that when such pre- 
 cise directions had been given, and the 
 state of the moon on any day is so clearly 
 and easily ascertained, that there would 
 be no difficulty in following them ; but 
 experience has proved that contrary de- 
 viations from the act of parliament 
 liave been numerous. These have been 
 pointed out at various times, but without 
 any effect on the public. In the year 
 1735, Henry VVi'son, of Tower-hill, styling 
 himself mathematician, denounced the 
 errors on this subject in a very ingenious 
 work, entitled " The regulation of Easter, 
 or the cause of the errours and differences 
 contracted in the calculation of it, dis- 
 covered and duly considered, showing — 
 The frequency and consequence of chat 
 errour, with the cause from whence it 
 proceeds, and a method proposed for 
 rectifying it, and reconciling the diff"eren- 
 ces about it, and for restoring the time of 
 celebrating that great solemnity in its 
 primitive certainty and exactness, and 
 that without the diflnculty and confusion 
 which some have objected would attend 
 such a regulation." 8vo. 
 
 Within these few years an error in the 
 observance of Easter took place, and 
 on all the almanacs fixing an improper 
 day for it-s observance, a memorial was 
 presented to the lords in council and to 
 the prince regent, humbly soliciting their 
 interference on this subject. It was 
 noticed also by Mr. Frend, in his " Even- 
 ing Amusements ;" and a clergyman of 
 Oxford published a pamphlet on the oc- 
 casion. There was also, we believe, one 
 clergyman, who, disregarding the alma- 
 nac, obeyed the rubric, and read the 
 services for Easter-day, and the Sundays 
 depending on it, on very different days 
 ^rom those adopted in other churches. 
 It was remarkable also, that in that very 
 year, judge Garrow arrived at Glou- 
 cester a short time after twelve o'clock at 
 night, of the day on which the assizes were 
 lo commence, and the high-sheriff" very 
 properly representing his scruples, on the 
 legality of then commencing the assizes, 
 they were delayed till the opinion of the 
 judges could be taken, and the conse- 
 
 quence was, the issuing of a new writ. 
 Thus the difference of a few minutes was 
 considered fatal to the opening of a 
 country court, though the courts of law 
 at Westminster had been opened a few 
 months before, when a much greater 
 error had taken place with respect to 
 Easter-day, on which, as before observed, 
 the opening of those courts depends. 
 
 To understand this subject we must 
 refer back to the origin of this festival, 
 instituted in honour of the resurrection of 
 our saviour, which took place on the 
 third day after his execution as a male- 
 factor. Friday had been fixed upon as' 
 the day of commemorating his death, and 
 as that took place on the day of ful 
 moon, the first full moon after the twenty- 
 first of March was fixed upon as the re- 
 gulator of the festival. The great point 
 had in view was to prevent the festival of 
 Easter-day from being observed on the 
 day of a full moon, but as near to it as 
 circumstances would admit, and in con- 
 sequence there is a great difference in the 
 times of observing this festival; it being 
 specially provided, however, that it 
 should happen after a full moon. The 
 Jews observe their passover by juster 
 rules; the day for the celebration of it 
 taking place on different days of the 
 week : but the Christians having fixed on 
 Friday for the celebration of the fast on 
 the death of our saviour, the Easter-day, 
 on the following Sunday, was accommo- 
 dated to it, and both were so fixed, that 
 there could not be a full moon on the 
 Easter-day, nor for some weeks after it. 
 
 In this year, 18"25, the full moon 
 occurs at twenty-three minutes past six 
 in the morning of the third of April ; 
 consequently, according to the actof par- 
 liament, and the rubric of the church, 
 Easter-day ought to be celebrated on the 
 tenth, and the courts of law ought to 
 open, or Easter term begin, on the tweuty- 
 seventh ; but our a!manac-mai.ers 
 thought good to fix Easter-day on the 
 third, and consequently Easter term is 
 filaced by them on the twentieth, on 
 which day it is presumed th^t judicial 
 proceedings will commence. 
 
 Easter-day is observed all over Chris- 
 tendom with peculiar rites. In the 
 catholic church high mass is celebrated, 
 the host is adored with the greatest reve- 
 rence, and both Catholics and Protestants 
 might be led from it, to a more particular 
 attention to the circumstances attending 
 its form and substance. The host, dt*- 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 20'J 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 3, 4. 
 
 rived from the Latin word host'ia, mean- 
 ing a victim, is a consecrated wafer, of a 
 circular form, composed of flour and 
 water. Both substance and form are re- 
 gulated by custom of very ancient date. 
 On the night before his execution, our 
 .saviour took bread, and blessing it, di- 
 vided it among his missionaries ; but the 
 bread he took was not ordinary bread, 
 but unleavened bread, such as is used by 
 the Jews during the passover week in 
 the present days. This bread is com- 
 posed of merely flour and water, no 
 leaven during the festival of their passover 
 being permitted to enter the house of a 
 Jew. It is a kind of biscuit of a circular 
 form, and the host thus, by its form and 
 substance, brings us back to the recollec- 
 tion of the Catholics, and the rite cele- 
 brated by our saviour. It is the represent- 
 ation of the Jewish cake, or unleavened 
 bread, which is to this day eaten by that 
 nation during the passover week. 
 
 The Protestants have deviated from this 
 custom, and in their churches use lea- 
 vened bread, without any regard to form, 
 and they cut it with a knife into small 
 pieces, forgetting that our saviour broke 
 the bread ; but some use leavened bread, 
 and, as they cannot break it, they at- 
 tempt to imitate our saviour's action by 
 tearing it in pieces. 
 
 For those who wish to have a more 
 comprehensive view of this subject, the 
 following works are recommended : Car- 
 dinal Bona on the mass ; Dean Comber 
 on the liturgy ; and above all, the Hebrew 
 ritual, which is translated into English, 
 and to which both Catholics and Pro- 
 testants are indebted for greater part <rf 
 their services.* 
 
 9[pnl 3. 
 
 1825. Easteh Sunday. The Resurrec- 
 
 ti07l. 
 
 Sts. Agape, Chionia, and Irene, Sisters, 
 and their Companions, a. d. 304; St. 
 Richard. St. Ulpian. St. Nicefas, 
 Abbot, A. D. 824. 
 
 St. Richard de JViche 
 Was born at Wiche, near Worcester ; 
 studied at Oxford, Paris, and Bologna ; 
 became chancellor to the diocese of Can- 
 terbury ; and was consecrated bishop of 
 Chichester in 1245, against the desire of 
 
 * This article on " Easter" is fomn;»/?;«Y//frf by 
 the pentleman who favourtt) the editor with the 
 .ioouunt of the " Vernal Equinox," at p. 375. 
 
 Henry III who seized his temporalities, 
 These he regained by replevin, and plead- 
 ing his cause against the king's deputies 
 before Innocent IV at Rome, a papal 
 decree confirmed his election. Among 
 his clergy he was a strict disciplinarian, 
 and a friend and comforter to the poor 
 Preaching a crusade, accordmg to thp 
 fashion of those times, against the Sara- 
 cens, he fell sick, and died in the hospital 
 at Dover, called God's-house, in 125;?, in 
 the fifty-sixth year of his age, and in the 
 ninth of his episcopal functions. This is 
 a brief character of an exemplary prelate, 
 but the credulous Butler chooses to afilrm. 
 that three dead persons were restored to 
 life, and other miraculous cures were 
 worked at his tomb. Father Porter gos- 
 sips a story of a miraculous flow of unction 
 at his consecration; of a dead-born child 
 having been brought to life by his dead 
 merits ; and of the touch of his old 
 clothes having cured the diseased, with 
 other performances, " which moved pope 
 Boniface IV. to enrol him into the num- 
 ber of the canonized saincts." Such won- 
 ders have never been performed in our 
 days, and hence late popes have not been 
 able to make saints. If bibles could be 
 suppressed, and the printing-press de- 
 stroyed, miracles and canonizations would 
 "come in" again. 
 
 For particulars respecting Easter-day 
 and Easter Monday, see Easter Tuesday, 
 5th of April. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Evergreen Alkanet. Anchusa sempervi- 
 
 rus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Agape. 
 
 9[pnl 4. 
 
 St. Isidore, Bishop of Seville, a. d. 63G 
 St. Plato, Abbot, a. d. 813. 
 Easter Monday 
 
 Holiday at the Public Offices ; except Excise 
 Custom, and Stamp. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1774. Oliver Goldsmith died : hewa!> 
 born in Ireland, November 29th, 1728. 
 
 1802. Lloyd, lord Kenyon, lord chief- 
 justice of England, died, aged 69. 
 
 ILORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Red Crown Imperial. Fritillaria Impe- 
 
 rialis. 
 
 Dedicated to St hidore 
 
 210 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 ^prrt 5. 
 
 .S^ Fincent Ferrer, a. d. 1419. St. Ge- 
 rald, Abboc, A. D. 1095. ^7. Tigernach, 
 Bishc'p in Ireland, a. d. 550. St. Becan, 
 Abbot, 
 
 Easter Tuesday. 
 
 Holidays at the Public Offices ; except Excise, 
 Stamp, and Custom. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1605. John Stow, the antiquary, died, 
 aged 80. He was a tailor. 
 
 1800. The rev. William Mason died, 
 lie was born at Hull, inYorkshire, in 1725. 
 
 1 804. The rev. William Gilpin, author 
 of " Picturesque Tours," " Remarks on 
 Forest Scenery," an " Essay on Prints," 
 &c. died aged 80. 
 
 1811. Robert Raikes, of Gloucester, 
 died, aged 76. He was the originator of 
 Sunday-schools, and spent his life in acts 
 of kindness and compassion ; promoting 
 education as a source of happiness to his 
 fellow beings, and bestowing his exertions 
 and bounty to benefit tlie helpless. 
 
 I'LORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellovy Crown Imperial. Fritillarla hnpe- 
 
 rialis Lntea. 
 
 Dedicated to St. fincent Ferrer. 
 
 Dancing of the Sun. 
 The day before Easter-day is in some 
 parts called " Holy Saturday." On the 
 evening of this day, in the middle dis- 
 tricts of Ireland, great preparations are 
 made for the finisiung of Lent. Many 
 a fat hen and dainty piece of bacon is put 
 in the pot by the cotter's wife about eight 
 or nine o'clock, and woe be to the person 
 who should taste it before the cock 
 crows. At twelve is heard the clapping 
 of hands, and the joyous laugh, mixed 
 with " Shidfh or mogh or corries," i. e. 
 out jvitk the Lent ; all is merriment for 
 a few hotirs, when they retire, and rise 
 about four o'clock to see the sun dance in 
 honour of the resurrection. This ignorant 
 custom is not confined to the humble 
 labourer and his family, but is scrupu- 
 lously observed by many highly respect- 
 able and wealthy families, different mem- 
 bers of whom I liave heard assert posi- 
 tively that they had seen the sun dance 
 on Easter morning.* 
 
 * Comiiiuuicated to Uie £vtry-Day Booh by Mr. 
 T.A 
 
 It is inquired in Dunton's " Athenian 
 Oracle," " Why does the sun at his rising 
 play more on Easter-day than Whit- 
 Sunday .'" The question is answered 
 thus : — " The matter of fact is an old, 
 weak, superstitious error, and the sun 
 neither plays nor works on Easter-day 
 more than any oth-er. It is true, it may 
 sometimes happen to shine brighter that 
 morning than any other ; but, if it does, it is 
 purely accidental. In some parts of Eng- 
 land they call it the lamb-playing, which 
 they look for, as soon as the sun rises, in 
 some clear or spring water, and is nothing 
 but the pretty reflection it makes from 
 the water, which they may find at any 
 time, if the sun rises clear, and they 
 themselves early, and unprejudiced with 
 fancy." The folly is kept up by the fact, 
 that no one can view the sun steadily at 
 any hour, and those who choose to look 
 at it, or at its reflection in water, see it 
 apparently move, as they would on any 
 other day. Brand points out an allusion 
 to this vulgar notion in an old ballad : — 
 
 But, Dick, she dances such away ! 
 No siai upon an Easier day 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 / vn'm, from the " British Apollo," a 
 prcimed question to the sun himself 
 1 ">.'>p. the subject, elicits a suitable au- 
 frwe~ • 
 
 Q. Old wives, Phcebns, say 
 Tii3t en Easf.er diy 
 
 To the music o' th' spheres you do caper ; 
 is the fact, sir. be true> 
 Pray let's the cause know, 
 
 When you have any room in your paper. 
 
 .^. The old wives get merry 
 With spic'd ale or sherry. 
 
 On Easter, which makes them romance ; 
 And whilst in a rout 
 Their brains whirl about, 
 
 They fancy we csper and dance. 
 
 A bit of smoked glass, such as boys 
 use to view an eclipse with, would put 
 this matter steady to every eye but that 
 of wilful self-deception, which, after all, 
 superstition always chooses to see through. 
 Lifting. 
 
 Mr. Ellis inserts, in his edition of Mr. 
 Brand's " Popular Antiquities," a letter 
 from Mr. Tliomas Loggan of Basinghall- 
 street, from whence the following extract 
 is made : Mi. Loggan says, " I was sitting 
 alone last Easter Tuesday, at breakfast, 
 at the Talbot in Shrewsbury, when I was 
 surprised by the entrance of all the femait 
 servants of the house handing in an arm- 
 
 211 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 chair, lined with white, and decorated 
 with ribbons and favours of difl'erent 
 colours. I asked them what they wanted, 
 their answer was, they carne to heave me ; 
 it was the custom of the place on that 
 morning, and they hoped 1 would take a 
 seat in their chair. It was impossible 
 not to comply with a request very mo- 
 destly made, and to a set of nymphs in 
 their best apparel, and several of them 
 under twenty. I wished to see all the 
 ceremony, and seated myself accordingly. 
 The group then I'fted me from the 
 
 ground, turned the chair about, and f had 
 the felicity of a salute from each. I told 
 them, 1 supposed there was a fee due 
 upon the occasion, and was answered in 
 the affirmative; and, having satisfied the 
 damsels in this respect, they withdrew to 
 heave others. At this time I had never 
 heard of such a custom ; but, on inquiry 
 I found that on Easter Monday, between 
 nine and twelve, the men heave the wo- 
 men in the same manner as on the Tues- 
 day, between the same hours, the women 
 heave the men." 
 
 LIFTING— AN EASTER CUSTOM. 
 
 In Lancashire, Staffordshire, Warwick- 
 shire,and some other parts of England there 
 Drevaiis this custom of heaving or lifting 
 at Easter-tide. This is performed mostly 
 :n the open street, though sometimes It is 
 insisted on and submitted to within 
 Jie house. People form into parties 
 of eight or a dozen or even more for the 
 purpose, and from every one lifted or 
 heaved they extort a contribution The 
 
 late Mr. Lysons read to the Society of 
 Antiquaries an extract from a roll in 
 his custody, as keeper of the records in 
 the tower of London, which contains a 
 payment to certain ladies and maids ot 
 honour for taking king Edward I. in his 
 bed at Easter; from whence it has been 
 presumed that he was lifted on the 
 authority of that custom, which is said to 
 have prevailed among all rauks thwugh- 
 
 212 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 out the kingdom. The usage is a vulgar 
 commemoration of the resurrection which 
 the festival of Easter celebrates. 
 
 Lifting or heaving differs a little in dif- 
 ferent places. In some parts the person 
 is laid horizontally, in others placed in a 
 sitting position on the bearers' hands. 
 Usually, when the lifting or heaving is 
 within doois, a chair is produced, but in 
 all cases the ceremony is incomplete with- 
 out three distinct elevations. 
 
 A Warwickshire correspondent, L. S., 
 says, Easter Monday and Easter Tuesday 
 were known by the name of heaving-day, 
 because on the former day it was custom- 
 ary for the men to heave and kiss the 
 women, and on the latter for the women 
 to retaliate upon the men. The womens' 
 heaving-day was the most amusing. 
 Many a time have I passed along the 
 streets inhabited by tlie lower orders of 
 people, and seen parties of jolly matrons 
 assembled round tables on which stood a 
 foaming tankard of ale. There they sat 
 in all the pride of absolute sovereignty, 
 and woe to the luckless man that dared 
 t) invade their prerogatives! — as sure as 
 hs was seen he was pursued — as sure as 
 hi was pursued he was taken — and as 
 s ire as he was taken he was heaved and 
 kissed, and compelled to pay sixpence 
 for" leave and license" to depart. 
 
 Conducted as lifting appears to have 
 \>-ien by the blooming lasses of Shrews- 
 bury, and acquitted as all who are actors 
 in the usage any where must be, of even 
 the slightest knowledge that this practice 
 is an absurd performance of the resurrec- 
 tion, still it must strike the reflective 
 mind as at least an absurd custom, " more 
 honored i' the breach than the observance." 
 It has been handed down to us from the 
 bewildering ceremonies of the Romish 
 church, and may easily be discounte- 
 nanced into disuse by opportune and 
 mild persuasion. If the children of ig- 
 norant persons be properly taught, they 
 will perceive in adult years the gross 
 f 'Hies of their parentage, and so instruct 
 their own offspring, that not a hand or 
 voice shall be lifted or heard from the 
 sons of labour, in support of a superstition 
 that darkened and dismayed man, until 
 the printing-press and the reformation 
 ensured his final enlightenment and eman- 
 cipation. 
 
 Easter Eggs. 
 Another relic of the ancient times, are 
 tli« eggs which pass about at Easter week 
 
 under the name of pask, paste, or pare 
 eggs. A communication introduces the 
 subject at once. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, 19th March, 1825. 
 
 A perusal of the Every-Day Booh in- 
 duces me to communicate the particulars 
 of a custom still prevalent in some parts 
 of Cumberland, although not as gene- 
 rally attended to as it was twenty or thirty 
 years ago. I allude to the practice oi 
 sending reciprocal presents of eggs, at 
 Easter, to the children of families re- 
 spectively, betwixt whom any intimacy 
 subsists. For some weeks preceding 
 Good Friday the price of eggs advances 
 considerably, from the great demand 
 occasioned by the custom referred to. 
 
 The modes adopted to prepare the eggs 
 for presentation are the following : there 
 may be others which have escaped my re- 
 collection. 
 
 The eggs being immersed in hot water 
 for a few moments, the end of a common 
 tallow-candle is made use of to inscribe 
 the names of individuals, dates of parti- 
 cular events, &c. The warmth of the 
 e^% renders this a very easy process. 
 Thus inscribed, the egg is placed in a 
 pan of hot water, saturated with cochi- 
 neal, or other dye-woods ; the part over 
 which the tallow has been passed is im- 
 pervious to the operation of the dye ; 
 and consequently when the e^^ is re- 
 moved from the pan, there appears no 
 discolouration of the egg where the 
 inscription has been traced, but the egg 
 presents a white inscription on a coloured 
 ground. The colour of course depends 
 upon the taste of the person who prepared 
 the egg; but usually much variety of 
 colour is made use of. 
 
 Another method of ornamenting " pace 
 eggs" is, however, much neater, although 
 more laborious, than that with the tallow- 
 candle. The egg being dyed, it may be 
 decorated in a very pretty manner, by 
 means of a penknife, with which the dye 
 may be scraped off, leaving the design 
 white, on a coloured ground. An egg is 
 frequently divided into compartments, 
 which are filled up according to the taste 
 and skill of the designer. Generally 
 one compartment contains the name and 
 (being young and unsophisticated) also 
 the age of the party for whom the eg% is 
 intended. In another is, perhaps, a land- 
 scape ; and sometimes % cupid is found 
 lurking in a third : so that these " pate 
 
 213 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER, 
 
 eggs" become very viseful auxiliaries to 
 the missives of St. Valentine. Nothing 
 was more common in the childhood of 
 the writer, than to see a number of these 
 eggs preserved very carefully in the 
 corner- cupboard ; each egg being the oc- 
 cupant of a deep, long-stemmed ale-glass, 
 through which the inscription could be 
 read without removing it. Probably 
 many of these eggs now remain in Cum- 
 berland, which would afford as good 
 evidence of dates in a court of justice, 
 as a tombstone or a family-bible. 
 
 It will be readily supposed that the 
 majority of pace eggs are simply dyed ; 
 or dotted with tallow to present a pie- 
 bald or bird's-eye appearance. These 
 are designed for the junior boys who 
 have not begun to participate in the plea- 
 sures of " a bended bow and quiver full 
 of arrows ;'' — a flaming torch, or a heart 
 and a true-lover's knot. These plainer 
 specimens are seldom promoted to the 
 dignity of the ale-glass or the corner- 
 cupboard. Instead of being handed 
 down to posterity they are hurled to 
 swift destruction. In the process of 
 dying they are boiled pretty hard — so as 
 to prevent inconvenience if crushed ia 
 the hand or the pocket. But the strength 
 of the shell constitutes the chief glory of 
 a pace egg, whose owner aspires only to 
 the conquest of a rival youth. Holding 
 his egg in his hand he challenges a com- 
 panion to give blow for blow. One of 
 the eggs is sure to be broken, and its 
 shattered remains are the spoil of the 
 conqueror : who is instantly invested with 
 the title of " a cock of one, two, three," 
 &c. in proportion as it may have frac- 
 tured his antagonist's eggs in the conflict. 
 A successful egg, in a contest with one 
 which had previously gained honours, 
 adds to its number the reckoning of its 
 vanquished foe. An egg which is a 
 "cock" of ten or a dozen, is frequently 
 challenged. A modern pugilist would 
 call this a set-to for the championship. 
 Such on the borders of the Solway Frith 
 were the youthful amui^ements of Easter 
 Monday. 
 
 Your very proper precaution, which 
 requires the names of correspondents who 
 transmit notices of local customs, is com- 
 plied with by the addition of my name 
 and address below. In publication I 
 prefer to appear only as your constant 
 leader. J. B. 
 
 A notice below, the editor hopes will 
 be read and taken by vhe reader, for 
 
 whose advantage it is introduced, in gona 
 part.* 
 
 Pasch eggs are to be found at Easter 
 in different parts of the kingdom. A 
 Liverpool gentleman informs the editor, 
 that in that town and neighbourhood they 
 are still common, and called paste eggs 
 One of his children brought to him a 
 paste egg at Easter, 1824, beautifully 
 mottled with biown. It had been 
 purposely prepared for the child by the 
 servant, by being boiled hard within the 
 coat of an onion, which imparted to the 
 shell the admired colour. Hard boiling 
 is a chief requisite in preparing the pasch 
 egg. In some parts they are variously 
 coloured with the juices of different herbs, 
 and played with by boys, who roll them 
 on the grass, or toss them up for balls. 
 Their more elegant preparation is already 
 described by our obliging correspondent, 
 J. B. 
 
 * Mr. J. B- 
 
 -, a natrre of Maryport in 
 Cumberland, who obliginsfly communicates 
 the al)ove information respecting pasch eggs 
 in that county, has ensured the adoption 
 of his letter by subscribing his name and 
 
 Communications have been received in 
 great numbers from anonymous correspond- 
 ents, but the information many of tliejii con- 
 tain, however interesting or true, can never 
 interest the readers of the Kvery-liay Buuk, 
 tor this reason, that information will not 
 on any account be inserted, which is not 
 verified by the contributor's name and resi- 
 dence : as every contributor may have his 
 name inserted or not, as he pleases, so no 
 one can object to satisfy the editor, tliat the 
 facts communicated are from responsible 
 sources. The precaution is necessary ; and it 
 may be proper to add, that all contributions 
 with quotations from an " old book," " an 
 excellent author," " a work of authority," 
 and so forth, are useless, when contributors 
 forget to mention names and title-pages. 
 
 This is the ^rst time that a notice to cor- 
 respondents has appeared within the cohimns 
 of the Every-Uay Book, and it is designed 
 to be the last. Such intimations cannot be 
 inserted without injury to the uniform ap- 
 pearance of the work ; but they are printed 
 on the wrappers oftiie Monthly Parts. 
 
 Communications of local usages or cus- 
 toms, or other useful and agreeable particulars, 
 are earnestly and respectfully solicited; and 
 extracts, or permission to extract, from scarce 
 works and original manuscripts, will be highly 
 esteemed. The favours of correspondents 
 with real names and addresses are obviously 
 the most valuable, and will receive markec 
 regard. W. Honu. 
 
 45, L'tdgate-hill-, 
 Slsl March, \ti'ii>. 
 
 214 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 The terms pace, paste, or pusch, are 
 deiived from pusc/uil, which is a name 
 given to Easter from its being the paschal 
 season. Four hundred eggs were bought 
 for eighteen-pence in the time of Edward 
 I., as appears by a royal roll in the 
 tower ; from whence it also appears they 
 were purchased foi the purpose of being 
 boiled and stained, or covered with leaf 
 gold, and afterwards distributed to the 
 royal household at Easter. They were 
 formerly consecrated, and the ritual of 
 pope Paul V. for the use of England, 
 Scotland, and Ireland, contains the form 
 of consecration.* On Easter eve and 
 Easter day, the heads of families .sent to 
 the church large chargers, filled with the 
 hard boiled eggs, and there the " creature 
 of eggs" became sacred by virtue of holy 
 water, crossing, and so on. 
 
 Ball. Bacon. Tansy Puddings. 
 Eating of tan.ti/ pudding is another cus- 
 tom at Easter derived from the Romish 
 church. Tansy symbolized the bitter herbs 
 used by the Jews at their paschal ; but 
 that the people might show a proper ab- 
 horrence of Jews, they ate from a gammon 
 of bacon at Easter, as many still do in 
 several country places, at this season, 
 without knowing from whence this prac- 
 tice is derived. Then we have Easter 
 ball-play, another ecclesiastical device, the 
 meaning of which cannot be quite so 
 clearly traced ; but it is certain that the 
 Romish clergy abroad played at ball in 
 the church, as part of the service ; and we 
 find an archbishop joining in the sport. 
 *' A ball, not of size to be grasped by one 
 hand only, being given out at Easter, the 
 dean and his representatives began an 
 antiphone, suited to Easter-day ; theii 
 takmg the ball in his left hand, he com- 
 menced a dance to the tune of the anti- 
 phone, the others dancing round hand in 
 hand. At intervals, the ball was ban- 
 died or passed to each of the choristers. 
 The organ played according to the dance 
 and sport. The dancing and antiphone 
 being concluded, the choir went to take 
 refreshment. It was the privilege of the 
 lord, or his locum tenens, to throw the 
 ball; even the archbishop did it."t 
 Whether the dignified clergy had this 
 amusement in t'ne English churches is 
 not authenticated ; but it seems that 
 " boys used to claim hard eggs, or small 
 money, at Easter, in exchange for the 
 
 • Brand. 
 
 t t'osbroke's Brit. Monach, irom Dii Cange, 
 
 ball-play before mentioned."* Brand 
 cites the mention of a lay amusement at 
 this season, wherein both tansy and ball- 
 play IS refeired to. 
 
 Stool-ball 
 
 At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play. 
 
 For sugar, cakes, or wine. 
 Or for a tansy let us pay, 
 
 The loss be thine or mine. 
 If thou, my dear, a wmner be 
 
 At trundling of the ball, 
 The wager thou shall have, and me 
 
 And my misfortunes all. 
 
 1679. 
 
 Also, from " Poor Robin's Almanack" fbi 
 1677, this Easter verse, denoting the 
 sport at that season : 
 
 Young men and maids, 
 
 Now very brisk, 
 At barley-break and 
 
 Stool-ball frisk. 
 
 A ball custom now prevails annually at 
 Bury St. Edmund's, Suffolk. On Shrove 
 Tuesday, Easter Monday, and the Whit- 
 suntide festivals, twelve old women side 
 off for a game at trap-and-ball, which is 
 kept up with the greatest spirit and vigour 
 until sunset. One old lady, named Gill 
 upwards of sixty years of age, has been 
 celebrated as the " mistress of the sport" 
 for a number of years past ; and it affords 
 much of the good old humour to flow 
 round, whilst the merr) combatants dex- 
 terously hurl the giddy ball to and fro. 
 Afterwards they retire to their homes, 
 where 
 
 " Voice, fiddle, or flute. 
 
 No longer is mute," 
 
 and close the day .vith apportioned mirth 
 and merriment.-}- 
 
 Corporations formerly went forth to 
 play at ball g.t Easter. Both then and 
 at Whitsuntide, the mayor, aldermen, 
 and sheriff of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, with 
 a great number of the burgesses, went 
 yearly to the Forth, or little mall of the 
 town, with the mace, sword, and cap of 
 maintenance, carried before ihem, and 
 patronised the playing at hand-ball, 
 dancing, and other amusements, and 
 sometimes joined in the ball-play, and at 
 others joined hands with the ladies. 
 
 There is a Cheshire proverb, " When 
 the daughter is stolen, shut the Pepper- 
 gate," "This is founded on the fact that the 
 mayoi of Chester had his daughter stolen 
 
 * Fosbroke's Brit. Monach. from Du Cange 
 t Cuuiuiuiiicated to tlie fitery-Duv Bauh by S. E. 
 
 215 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 as she was playing at ball with other 
 maidens in Pepper-street; the young man 
 who carried her off, came through the 
 Pepper-gate, and the mayor wisely or- 
 dered the gate to be shut up :* agreeable 
 to the old saying, and present custom 
 agreeable thereto, " When the steed's 
 stolen, shut the stable-door." Hereafter 
 it will be seen that persons quite as dig- 
 nified and magisterial as mayors and 
 aldermen, could compass a holiday's sport 
 and a merry-go-round, as well as their 
 more humble fellow subjects. 
 
 Clipping the Church at Easter. 
 
 L. S , a Warwickshire corresperxient, 
 communicates this Easter custom to the 
 Evert/- Dai/ Book : 
 
 " When I was a child, as sure as Easter 
 Monday came, I was taken ' to see the 
 children clip the churches.^ This ceremony 
 was performed, amid crowds of people 
 and shouts of joy, by the children of the 
 different charity-schools, who at a certain 
 hour flocked tog,ether for the purpose. 
 The first comers placed themselves hand 
 in hand with their backs against the 
 church, and were joined by their compa- 
 nions, who gradually increased in num- 
 ber, till at last the chain was of sufficient 
 length completely to surround the sacred 
 edifice. As soon as the hand of the last 
 of the train had grasped that of the first, 
 the party broke up, and walked in pro- 
 cession to the other church, (for in those 
 days Birmingham boasted but of two,) 
 where the ceremony was repeated." 
 
 Old Easter Customs in Church. 
 
 In the celebration of this festival, the 
 Romish church amused our forefathers by 
 theatrical representations, and extraordi- 
 nary dramatic worship, with appropriate 
 scenery, machinery, dresses, and decora 
 tions. The exhibitions at Durham appear 
 to have been conducted with great effect. 
 In that cathedral, over our lady of Bolton's 
 altar, there was a marvellous, lively, and 
 beautiful image of the picture of our lady, 
 called the lady of Bolton, which picture 
 was made to open with gitnmes, (or linked 
 fastenings,) from the breast downward : 
 and within the said image was wrought 
 and pictured the image of our saviour 
 marvellously finely gilt, holding up his 
 hands, and betwixt his hands was a large 
 fair crucifix of Christ, all of gold ; the 
 which crucifix was ordained to be taken 
 
 * Diaka'b Shaksptare, from Fuller's Worthies. 
 
 forth every Good Friday, and every man 
 did creep unto it that was in the church 
 at that time ; and afterwards it was hung 
 up again within the said image. Every 
 principal day the said image of our !adj 
 of Bolton, was opened, that every man 
 might see pictured within her, the Father, 
 the Son, and the Holy Ghoit, most cu- 
 riously and finely gilt; and both the sides 
 within her were very finely varnished with 
 green varnish, and fiowers of gold, which 
 was a goodly sight for all the beholders 
 thereof. On Good Friday, there was 
 marvellous solemn service, in which ser- 
 vice time, after the Passionv/as sung, two 
 of the ancient monks took a goodly large 
 crucifix, all of gold, of the picture 
 of our saviour Christ nailed upon the 
 cross, laying it upon a velvet cushion, 
 having St. Cuthbert's arms upon it, all 
 embroidered with gold, bringing it be- 
 twixt them upon the cushion to the lowest 
 steps in the choir, and there betwixt them 
 did hold the said picture of our saviour, 
 sitting on either side of it. And then 
 one of the said monks did rise, and went 
 a pretty space from it, and setting himself 
 upon his knees with his shoes put off, 
 very reverently he crept upon his knees 
 unto the said cross, and most reverently 
 did kiss it ; and after him the other monk 
 did so likewise; and then they sate down 
 on e:*her side of the said cross, holding 
 it betwixt them. Afterward, the prior 
 came forth of his stall, and did sit him 
 down upon his knees with his shoes off 
 in like sort, and did creep also unto the 
 said cross, and all the monks after him 
 did creep one after another in the same 
 manner and order ; in the mean time, the 
 whole choir singing a hymn. The service 
 being ended, the said two monks carried 
 the cross to the sepulchre with great re- 
 verence.* 
 
 The sepulchre was erected in the 
 church near the altar, to represent the 
 tomb wherein the body of Christ was 
 laid for burial. At this tomb there 
 was a grand performance on Easter-day. 
 In some churches it was ordained, that 
 Mary Magdalen, Mary of Bethany, and 
 Mary of Nairn, should be represented by 
 three deacons clothed in dalmaticks and 
 amesses, with their heads in the manner 
 of women, and holding a vase in their 
 hands. These performers came through 
 the middle of the choir, and hastening 
 
 * Hone's Ancient Mysteries described, froia 
 Davies's Kite:i. \.r 
 
 iiiC 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 towLirds the sepulchre, with downcast 
 tooks, said together this verse, " Who 
 will remove the stone for us ?" Upon 
 this a boy, clothed like an angel, in albs, 
 and holding a wheat ear in his hand, be- 
 fore the sepulchre, said, " Whom do you 
 seek in the sepulchre ?" The Maries an- 
 swered, " Jesus of Nazareth who was 
 crucitied." The boy-angel answered, 
 " lie is not here, but is risen ;" and 
 pointed to the place with his finger. The 
 boy-angel departed very quickly, and two 
 priests in tunics, sitting without the 
 sepulchre, said, " Woman, whom do ye 
 mourn for? Whom do ye seek?" The 
 middle one of the women said, " Sir, if 
 you have taken him away, say so " The 
 priest, showing the cross, said, " They 
 have taken away the Lord." The two 
 sitting priests said, " Whom do ye seek, 
 women '." The Maries, kissing the place, 
 afterwards went from the sepulchre. In 
 the mean time a priest, in the character 
 of Christ, in an alb, with a stole, holding 
 a cross, met them on the left horn of the 
 altar, and said, " Mary !" Upon hearing 
 this, the mock Mary threw herself at his 
 feet, and, with a loud voice, cried Cabboin. 
 The priest representing Christ replied, 
 nodding, " Noli me tangere," touch me 
 not. This being finished, he again ap- 
 peared at the right horn of the altar, and 
 said to them as they passed before the 
 altar, " Hail ! do not fear." This being 
 finished, he concealed himself; and the 
 women-priests, as though joyful at hear- 
 ing this, bowed to the altar, and turning 
 to the choir, sung " Alleluia, the Lord is 
 risen." This was the signal for the bishop 
 or priest before the altar, with the censer, 
 to begin and sing aloud, Te Deum* 
 
 The making of the sepulchre was a 
 practice founded upon ancient tradition, 
 that the second coming of Christ would 
 be on Easter- eve; and sepulchre-making, 
 and watching it, remained in England 
 •ill the reformation. Its ceremonies va- 
 •ied in different places. In the abbey 
 church of Durham it was part of the ser- 
 vice upnn Easter-day, betwixt three and 
 four o'clock in the morning, for two of 
 the eldest monks of the quire to come to 
 the sepulchre, set up upon Good Friday 
 after the Passion, which being covered 
 with red velvet, and embroidered with 
 gold, these monks, with a pair of silver 
 censers, censed the sepulchre on their 
 knees. Tlien both rising, went to the 
 
 • Fnsbrokc'd Brit. Monadi. from Du Gauge. 
 
 sepulchre, out of which they took a mar- 
 vellous beautiful imatfe of the resurrec- 
 tion, with a cross in the hand of the image 
 of Christ, in the breast whereof was in- 
 closed, in bright crystal, the host, so as 
 to be conspicuous to the beholders. Then, 
 after the elevation of the said picture, it 
 was carried by the said two monks, upon 
 a velvet embroidered cushion, the monks 
 singing the anthem of Christus resnrgens. 
 They then brought it to the high altar, 
 setting it on the midst thereof, and the 
 two monks kneeling before the altar, 
 censed it all the time that the rest of tlie 
 quire were singing the anthem, which 
 being ended, the two monks took up the 
 cushion and picture from the altar, sup- 
 porting it betwixt them, and proceeded 
 in procession from the high altar to the 
 south quire door, where there were four 
 ar.iiient gentlemen belonging to the quire, 
 appointed to attend their coming, holding 
 up a rich canopy of purple velvet, tas- 
 selled round about with Ted silk and gold 
 fringe ; and then the canopy was borne 
 by these " ancient gentlemen," over the 
 said images with the host carried by the 
 two monks round about the church, the 
 whole quire following, with torches and 
 great store of other lights; all singing, 
 rejoicing, and praying, till they came to 
 the high altar again ; upon which they 
 placed the said image, there to remain 
 till Ascension-day, vi\\Qn another ceremony 
 was used. 
 
 In Brand's " Antiquities," and other 
 works, there are many items of expenses 
 from the accounts of different church- 
 books for making the sepulchre for this 
 Easter ceremony. The old Register Book 
 of the brethren of the Holy Trinity of St. 
 Botolph without Aldersgate, now in the 
 possession of the editor of the Every-Day 
 Book, contains the following entries con- 
 cerning the sepulchre in that church : — 
 " Item, to the wexchaundeler, for makyng 
 of the Sepulcre light iii times, and of 
 other dyvers lights that longyn to the 
 trynite, in dyvers places in the chirche, 
 Ivii*. 10''." In An. 17 Henry VI. there 
 is another " Item, for x'ii tapers unto the 
 lyght about the Sepulcre, agenst the 
 ffestp of Estern, weying Ixxviii lb. of the 
 wich was wasted xxii lb " &c. In Ann, 
 21 & 22 K. Henry VI. the fraternity paid 
 for wax and for lighting of the sepulchre 
 "both yers, xx*. viii". ' and they gathered 
 in those years for their sepulchre light, 
 xlv*. ix"*. This gathering was from the 
 people who were present at thf repre- 
 
 217 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 sentation ; and when the value of money 
 at that time is considered, and also that 
 on the same day every church in London 
 had a sepulchre, each more or less at- 
 tractive, the sum v/ill not be regarded as 
 despicable. 
 
 The only theatres for the people were 
 churches, and the monks were actors; 
 accordingly, at Easter, plays were fre- 
 quently got up for popular amusement. 
 Brand cites from the churchwardens' ac- 
 counts of Reading, set forth in Coate's 
 history of that town, several items of 
 different sums paid for nails for the se- 
 pulchre ; " for rosyn to the Resurrection 
 play ;" for setting up off poles for the 
 scaffold whereon the plays were perform- 
 ed ; for making "a Judas ;" for the writing 
 of the plays themselves ; and for other 
 expenses attending the '• getting up" of 
 the representations Though the subjects 
 exhibited were connected wilh the inci- 
 dents commemorated by the festival, yet 
 the most splendid shows must have been 
 in those churches which performed the 
 resurrection at the sepulchre wilh a full 
 dramatis persona; of monKs, in dresses 
 according to the characters they assumed. 
 
 Mr. Fosbroke gives the " properties" 
 of the sepulchre show belonging to St. 
 Mary Redcliff's church at Bristol, from 
 an original MS. in his possession for- 
 merly belonging to Chatterton, viz " Me- 
 morandum : — That master Cannings hath 
 delivered, the 4th day of July, in the vear 
 of our Lord 1470, to master Nicholas 
 Pelles, vicar of Redclift, Moses Conterin, 
 Philip Berthelmew, and John Brown, 
 procurators of Redclift beforesaid, a new 
 Sepulchre, well guilt with fine gold, and 
 a civer thereto ; an image of God Al- 
 mighty rising out of the same Sepulchre, 
 with all the ordinance that longeth 
 thereto ; that rs to say, a lath made of 
 timber and iron work thereto. Item, 
 hereto longeth Heven, made of timber 
 and stained cloths. Item, Hell made of 
 timber and iron work thereto, with Devils 
 the number of thirteen. Item, four knights 
 armed, keeping the Sepulchre, with their 
 weapons in their hands ; that is to say, 
 two spears, two axes, with two shields. 
 Item, four pair of Angel's wings, for four 
 Angels, made of timber,and well-painted. 
 Item, the Fadre, the crown and visage, 
 the ball with a cross uj)on it, well gilt 
 with fine gold. Item, the Holy Ghost 
 coming out of Ileven into the Sepulchre. 
 Item, longeth to the four Angels, four 
 Perukes.''' The lights at the sepulchre 
 
 shows, and at Easter, were of themselves 
 a most attractive part cf the Easter spec- 
 tacle. The paschal or great Easter taper at 
 Westminster Abbey was three hundred 
 pounds' weight. Sometimes a large wax 
 light called a serpent was used ; its name 
 was derived from its spiral form, it being 
 wound round a rod. To light it, fire was 
 struck from a flint consecrated by the 
 abbot. The paschal in Durham cathedral 
 was square wax, and reached to within 
 a man's length of the roof, from whence 
 this waxen enormity was lighted by " a 
 fine convenience." I'rom this superior 
 ligiit all others were taken. Every taper 
 in the church was purposely extinguished 
 in order that this might supply a fresh 
 stock of consecrated light, till at the same 
 season in the next year a similar parent 
 to,rch was prepared.* 
 
 EASTER IN LONDON. 
 
 Easter Monday and Tuesday, and 
 Greenwich fair, are renowned as " holi- 
 days" lliroughout most manufactories and 
 trades conducted in the metropolis. On 
 Monday, Greenwich fair commences 
 Tlie chief attraction to this spot is the 
 park, wherein stands the Royal Observa- 
 tory on a hill, adown which it is the 
 delight of boys and girls to pull each 
 other till they are wearied. Frequently 
 of late this place has been a scene of rude 
 disorder. But it is still visited by thou- 
 sands and tens of thousands from London 
 and the vicinity ; the lowest join in the 
 hill sports; others regale in the public- 
 houses ; and many are mere spectators, 
 of what may be called the humours ot 
 the day. 
 
 On Easter Monday, at the very dawn 
 of day, the avenues from all parts towards 
 Greenwich give sign of the first London 
 festival in the year. Working men and 
 their wives ; 'prentices and their sweet- 
 hearts ; blackguards and bullies ; make 
 their way to this fair. Pickpockets and 
 their female companions go later. Tlie 
 greater part of the sojourners are on 
 foot, but the vehicles for conveyance are 
 innumerable. The regular and irregular 
 stages are, of course, full inside and out- 
 side. Hackney-coaches are equally well 
 filled ; gigs carry three, not including 
 the driver ; and there are countless pri- 
 vate chaise-carts, public pony-chaises 
 and open accommodations. Interminglea 
 with these, town-carts, usually employed 
 
 218 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 in carrying goods, are now fitted tip, with 
 boards for seats ; hereon are seated men, 
 women, and children, till the complement 
 IS complete, which is seldom deemed the 
 case till the horses are overloaded. Now 
 and then passes, like " some huge admi- 
 'al,"a full-sized coal-waggon, laden with 
 coal-heavers and theii wives, and sha- 
 dowed by spreading boughs from every 
 tree that spreads a bough ; these solace 
 themselves with draughts of beer from a. 
 barrel aboard, and derive amusement from 
 criticising walkers, and passengers in 
 vehicles passing their own, which is of 
 unsurpassing size. Tiie six-mile journey 
 of one of these machines is sometimes 
 prolonged from "dewy morn" till noon. 
 It stops to let its occupants see all that is 
 to be seen on its passage ; such as what 
 are called the " Gooseberry fairs," by 
 the wayside, whereat heats are run upon 
 half-killed horses, or spare and patient 
 donkeys. Here are the bewitching sounds 
 to many a boy's ears of" A halfpenny ride 
 O '." "A halfpenny ride 01"; upon 
 that sum " first had and obtained,'' the 
 immediately bestrided urchin has full 
 right to " work and labour" the bit of life 
 he bestraddles, for the full space or dis- 
 tance of fifty yards, there and back ; the 
 returning fifty being done within half 
 time of the first. Then there is " pricking 
 in the belt," an old exposed and still 
 practised fraud. Besides this, there are 
 numberless invitations to take " a shy for 
 a halfpenny," at a " bacca box, full o' 
 ha'pence," standing on a stick stuck up- 
 right in the earth at a reasonable distance 
 for experienced throwers to hit, and 
 therefore win, but which is a mine of 
 wealth to the costermonger proprietor, 
 from the number of unskilled adventurers. 
 
 Greenwich fair, of itself, is nothing; the 
 congregated throngs are every thing, 
 and fill every plase. The hill of tlie 
 Observatory, and two or three other emi- 
 nences in the park, are the chief resort of 
 the less experienced and the vicious. But 
 these soon tire, and group after group 
 succeeds till evening. Before then the 
 more prudent visitors have retired to 
 seme of the numerous houses in the vici- 
 nage of the park, whereon is written, 
 " Boiling water here," or "Tea and 
 Coffee," and where they take such re- 
 freshment as these places and their own 
 bundles afford, preparatory to their toil 
 home after their pleasure. 
 
 At nightfall, " Life in London," as 
 it is called, is found at Gteenfrich. 
 
 Every room in every pubhc-nouse is fid.y 
 oecupied by drinkers, smokers, singers 
 and dancers, and the " balls " are kept 
 up during the greater part of the night. 
 The way to town is now an indescr'ba- 
 ble scene. The vehicles congregated 
 by the visitors to the fair throughout 
 the day resume theii motion, and the 
 living reflux on the road is dense to 
 uneasiness. Of all sights the most 
 miserable is that of the poor broken-down 
 horse, who having been urged three times 
 to and from Greenwich with a load thi- 
 ther of pleasure-seekers at sixpence per 
 head, is now unable to return, for the 
 fourth time, with a full load back, though 
 whipped and lifted, and lifted and whip- 
 ped, by a reasoning driver, who declares 
 " the hoss did it last fair, and why shouldn't 
 he do it again." The open windows of 
 every house for refreshment on the road, 
 and clouds of tobacco-smoke therefrom, 
 declare the full stowage of each apart- 
 ment, while jinglings of the bells, and calls 
 " louder and louder yet," speak wants 
 and wishes to waiters, who disobey the 
 instructions of the constituent bodies that 
 sent them to the bar. Now from the way- 
 side booths fly out corks that let forth 
 "pop" and "ginger-beer," and little 
 party-coloured lamps give something 
 of a joyous air to appearances that fa- 
 tigue and disgust. Overwearied children 
 cry before they have walked to the half- 
 way house; women with infants in their 
 arms pull along their tipsey well-beloveds, 
 others endeavour to wrangle or drag them 
 out of drinking rooms, and, until long after 
 midnight, the Greenwich road does not 
 cease to disgorge incongruities only to be 
 rivalled by the figures and exhibitions in 
 Dutch and Flemish prints. 
 
 While this turmoil, commonly called 
 pleasure-taking, is going on, there is 
 another order of persons to whom Easter 
 afibrds real recreation. Not less inclined 
 to unbend than the frequenters of Green- 
 wich, they seek and find a mode o* 
 spending the holiday-time more rationally 
 more economically, and more advantage- 
 ously to themselves and their families 
 With their partners and offspring they 
 ride to some of the many pleasant vil- 
 lages beyond the suburbs of London, out 
 of the reach of ine harm and strife inci- 
 dent to mixing with noisy crowds. Here 
 the contented groups are joined by rcia 
 
 219 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 lions or friends, who have appointed to ed, each joins in merrj' convers^rition, or 
 
 meet them, in the quiet lanes or sunny some one suspected of a singing lace 
 
 fields of these delightful retreats. When justifies the suspicion, and " the jocunq 
 
 requisite, they recruit from well-stored song goes round," till, the fathers being 
 
 junket baskets, carried in turn; and after reminded by the mothers, more than once 
 
 calmly passing several hours in walking possibly, that " it's getting late," they rise 
 
 and sauntering through the open balmy refreshed and happy, and go home. Sucli 
 
 air of a spring-dny, they sometimes close an assembly is composed of honest and 
 
 it by making a good comfortable tea- industrious individuals, whose feelings 
 
 party at a respectable house on their way and expressions are somewhat, perhaps, 
 
 t(« town. Then a cheerful glass is order- represented below. 
 
 INDEPENDENT MEN 
 
 A HOLIDAY SONG. 
 
 We're independent men, with wives, and sweethearts, by our side. 
 We've hearts at rest, with health we're bless'd, and, being Easter tide, 
 We make our spring-time holiday, and take a bit of pleasure, 
 And gay as May, drive care away, and give to mirth our leisure. 
 
 It's for our good, that thus, my boys, we pass the hours that stray. 
 We'll have our frisk, without the risk of squabble or a fray ; 
 Let each enjoy his pastime so, that, without fear or sorrow, 
 When all his fun is cut and run, he may enjoy to-morrow. 
 
 To-morrow may we happier be for happiness to-day, 
 rhat child or man, no mortal can, or shall, have it to say, 
 That we have lost both cash and time, and been of sense bereft, 
 For what we've spent we don't relent, we've time and money left. 
 
 And we will husband both, my boys, and husband too our wives ; 
 
 May sweethearts bold, before they're old, be happy for their lives ; 
 
 For good girls make good wives, my boys, and good wives make men belter, 
 
 When men are just, and scorning trust, each man is no man's debtor. 
 
 Then at this welcome season, boys, let's welcome thus each other. 
 Each kind to each, shake hands with each, each be to each a brother; 
 Nej;t Easter holiday may each again see flowers springing, 
 And hear birds sing, and sing himself, while merry bells are ringir^g 
 
 220 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER 
 
 The clear open weather daring the 
 Easter holidays in 1 825, drew forth a 
 greater number of London holiday keep- 
 er-; tlian the same season of many pre- 
 reding years. They were enabled to in- 
 dulge by the full employment in most bran- 
 ches of trade and manufacture ; and if the 
 period was spent not less merrily, it was 
 enjoyed more rationally and with less ex- 
 cess than before was customary. Green- 
 wich, though crowded, was not so abun- 
 dant of boisterous rudeness. " it is al- 
 most the only one of the popular amuse- 
 ments that remains: Stepney, Hamp- 
 stead, Westend, and Peckham fairs have 
 oeen crushed by the police, that ' stern, 
 rugged nurse' of national morality; and 
 although Greenwich fair continues, it is 
 any thing but what it used to be. Green- 
 wich, however, will always have a charm : 
 the fine park remains — trees, glades, turf, 
 and the view from the observatory, one of 
 tlie noblest in the world — before you the 
 towers of these palaces built for a mo- 
 larch's residence, now ennobled into a 
 refuge from life's storms for the gallant 
 defenders of their country, after their long 
 and toilsome pilgrimage — then the noble 
 river ; and in the distance, amidst the 
 din and smoke, appears the ' mighty 
 heart' of this mighty empire; these are 
 views worth purchasing at the expense of 
 oeing obliged to visit Greenwich fair in 
 this day of its decline. ' Punch' and 
 his ' better half seemed to be the pre- 
 siding deities in the fair, so little of mer- 
 riment was there to be found. In the 
 park, however, the scene was different ; 
 it was nearly filled with persons of all 
 ages : the young came there for amuse- 
 ment, to see and be seen — the old to pay 
 their customary annual visit. On the 
 bills was the usual array of telescopes ; 
 there were also many races, and many 
 sovereigns in the course of the day chang- 
 ed hands on the event of them ; but one 
 race in particular deserves remark, not 
 that there was any thing in the character, 
 fippearance, or speed of the competitors, 
 to distinguish them from the herd of 
 others ; the circumstances in it that afford- 
 td amusement was the dishonesty of the 
 stakeholder, who, as the parties had just 
 reached the goal, scampered off with the 
 stakes, amidst the shouts of the by stan- 
 ders, and the ill-concealed chagrin of the 
 two gentlemen who had foolishly com- 
 mitted their money to the hands of a 
 stranger."* 
 
 • Britith Tiess 
 
 According to annual custom on Eas- 
 ter Monday, the minor theatres opened 
 on that day for the season, and were 
 thronued, as usual, by spectators of no- 
 velties,which the Amphitheatre, the Surrey 
 theatre, Sadler's-wells, and other places 
 of dramatic entertainment, constantly get 
 up for the holiday-folks. The scene Oi 
 attraction was much extended, by amuse- 
 ments long before announced at distant 
 suburbs. At half-past five on Monday 
 afternoon, Mr. Green accompanied by 
 one of his brothers, ascended in a balloon 
 from the Eagle Tavern, the site of the 
 still remembered " Shepherd and Shep- 
 herdess," in the City-road. " The atmo- 
 sphere being extremely calm, and the sun 
 shining brightly, the machine, after it had 
 ascended to a moderate height, seemed to 
 hang over the city for nearly half an hour, 
 presenting a beautiful appearance, as its 
 sides glistened with the beams of that orb, 
 towards which it appeared to be convey- 
 ing two of the inhab'tants of a diflerent 
 planet." It descended near Kwell in 
 Surrey. At a distance of ten miles from 
 this spot, Mr. Graham, another aerial na- 
 vigator, let off another balloon from the 
 Star and Garter Tavern, near Kew-bridge. 
 " During the preparations, the gardens 
 began to fill with a motley company of 
 farmers' families, and tradesmen from the 
 neighbourhood, together with a large por- 
 tion of city folks, and a small sprinkle of 
 some young people of a better dressed 
 order. The fineness of the day gave a 
 peculiar interest to the scene, which 
 throughout was of a very lively descrip- 
 tion. Parties of ladies, sweeping the 
 ' green sward,' their gay dresses, laugh- 
 ing eyes, and the cloudless sky, made 
 every thing look gay. Outside, it was 
 a multitude, as far as the eye could see 
 on one side. The place had the appear- 
 ance of a fair, booths and stalls for re- 
 freshments being spread out, as upon 
 these recreative occasions. Carts, drays, 
 coaches, and every thing which could 
 enable persons the better to overlook the 
 gardens, were put into eager requisition, 
 and every foot of resting-room upon 
 Kew-bridge had found an anxious and 
 curious occupant. In the mean time, 
 fresh arrivals were taking place from all 
 directions, but the clouds of dust which 
 marked the line of the London-road, in 
 particular, denoted at once the eagernesj 
 and numbers of the new comers. A 
 glimpse in that direction showed the pe- 
 destrians, half roasted with the sun, and 
 
 221 
 
rilE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 half sufibcated with the dust, still keeping 
 on their way towards the flivoured spot. 
 About five o'clock, Mr. Graham having 
 seated himself in the ca» of his vehicle, 
 gave the signal for committing the ma- 
 chine to its fate. She swung in the wind 
 for a moment, but suddenly righting, shot 
 up in a directly perpendicular course, 
 amidst the stunning shout of the assem- 
 bled multitude, Mr. Graham waving the 
 flags and responding to their cheers. 
 Nothing could be more beautiful than the 
 appearance of the balloon at the distance 
 of about a mile from the earth, for from 
 reflecting back the rays of the sun, it ap- 
 peared a solid body of gold suspended in 
 the air. It continued in sight nearly an 
 hour and a half; and the crowd, wliose 
 curiosity had brought them together, had 
 not entirely dispersed from the gardens 
 before seven o'clock. On the way home 
 they were gratified with the sight of Mr. 
 Green's balloon, which was seen dis- 
 tinctly for a considerable time along the 
 Ilammersmith-road. The shadows of 
 evening were lengthening, and 
 
 midst falling dew. 
 
 While glow the Heavens with the last steps 
 of day. 
 Far through their rosy depths it did pursue 
 Its solitary way."* 
 
 SPITAL SERMONS. 
 
 fn London, on Easter Monday and 
 Tuesday, the Spital Sermons are preach- 
 ed. "On Easter Monday, the boys of 
 Christ's Hospital walk in procession, ac- 
 companied by the masters and steward, 
 to the Royal Exchange, from whence they 
 proceed to the Mansion-house, where they 
 are joined by the lord mayor, the lady 
 mayoress, the sheriffs, aldermen, recor- 
 der, chamberlain, town clerk, and other 
 city officers, with their ladies. From 
 thence the cavalcade proceeds to Christ 
 cliurch, where the Spital Sermon is 
 preached, always by one of the bishops, 
 and an anthem sung by the children. His 
 lordship afterwards returns to the Man- 
 sion-house, where a grand civic entertain- 
 ment is prepared, which is followed by 
 an elegant ball in the evening. 
 
 OnEaster Tuesday, the boys again walk 
 in procession to the Mansion-house, but, 
 instead of the masters, they are accom- 
 panied by the matron and nurses. On 
 Monday, they walk in the order of the 
 schools, each master being at the head of 
 
 * Muruiiig Herald. 
 
 the school over which he preside? ; and 
 the boys in the mathematical school carry 
 their various instruments. On Tuesday, 
 they walk in the order of the different 
 wards, the nurses walking at the head ot 
 the boys under her immediate care. On 
 their arrival at the Mansion-house, they 
 liave the honour of being presented indi- 
 vidually to the lord mayor, who gives to 
 each boy a new sixpence, a glass of wine, 
 and two buns. His lordship afterwards 
 accompanies them to Christ church, 
 where the service is the same as on Mon- 
 day. The sermon is on Tuesday usually 
 preached by his lordship's chaplain."* 
 The most celebrated Spital Sermon of our 
 times, was that preached by the late Dr. 
 Samuel Parr, upon Easter Tuesday, 1800, 
 against " the eager desire of paradox ; the 
 habit of contemplating a favourite topic in 
 one distinct and vivid point of view, while 
 it is disregarded under all others; a fond- 
 ness for simplicity on sul)jects too com- 
 plicated in their inward structure on their 
 external relations, to be reduced to any 
 single and uniform principle ;" and against 
 certain speculations on " the motives by 
 which we are impelled to do good to our 
 fellow creatures, and adjusting the extent 
 to which we arc capable of doing it." This 
 sermon induced great controversy, and 
 much misrepresentation. Few of those 
 >vho condemned it, read it ; and many justi- 
 fied their ignorance of what they detracted, 
 by pretending they could not waste theii 
 time upon a volume of theology. This 
 excuse was in reference to its having been 
 printed in quarto, though the sermon it- 
 self consists of only about four and twenty 
 pages. The notes are illustrations of a 
 discourse more highly intellectual than 
 most of those who live have heard oi 
 read.f 
 
 * Wilson's History of Christ's Hospital. 
 
 t .Archdeacon Biillcr had been selected by Dr. 
 Parr to pronounce tlie last appointed-words over his 
 remains, and he justified the seU-ctiou. Dr. Butler's 
 sermon at tlie funeral o-f Dr. Parr, has the high merit 
 of presenting a clear outline of this grea^ man's 
 character, and from its pages these passages are 
 culled and thrown together. " His learning was the 
 most profound, and the most varied and extensive, of 
 any man of his age. He has left a chasm in the 
 literature of his country, which none of us shall 
 ever see filled up. As a classical scholar he was su- 
 prenie — deeply versed in history, especially that of 
 his own country ; in metaphysics and moral philo- 
 sophy not to be excelled ; in theology he had read 
 more extensively and thought more deeply, than 
 most of those who claim the Iwghest literary fame 
 in that department. He was well read in contioversy, 
 though he loved not controversialists; fur his bene- 
 volent and tolerating spirit was shocked by any thing 
 like rancour among men who believe a gospel oT 
 love, and worship a God of love, and yet can let 
 loose the malignant and vindictive passions, in their 
 religious disputes, against each other. In pc.itica 
 
 222 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— EASTER. 
 
 The Spital Sennon derives its name 
 from tlie priory and hospital of " our 
 I)lessed Lady, St. Mary Spital," situated 
 on the east side of liisliopsgate-street, 
 Jvith fields in the rear, which now form 
 the suburb, called Spitalfields. This 
 Hospital founded in 1'97, had a large 
 churchyard with a pulpit cross, from 
 whence it was an ancient custom on Eas- 
 ter Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, 
 for sermons to be preached on the Resur- 
 rection before the lord mayor, alder- 
 men, sheriffs, and others who sat in a 
 house of two stories for that purpose ; 
 the bishop of I ondon and other prelates 
 being above them. In 1594, the pulpit 
 was taken down and a new one set up, 
 and a large house for tiie governors and 
 children of Christ's Hospital to sit in.* 
 In April 1559, queen Elizabeth came in 
 great state from St. Mary Spital, attended 
 by a thousand men in harness, with shirts 
 of mail and croslets, and morris pikes, 
 and ten great pieces carried through Lon- 
 don unto the court, with drums, flutes, and 
 trumpets sounding, and two morris dan- 
 cers, and two white bears in a cart.f On 
 Easter Monday, 1617, king James I. 
 having gone to Scotland, the archbishop 
 of Canterbury, the lord keeper Bacon, the 
 bishop of London, and certain other lords 
 of the court and privy counsellors attend- 
 ed the Spital Sermon, with sir John 
 Lemman, the lord mayor, and alder- 
 men ; and afterwards rode home and dined 
 with the lord mayor at his house near 
 Billingsgate.J The hospital itself was 
 dissolved under Henry VIII. ; the pulpit 
 was broken down during the troubles of 
 Charles I. ; and after the restoration, the 
 sermons denominated Spital Sermons 
 were preached at St. Bride's church, 
 Fleet-street, on the three usual days. A 
 
 his ardent \ove of fieedom, his hatred of oppression, 
 and his invincible spirit, joined to tlie moit disinier- 
 ested and incorruptible integrity, and the most reso- 
 lute independence, even in llie days of poverty and 
 privation, made him always a prominent and con- 
 spicuous 1 liaracter. Caution he despised, it was not 
 apart of liis noble and fearless naiure. What he 
 thought greatly, he ntttred manfully ; and such a 
 mighty master of language wlicn speaking or 
 writing on civil and relitious liberty, carried away 
 his hearers wiili the same resistless torrent of elo- 
 quence by which himself was swept along." Such 
 IS the testimony to Dr. Parr's talents, by one " differ- 
 ing from kiim on many political points, and on some 
 theoloeic«l questions. More to the sameeffect might 
 be adduced on tlie same competent authority ; but, if 
 the preacher, like him of whom he discoursed, " loved 
 hii friend well, he loved truth better ;" and hence Dr. 
 Butler has honestly and faithfully sketched a few 
 ncoiisiderable weaknesses, which, to a correct judg- 
 Er.ent, enlarge the nobility, and heighten the splen- 
 dour of Dr. Parr's lieart and mind. Undeviating 
 eulogy is pnaiseless praise. 
 * Siowe. t M-iitland. t Stoive. 
 
 writer of the last century * speaks of " a 
 room being crammed as 'full of companv, 
 as St. Bride's church upon tlie singing'a 
 Spittle psalm at Easter, or an anthem on 
 Cicelia's day," but within the last thirty 
 years the Spital Sermons have been re- 
 moved to Christ church, Newgate-street, 
 where they are attended by the lord 
 mayor, the aldermen, and the governors 
 of Christ's, St. Bartholomew's, St. 
 Thomas's, Bridewell, and Bethlem Hos- 
 pitals ; after the sermon, it is the usage to 
 read a report of the number of children, 
 and other persons maintained and reliev- 
 ed in these establishments. In 1825, the 
 Spital Sermon on Easter Monday was 
 preached by the bishop of Gloucester, 
 and the psalm sung by the children of 
 Christ's Hospital was composed by the 
 rev. Arthur William Tiollope, D. D. 
 head classical master. It is customary 
 for the prelate on this occasion, to dine 
 with the lord mayor, sheriffs, and alder- 
 men at the Mansion-house. Hereafter 
 there will be mention of similar invita- 
 tions to the dignified clergy, when they 
 discourse before the civic authorities. In 
 1766, bishop Warburton having preached 
 before the corporation, dined with the 
 lord mayor, and was somewhat facetious; 
 " Whether," says Warburton, " I made 
 them wiser than ordinary at Bow (church,) 
 I cannot tell. I certainly made them 
 merrier than ordinary at the Mansion- 
 house ; where we were magnificently treat- 
 ed. The lord mayor told me—' The 
 common council were much obliged to 
 me, for that this was the first time he ever 
 heard them prayed for ;' I said, ' I consi- 
 dered them as a body who much needed 
 the prayers of the church.' "f 
 
 ^n Easter Tale. 
 Under this title a provincial paper 
 gives the following detail : — In Roman 
 catholic countries it is a very ancient 
 custom for the preacher to divert his 
 congregation in due season with what is 
 termed a Fabtila Paschalis, an Eastern 
 Tale, which was becomingly received by 
 the auditors with peals of Easter laughter 
 During Lent the good people had morti 
 fied themselves, and prayed so much, 
 that at length they began to be rather 
 discontented and ill-tempered ; so that 
 the clergy deemed it necessary to make 
 a little fun from the pulpit for them, and 
 
 « Ned Ward in his Dancing Schoot. 
 t letters from a late eminent prelate. 
 
 223 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY bOOK.— EASTER 
 
 thu« give as ll were the first impulse 
 towards tlie revival of mirtli and ciieer- 
 fulness. This practice lasted till the 1 7th 
 and in many places till the 18th century. 
 Here follows a specimen of one of these 
 tales, extracted from a truly curious vo- 
 lume, the title of which may be thus ren- 
 dered : — Moral and Religious Journey to 
 Bethlem : consisting of various Sermons 
 for the safe guidance of all strayed, con- 
 verted, and misled souls, by the Rev. 
 Father Attakasy, of Dilling. " Christ 
 our Lord was journeying with St. Peter, 
 and had passed through many countries. 
 One day he came to a place where there 
 was no inn, and entered the house of a 
 blacksmith. This man had a wife, who 
 paid the utmost respect to strangers, 
 and treated them with the best that her 
 house would afford. Wiien they were 
 about to depart, our Lord and St. Peter 
 wished her all that was good, and heaven 
 into the bargain. Said the woman, ' Ah ! 
 if I do but go to heaven, I care for no- 
 thing else.' — ' Doubt not,' said St. Peter, 
 for it would be contrary to scripture if 
 thou shouldest not go to heaven. Let 
 what will happen, thou must go thither. 
 Open thy mouth. Did T not say so ? 
 Why, thou canst not be sent to hell, 
 where there is wailing and gnashing of 
 leeth, for thou hast not a tooth left in thy 
 head. Thou art safe enough; be of good 
 cheer.' Who was so overjoyed as (he 
 good woman ? Without doubt, she took 
 another cup on the strength of this as- 
 surance. But our Lord was desirous to 
 testify his thanks to tlie man also, and 
 promised to grant him four wishes. 
 * Well,' said the smith, ' I am heartily 
 obliged to you, and wish that if any one 
 climbs up the pear-tree behind my house, 
 he may not be able to get down again 
 without my leave.' This grieved St. 
 Peter not a little, for he thought that the 
 smith ought rather to have wished for the 
 kingdom of heaven ; but our Lord, with 
 his wonted kindness, granted his petition. 
 The smith's next wish was, that if any 
 one sai down upon his anvil, he might 
 not be able to rise without his permis- 
 sion ; and the third, that if any one crept 
 into his old flue, he miuht not have power 
 to get out without his consent. St. Peter 
 s lid, ' Friend smith, beware what thou 
 ■ lost These are all wishes that can bring 
 tiee no advantage ; be wise, and let the 
 r "maining one be for everlasting life with 
 lie blessed in heaven.' The smith was 
 not to be put out of h."s way, and thus 
 
 proceeded : * My fourth wish is, that my 
 green cap may belong to me for ever 
 and that whenever I sit down upon it, na 
 power or force may be able to drive me 
 away.' This also received the fiat 
 Thereupon our Lord went his way with 
 Peter, and the smith lived some years 
 longer with his old woman. At the end 
 of this time grim death appeared, and 
 summoned him to the other world 
 'Stop a moment,' said the smith; Met 
 me just put on a clean shirt, meanwhile 
 you may pick some of the pears on 
 yonder tree.' Death climbed up the tree ; 
 but he could not get down again ; he was 
 forced to submit to the smith's terms 
 and promised him a respite of twenty 
 years before he returned. When the 
 twenty years were expired, he again ap- 
 peared, and commanded him in the name 
 of the Lord and St. Peter to go along 
 with him. Said the smith, ' I know 
 Peter too. Sit down a little on my anvil, 
 for thou must be tired ; I will just drink 
 a cup to cheer me, and take leave of my 
 old woman, and be with thee presently. 
 But death could not rise again from his 
 seat, and was obliged to promise the 
 smith another delay of twenty years. 
 When these had elapsed, the devil came, 
 and would fain have dragged the smith 
 away by force. ' Holla, fellow 1' said 
 the latter; ' that won't do. I have other 
 letters, and whiter than thou, with thy 
 black carta-bianca. But if thou art such 
 a conjuror as to imagine that thou hast 
 any power over me, let us see if thou 
 canst get into this old rusty flue.' No 
 sooner said than the devil slipped into 
 the flue. The smith and his men put the 
 flue into the fire, then carried it to the 
 anvil, and hammered away at the old- 
 one most unmercifully. He howled, and 
 begged and prayed ; and at last promised 
 that he would have nothing to do with 
 the smith to all eternity, if he would but 
 let him go. At length the smith's guar- 
 dian-angel made his appearance. The 
 business was now serious. He was 
 obliged to go ; the angel conducted him 
 to hell. The devil, whom he had so 
 terribly belaboured, was just then attend- 
 ing the gate; he looked out at the little 
 window, but quickly shut it again, and 
 would have nothing to do with the smith. 
 The angel then conducted him to the 
 gate of he-tven. St. Peter refused to 
 admit him. ' Let me just peep in,' said 
 the smith, * that I may see how it looks 
 within there.' No sooner was the wicket 
 
 224 
 
THE EVEllY DAY BOOK— APRIL 6 
 
 opened than tTie smith threw in his cap, 
 and said; ' Thou knowest it is my pro- 
 perty, 1 must go and fetch it.' Then 
 slipping past, he clapped himself down 
 upon it, and said, ' Now I am sitting on 
 
 my own property ; T should like to see 
 who dares drive me away from it.' So 
 the smith got into heaven at last. '* 
 
 • Salisbury Gazette, January 8, 1818. 
 
 SILENUS, 
 
 Tliere is a remarkable notice by Dr. 
 E. D. Clarke, the traveller, respecting a 
 custom in the Greek islands. He says, 
 " A circumstance occurs annually at 
 Rhodes which deserves the attention of 
 the literary traveller : it is the ceremony 
 of carrying Silenus in procession at Easter. 
 A troop of boys, crowned with garlands, 
 draw along, in a car, a fat old man, at- 
 tended with great pomp. I unfortunately 
 missed bearing testimony to this remark- 
 able example, among many others which 
 I have witnessed, of the existence of 
 pagan rites in popular superstitions. I 
 was informed of the fact by Mr. Spurring, 
 a naval architect, who resided at Rhodes, 
 and Mr. Cope, a commissary belonging 
 to the British army ; both of whom had 
 seen the procession. The same ceremony 
 also takes place in the island of Scio." 
 It is only necessary here to mention the 
 custom, without adverting to its pro- 
 bable origin. According to ancient fable, 
 Silenus was son to Pan, the god of shep- 
 herds and huntsmen ; other accounts re- 
 present him as the son of Mercury, and 
 foster-father of Bacchus. He is usually 
 described as a tipsey old wine-bibber ; 
 and one stoiy of him is, that having lost 
 
 his way in his cups, and being found by 
 some peasants, they brought him to king 
 Midas, who restored him " to the jolly 
 god " Bacchus, and that Bacchus, grate- 
 ful for the favour, conferred on Midas 
 the power of turning whatever he touched 
 into gold. Others say that Silenus was 
 a grave philosopher, and Bacchus an en- 
 terprising young hero, a sort of Tele- 
 niachus, who took Silenus for his Mentor, 
 and adopted his wise counsels. The en- 
 graving is after an etching by Worlidge, 
 from a sardonyx gem in the possession 
 of the duke of Devonshire. 
 
 OLD LADY-DAY. 
 
 St. Sixtus I. Pope, 2d Cent. 120 Per- 
 sian Martyrs, a. d. 345. St. Celest'im, 
 Pope, A. D. 432. St. iniliavi. Abbot of 
 Eskille, A. D. 1203. St. Prudenthis, Bp 
 A. D. 861. St. Celstis, in Irish Ceallach 
 Abp. A. D. 1129. 
 
 Chronotocy. 
 
 134-8. Laura de Koves died. She 
 was born in 1304, and is celebrated for 
 having been beloved by Petrarch, and fo 
 having returned his passion by mdiffer 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 225 
 
 Q 
 
THE EVEIIY-D^Y ROOK.— APRIL 7, 8,'9, 
 
 ence. He fostered his love at Vaueluse, 
 a romantic spot, wherein lie had nothing 
 to employ him but recollection of her 
 charms, and imagination of her perfec- 
 tions. These he in?niortalized in sonnets 
 while she lived ; Petrarch survived her six 
 and thirty years. 
 
 Francis I., who compared a court 
 without ladies to a spring without flow- 
 ers, caused Laura's tomb to be opened, 
 and threw verses upon her remains com- 
 plimentary to her beauty, and the fame 
 she derived from her lover's praises. 
 
 1803. Colonel Montgomery and cap- 
 tain Macnamara quarrelled and fought a 
 duel at Primrose-hill, because their dogs 
 quarrelled and fought in Hyde-park. 
 Captain Macnamara received colonel 
 Montgomery's ball in the hip, and colonel 
 Montgomery received captain Macna- 
 mara's ball in the heart. Tiiis exchange 
 of shots being according to the laws of 
 duelling and projectiles. Colonel Mont- 
 gomery died on the spot. Captain Mac- 
 namara was tried at the Old Bailey, and, 
 as a man of honour, was acquitted by a 
 jury of men of honour. The laws of 
 England and the laws of Christianity only 
 bind honourable men ; men of honour 
 govern each other by the superior power 
 of sword and pistol. Tlie humble suicide 
 is buried with ignominy in a cross road, 
 and a finger-post marks his grave for 
 public scorn ; the proud and daring duel- 
 list reposes in a christian grave beneath 
 marble, proud and daring as himself. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Starch Hyacinth. Hyacintkns racemosus. 
 Dedicated to St. Sixtus I. 
 
 ^pril 7. 
 
 St. Aphraates, 4th Cent. St. Hegesippus, 
 
 A. D. 180. St. Albert, A. D. 1140. 
 
 B. Herman Joseph, a. d. 1226. St. 
 Finan of Keann-Ethich. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1520. Raphael d' Urbino died on the 
 anniversary of his birth-day which was in 
 1483. 
 
 1807. Lalande, the astronomer, died 
 at Paris, aged 70. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Wood Anemony. Anemone Ncmorosa. 
 Dedicated to St. Aphraates. 
 
 St. ^desins, a. d. 306. St. Perpetuus, 
 Bp. a. d. 491. St. IFultcr, Abbot, 
 a. d. 1099. B. Albert. Patriarch uf 
 Jerusalem, a. d. 1214. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1341. The expression of Petrarch's 
 passion for Laura, gained him such cele- 
 brity, that he had a crown of laurels 
 placed upon his head, in the metropolis of 
 the papacy, amidst cries from the Roman 
 people, " Long live the poet !" 
 
 1364. John, king of France, who had 
 been brought prisoner to England by 
 Edward, the Black Prince, in his captivity, 
 died at the Savoy-palace, in the Strand. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Ground Ivy. Glecoma hederacea. 
 Dedicated to St. Dionysius. 
 
 april 9. 
 
 ^pnl 8. 
 
 St. Dionysius, Bp. of Corinth, 2d Cent. 
 
 St. Mary of Egypt, a. d. 421. The Mas- 
 sylitan Marti/rs in Africa. St. Enpsy- 
 chhis. The Roman Captives, Martyrs 
 in Persia, year of Christ 362, of Sapor 
 53. St. JFultrude, or Vantrude, com- 
 monly called Faiidrii, Widow, a. d. 
 686. St. Gaucher, or Gantier, Abbot, 
 A. D. 1130. St. Dotto, Abbot. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1483. The great lord Bacon died, aged 
 66. He fell from distinguished station 
 to low estate, by having cultivated high 
 wisdom at the expense of every day wis- 
 dom. " Lord Bacon," says Rushworth, 
 " was eminent over all the christian 
 world for his many excellent writings. 
 He was no admirer of money, yet he had 
 the unhappiness to be defiled therewith. 
 He treasured up nothing for himself, yet 
 died in debt." His connivance at the 
 bribery of his servants made them his 
 master and wrought his ruin. The gifts 
 of suitors in the chancery rendered him 
 suspected, but his decrees were so equit- 
 able that no one was ever reversed for its 
 injustice. 
 
 Let him who lacking wisdom desires 
 to know, and who willing to be taught 
 will patiently learn, make himself master 
 of " Bacon's Essays." It is a book more 
 admired than read, and more read than 
 understood, because of higher thought 
 than most readers dare to compass. He 
 who has achieved the " Essays" has a 
 master-key to Bacon's other works, and 
 consequently every department of English 
 literature. 
 
 1747. Lord Lovat was executed on 
 
 22G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 10, 11, 12. 
 
 Tower-hill, for high treason, at the age of 
 90. He was a depraved, bad man ; and 
 the coolness with which he wrought his 
 profligate purposes, throughout an aban- 
 doned life, he carried to the scaffold. 
 
 1807. John Opie, the artist, died. He 
 wa.s born in Cornwall in 1761 ; self- 
 taught in his youth he attained to high 
 rank as an English historical painter, and 
 at his death was professor of painting at 
 the Royal Academy. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Red Polyanthus. Primula poly antha rubra. 
 Dedicated to St. Mary. 
 
 apnl 10. 
 
 St. Bademus, Abbot, a.d. 376. B. Mech- 
 tildes, Virgin and Abbess, after 1300. 
 
 Low Sunday. 
 The Sunday after Easter-day is called 
 Low Sunday, because it is Easter-day 
 repeated, with the church-service some- 
 what abridged or lowered in the ceremony 
 from the pomp of the festival the Sunday 
 before. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECIORY. 
 
 Pale Violet. Fiola Tonbrlgens 
 Dedicated to St. Mechtildes. 
 
 apnl 11. 
 
 St. Leo the Great, Pope, a. d. 461. St. 
 
 Jntipas. St. Guthlake, a. d. 714. St. 
 
 Maccai, Abbot. St. Aid of Eacha- 
 
 raidh, Abbot. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1713. The celebrated peace of U- 
 trecht was concluded, and with it con- 
 cluded the twelve years' war for the suc- 
 cession to the throne of Spain. 
 
 floral directory. 
 Dandelion. TaruTacnm Dens Leonis. 
 Dedicated to St. Leo. 
 
 apn'I 12. 
 
 St. Sabas, a. u. 372. St. Zeno, Bp. a. d. 
 380. St. Julius, Pope, a. d. 352. St. 
 Victor, of Braga. 
 
 Chronology. 
 65. Seneca, the philosopher, a native 
 of Corduba in Spain, died at Rome, in 
 the fifty-third year of his age. His moral 
 wntmgs have secured lasting celebrity to 
 his name. He was preceptor to Nero, 
 who, in the wantonness of power when 
 
 emperor, sent an order to Seneca to de- 
 stroy himself. The philosopher complied 
 by opening his veins and taking poison. 
 During these operations he conversed 
 calmly with his friends, and his blood 
 flowing languidly he caused himself to be 
 placed in a hot bath, till Nero's soldiers 
 becoming clamorous for quicker extinction 
 of his life, it was necessary to carry him 
 into a stove and suffocated him by steam.* 
 A distinguished French writer f quotes a 
 passage from Seneca remarkable for its 
 christian spirit ; but this passage is cited 
 at greater length by a living English au- 
 thor,! i" order to show that Seneca was 
 acquainted with christian principles, and 
 in reality a christian. 
 
 We may almost be sure that it was 
 impossible for Paul to have preached " in 
 his own hired house," at Rome, wi'.hout 
 Seneca having been attracted thither as 
 an auditor, and entered into personal 
 communication with the apostle. Tliere 
 exists a written correspondence said to 
 have passed between Paul and Seneca, 
 which, so far as regards Seneca's epistles, 
 many learned men have supposed ge- 
 nuine. 
 
 Nero. 
 
 While Nero followed Seneca's advice, 
 Rome enjoyed tranquillity. This empe- 
 ror, who was tyrannical to a proverb, 
 commenced his leign by acts of clemency, 
 his sole object seemed to be the good of 
 his people. When required to sign a 
 list of malefactors, authorizing their exe- 
 cution, he exclaimed, " I wish to heaven 
 I could not write." He rejected flatterers; 
 and when the senate commended the 
 justice of his government, he desired 
 them to keep their praises till he deserved 
 them. Such conduct and sentiments 
 were worthy the pupil of Seneca, and the 
 Romans imagined their happiness secure 
 But Nero's sensual and tyrannical dispo- 
 sition, which had been repressed only for 
 a time, soon broke forth in acts of mon- 
 strous cruelty. He caused his mother 
 Agrippa to be assassinated, and divorced 
 his wife Octavia, whom he banished to 
 Campania. The people, enraged at his 
 injustice toward the empress, so openly 
 expressed their indignation that he was 
 compelled to reca-11 her, and she returned 
 to the capital amidst shouts of exultation. 
 
 * Lempriere. 
 
 + Bnyle, Art. Pericles, note. 
 
 t Dr. John Jnnes, " On the Truth of the Christian 
 Religion," 
 
 227 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— APRIL 12. 
 
 THE EMPRESS OCTAVIA'S RETURN FROM EXILE 
 
 The popular triumph was of short du- 
 ration. Scarcely had Octavia resumed 
 her rank, when Nero, under colour of a 
 false and infamous charge, again banished 
 her. Never exile filled the hearts of the 
 beholders with more affecting compas- 
 sion. The first day of Octavia's nuptials 
 was the commencement of her funeral. 
 She was brought under a sad and dismal 
 roof, from whence her father and brother 
 had been carried off by poison. Though 
 a wife, she was treated as a slave, and 
 now she suffered the imputation of a 
 crime more piercing than death itself. 
 Add to this, she was a tender girl in the 
 twentieth year of her age, surrounded by 
 officers and soldiery devoted to her hus- 
 band's will, and whom she viewed as sad 
 presages of his ferocious purposes. Al- 
 most bereft of life by her fears, and yet 
 unwilling to surrender herself to the rest 
 of the grave, she passed the interval of a 
 few days in unspeakable terror. At 
 length it was announced to her that she 
 must die ; but while she implored that at 
 
 least her life might be spared, and con- 
 jured Nero to remember the relationship 
 which before marriage they had borne to 
 each other, by descent from a revered 
 ancestor, she only exemplified the utter 
 inefficacy of crouching to a truculent 
 tyrant. Her appeals were answered by 
 the seizure of her person, and the binding 
 of her limbs ; her veins were opened, but 
 her blood, stagnant through fear, issued 
 slowly, and she was stifled in the steam 
 of a boiling bath. " For this execution 
 the senate decreed gifts and oblations to 
 the temples ; a circumstance," says Taci- 
 tus, " which I insert with design, that 
 whoever shall, from me or any other 
 writer, learn the events of those calamitous 
 times, he may hold it for granted, that as 
 often as sentences of murder and banish- 
 ment were pronounced by the prince, so 
 often were thanksgivings by the fathers 
 paid to the dei'if.s." Every decree of the 
 senate was either a new flight of flattery 
 cr the dregs of exressivp tameness and 
 sprvit'ide. 
 
 :28 
 
THE e7I':ry-day book.— APRIL 12. 
 
 NERO AND THE ROMAN SENATE. 
 
 From this moment Nero butchered 
 without distinction all he pleased, upon 
 any idle pretence, and after an indiscri- 
 minate slaughter of men signal in name 
 and quality, he became possessed with 
 a passion to hew down virtue itself. His 
 crimes would be incredible if they were 
 not so enormous that it is scarcely pos- 
 sible imagination could invent atrocities 
 of so foul a nature. He had attained to 
 such indulgence in bloodshed, that the 
 dagger itself was dedicated by him in 
 the capitol, and inscribed to Jupiter 
 Vindex, Jove the Avenger. Yet to this 
 monster one of the consuls elect proposed 
 that a temple should be raised at the 
 charge of the state, and consecrated to 
 the deified Nero as to one who soared 
 above mortality, and was therefore enti- 
 tled to celestial worship. This, though 
 designed as a compliment to the tyrant, 
 was construed into an omen of his fate, 
 " since to princes," says Tacitus, " divine 
 hoaours are never paid till they have 
 finally forsaken all commerce with men," 
 
 or, m other words, have ceased to be 
 useful to them. Suetonius relates, that 
 somebody in conversation saying, " When 
 I am dead let fire devour the world" — 
 " Nay," rejoined Nero, " let it be whilst 
 I am living ;" and then he set Rome 
 on file, in so barefaced a manner, that 
 many of the consular dignitaries detected 
 the incendiaries with torches and tow in 
 their own houses, and dared not touch 
 them because they were officers of Nero's 
 bedchamber. The fire, during six days 
 and seven nights, consumed a prodigious 
 number of stately buildings, the public 
 temples, and every thing of antiquity that 
 was remarkable and worthy of preserva- 
 tion. The common people were driven 
 by this conflagration to the tombs and 
 monuments for shelter; and Nero himself 
 beheld the flames from a tower on tlie top 
 of Maecenas's house, and sung a ditty on 
 the destruction of Troy, in the dress which 
 he used to perform in on the public stage. 
 Tnis atrocious want of feeling occasioned 
 the saying — "Nero fiddled whileltome was 
 
 229 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 12. 
 
 burning." To divert the hideousness of this 
 crime from himself, he transferred the guilt 
 to the Christians. To their death and torture 
 were added cruel derision and sport; " for," 
 says Tacitus, " either they were disguised 
 in the skins of savage beasts, and exposed 
 to expire by the teeth of devouring dogs ; 
 or they were hoisted up alive and nailed 
 to crosses ; or wrapt in combustible vest- 
 ments, and set up as torches, that when 
 the day set, they might be kindled to 
 illuminate the night." Yoc this tragical 
 spectacle Nero lent his own gardens, and 
 exhibited at the same time the public 
 diversions of the circus, sometimes driving 
 a chariot in person, and at intervals 
 standing as a spectator amongst the vulgar 
 in the habit of a charioteer ; and hence 
 towards the miserable sufferers popular 
 commiseration arose, as for people who 
 weie doomed to perish to gratify the 
 bloody spirit of one man. At length, 
 while plotting new and uncommon bar- 
 barities, an insurrection broke out amongst 
 the troops, and the senate, who had 
 truckled to his wishes, and made him a 
 tyrant by submitting to be slaves, took 
 heart and issued a decree against him. 
 He committed suicide, under circumstan- 
 ces of such mental imbecility, that hia 
 death was as ludicrous as his life was 
 liorrible. 
 
 1765. Dr. Edward Young, author of 
 the " Night Thoughts," died. 
 
 1782. Admiral itodney defeated the 
 French fleet under count de Grasse, in 
 the West Indies. 
 
 1814. A general illumination in Lon- 
 don, on three successive nights, for the 
 termination of the war with France. 
 
 \ , .^ 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Saxifrage. Saxifraga crassifolia. 
 Dedicated to St. Zeno. 
 
 O^ritteti on a chimney-board.) 
 Here Ije entombed 
 
 THE ASHES 
 
 of a 
 
 fcRIGHT AND SHINING GENIUS, 
 
 who 
 
 In his youth it is confessed 
 
 discovered some sparks 
 
 «f a light and volatile nature. 
 
 but was in maturity 
 
 of a steady and a grateful disposition 
 
 and diffusive benevolence. 
 
 Though naturally of a warm temper, 
 
 and easily stirred up, 
 
 vet was he a shining example 
 
 of fervent and unreserved benignity. 
 
 For though he might have been 
 
 the most dangerous and dreadtul 
 
 of enemies, 
 
 yet was he the best and warmest of 
 
 friends. 
 
 Nor did he ever look cool 
 
 even on his worst foes, 
 
 though his friends too often, 
 
 and shamefully indeed, 
 
 turned their backs upon him. 
 
 Oh ! undeserving and licentious times, 
 
 when such illustrious examples 
 
 are wantonly made light of ! 
 
 Such resplendent virtue 
 
 basely blown upon ! 
 
 Though rather a promoter of a cheerful glass 
 
 in others, 
 
 and somewhat given to smoking, 
 
 yet was he himself never seen 
 
 in liquor, 
 
 which was his utter abhorrence. 
 
 Raking, 
 
 which ruins most constitutions, 
 
 was far from spoiling his, 
 
 though it often threw him 
 
 into inflammatory disorders. 
 
 His days, which were short, 
 
 were ended by a gentle decay, 
 
 his strength wasted, 
 
 and his substance spent. 
 
 A temporal period 
 
 was put to his finite existence, 
 
 which was more immediately effected 
 
 by his being seized 
 
 with a severe cold, 
 
 and no help administered, 
 
 in some of the warm days 
 
 of the fatal month of 
 
 May. 
 
 His loss and cheerful influence 
 
 are often and feelingly regretted 
 
 by his sincere admirers, 
 
 who erected this monument 
 
 in memory 
 
 of his endearing virtue, 
 
 till that grateful and appointed day, 
 
 when 
 
 the dormant powers 
 
 of his more illustrious nature 
 
 shall be again caHed forth: 
 
 When, 
 
 inflamed with ardour, 
 
 and with resplendence crowned, 
 
 he shall again rise 
 
 with 
 
 songs of joy and triumpfe 
 
 o'er the grave. 
 
 230 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 13. 
 
 Slpi 
 
 in'I 13, 
 
 Oxford and Cambridge Terms begin. 
 St. Hermcneffild, Martyr, a. n. 58G. 
 St. Giiinoch, about 838. St. Caradoc, 
 A. D. 1124. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1517. Cairo taken by the sultan Se- 
 lim, who thus became sole master of 
 
 Egypt- 
 
 1748. The rev. Christopher Pitt, 
 translator of Virgil, died at Blandford in 
 Dorsetshii-e, where he was born in 1699. 
 
 181 4. Charles Burney, Mus.D. F.R.S. 
 &c. author of the " History of Music," 
 and other works, which stamp his literary 
 ability, and his scientific character as a 
 musician, died at Chelsea, aged 88. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE EXAMINATION. 
 
 A good-humoured J(^/ rfV«;;r;7, intended 
 to produce nothing but corresponding 
 good humour in the persons whose names 
 are mentioned, appeared in The Times 
 on the 25th of January, 1816. This be- 
 ing the first day of Cambridge Term, the 
 " freshmen" who have seen recent 
 imitations may be much amused by 
 perusal of the original witticism. 
 Parody of a Cambridge Ejcamination. 
 Utopia University. 
 unuecf:mber <>657. 
 
 1. Give a comparative sketch of the 
 principal English theatres, with the dates 
 of their erection, and the names of the 
 most eminent candle-snuffers at each. 
 What were the stage-boxes ? What were 
 the offices of prompter — ballet-master — 
 and scene-shifter? In what part of the 
 theatre was the one-shilling gallery ? 
 Distinguish accurately between operas 
 and puppet-shows. 
 
 2. Where was Downing-street ? Who 
 was prime-minister when Cribb defeated 
 Molineux — and where did the battle take 
 place ? Explain the terms milling — fib- 
 bing — cross buttock — neck and crop — 
 bang up — and — prime. 
 
 3. Give the dates of all the parlia- 
 ments from their first institution to the 
 period of the hard frost on the Thames. 
 In what month of what year was Mr. Ab- 
 bot elected Speaker? Why was he called 
 " the little man in the loig ?" When the 
 Speaker was out of the chair, where was 
 die mace put ? 
 
 4. Enumerate the principal houses of 
 call in and about London, marking those 
 
 of the Taylors, Bricklayers, and Shoe.' 
 makers, and stating from what Brewery 
 each house was supplied with Brown 
 Stout. Who was the tutelary Saint of 
 the Shoemakers? At what time was his 
 feast celebrated ? Who was Saint Swithin ^ 
 Do you remember any remarkable Eng- 
 lish proverb respecting him ? 
 
 5. Give a ground plan of Gilead- 
 house. M-ention the leading topics of 
 the Guide to Health, with some account 
 of the Anti-Im-petigines — Dafij-'s Elixir — 
 Blaine's Distemper Powders — Ching's 
 Worm Lozenges — and Hooper's Female 
 Pills. 
 
 6. Give characters of Wat Tyler, Jack 
 Cade, and sir Francis Burdett Did the 
 latter return from the Tower by water or 
 land ? On what occasion did Mr. Leth- 
 bridge's " hair stand on ind" ? Correct 
 the solecism, and give the reason of your 
 alteration. 
 
 7. Enumerate the roads on which dou- 
 ble toll was taken on the Sundays. Dio 
 this custom extend to Christmas-day and 
 Good Friday ? Who was toll-taker at 
 fyburn, when Mrs. Brownrigg was exe- 
 cuted ? 
 
 8. Distinguish accurately between 
 Sculls and Oars— Boat, and Punt— Jack 
 dss, and Donkey— Ganger, Exciseman, 
 and Supervisor — Pantaloons, Trowsers, 
 Gaiters, and Over-alls.- At what place of 
 education were any of these forbidden ? 
 Which ? and Why ? 
 
 9. Express tne following words in the 
 Lancashire, Derbyshire, London, and 
 Exmoor dialects — Bacon — Poker — Y''ou-^ 
 I — Doctor — and Turnpike-gate. 
 
 10. Mention the principal Coach Inns 
 in London, with a correct list of the 
 Coaches which set out from the Bolt-in- 
 Tun. Where were the chief stands of 
 Hackney Coaches? — and what was the No. 
 of that in which the Princess Charlotte 
 drove to Connaught-house? To what 
 stand do you suppose this removed after 
 it set her down? 
 
 1 1 . Give a succinct account, with dates, 
 of the following persons — Belcht >• — Mr, 
 Waithman — Major Caitwright — Martin 
 Van Butchell — and Ed.uund Henry 
 Barker. 
 
 12. Draw a Map ol the Thames with 
 the surrounding country, marking parti- 
 cularly Wapping, Blackwall, Richmond, 
 and the Isle of Dogs. Distinguish be- 
 tween Newcastle-on-Tyne, and Newcastle- 
 under-Line — Gloucester and Double 
 Gloucester — and the two Richmonds. 
 
 231 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY Bt)OK.— APRIL 14, 
 
 What celebrated teacher flourished at one 
 of them ? — and who were his most emi- 
 nent disciples? 
 
 13. What were the various sorts of pa- 
 per in use amongst the English ? To what 
 purpose was wkited-brown chiefly ap- 
 plied ? What was size ? Distinguish be 
 tween this and college Sizings, and state 
 the ordinary expense of papering a room. 
 
 14. " For every one knows little Afatt's 
 an M.P." Frag. Com. Inc. ap. Morn. 
 Chron. vol. 59, p. 1624. 
 
 What reasons can you assign for the 
 general knowledge of this fact ? Detail 
 at length, the ceremony of chairing a 
 Member. What were the Hustings ? 
 Who paid for them ? Explain the abbre 
 viations — Matt. M.P. — Tom — Dick— 
 F.R.S.— L.L.D.— and A.S.S. 
 
 15. What was the distinguishing title 
 of the Mayors of London ? Did any 
 other city share the honour ? Give a list 
 of the Mayors of London from Sir 
 Richard Whittington to Sir William Cur- 
 tis, with an account of the Cat of the 
 first, and the Weight of the last. What 
 is meant by Lord Mayor's day ? Describe 
 the ylpothecnries' Barge, and give some 
 account of Marrow-bones and Cleavers. 
 
 16. When was Spy ring and Marsden's 
 Lemon Acid invented? Distinguish be- 
 tween this and Essential Salt of Lemons, 
 Enumerate the principal Patentees, espe- 
 cially those of Liquid Blacking. 
 
 17. Scan the following lines — ■ 
 But for shaving and tooth-drawing, 
 Bleeding, cabbaging and sawing, 
 
 Dicky Gossip, Dicky Gossip is the man ! 
 
 What is known of the character and 
 history of Dicky Gossip ? 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Green Narcisse. Narcissus Virid'ifiorus. 
 Dedicated to St. Hermenigild. 
 
 apm 14. 
 
 called " the king-maker," was slain on 
 the field. 
 
 1685. Thomas Otway, the dramatic 
 poet, died, at a public-house in the Mino- 
 ries, of want, by swallowing bread too 
 eagerly which he had received in charity. 
 
 1759. George Frederick Handel, the 
 illustrious musician, died. He was born 
 at Halle, in Saxony, in 1684. 
 
 1793. Tobago, in the West Indies, 
 taken by the English. 
 
 1 809. Beilby Porteus, bishop of Lon- 
 don, died at Fulham, aged 78. 
 
 Sts. Tiburtius, Fitlerian, and Max- 
 imns, A D. 229. Sts. Carpus, Bishop, 
 Papyhis, and Agathodorns, a. d. 251. 
 Sts. Antony, John, and Eustachlus, a. d. 
 1342. St. Benezet, or Little Bennet, 
 A. D. 1 184. B. Lidwina, or Lydwid, a. d. 
 1433. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1471. The battle of Barnet was fought 
 in the wars between the houses of York 
 «nd Lancaster, and the earl of Warwick, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Borage. Borago Officinalis. 
 Dedicated lo St. Lidwina. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 The Floral appearances of the year are 
 accurately described by Dr. Forster in 
 his " Perennial Calendar." He says, 
 " In order to ascertain the varieties in 
 the seasons, as indicated by the flowering 
 of plants, we ought to become accurately 
 acquainted with their natural periods, 
 and the average time of flowering which 
 belongs to each species. I have of late 
 made an artificial division of the seasons 
 of difflerent plants into six distinct pe- 
 riods, to each of which respectively a 
 certain number of species belong. Di- 
 viding then the reign of the goddess of 
 blooms into six principal portions, we 
 shall begin with the first in the order of 
 phenomena. The Primaveral Flora may 
 be said to commence with the first break- 
 ing of the frost before February ; it com- 
 prehends the snowdrop, the crocus, the 
 coltsfoot, all the tribe of daffodils, nar- 
 cissi, jonquils, and hyacinths, the prim- 
 rose, cyclamen, heartsease, violet, cowslip, 
 crown imperial, and many others. The 
 Equinox being also past, and the leaves 
 beginning to bud foith amidst a display 
 of blossoms on the trees, another period 
 may be said to begin, and May ushers in 
 the Vernal Flora, with tulips, peonies, 
 ranunculi, monkey poppy, goatsbeards, 
 and others : at this time, the fields are 
 bespangled with the golden yellow of the 
 crowfoot, or blue with the harebells 
 The whole bosom of earth seems spread 
 with a beautiful carpet, to soften the path 
 of Flora, at this delicious season. By 
 and bye, towards the middle of June, the 
 approach of the Solstice is marked by 
 another set of flowers ; and the scarlet 
 
 232 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 15. 
 
 lychnis, the various poppies, the lilies 
 and roses, may be said to constitute the 
 Solstitial Flora. As the year declines, 
 the Aestival Flora, corresponding to the 
 Vernal, paints the garish eyes of the dog- 
 days with sunflowers, China asters, tro- 
 poeoli, African marigolds, and other plants 
 which love heat. The Autumnal Flora, 
 answering to the Primaveral, then intro- 
 duces Michaelmas daisies, starworts. and 
 other late blowing plants, with their 
 companions, fungi and mushrooms, till at 
 length bleak winter shows only a few 
 
 hellebores, aconites, and mosses, belong- 
 ing to the Hibernal Flora of this dreary 
 season. Thus, in this our temperate cli- 
 mate, have we a round of botanical amuse- 
 ments all the year, and the botanist 
 can never want for sources of recreation . 
 How different must be the order of phe- 
 nomena about the poles of the earth, 
 where summer and winter are synony- 
 mous with day and night, of which Kirke 
 White has given us a very fine descrip- 
 tion :— 
 
 On the North Pole. 
 
 Where the North Pole, in moody solitude, 
 
 Spreads iier huge tracts and frozen wastes around , 
 
 There ice rod piled aloft, in order rude, 
 Form a gigantic hall ; where never sound 
 Startled dull Silence' ear, save when, profound 
 
 The smoke frost muttered : there drear Cold for aye 
 Thrones him, — and fixed on his primaeval mound, 
 
 Ruin, the giant, sits ; while stern Dismay 
 Stalks like some woe-struck man along the desert way. 
 
 In that drear spot, grim Desolation's lair. 
 No sweet remain of life encheers the sight ; 
 
 The dancing heart's blood in an' instant there 
 
 Would freeze to marble. Mingling day and night, 
 
 (Sweet interchange which makes our labours light,] 
 Are there unknown ; while in the summer skies, 
 The sun rolls ceaseless round his heavenly height. 
 
 Nor ever sets till from the scene he flies, 
 And leaves the long bleak night of half the year to rise. 
 
 ^pill 15. 
 
 St. Peter Gonzales, or Telm, or Elm, 
 A. D. 1246. Sts. Basilissa and Anastasia, 
 1 St Cent. St. Paternus, Bishop, or Pa- 
 tier, Pair, or Foix, 6th Cent. St. Munde, 
 Abbot, A. D. 962. St. Ruadhan, a. d. 584. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 Average day of arrival of Spring Birds 
 from a Twenty years' Journal. 
 
 April 3. Smallest Willow Wren. Fi- 
 caria pinetorutn arrives. 
 
 April 10. Common Willow Wien. Fi- 
 earia Saliaitn arrives. 
 
 April 14. Called First Cuckoo Day in 
 Sussex The Cuckoo, cuculus canorits, 
 sometimes heard. 
 
 April 15. Called Swalloiv Day. Tlie 
 Chimney Swallow, Hirundo rustica, ar- 
 rives. 
 
 April 19. The Sand Swallow. Hirundo 
 ripuria arnves. 
 
 April 20. The Martin. Hirundo ter- 
 btca sometimes seen 
 
 April 21. The Cuckoo, commonly 
 
 heard. 
 
 April 30. The Martin, commonly seen 
 The other vernal birds arrive between 
 
 the 15th and 30th of the month.* 
 
 FLORAL WRECTORY. 
 
 Green Stitchwort. Stellaria kolosfea. 
 Dedicated to St. Peter Gonzales. 
 
 An April Day. 
 Original. 
 
 Dear Emma, on that infant brow. 
 Say, why does disappointment low'i 1 
 
 Ah ! what a silly girl art thou, 
 To weep to see a summer show'r ' 
 
 O, dry that unavailing tear. 
 
 The promis'd visit you shall pay ; 
 
 The sky will soon again be clear, 
 For 'tis, my love, an April day 
 
 * Commuvicatcd by a scientific gentleman, whos« 
 daily observations and researclies inNBtural History, 
 •tamp value upon his contributions. 
 
 233 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 And see, the sun's returning light 
 
 Away the transient clouds hath diiv'n 
 
 The rainbow's arch with colours bright 
 Spreads o'er the blue expanse of heav'n • 
 
 The storm is hush'd, the winds are still, 
 A balmy fragrance fills the air ; 
 
 Nor sound is heard, save some clear rill 
 Meandering thro* the vallies fair. 
 
 Those vernal show'rs that from on high 
 Descend, make earth more fresh and 
 green ; 
 
 Those clouds that darken all the air 
 Disperse, and leave it more serene 
 
 And those soft tears that for awhile 
 Down sorrow's faded cheek may roll, 
 
 Shall sparkle thro' a radiant smile, 
 And speak the sunshine of the soul ! 
 
 While yet thy mind is young and pure. 
 This sacred truth, this precept learn — 
 
 That He who bids thee all endure. 
 Bids sorrow fly, and hope return. 
 
 His chast'ning hand will never liie:it 
 The heait that trusts in Him alone : 
 
 He never, never will forsake 
 
 The meanest suppliant at his throne. 
 
 The world, that with unfeeling pride 
 Sees vice to virtue oft preferr'd, 
 
 From thee, alas ! may turn aside — 
 O, shun the fawnmg, flatt'ring '»«rvl ' 
 
 And while th' Eternal gives thee health 
 With joy thy daily course to ran. 
 
 Let wretches hoard their useless wealth, 
 And Heav'n's mysterious will be done. 
 
 With fair Religion, woo content, 
 
 'Twill bid tempestuous passions cease , 
 
 And know, my child, the life that's spent 
 In pray'r and praise, must end in peace 
 
 The dream of Life is quickly past, 
 A little while we linger here ; 
 
 And tho' the Morn be overcast, 
 
 The Ev'ning may be bright and clear 
 
 I^lingto7i. D, G. 
 
 An Evening in SprtJig, 
 Now the noon, 
 Wearied with sultry toil, declines and falls 
 Into the mellow eve : — the west puts on 
 Her gorgeous beauties — palaces and halls 
 And towers, all carved of the unstable cloud 
 Welcome the calray waning monarch — he 
 Sinks gently 'midst that glorious canopy 
 Down on his couch of rest — even like a proud 
 King of the earth — the ocean. 
 
 Soti'ring: 
 
 gipril 16. 
 
 Eighteen Martyrs of Saragossa, and 
 St. Encratis, or Engratia, a. u. 304. St. 
 Turibhis, Bp. 420. St. Fructuosus, Abp. 
 A. D. 665. St. Drnon, or Drngo, a. d. 
 1186. St. Joachim of Sienna, a. d. 1305. 
 St. Mans, or Magnus, a. d. 1104. 
 
 " The Venerable 
 " Benedict Joseph Labre, 
 
 '•* JFho died in the odour of sanctity, 
 "On the 16th of April, 1783." 
 
 If such a creature as the venerable B. 
 J. Labre can be called a man, he was one 
 of the silliest that ever lived to creep and 
 whine, and one of the dirtiest that ever 
 " died .n the odour of sanctity ;" and 
 yet, for the edification of the English, his 
 life is translated from the French " by 
 the lev. M. James Barnard, ex-president 
 f the English college at Lisbon and 
 Vicar General of the London distict." 
 
 From this volume it appears that Labre 
 
 was born at Boulogne, on the 26tn oi 
 March, 1748. When a child he would 
 not play as other children did, but made 
 little oratories, and "chastised his body." 
 Having thus early put forth " buds of self- 
 denial and self-contempt," he was taught 
 Latin, educated superior to his station, 
 did penance, made his first general con- 
 fession, and found his chief delight at the 
 feet of altars. At sixteen years old, in- 
 stead of eating his food he gave i: away 
 out of the window, read pious books as 
 he walked, turned the house of his uncle, 
 a priest, into " a kind of monastery, 
 observed religious poverty, monkish si- 
 lence, and austere penance, and, by way of 
 humility, performed abject offices for the 
 people of the parish, fetched provender 
 for their animals, took care of their cattle, 
 and cleaned the stalls. The aversion which 
 he entertained against the world, induced 
 him to enter into a convent of Carthu- 
 sians ; there he discovered that he dis- 
 liked profound retirement, and imagined 
 he should not be able to save hi» soul 
 
 234 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 unless he embraced an order more austere. 
 Upon this he returned home, added ex- 
 traordinary mortifications to his fasts and 
 prayers, instead of sleeping on his bed 
 lay on the floor, and told his mother he 
 wished to go and live upon roots as the 
 anchorets did. All tins he might have 
 done in the Carthusian convent, but his 
 brain seems to have been a little cracked, 
 for he resolved to go into another Carthu- 
 sian convent, the prior of which would 
 not admit him till he had studied * philo- 
 sophy' for a year, and learned the Gre- 
 gorian chant." Church music was veiy 
 agreeable to him — but it was not so with 
 regard to logic; "notwithstanding all 
 his efforts, he was never able to conquer 
 his repugnance to this branch of study ;" 
 yet he somehow or other scrambled 
 through an examination ; got admitted 
 into the convent ; " thought its rules far 
 too mild for such a sinner as he looked 
 upon himself to be ;" and after a six 
 weeks' trial, left it in search of admission 
 into the order of La Trappe, as the most 
 rigid of any that he knew. The Trap- 
 pists would not have him ; this refusal he 
 looked upon as a heavenly favour, be- 
 cause the monastery of Sept-Fonts sur- 
 passed La Trappe in severe austerities 
 and discipline, and there he became a 
 " novice" till the life he fancied, did not 
 agree with him. " Having a long time 
 before quitted his father's house he could 
 not think of returning to it again;" and 
 at two and twenty years af age he knew 
 not what to do. His biographer says, 
 that " little fit for the cloister, and still 
 less fit for the world, he was destitute of 
 the means of getting a livelihood; and 
 being now persuaded of what were the 
 designs of God concerning him, he re- 
 solved to follow the conduct, the light, and 
 inspirations of the holy spirit, and to 
 submit himself to all the sufferings and 
 afflictions which might await him." If in 
 this condition some one had compelled 
 him to eat a good dinner every day, 
 made him go to bed at a proper hour and 
 take proper rest, and then set him on 
 horseback and trotted him through the 
 fresh air and sun-shine every forenoon, he 
 might have been restored; or if his parents, 
 as ill duty they ought, had bound him ap- 
 prentice at a proper age to a good trade, he 
 might have been an useful member of 
 society. These thoughts, however, never 
 appear to have entered Labre's head, and 
 in the dilemma represented " his love of 
 humility, poverty, and a penitential life. 
 
 presented to his zealous mind the prac- 
 tice of that kind of piety which he after- 
 wards put in execution" His first step to 
 this was writing a farewell letter to his pa- 
 rents, on the 31st of August, 1770, " and 
 from that time they never received any 
 account of him till after his death." His 
 next steps were pilgrimages. First he 
 went to Loietto " from tender devotion 
 to the Blessed Virgin, whom he looked on 
 as his mother;" nextto Assissium the birth- 
 place of St. Francis, where he, " accord- 
 ing to custom, got a small blessed cord 
 which he constantly wore ;" then he went 
 to Rome where he sojourned for eight or 
 nine months and wept " in the presence 
 of the tomb of the holy apostles ;" after- 
 wards " he visited the tomb of St. Romuald 
 at Fabrieno, where the inhabitants im- 
 mediately began to look upon him as a 
 saint;" from thence he returned to Lo- 
 retto ; he then journeyed to Naples^ and 
 had the pleasure of seeing the blood of 
 St. Januarius which would not liquify 
 when the French entered Naples, till the 
 French general threatened the priests who 
 performed the miracle that the city would 
 suffer, if the saint remained obstinate ; 
 " and in short," says the rev. Vicar 
 General of the London district, *' there 
 was hardly any famous place of devotion 
 in F.urope which was not visited by this 
 servant of God ;" — the Vicar General's 
 sentence had concluded better with the 
 words " this slave of superstitioji." To 
 follow Labre's other goings to and fro 
 would be tedious, suffice it to say that at 
 one of his Loretto trips some people 
 offered him an abode, in order to save 
 him the trouble of going every night to a 
 barn at a great distance; but as they had 
 prepared a room for him with a bed in it 
 he thought this lodging was too sump 
 tuous ; and he therefore retired into a 
 hole " cut out of the rock under the 
 street." Labre at last favoured the city 
 of Rome by his fixed residence, and sanc- 
 tified the amphitheatre of Flavian by 
 making his home in a hole of the ancient 
 ruins. 
 
 In this " hole of sufficient depth to hold 
 and shelter him in a tolerable degree from 
 the weather," he deposited himself every 
 night for several years. He employed 
 the whole of everj' day, " sometimes in 
 one church and sometimes in another, 
 praying most commonly upon his knees, 
 and at other times standing, and always 
 keeping his body as still as if he were a 
 statue.'' Labre's daily exercise in fasting 
 
 235 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 and lifelessness reduced him to a help- 
 less state, tliat a beggar had compassion 
 on him, and gave him a recommendation 
 to an hospital, where " by taking medi- 
 cines proper lor his disorder, and more 
 substantial food, he soon grew well ;" but 
 relapsing into his " constant, uniform, 
 and hidden life," he became worse. This 
 opportunity of exhibiting Labre's virtues 
 is not neglected by his biographer, who 
 minutely informs us of several particulars, 
 1st. lie was so careful to observe the law 
 of silence, that in the course of a whole 
 month, scarcely any one coul I hear him 
 speak so much as a few words. 2dly. 
 lie lived in the midst of Rome, as if he had 
 lived in the midst of a desert. Sdly. 
 He led a life of the greatest self-denial, 
 destitute of every thing, disengaged from 
 every earthly affection, unnoticed by all 
 mankind, desiring no other riches than 
 poverty, no other pleasures than mortifi- 
 cation, no other distinction than that of 
 being the object of universal contempt. 
 4thly. He indulged in rigorous poverty, 
 exposed to the vicissitudes and inclemen- 
 cies of the weather, without shelter 
 against the cold of winter or the heat of 
 summer, wearing old clothes, or rather 
 rags, eating very coarse food, and for three 
 years living in the *' hole in the wall." 
 5thly. To his privations of all worldly 
 goods, he joined an almost continual ab- 
 stinence, frequent fasts, nightly vigils, 
 lively and insupportable pains from par- 
 ticular mortifications, and two painful tu- 
 mours which covered both his knees, from 
 resting the whole weight of his body on 
 them when he prayed. 6thly. "He look- 
 ed upon himself as one of the greatest of 
 sinners ;" and this was the reason why " he 
 chose to lead a life of reproach and con- 
 tempt," why he herded " among the mul- 
 titude of poor beggars," " why he chose 
 to cover himself with rags and tatters in- 
 stead of garments, why he chose to place 
 a barrier of disgust between himself and 
 mankind," why "he abandoned himself 
 to the bites of disagreeable insects," and 
 why he coveted to be covered with filthy 
 blotches. 
 
 Labre's biographer, who was also his 
 confessor, says that his " appearance was 
 disagreeable and forbidding; his legs were 
 half naked, his clothes were tied round 
 tlie waist with an old cord, his head was 
 Cncombed, he was badly clothed and 
 wrapped up in an old and ragged coat, 
 and in his outward appearance he seemed 
 to be the most miserable beggar that I 
 liad ever seen." His biographer further 
 
 says, " I never heard his confession but in 
 a confessional, on purpose that there might 
 be some kind of separation between us." 
 The holy fatiier's lively reason for this pre- 
 caution, any history of insects with the 
 word " pediculus" will describe accurately 
 
 Thus Labre lived and died ; and here 
 it might be supposed would end his me- 
 moirs. But, no. In whatever odour he 
 lived, as he " died in the odour of sanc- 
 tity," an enthusiasm seized some persons 
 to touch Labre dead, who, when living, 
 was touchless. Labre being deceased, was 
 competent to work miracles ; accordingly 
 he stretched out his left hand, and laid 
 hold on the board of one of the benches 
 On Easter-day being a holiday, he work- 
 ed more miracles, and wonders more 
 wonderful than ever were wondered 
 in our days, as may be seen at large, in 
 the aforesaid volume, entitled — " The Life 
 of the venerable Benedict Joseph Labre, 
 who died at Rome, in the odour of sanc- 
 tity." The portrait, from which the en- 
 g:raving on this page is taken, was pub- 
 lished immediately after his death by Mr. 
 Coghlan, Catholic bookse)ler,Duke-streei, 
 Grosvenor-square, from a drawing in liis 
 possession. 
 
 Miracle at Sotners Toirn. 
 The authenticity of the following extra- 
 ordinary fact can be verified. Mr. H — 
 
 23G 
 
TTIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 16. 
 
 a iv.iddle-aged gentleman, long afflicted 
 by various disorders, and especially by 
 the gout, had so far recovered from a 
 severe attack of the latter complaint, that 
 he was enabled to stand, yet with so little 
 advantage, that he could not walk more 
 than fifty yards, and it took lum nearly 
 an hour to perform that distance. While 
 thus enfeebled by suffering, and safely 
 creeping in great difficulty, on a sunny 
 day, along a level footpath by the side 
 of a field near Somers Town, he was 
 alarmed by loud cries, intermingled with 
 the screams of many voices behind him. 
 From his infirmity, he could only turn 
 very slowly round, and then, to his asto- 
 nishment, he saw, within a yard of his 
 
 coat-tail, the horns of a mad bullock ' 
 when, to the equal astonishment of its 
 puisuers, this unhappy gentleman in 
 slant ly leaped the fence, and overcome 
 by terror, continued to run with amazing 
 celerity nearly the whole distance of the 
 field, while the animal kept iti own 
 course along the road. Tlie gentleman, 
 who had thus miraculously recovered the 
 use of his legs, retained his power of 
 speed until he reached his own house, 
 where he related the miraculous circum- 
 stance ; nor did his quickly-rer.tored fa- 
 culty of walking abate, until it ceased 
 with his life several years afterwards. 
 This " miraculous cure" can be attested 
 by his surviving relatives. 
 
 SOMEES TOWN MIRACLE. 
 
 THE KALEIDOSCOPE. 
 
 In April, 1818, London was surprised 
 by the sudden appearance of an opt cal 
 instrument for creating and exhibiting 
 beautiful forms, which derives its name 
 from xaXos beautiful, eiSos a form, and 
 ffxcTiu to see. The novelty was so en- 
 chanting, that opticians could not manu- 
 facture kaleidoscopes fast enough, to meet 
 
 the universal desire for seeing the delight- 
 ful and ever-varying combinations, pre- 
 sented by each turn of the magical cy- 
 linder. 
 
 The kaleidoscope was invented by Dr. 
 Brewster, to whom, had its exclusive 
 formation been ensured, it must have pro- 
 duced a handsome fortune in the course 
 of a single year. Unhappily, that geu- 
 
 237 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 17. 
 
 tlenian was deprived of his just reward 
 by fraudful anticipation.* He says, " I 
 thought it advisable to secure the ex- 
 clusive property of it by a patent ; but in 
 consequence of one of the patent instru- 
 ments having been exhibited to one of 
 the London opticians, the remarkable 
 properties ot the kaleidoscope became 
 known before any number of them could 
 be prepared for sale. The sensation ex- 
 cited in London by this premature exlii- 
 bition of its effects is incapable of descrip- 
 tion, and can be conceived only by those 
 who witnessed it. It may be sufficient 
 to remark, that, according to the com- 
 putation of those who were best able to 
 form an opinion on the subject, no fewer 
 than two hundred thousand instruments 
 have been sold in London and Paris 
 during three months." 
 
 The Kaleidoscope, 
 
 Mystic trifle, whose perfection 
 
 Lies in multiplied reflection, 
 
 Let us from thy sparkling store 
 
 Draw a few reflections more : 
 
 In thy magic circle rise 
 
 All things men so dearly prize , 
 
 Stars, and crowns, and glitt'ring things, 
 
 Such as grace the courts of kings ; 
 
 Beauteous figures ever twining, — 
 
 Gems with brilliant lustre shining ; 
 
 Turn the tube ; — how quick they pass — 
 
 Crowns and stars prove broken glass ! 
 
 Trifle ! let us from thy store 
 Draw a few reflections more ; 
 Who could from thy outward case 
 Half thy hidden beauties trace ? 
 Who fiom such exterior show 
 Guess the gems within that glow 1 
 Emblem of the mind divine 
 Cased within its mortal shrine ! 
 
 Once again — the miser views 
 
 Thy sparkling gems — thy golden hues — 
 
 And, ignorant of thy beauty's cause. 
 
 His own conclusions sordid draws ; 
 
 Imagines thee a casket fair 
 
 Of gorgeous jewels rich and rare ; — 
 
 Impatient his insatiate soul 
 
 To be the owner of the whole, 
 
 He breaks thee ope, and views within 
 
 Some bits of glass — a tube of tin ! 
 
 Such are riches, valued true — 
 
 Such the illusions men pursue ! 
 
 W. H. M. 
 
 gipnl 17. 
 
 St. Anicetus, Pope, 2d. Cent. St. 
 Stephen, Abbot, a. d. 1134. St. Simeon-, 
 Bishop, and other Martyrs, a. d. 341. 
 
 FLORAL DIEECrORY. 
 
 Yellow Tulip. Tnl'ipa Sylvestris. 
 Dedicated to St. Joachim of Sienna. 
 
 • Brewster's Hist, of the Kaleidoscope. 
 
 feorfe. 
 
 HOKE DAY OR TIDE. 
 
 Antiquaries are exceedingly puzzled 
 respecting the derivation of this annual 
 festival, which commenced the fifteenth 
 day after Easter, and was therefore a 
 movable feast dependent upon Easter.* 
 Though Matthew Paris, who is the oldest 
 authority for the word Hoke-ffa?/, says it 
 is " quindena paschse," yet Mr. Douce 
 assigns convincing reasons for takiwg it as 
 the second Tuesday after Easter. At 
 \ioc\i.-tide, which seems to have included 
 Monday and Tuesday, collections of Hock- 
 money were made in various parishes by 
 the churchwardens, until the Reform- 
 ation.f Tuesday was the principal day. 
 Hock Monday was for the men, and 
 Hock Tuesday for the women. On both 
 days the men and women alternately, with 
 great merriment, intercepted the public 
 roads with ropes, and pulled passengers 
 to them, from whom they exacted money 
 to be laid out for pious uses; Monday 
 probably having been originally kept as 
 only the vigil or introduction to the fes- 
 tival of Hock-day. Mr. Brand unaccount- 
 ably, because inconsistently with his pre- 
 vious representations respecting the anti- 
 quity of the custom of heaving at Easter, 
 derives that custom from the men and 
 women Hocking each other, and collecting 
 money at Hock-tide. 
 
 It is a tradition that this festival was 
 instituted to commemorate the massacre 
 of the Danes in England, under Ethel- 
 dred, in the year 1002 ; a supposition 
 however wholly unsupportable, because 
 that event happened on the feast ot 
 St. Brice, in the month of November. 
 Another and more reasonable opinion 
 is, that the institution celebrated the 
 final extinction of the Danish power 
 by the death of Hardicanute, on the 
 sixth day before the ides of June, 1042. J 
 
 * Naros's Glossary. 
 
 t See large extracts from their accounts, in 
 Brand. &c. 
 t AlUn's Hist, of Lambeth. 
 
 238 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— APEIL 13. 
 
 Yet, in relation to tlie former event, 
 " certain good-hearied men of Coventry" 
 petitioned, " that they might renew their 
 old storial show" of the Hock-tide play 
 before queen Ehzabeth, when she was on 
 a visit to the earl of Leicester, at his 
 castle of Kenib.vorth, in July, 1575. Ac- 
 cording to '• Laneham's Letter," this 
 " storial show" set forth how the Danes 
 were for quietness borne, and allowed to 
 remain in peace withal, until on the said 
 St. Brice's night they were " all despatch- 
 ed and the realm rid ;" and because the 
 matter did show " in action and rhymes" 
 how valiantly our English women, for 
 love of their country, behaved, the " men 
 of Coventry" thought it might move some 
 mirth in her majesty. " The thing," said 
 they, '• is grounded in story, and for pas- 
 time (was) wont to be played in our city 
 yearly without ill example of manners, 
 papistry, or anv superstition :" and they 
 Knew no cause wny ii was then of late 
 .aid down, " unless it was by the zeal of 
 certain of their preachers ; men very com- 
 mendable for their behaviour and learning, 
 and sweet m their sermons, but somewhat 
 too sour in preaching away their pastime." 
 By license, therefore, they got up their 
 Hock-tide play at Kenilworth, wherein 
 " capt. Cox/' a person here indescribable 
 without hindrance to most readers, " came 
 marching on valiantly before, clean 
 trussed and garnished above the knee, all 
 fresh in a velvet cap, flourishing with his 
 ton-sword, and another fence-master with 
 him, making room for the rest. Then 
 proudly came the Danish knights on 
 horseback, and then the English, each 
 with their alder-pole martially in their 
 hand." The meeting at first waxing warm, 
 then kindled with courage on both sides 
 into a hot skirmish, and from that into a 
 blazing battle with spear and shield ; so 
 that, by outrageous races and fierce en- 
 counters, horse and man sometimes tum- 
 bled to the dust. Then they fell to with 
 sword and target, and did clang and 
 bang, till, the fight so ceasing, afterwards 
 followed the foot of both hosts, one after 
 the other marching, wheeling, forming in 
 squadrons, triangles, and circles, and so 
 winding out again; and then got they so 
 grisly together, that inflamed on each 
 side, twice the Danes had the better, but 
 at the last were quelled, and so being 
 wholly vanquished, many were led cap- 
 tive in triumph by our English women. 
 This matter of good pastime was wrought 
 under the window of her highness, who 
 
 beholding in the chamber delectable 
 dancing, and therewith great thronging 
 of the people, saw but little of the Co- 
 ventry play ; wherefore her majesty con> 
 manded it on the Tuesday following, t^ 
 have it full out, and being then accord- 
 ingly presented, her highness laughed 
 right well. Then too, played the " good- 
 hearted men of Coventiy" the merrier, 
 and so much the more, because her ma- 
 jesty had given them two bucks, and five 
 marks in money ; and they prayed for 
 her highness long happily to reign, and 
 oft to come thither, that oft they might see 
 her; and rejoicing upon their ample re- 
 w ird, and triumphing upon their good 
 acceptance, vaunted their play was never 
 so dignified, nor ever any players before 
 so beatified-* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Fravi's Cowl. Arum Arisarum 
 Dedicated to iS^ Stephen of Citeaux 
 
 apn'I 18. 
 
 St. ApoUonius, a. d. 186. St. Galdin, 
 Abp. 1176. St. Laserian, or Molaisre, 
 Bp. of Leighlin, a. d. 638. 
 
 Chrokology. 
 1689. The infamous judge Jefteries 
 died in the tower, whither he had been 
 committed by the lords of the council, 
 after he had been taken in the disguise of 
 a common sai-lor for the purpose of leav- 
 ing England. He was born at Acton, 
 near Wrexham, in Denbighshire, and 
 being raised to the bench, polluted its 
 sanctity by perversions of the law. His 
 habits and language were vulgar and dis- 
 gusting. John Evelyn says, " I went 
 this day to a wedding of one Mrs. Castle, 
 to whom I had some obligation ; and it 
 was to her fifth husband, a lieutenant- 
 colonel of the city. She was the daughter 
 
 * Concerning the Coventry Hock-tide play, it 
 IS reasonable to expect curious information from 
 a forthcominfj " Dif^ertation on the Pageant> 
 or Dramatic Mysteries, anciently performed at 
 Coventry, chiefly with reference to the vehic 'e, 
 characters, and dresses of the actors," by Mr. 
 Tliomas Sharp, of Coventry, who, with access 
 to the corporation manuscripts, and to other 
 sources hitherto unexplored, and, above all, with 
 the requisite knowledge and qualifications, wirl 
 probably throw greater light on the obsolete 
 drama, than has devolved upon it from the la 
 hours ol any preceding antiquary. 
 
 239 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 18, 
 
 of one Bruton, a broom-man, by his wife, 
 who sold kitchen-sluff in Rent-street, 
 whom God so blessed, that the father 
 became very rich, and was a very honest 
 man ; and this daughter was a jolly, 
 friendly woman. There were at the wed- 
 ding- the lord mayor, the sheriff", several 
 aldermen, and persons of quality ; above 
 all sir George Jeff'eries, newly made lord 
 chief justice of England, who, with Mr. 
 justice Withings, danced with the bride, 
 iOQ were exceeding merry ! These great 
 men spent the rest of the afternoon, till 
 eleven at night, in drinking healths, 
 taking tobacco, and talking much beneath 
 the gravity of judges that had but a day 
 or two before condemned Mr. Algernon 
 Sidney, who was executed the 7th of Dec. 
 1683, on Tower-hill, on the single witness 
 of that monster of a man, lord Howard 
 of Escrick, and some sheets of paper 
 taken in Mr. Sidtiey's study, pretended 
 to be written by him, but not fully proved." 
 James II. found Jefferies a fit instrument 
 for his arbitrarypurposes. After the defeat 
 of the duke of Monmouth in the west, 
 he employed the most sanguinary mis- 
 creants, and Jefferies among the rest, to 
 wreak his vengeance on the deluded 
 people. Bishop Burnet says, that Jef- 
 reries's behaviour was brutally disgusting, 
 beyond any thing that was ever heard of 
 in a civilized nation ; " he was perpe- 
 tually either drunk or in a rage, liker a 
 fury than the zeal of a judge." He re- 
 quired the prisoners to plead guilty, on 
 pretence of showing them favour; but he 
 aftei"wards showed them no mercy, hanging 
 many immediately. He hanged in several 
 places about six hundred persons. The 
 king had a daily account of Jefferies' 
 proceedings, which he took pleasure to 
 relate in the drawing-room to foreign mi- 
 nisters, and at his table he called it Jef- 
 feries's campaign. Upon Jefferies' return, 
 he created him a peer of England, by the 
 title of earl of Flint. During these 
 " bloody assizes," the lady Lisle, a noble 
 woman of exemplary character, whose 
 husband had been murdered by the Stuart 
 party, was tried for entertaining two gen- 
 tlemen of the duke of Monmouth's army ; 
 and though the jury twice brought her in 
 not guilty, Jefferies sent them out again 
 and again, until, upon his threatening to 
 attaint them of treason, they pronounced 
 her guilty. Jeff'eries, before he tried this 
 lady, got the king to promise that he 
 would not pardon her, and the only fa- 
 vour she obtained was the change of her 
 
 sentence from burning to beheading. 
 Mrs. Gaunt, a widow, near Wapping, 
 who was a Baptist, and spent her time in 
 acts of charily, was tried on a charge of 
 having hid one Burton, who, hearing 
 that tl>e king had said that he would 
 sooner pardon rebels than those who har- 
 boured them, accused his benefactress of 
 having saved his life. She was burned at 
 the stake. The excellent William Pena 
 the Quaker, saw her die, and related the 
 manner of her death to Burnet. She laid 
 the straw about her for her burning 
 speedily, and behaved herself so heroic- 
 ally, that all melted into tears. Six men 
 were hanged at Tyburn, on the like 
 charge, witiiout trial. At length, the 
 bloody and barbarous executions were 
 so numerous, that they spread horror 
 throughout the nation. England was an 
 acaldema : the country, for sixty miles 
 together, from Bristol to Exeter, had a 
 new and terrible sort of sign-posts or 
 gibbets, bearing the heads and limbs of 
 its butchered inhabitant?. Every soul 
 was sunk in anguish and terror, sighing 
 by day and by night for deliverance, but 
 shut out of all hope, till the arrival of the 
 prince of Orange, on whom the two 
 houses of parliament bestowed the crown. 
 Jefferies had attained under James II. to 
 the high office of lord chancellor. 
 
 1794. Died Charles Pratt, earl Cam- 
 den, born in 1713. As chief justice of 
 the common pleas, he was distinguished 
 for having discharged the celebrated John 
 Wilkes from the towei By that decision, 
 general warrants were pronounced illegal; 
 and for so great a service to his country, 
 lord Camden received the approbation 
 of his fellow citizens ; they conferred on 
 him the freedom of their cities, an 
 placed his picture in their corporatior 
 halls. He was equally distinguished for 
 opposing the opinion of prerogative law- 
 yers in matters of libel. At his death he 
 was lord president of the council. Firm 
 of purpose, arwl mild in manners, he was 
 a wise and amiable man. It is pleasantly 
 related of him, that while chief justice, 
 being upon a visit to lord Dacre,at Alveley, 
 in Essex, he walked out with a gentle- 
 man, a very absent man, to a hill, at no 
 great distance from the house, upon the 
 top of winch stood the stocks of the vil- 
 lage. The chief justice sat down upon 
 them ; and after a while, having a mmd 
 to know what the punishment was, he 
 asked his companion to open them and 
 
 2-10 
 
THE EVERY-UAY BOOK.— APRIL 18. 
 
 put him in This bein;; done, his friend 
 took a book from his pocket, sauntered 
 on, and so completely forgot the judge 
 and his situation, that he returned to lord 
 Dacre's. In the mean time, the chief jus- 
 tice being tired of the stocks, tried in vain 
 to release himself Seeing a countryman 
 pass by, he endeavoured to move him to 
 let him out, but obtained nothing by his 
 motion. " No, no, old gentleman," said 
 the countryman, " you was not set there 
 for nothing;" and left him, until he was 
 released by a servant of the house des- 
 patched m quest of him. Some time 
 after he presided at a trial in -which a 
 charge was brought against a magistrate 
 for false imprisonment, and for setting in 
 the stocks. The counsel for the magis- 
 trate, in his reply, made light of the 
 whole charge, and more especially setting 
 in the stocks, which he said every body 
 knew was no punishment at all. The 
 chief justi-ce rose, and leaning over the 
 bench, said, in a half-whisper, " Brother, 
 have you ever been in the stocks .'" 
 " Really, my lord, never." — " Then I 
 have," said the judge, " and I assure 
 you, brother, it is no such trifle as you 
 represent." 
 
 1802. Dr. Erasmus Darwin died. lie 
 was born at Newark in Nottinghamshire, 
 in 1732, and attained to eminence as a 
 physician and a botanist. His decease 
 was sudden. Riding in his carriage, he 
 found himself mortally seized, pulled the 
 check-string, and desired his servant to 
 help him to a cottage by the road-side. 
 On entering, they found a woman within, 
 whom the doctor addressed thus, " Did 
 you ever see a man die I" — " No, sir." — 
 " Then now you may." The terrified 
 woman ran out at the door, and in a few 
 minutes Darwin was no more. He stre- 
 nuously opposed the use of ardent spirits, 
 from conviction that they induced dread- 
 ful maladies, especially gout, dropsy, and 
 insanity ; hence his patients were never 
 fieed from his importunities, and the few 
 who had courage to persevere benefited 
 by his advice. 
 
 THE MAID SERVANT. 
 
 Holidays being looked forward to with 
 unmixed delight by all whose opportu- 
 nities of enjoying them are dependent 
 upon others, a sketch of character at such 
 a season may amuse those whose inclin- 
 ation is not sufficiently strong to study 
 the original, and just enough to feel plea- 
 sure in looking at tlie picture. The out- 
 
 line and finishing of that which is here 
 exinbited prove it the productiu.i of a 
 master hand. 
 
 "Th« maid servant must be considtred 
 as young, or else she has married the 
 butcher, the butler, or her cousin, or has 
 otherwise settled into a character distinct 
 from her original one, so as to become 
 what is properly called the domestic. 
 The maid servant, in her apparel, is 
 either slovenly or fine by turns, and dirty 
 always ; or she is at all times snug and 
 neat, and dressed according to her sta- 
 tion. In the latter case, her ordinary 
 dress is black stockings, a stuflT gown, a 
 cap, and neck-handkerchief pinned cor- 
 ner-wise behind. If you want a pin, she 
 just feels about her, and has always one 
 to give you. On Sundays and holidays, 
 and perhaps of afternoons, she changes 
 her black stockings for white, puts on a 
 gown of a better texture and fine pattern, 
 sets her cap and her curls jauntily, and 
 lays aside the neck-handkerchief for a 
 high body, which, by the way, is not half 
 so pretty. There is something very warm 
 and latent in the handkerchief, — some- 
 thing easy, vital, and genial. A woman in 
 a high-bodied gown, made to fit her like 
 a case, is by no means more modest, and 
 is much less templing. She looks like a 
 figure at the head of a ship. We could 
 almost see her chucked out of docis into a 
 cart with as little remorse as a couple of 
 sugar-loaves. The tucker is much better, 
 as well as the handkerchief; and is to the 
 other, what the young lady is to the ser- 
 vant. The one always reminds us of the 
 Sparkler in the ' Guardian ;' tlie other of 
 Fanny in ' .loseph Andrews.' But to re- 
 turn : — The general furniture of her ordi- 
 nary room, the kitchen, is not so much 
 her own as her master's and mistress's, 
 and nee*? not be described ; but in a 
 drawer of the dresser of the table, in 
 company with a duster and a pair ot 
 snufi'ers, may be found some of her pro- 
 perty, such as a brass thimble, a pair of 
 scissars, a thread-case, a piece of wax 
 candle much wrinkled with the thread, 
 an odd volume of * Pamela,* and per- 
 haps a sixpenny play, such as ' George 
 Barnwell,' or INIrs. Behn's * Oroonoko.' 
 There is a piece of looking-glass also in 
 the window. The rest of her furniture is 
 in the garret, where you may find a good 
 looking-glass on the table ; and in the 
 window a Bible, a comb, and a piece of 
 soap. Here stands also, under stout lock 
 and key, the mighty mystei-y — the box,— 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 241 
 
 R 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIf. 18 
 
 containing among otiier things hor clothes, 
 two or three song-books, consisting of 
 nineteen for the penny ; sundry tragedies 
 at a half-penny the sheet : the 'Whole Na- 
 ture of Dreams laid open,' together with 
 the 'Fortune-teller,' and the 'Account of 
 the Ghost of Mrs. Veal ;' ' the story of the 
 beautiful Zoa who was cast away on a 
 desert island, showing how,' &c. : some 
 half-crowns in a purse, including pieces 
 of country money, with the good countess 
 of Coventry on one of them riding naked 
 on the horse ; a silver penny wrapped 
 up in cotton by itself; a crcoked six- 
 pence, given her before she came to town, 
 and the giver of which has either forgotten 
 her or been forgotten by her, she is r.ot 
 sure which ; two little enamel boxes, with 
 looking-glass in the lids, one of them a 
 fairing, the other * a trifle from Margate ;' 
 and lastly, various letter's, square and 
 ragged, and directed in all sorts of spell- 
 ing, chiefly with little letters for capitals. 
 One of them, written by a girl who went 
 to a day school with her, is directed 
 ' miss.' — In her manners, the maid ser- 
 vant sometimes imitates her young mis- 
 tress ; she puts her hair in papers, culti- 
 vates a shape, and occasionally contrives 
 to be out of spirits. But her own cha- 
 racter and condition overcome all sophis- 
 tications of this sort ; her shape, fortified 
 by the mop and scrubbing-brush, will 
 make its way ; and exercise keeps her 
 nealthy and cheerful. From the sam.e 
 cause her temper is good ; though she 
 gets into little heats when a stranger is 
 over saucy, or when she i? told not to go 
 so heavily down stairs, or when some 
 unthinking person goes up her wet stairs 
 with dirty shoes — or when she is called 
 away often from dinner ; neither does she 
 much like to be seen scrubbing the street- 
 door-steps of a morning ; and sometimes 
 she catches herself saying, * drat that 
 butcher,' but immediately adds, * God 
 forgive me.' The tradesmen indeed, 
 with their compliments and arch looks, 
 seldom give her cause to complain The 
 milkman bespeaks her good humour for 
 the day with — ' Come, pretty maids.' 
 Then follow the butcher, the baker, the 
 oilman, &c. all with their several smirks 
 and little loiterings ; and when she goes 
 to the shops herself, it is for her the 
 grocer pulls down his string from its 
 roller with more than ordinary whirl, and 
 tosses, as it were, his parcel into a tie, — 
 for her, the cheesemonger weighs his 
 butter with half a glance, cherishes it, 
 
 round about with his patties, and dabs 
 the little piece on it to make up, with a 
 graceful jerk. Thus pass the mornings 
 between working, and singing, and gig- 
 gling, and grumbling, and being flattered. 
 If she takes any pleasure unconnected 
 with her office before the afternoon, it is 
 when she runs up the area-steps, or to the 
 door to hear and purchase a new song, oi 
 to see a troop of soldiers go by ; or wheu 
 she happens to thrust her head out of a 
 chamber window at the same time with 
 servant at the next house, when a dia- 
 logue infallibly ensues, stimulated by the 
 imaginary obstacles between. If the 
 maid-servant is wise, the best part of her 
 work is done by dinner time ; and nothing 
 else is necessary to give perfect zest to 
 the meal. She tells us what she thinks 
 of it, when she calls it ' a bit o' dinner. 
 ITiere is the same sort of eloquence in her 
 other phrase, ' a cupo' tea;' but the old 
 ones, and the washerwomen, beat her at 
 that. After tea in great houses, she goes 
 with the other servants to hot cockles, or 
 What-are-my-thoughts like, and tells Mr. 
 John to ' have done then;' or if there is 
 a bull given that night, they throw open 
 all the doors, and make use of the music 
 up stairs to dance by. In smaller houses, 
 she rtceives the visit of her aforesaid 
 cousin ; and sits down alone, or with a 
 fellow maid servant, to woik; talks of her 
 young master, or mistress, Mr. Ivins 
 (Evans) : or else she calls to mind her own 
 friends in the country, where she thinkj 
 the cows and ' all that ' beautiful, nov 
 she is away. Meanwhile, if she is lazy^ 
 she snuffs the candle with her scissars ; 
 or if she has eaten more heartily than 
 usual, she sighs double the usual number 
 of times, and thinks that tender hearts 
 were born to be unhappy. Such being 
 the maid-servant's life in doors, she 
 scorns, when abroad, to be any thing but 
 a creature of sheer enjoyment. The 
 maid-servant, the sailor, and the school- 
 boy, are the three beings that enjoy a 
 holiday beyond all the rest of the world : 
 and all for the same reason, — because 
 their inexperience, peculiarity of life, and 
 habit of being with persons or circum- 
 stances or thoughts above them, ^ive 
 them all, in their way, a cast of the 
 romantic. The most active of money- 
 getters is a vegetable compared with them 
 Tlie maid-servant when she first goes to 
 Vauxhall. thinks she is in heaven. A 
 theatre is all pleasure to her, whatever is 
 going forward, whether the play, or the 
 
 J42 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 19. 
 
 music, or the waiting which makes others 
 impatient, or the muncliing of apples and 
 gmgerbread nuts, which she and her party 
 nommence almost as soon as they have 
 seated themselves. She prefers tragedy 
 to comedy, because it is grander, and less 
 like what she meets with in general ; and 
 because she thinks it more in earnest 
 also, especially in the love scenes. Her 
 favourite play is * Alexander the Great, 
 or the Rival Queens.' Anotlier great 
 delight is in going a shopping. She 
 loves to look at the patterns in the win- 
 dow, and the fine things labelled with 
 ihose corpulent numerals of 'only 7s.' — 
 ' only 6s. 6d.'' She has also, unless born 
 and bred in London, been lo see my lord 
 mayor, the fine people coming out of 
 court, and the * beasties ' in the tower ; 
 and at all events she has been to Astley's 
 and the Circus, from which she comes 
 away equally smitten with the rider, and 
 sore with laughing at the clown. But it 
 is difficult to say what pleasure she enjoys 
 most. One of the completest of all is the 
 fair, where she walks through an endless 
 round of noise, and toys, and gallant ap- 
 prentices, and wonders. Here she is 
 invited in by courteous, well dressed peo- 
 ple as if she were the mistress. Here 
 also is the conjuror's booth, where t-he 
 operator himself, a most stately and 
 genteel person all in white, calls her 
 ' ma'am ;' and says to John by her side, in 
 spite of his laced hat, ' Be good enough, 
 sir, to nand the card to the lady.' Ah ! 
 may her cousin turn out as true as he 
 says he is ; or may she get home soon 
 enough, and smiling enough, to be as 
 happy again next time." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Musk Narcisse. Narcissus moschatua. 
 Dedicated to St. ^pollonius. 
 
 Sfpn'I 19. 
 
 St. Leo IX. Pope, a, d. 1054. St. El- 
 phege, A. D. 1012. St. Ursmar, Bp. 
 A. D. 713. 
 
 St. Elphege. 
 
 This saint's name in the church of 
 England calendar is Alphege. He was 
 brought up at the monastery of Deerhurst, 
 in Gloucestershire ; afterwards he built 
 himself a lonely cell in the abbey of Bath, 
 where he became abbot, and corrected 
 the '* little junketings " and other irreg-"- 
 
 larities of the monks. St. Dunstan being 
 warned in a vision, drew him from thence, 
 and gave him episcopal ordination. In 
 1006, he became bishop of Winchester, 
 and was afterwards translated to the see 
 of Canterbury. On the storming of tha! 
 city by the Danes, he endeavoured to 
 allay their fury, but they burnt his cathe- 
 dral, decimated his monks, and carrying 
 Alphege prisoner to Canterbury, there 
 slew him on this day in 1012.* 
 
 It is storied, that when St. Alphege 
 was imprisoned at Greenwich, the devil 
 appeared to him in likeness of an angel, 
 and tempted him to follow him into a 
 dark valley, over which he wearily walked 
 through hedges and ditches, till at last 
 being in a most foul mire the devil va- 
 nished, and a real angel appeared and 
 told St. Alphege to go back to prison 
 and be a martyr, which he did. Then 
 after his death, an old rotten stake was 
 driven into his body, and those who 
 drave it said, that if on the morrow the 
 stake was green and bore leaves they would 
 believe ; whereupon the stake flourished 
 and the drivers thereof repented as they 
 said they would, and the body being 
 buried at St. Paul's church, in London, 
 worked miracles.f 
 
 In commemoration of this saint was 
 put up in Greenwich church the follow- 
 ing inscription : " This church was erected 
 and dedicated lo the glory of God, and 
 the memory of Saint Alphege, archbishop 
 of Canterbury, here slain by the Danes. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1739. Died, Dr. Nicholas Saunder- 
 son, Lucasian professor of mathematics. 
 lie was born in 1659, at Thurlston, in 
 Yorkshire, lost his sight from the small 
 pox when twelve months old, and became 
 so proficient in the science of certainties, 
 that his eminence has rarely been equalled. 
 
 1775. The American war commenced 
 at Lexington. 
 
 1791. Dr. Richard Price died. He 
 was born in Glamorganshire in 1732. 
 Revered for the purity of his private cha- 
 racter, he is celebrated for his religious, 
 moral, mathema-tical, and political works 
 throughout Europe. 
 
 1824. Lord Byron died. A letter taken 
 from a newspaper several years ago,J re- 
 lative to the residence of this distinguished 
 character in the island of Mitylene, seems 
 to have escaped editorial inquiry, and is 
 
 * Butier. t Golden Legend. 
 
 t Observe.' Nov. 15, I«l8. 
 
 243 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— APRIL lU. 
 
 therefore subjoined. Tf authentic, it is, 
 in some degree, an interesting memorial. 
 Mr. Editor, 
 In sailing through the Grecian Archi- 
 pelago, on board one of his majesty's 
 vessels, in the year 1812, we put into the 
 harbour of Milylene, in the island of that 
 name. The beauty of this place, and the 
 certain supply of cattle and vegetables 
 always to be had there, induce many Bri- 
 tish vessels to visit it, both men of war 
 nnd merchantmen ; and though it lies 
 rather out of the track for ships bound to 
 Smyrna, its bounties amply repay for the 
 deviation of a voyage. We landed, as 
 usual, at the bottom of the bay, and 
 whilst the men were employed in water- 
 ing, and the purser bargaining for cattle 
 with the natives, the clergyman and myself 
 took a ramble to a cave, called Homer's 
 School, and other places, where we had 
 been before. On the brow of Mount Ida 
 (a small monticole so named) we met 
 with and engaged a young Greek as our 
 guide, who told us he had come from 
 Scio with an English lord, who left the 
 island four days previous to our arrival, 
 in his felucca. " lie engaged me as a 
 pilot," said the Greek, " and would have 
 taken me with him, but I did not choose 
 to quit Mitylcne, where I am likely to get 
 married. He was an odd, but a very 
 good man. The cottage over the hill, 
 facing the river, belongs to him, and he 
 has left an old man in charge of it; he 
 gave Dominick, the wine trader, six hun- 
 dred zechines for it, (about 250/. English 
 currency,) and has resided there about four- 
 teen months, though not constantly ; for 
 he sails in his felucca very often to the 
 different islands." 
 
 This account excited our curiosity very 
 much, and we lost no time in hastening 
 to the house where our countryman had 
 resided. We were kindly received by an 
 old man, who conducted us over the man- 
 sion. It consisted of four apartments on 
 the ground floor : an entrance hall, a 
 drawing-room, a sitting parlour, and a 
 bed room, with a spacious closet annexed. 
 They were all simply decorated : plain 
 fjeen-stained walls, marble tables on 
 either side, a large myrtle in the centre, 
 and a small fountain beneath, which could 
 06 made to play through the branches by 
 moving a spring fixed in the side of a 
 •small bronze Venus in a leaning posture; 
 a large couch or sopha completed the 
 furniture. In the hall stood half a dozen 
 English cane chairs, and an empty book- 
 case : there were no mirrors, nor a single 
 
 painting. The bed-chamber had merely 
 a large mattrass spread on the tloor, with 
 two stuffed cotton quilts and a pillow— 
 the common bed throughout Greece. In 
 the sitting room we observed a marble 
 recess, formerly, the old man told us 
 filled with books and papers, which were 
 then in a large seaman's chest in the 
 closet : it was open, but we drd not think 
 ourselves justified in exarr.ining the con- 
 tents. On the tablet of the recess lay 
 \'oUaire's, Shakspeare's, Boileau's, and 
 Rousseau's works, complete ; Volney's 
 " Ruins of Empires ;" Zimmerman, in the 
 German language; Klopstock's "Messiah;" 
 Kotzebue's novels ; Schiller's play of the 
 " Robbers ;" Milion's " Paradise Lost," an 
 Italian edition, printed at Parma in 1810 
 several small pamphlets from the Greek 
 press at Constantinople, much torn 
 Most of these books were filled with 
 marginal notes, written with a pencil, in 
 Italian and Latin. The " Messiah" was 
 literally scribbled all over, and marked 
 with slips of paper, on which also were 
 remarks. 
 
 The old man said, " the lord had been 
 reading these books the evening before 
 he sailed, and forgot to place them with 
 the others ; but," said he, " there they 
 must lie until his return ; for he is sc 
 pai'ticular, that were I to move one thing 
 without orders, he would frown upon me 
 for a week together : he is otherwise very 
 good. I once did him a service, and I 
 have the produce of this farm for the 
 trouble of ta'king care of it, except twenty 
 zechines, which I pay to an aged Arme- 
 nian, who resides in a small cottage in 
 the wood, and whom the lord brought 
 here from Adrianople; I don't know for 
 v'hat reason." 
 
 The appearance of the house externally 
 was pleasing. The portico in front was 
 fifty paces long and fourteen broad, and 
 the tluted marble pillars with black plinths 
 and fret-work cornices, (as it is now custo- 
 mary in Grecian architecture,) were consi- 
 derably higher than the roof. The roof, sur- 
 rounded by a light stone balustrade, was 
 covered by a fine Turkey carpet, beneath 
 an awning of strong coarse linen. Most 
 of the house-tops are thus furnished, as 
 upon them the Greeks pass their evenings 
 in smoking, drinking light wines, such as 
 " lachryma Christi," eating fruit, and en- 
 joying the evening breeze. 
 
 On the left hand, as we entered the 
 house, 8 small streamlet glided away; 
 grapes, oranges, and limes were cluster- 
 ing together on its borders, and under the 
 
 244 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 19. 
 
 shade of t-wo large myrtle bushes, a mar- 
 ble seat, with an ornamental wooden back, 
 was placed, on which, we were told, the 
 lord passed many of his evenings and 
 nights, till twelve o'clock, reading, writ- 
 ing, and talking to himself. " I suppose," 
 said the old man, " praying ; for he was 
 very devout, and always attended our 
 church twice a week, besides Sundays." 
 
 The view from this seat was what may 
 De termed "a bird's eye view." Alineof ricli 
 vineyards led the eye to Mount Calcla, co- 
 vered with olive and myrtle-trees in bloom, 
 and on the summit of which an ancient 
 Greek temple appeared in majestic d.2cay, 
 A small stream issuing from the ruins, 
 descended in broken cascades, until it 
 was lost in the woods near the mountain's 
 base. The sea, smooth as glass, and an 
 horizon unshaded by a single cloud, ter- 
 minates the view in front ; and a little 
 on the left, through a vista of lofty ches- 
 nut and palm-trees, several small islands 
 were distinctly observed, studding the 
 light blue wave with spots of emerald 
 green. I seldom enjoyed a view more 
 than I did this ; but our inquiries were 
 fruitless as to the name of the person who 
 had resided in this romantic solitude; 
 none knew his name but Dominick, his 
 banker, who had gone to Candia. " The 
 Armenian," said our conductor, " could 
 tell, but I am S'ure he will not."' — " And 
 cannot you tell, old friend I" said L — 
 " If I can," said he, " I dare not." We 
 had not time to visit the Armenian, but 
 on our return to the town we learnt seve- 
 ral particulars of the isolated lord. He 
 had portioned eight young girls when he 
 was last upon the island, and even danced 
 with them at the nuptial feast. lie gave 
 a cow to one man, horses to others, and 
 cotton and silk to the girls who live by 
 weaving these articles. He also bought 
 a new boat for a fishetman who had lost 
 his own in a gale, and he often gaveGieek 
 Testaments to the poor children. In short, 
 he appeared to us, from all we collected, 
 to have been a very eccentric and bene- 
 volent character. One circumstance we 
 learnt which our old friend at the cottage 
 thought proper not to disclose. He had 
 a most beautiful daughter, with whom tlie 
 lord was often seen walking on the sea- 
 shore, and he had bought her a piano- 
 forte, and taught her himself the use 
 of it. 
 
 Such was the information with which 
 
 we departed from the peaceful isle of 
 Mitylene; our imaginations all on the 
 rack, guessing who this rambler in Greece 
 could be. He had money, it was evident : 
 he had philanthropy of disposition, and 
 all those eccentricities which mark pecu- 
 liar genius. Arrived at Palermo, all our 
 doubts were dispelled. P'alling in with 
 Mr. Foster, the architect, a pupil of 
 Wyatt's, who had been trav-illmg in 
 Egypt and Greece, " The individual," 
 said he, " about whom you are so anx- 
 ious, is lord Byron ; 1 met him in my 
 travels on the island of Tenedos, and I 
 also visited him at Mitylene." — We had 
 never then heard of his lordship's fame, 
 as we had been some years from home; 
 but " Childe Harold" being put into our 
 hands, we recognised the recluse of 
 Calcla in every page. Deeply did we 
 regret not having been more curious in 
 our researches at the cottage, but we con- 
 soled ourselves with the idea of returning 
 to Mitylene on some future day; but to 
 me that day will never return. 
 
 • * * * John Mitford. 
 
 The names of Byron and Moore are 
 associated for their attainments ; they 
 were kindred in their friendship. The 
 last lines, written by lord Byron, on his 
 native soil, were addressed to Mr. Moore : 
 
 My boat is on the shore, 
 And my bark is on the sea ; 
 
 lint ere I po, Tom Moore, 
 Here's a double health to thee. 
 
 Here's a sigh for those I love, 
 And a smile for those 1 hate. 
 
 And, whatever sky's above, 
 Here's a heart for any fate. 
 
 Though the ocean roars around me, 
 It still shall bear ine on ; 
 
 Though a desert should surrouno me 
 It hath springs that may be won. 
 
 Were it the last drop in the well, 
 As I gasped on the brink, 
 
 Ere my fainting spirits fell, 
 'Tis to thee that 1 would drink. 
 
 In that water, as this wine. 
 The libation I would pour 
 
 Should be — Peace to thee and thine, 
 And a health to thee, Tom Moore. 
 
 Forbearing to estimate him whom the 
 low and the lofty alike assume to mea- 
 sure, a passage from his own pen may fitly 
 conclude this notice : — 
 
 245 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 20. 
 
 Beautiful i 
 How beautiful is all this Tisible world! 
 How glorious in its action and itself; 
 But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we. 
 Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 
 To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make 
 A conflict of its elements, and breathe 
 The breath of degradation and of pride, 
 Contending with low wants and lofty will 
 Till our mortality predominates. 
 And men are — what they name not to themselves, 
 And trust not to each other. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Ursine Garlick. Allium Ursimtm. 
 Dedicated to St. Leo IX., Pope. 
 
 gipn'l 20. 
 
 St. Agnes, of Monte Pulciano, a. ». 1317. 
 St. Serf, or Servanus, Bp. 5th Cent. 
 St. James of Sclavonia, or Illyricum, 
 4. D. 1485. 
 
 Easter Term, 1825, begins. 
 
 On this day the sun enters Taurus S 
 or the bull, at 9 h. 50 m. a. m., at which 
 period black cattle produce their ofTspring, 
 and hence probably the sign is represent- 
 ed by the male animal. The Greeks af- 
 firmed it to be the bull into which Jupiter 
 metamorphosed himself, when he visited 
 Europa, but this sign was figured and 
 worshipped throughout the East as the 
 god Apis, or a symbol of the sun, before 
 the Gieek zodiac existed. 
 
 SEASONABLE DESIRES. 
 
 With the incoming of spring there is an 
 outgoing from town, or a wish to do so. 
 We all love what nature proffers to our 
 enjoyment. Now — the humble tenant of 
 the lofty attic in the metropolis, cultivates 
 a few flowers in garden pots, within 
 the lidge of the parapet that bounds the 
 eye from all things but sky and clouds ; 
 and when he can, walks with his wife in 
 search of fields where grass grows and cat- 
 tle feed. Now — the better conditioned 
 take a trip a few miles beyond the suburbs, 
 and all manifest hopes or wishes for pro- 
 longed enjoyment of the country in the 
 approaching summer. Now— ready fur- 
 nished cottages and lodgings, which have 
 been "to let" throughout the wmter in the 
 villages near the metropolis, find admir- 
 ers, and some of them find occupiers. 
 
 Now — the good wife reminds her gooa 
 man — " My dear it's very hard, alter so 
 many years not to be able to afford a lit- 
 tle comfort at last — we can't, you know, 
 live in this way for ever. What a charm- 
 ing day this is. Let us see and get a lit- 
 tle place just a little way from town 
 against the fine weather comes ; the walk 
 there and back will do you good ; it will 
 do us all good ; and the expense won't be 
 miss'd in the long run." Now the thought- 
 ful and thrifty, and the unthoughtful and 
 the unthrifty, of certain and uncertain in- 
 come, begin to plan or scheme where to 
 go " after parliament's up," or in what 
 neighbourhood, or on what site, to hire 
 or build a house suitable to their real or 
 imaginary wants. Now, in other words, 
 " all the world" in London is thinking 
 how or where '' to go out of town by and 
 bye." 
 
 I who a country life admire. 
 
 And ne'er of rural prospects tire. 
 
 Salute my friend who loves the town. 
 
 And hates to see a country clown. 
 
 Tho' we almost congenial be. 
 
 In this howe'er we disagree ; 
 
 You're fond of bustle, din, and smoke. 
 
 And things that always me provoke, 
 
 Whilst I clear rivulets extol, 
 
 That o'er their pebbly channels roll, 
 
 Rude mossy rocks that nodding stand ; 
 
 Rich corn that's waving o'er the land , 
 
 Thick shady groves where zephyrs play 
 
 And cool the sultry heat of day ; 
 
 I'm fond of every rustic sport. 
 
 And hate — detest a venal court. 
 
 Whene'er I quit the noisy town. 
 
 And to my rural spot get down, 
 
 I find myself quite at ray ease. 
 
 And can do whatsoe'er I please ; 
 
 Sometimes 1 study, sometimes ride. 
 
 Or stroll along the river's side. 
 
 Or saunter through some fertile mead. 
 
 Where lowing herds in plenty feed; 
 
 Or rest upon a bank of flowers. 
 
 And pass, 'midst innocence, my hours. 
 
 248 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 21, 22. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Spring Snowflake. Leucojum vernum. 
 Dedicated to St. Agnes of Monte Pulciano 
 
 gipril 21. 
 
 St. Anselm. St. Anastasius, the Sinaite, 
 A. D. 678. St. Anastasius I., Patriarch, 
 A. D. 598. St. Anastasius, the younger, 
 A. D. 610. St. Beuuo, or Beunor, Ab- 
 bot of Clynnog, A. D. 616. St. Eingan, 
 or Eneon, a. d. 590. iS^ Malrubius, 
 A. D. 721. 
 
 St. Anselm 
 
 Was born at Aoust in Piedmont, and 
 was made archbishop of Canterbury, by 
 William Rufus, in 1093. Butler gives a 
 circumstantial account of his life and 
 writings, from whence it appears that 
 Anselm was a learned and skilful theolo- 
 gian, and conducted his affairs with great 
 circumspection and obedience to the 
 papal see under William I. and II., and 
 Henry I.; and that he died on the 21st of 
 April, 1109, aged seventy-six: he says, 
 •' We have authentic accounts of many 
 admirable miracles wrought by this saint." 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 753. B. c. Romulus commenced the 
 foundations of Rome ; on this day his 
 brother Remus was slain by Romulus or 
 his workmen, for having ridiculed the 
 slenderness of the walls. Thus raised in 
 blood they became the sanctuary of re- 
 fugees and criminals, and to increase the 
 population neighbouring females were 
 forcibly dragged within its boundaries. 
 
 323. B.C. Alexander the Great, son of Phi- 
 lip of Macedondied. When a boy he tamed 
 Bucephalus, a horse which none of the 
 courtiers could manage, and Philip wept 
 that the kingdom of Macedonia would be 
 too small for such a son. He was under 
 Aristotle for five years; after the assas- 
 sination of his father, he slew his mur- 
 derers, succeeded him in the sovereignty, 
 conquered Thrace and Illyricum, destroy- 
 ed Thebes, became chief commander of 
 all the ftrces of Greece, conquered Darius 
 and all Minor Asia, subdued Egypt, Me- 
 dia, Syria, and Persia, visited the temple 
 of Jupiter Ammon, bribed the priests to 
 salute him as the son of that god, exact- 
 ed divine honours from his army, spread 
 his conquests over India, invaded Scy- 
 thia, visited the Indian ocean, and laden 
 with the spoils of India, returned to Ba- 
 
 bylon, where he died of drunkenness, in 
 the thirty-second year of his age. After 
 his death,all his family and infant children 
 were put to death, his generals quai relied 
 for the empire, and bloody wars distri- 
 buted the prize in shares to the sanguin- 
 ary winners. 
 
 1142. Peter Abelard, a learned doctor 
 of the church died, aged sixty-three. He 
 was the celebrated lover of the no less 
 celebrated Heloise, the niece of a canon, 
 who placed her under Abelard to be 
 taught philosophy, ofwhom she leained the 
 art of love; and preferring an infamous 
 reputation to the bonds of wedlock, 
 caused her tutor's ruin. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cyprus Narcisse. Narcissus Orti.ntalis 
 
 albns. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Anselm. 
 
 ^pn'I 22. 
 
 Sts. Sotor and Caiits, Popes, 2d Cent. 
 St. Cuius, Pope, A. D. 296. Sts 
 Azades, Tharba, 6fc., Martyrs in Per- 
 sia, A. D. 341. iS^*. Epipodius and 
 Alexander, 2d Cent. St. Theodo- 
 rus, of Siceon, Bishop, a. d. 613. St. 
 Opportnna, Abbess, a. d. 770. St. 
 Leonides, a. d. 202. St. Rufus, o 
 Ilufin, of Glendaloch, 
 
 ROOKS. — An Anecdote. 
 
 Amongst the deliramejita of the learned, 
 which have amused mankind, the follow- 
 ing instance merits a conspicuous rank. 
 Some years ago, there were several large 
 elm trees in the college garden, behind 
 the ecclesiastical court, Doctors Com- 
 mons, in which a number of rooks had 
 taken up their abode, forming in appear- 
 ance a sort of convocation of aerial eccle- 
 siastics. A young gentleman, who lodg- 
 ed in an attic, and was their ciose neigh 
 hour, frequently entertained himself with 
 thinning this covey of black game, by 
 means of a cross-bow. On the opposite 
 side lived a curious old civilian, who, ob- 
 serving from his study, that the rooks 
 often dropt senseless from their perch, or 
 as it may be said, without using a figure, 
 fiopp'd the twig, making no sign, nor any 
 sign being made to his vision to account 
 for the phenomenon, set his wits to work 
 to consider the cause. It was probably 
 during a profitless time of peace, and thf 
 
 247 
 
THE EVERY DAY BUOK.— APRIL 23. 
 
 doctor having plenty of leisure, weighed 
 the matter over and over, till he was at 
 length fully satisfied that he had made a 
 great ornithological discovery, that its 
 promulgation would give wings to his 
 fame, and that he was fated by means of 
 these rooks to say, 
 
 *' Volito vivus per era virum." 
 His goose-quill and foolscap were quickly 
 in requisition, and he actually wrote a 
 treatise, stating circumstantially what he 
 himself had seen, and in conclusion, giv- 
 ing it as the settled conviction of his 
 mind, that rooks were subject to 
 the falling sickness J* 
 
 SPARROWS. 
 
 Co-untry churchwardens and overseers 
 are encouraged by farmers to offer re- 
 wards for the destruction of these merry 
 twitterers, under the notion that they are 
 fell destroyers of their grain. Mr. Be- 
 wick has taken some interest in their be- 
 half, by stating a plain fact. He says : 
 
 " Most of the smaller birds are sup- 
 ported, especially when young, by a pro- 
 fusion of caterpillars, small worms and 
 insects ; on these they feed, and thus they 
 contribute to preserve the vegetable world 
 from destruction. This is contrary to the 
 commonly received opinion, that birds, 
 particularly sparrows, do much mischief 
 in destroying the labours of the gardener 
 and husbandman. It has been observed, 
 * that a SINGLE PAIR OF SPARROWS, dur- 
 ing the time they are feeding their young, 
 will destroy about roi'R thousand ca- 
 terpillars weekly'.' They likewise 
 feed their young with butterflies and 
 other winged insects, each of which, if 
 not destroyed in this manner, would be 
 productive of several hundreds of cater- 
 pillars. Let us not condemn a whole 
 species of animals, because, in some in- 
 stances, we have found them troublesome 
 or inconvenient. Of this we are sufH- 
 ciently sensible ; but the uses to which 
 they are subservient, in the grand econo- 
 mical distribution of nature, we cannot so 
 easily ascertain. We have already ob- 
 served that, in the destruction of cater- 
 pillars, sparrows are eminently service- 
 able to vegetation, and in this respect 
 alone, there is reason to suppose, suffi- 
 ciently re-pay the destruction they make 
 in the produce of the garden or the field. 
 The great table of nature is spread alike 
 
 to all, and is amply stored w.th every 
 thing necessary for the support of the 
 various families of the earth : it is owing 
 to the superior intelligence and industry 
 of man, that he is enabled to appropriate 
 so large a portion of the best gifts of pro- 
 vidence for his own subsistence and 
 comfort ; let him not tlipn think it waste, 
 that, in some instances, creatures inferior 
 to him in rank are permitted to partake 
 with him, nor let him grudge them their 
 scanty pittance ; but, considering them 
 only as the tasters of his full meal, let 
 him endeavour to imitate their cheerful- 
 ness, and lift up his heart in grateful ef- 
 fusions to Him, ' who fUeth all things 
 with plenteousness.' 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Wood Crowfoot. Ranunculus Anriconius 
 
 Dedicated, to St. Rufus 
 
 ^pn'l 23. 
 
 , 3, >?^8i 
 
 5/. George. St. Adalbert, Bp. a. d 
 997. St. Gerard, Bp. a. d. 994. St. 
 Ibar, or Ivor, Bp. in Ireland, about 500. 
 
 St. George the Martyr, 
 Patron of England. 
 Who was St. George? Butler says that 
 the Greeks long distinguished him by the 
 title of " The Great Martyr ;" that, among 
 other churches, five or six were formerly 
 dedicated to him at Constantinople ; that 
 he "seems" to have been the founder of 
 the church of St. George over " his 
 tomb" in Palestine; that one of liis 
 churches in Constantinople gave to the 
 Hellespont the name of" the Arm of St. 
 George;" that he is honoured as prin- 
 cipal patron of saints by several eastern 
 nations, paiticularly " the Georgians ;'' 
 that the Byzantine historians relate bat- 
 tles gained, and miracles won, by hh 
 intercession ; that he was celebrated in 
 France in the sixth century; that his 
 office is found in the sacramentary of the 
 (credulous) pope Gregory the Great ; 
 that certain of his (presumed) relics were 
 placed in a church at Paris, on its conse- 
 cration to St. Vincent ; that " he is said 
 to have been a great soldier ;" that he 
 was chosen by oui ancestois the tutelar 
 saint of England, under the first Norman 
 kings ; that the council at Oxford in 1222, 
 commanded his feast to be kept a holiday 
 of the lesser rank ; that undtsr his name 
 and ensign our Edsvard III. instituted 
 
 248 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOR.— APRIL 23 
 
 the most noble order of knighthood in 
 Europe; that this institution was fifty 
 years before that of St. Michael by Louis 
 XL of France, eighty years before the 
 order of the Golden Fleece by Philip the 
 Good, duke of Burgundy, one hundrerl 
 and ninety years before that of St. Anarew 
 by James L of Scotland, and o-^e hundred 
 
 and forty years before the oid^.r of St. 
 George by the emperor Frederick IV. ; 
 and that " the extraordinary devotion of 
 all Christendom to this saint is an authen- 
 tic proof how glorious his triumph and 
 name have always been in the church." 
 Still who u-as St. George ? 
 
 ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. 
 
 it is related of St. George,* that he 
 arrived at a city of Lybia called Sylene. 
 Near this city was a stagnant lake or 
 pond like a sea, wherein dwelt a dragon, 
 who was so fierce and venomous, that he 
 terrified and poisoned the whole country. 
 The people therefore assembled to slay 
 him ; but when they saw him, his ap- 
 
 * In the Golden Legend. 
 
 pearance was so horrible, that ihey fled. 
 Then the dragon pursued them even to 
 the city itself, and the inhabitants were 
 nearly destroyed by his very breath, and 
 suffered so much, that they were obliged 
 to give him two sheep every day to keep 
 him from doing them harm. At length 
 the number of sheep became so small, 
 that they could only give him one sheep 
 every day, and they were obliged tx) give 
 
 249 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 23. 
 
 him a man instead of the other : at last, 
 because all the men might not be eateii 
 lip, a law was made that they should 
 draw lots to give liim the youth and in- 
 fants of all ranks, and so the dragon was 
 fed with young gentlefolks and poor peo- 
 ple's children, till the lot fell upon the 
 king's daughter. Then the king was 
 very sorry, and begged the people to take 
 his gold and silver instead of h-is daugh- 
 ter, which the people would not accept, 
 because it was according to his own law ; 
 and the king wept very much, and begged 
 of the people to give the princess eight 
 days before she should be given to trie 
 dragon to be devoured, and the people 
 consented. And when the eight days 
 were gone, the king caused his daughter 
 to be richly dressed as if she were going 
 to her bridal, and having kissed her, he 
 gave her his blessing, and the people led 
 her to where the dragon was. St. (jeorge 
 had just come ; when he saw the princess, 
 and demanding why she was there, she 
 answered, " Go your way, fair young 
 man, that you perish not also." Then 
 again St. George demanded the reason 
 of her being there, and why she wept, 
 and endeavoured to comfort her ; and 
 when she saw he would not be satisfied, 
 she told him. Upon this St. George pro- 
 mised to deliver her ; but she could not 
 believe he had power to do her so great 
 a service, and tlierefore again begged him 
 to go away. And while they were talk- 
 ing the dragon appeared, and began to 
 run towards them ; but St. George being 
 on horseback, drew his sword and signed 
 himself with the cross, and rode violently, 
 and smiting the dragon with his spear, 
 wounded him so sorely that he threw him 
 down. Then St. George called to the 
 princess, to bind her girdle about the 
 dragon's neck, and not to be afraid ; and 
 when she had done so, " the dragon 
 folowed as it had been a naeke beest and 
 debonayre ;" and she led him into the 
 city, which when the people saw, they 
 fled for fear to the mountains and vallies, 
 till, being encouraged by St. George, 
 they returned, and he promised to slay 
 the dragon if they would believe and be 
 baptized. Then the king was baptized, 
 with upwards of 15,000 men, besides 
 women and children, and St. George slew 
 the dragon, and cut off his head; and the 
 people took four carts and drew the body 
 with oxen out of the city ; and the king 
 built a church, and dedicated it to our 
 Lady and St. George — ' This blyssyd 
 
 & holy martyr saynt George, is patron of 
 this realme of englond, & the crye of men 
 of warre. In the worshyp of whom is 
 founded the noble ordre of the gartre, & 
 also a noble college in the castel of 
 wyndsore by kynges of englonde, in 
 whiche college is the hert of saint George, 
 which Sygysmond the emperour of al- 
 mayne* brought, & gave it for a grete 
 & precyous relyke to kynge Henry the 
 fyfth ; & also the sayd Sygismond was 
 a broder of the said garter, & also there 
 is a pece of bis heed." 
 
 Butler informs us, that St. George, 
 was born in Cappadocia ; that he went 
 with his mother into Palestine, of which 
 country she was a native, where she had 
 a considerable estate, " which fell to her 
 son George," who was a soldier, and 
 became " a tribune or c lonel in the 
 army," wherein he was further promocea 
 by the emperor Dioclesian, to whom he 
 resigned his commissions and posts when 
 that emperor waged war against the 
 christian religion, and who threw him 
 into prison for remonstrating against 
 bloody edicts, and caused him to be be- 
 headed. This is all that Butler relates of 
 him, and this on the authority of what he 
 calls " the account given to us by Meta- 
 phrastes." According also to Butler, 
 St. George became the patron of the mili- 
 ta-ry because he had been military himself, 
 and his apparition encouraged " the 
 christian army in the holy war before the 
 battle of Antioch," which proved fortunate 
 under Godfrey of Bouillon ; and also be- 
 cause his app'arition inspirited Richard I. 
 in his expedition against the Saracens. 
 " St. George," says Butler, " is usually 
 painted on horseback, and tilting at a 
 dragon under his feet ; but this is no' 
 more than an emblematical figure, pur- 
 porting that, by his faith and christian 
 fortitude, he conquered the devil, called 
 the dragon in the Apocalypse." This is 
 very easily said, but not so easily proved, 
 nor has Butler in any way attempted to 
 prove it. To this assertion may be op- 
 posed the fact, that St. Michael is also 
 represented killing a dragon ; and the 
 present writer presumes to think, that 
 unless there be any valid objection to 
 mounting an angel on horseback, the 
 well-known legend of this archangel sup- 
 plies the clue to the pictorial represent- 
 ation of St. George ; or, in plain words, 
 
 * Gormary. 
 
 250 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 23. 
 
 that St. George and the dragon are neither 
 more nor less than St. Michael contend- 
 ing with the devil. Concerning this de- 
 vice, however, more cannot be observed 
 without excluding curious particulars. 
 
 There are many old ballads in honour 
 of the patron saint of England and his 
 
 feat. The ballad of " St. George and 
 the Dragon," which is not the oldest 
 begins with the first and ends with the 
 last of the following verses, and places 
 him above sir Bevis of Hampton, ana 
 other heroes of mighty doings in our old 
 romances. 
 
 Why should we boast of Arthur and his Knights, 
 Knowing how many Men have performed Fights T 
 Or why should we speak of Sir Lancelot de Lake, 
 Of Sir Tristram du Leon, that fought for Ladies Sake 1 
 Read in old stories, and there you shall see, 
 How St. George, St. George, he made the Dragon flee. 
 
 St. George he was for England, St. Dennis was for France ; 
 Sing Huni soil qui mal y peiise. 
 
 * • « » • 
 
 Mark Anthony, I'll warrant ye, play'd Feats with Egypt's Queen ; 
 
 Sir Eglemore, that valiant Knight, the like was never seen ; 
 
 Grim Gorgon's Might was known in Fight ; old Bevis most Men frighted 
 
 The Mirmidons and Prester Johns; why were not these Men knighted 1 
 
 Brave Spinola took in Breda, Nassau did it recover ; 
 
 But St. George, St. George, turn'd the Dragon over and over. 
 
 St. George he was for England, St. Dennis was for France ; 
 Sing, Huni suit qui vial y pense* 
 
 This latter verse is a modern interpola- 
 tion. Percy gives a purer version of the 
 old ballad.f 
 
 In the romance of the "Seven Cham- 
 pions of Christendom," St. George's 
 performances exceed that of the other 
 champions ; the ballad, bearing the same 
 title, distinguishes him in like manner, 
 and it is there sung, that in his fight with 
 the dragon. 
 
 When many hardy Strokes he'd dealt, 
 
 And could not pierce his Hide, 
 He run his Sword up to the Hilt, 
 
 In at the Dragon's Side ; 
 By which he did his Life destroy, 
 
 Which cheer'd the drooping King ; 
 This caus'd an universal Joy, 
 Sweet Peals of Bells did ring.t 
 
 Saint George was the ancient English 
 war-cry .§ Shakspeare so uses it in his 
 " Richard III. ;" he makes Richmond 
 conclude his address to his soldiery, with 
 
 Sound, drums and trumpets, bold and 
 cheerfully, 
 
 God and Saint George, Richmond and vic- 
 tory. 
 
 So also Richard, after he receives the 
 news of Stanley's defection, exclaims, 
 
 * Collection of Old Ballade, 3 vols. 
 
 T In liis Reliqiies. 
 
 t Coll. Old I allads. 
 
 { Fosbroke's Diet. Antiq., Cralibe's Techn. Diet. 
 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes . 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint 
 
 George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragon* ' 
 Upon them ! 
 
 In the 10th year of king Henry VII. 
 the Irish were prohibited from using 
 their favourite battle-cry of Aboo, or 
 Aher. Every native of that country was 
 enjoined against using that word, or 
 " other words like or otherwise contrary 
 to the king's laws, his crown and dignity 
 and peace, but to call on St. George, or 
 the name of his Sovereign Lord, the King 
 of England, for the time being,'' &c.* 
 There is also this injunction to the Eng- 
 lish in an old art of war : "Item that all 
 souldiers entering into battaile, assault, 
 skirmish, or other faction of armes, shall 
 have for their common cry and word, 
 iS^ George forward, or. Upon them St. 
 George, whereby the soldier is much com- 
 forted, and the enemie dismaied by calling 
 to minde the ancient valour of England, 
 which with that name has so often been 
 victorious."f So much for the present 
 concerning St. George. 
 
 His majesty, king George IV., who was 
 born on the 12th of August, changed the 
 annual celebration of his birth-day, to 
 St. George's-day. 
 
 « Brady's Clavis Coll. 
 
 t Ware's Glossary, from Warton, &c. which Glos- 
 sary also see further concerning St. George. 
 
 251 
 
THE E^ERY-DAY BOOK.— APHIL 23. 
 
 The mail-coaches, according to annual 
 custom on the king s birth-day, go in pro- 
 cession from Millbank to Lombard-street. 
 At about twelve o'clock, the horses be- 
 longing to the different mails, with new 
 harness, and the postmen and postboys 
 on horseback, arrayed in their new scar- 
 let coats and jackets, proceed from Lom- 
 bard-street to Millbank, and there dine. 
 At this place the coaches are fiesh painted ; 
 from thence the procession being arranged 
 begins to move about five o'clock in the 
 afternoon, headod by the general postmen 
 on horseback. The mails follow them, 
 filled with the wives and children, friends 
 and relations, of the coachmen and 
 guards; while the postboys sounding 
 their bugles and cracking their whips, 
 bring up the rear. From the commence- 
 ment of the procession, the bells of the 
 different churches ring cut merrily, and 
 continue their rejoicing peels till it arrives 
 at the General P'ost-office in Lombard- 
 street, from whence they sparkle abroad 
 to ail parts of the kingdom. Great 
 crowds assemble to witness the cavalcade 
 as it passes througli the principal streets 
 of the metropolis, viz. Parliament-street, 
 the Strand, Fleet-street, Ludgate-hill, St. 
 Paul's cliurch-yard, and Cheapside. The 
 clean and cheerful appearance of the 
 coachmen and guards, each with a large 
 bouquet of flowers in his bright scarlet 
 coat, the beauty of the cattle, and the 
 general excellence of the equipment, pre- 
 sent a most agreeable spectacle to every 
 eye and mind, tliat can be gratified by 
 seeing and reflecting on the advantages 
 derived to trade and social intercourse by 
 this magnificent establishment. 
 
 On the same day the Society of Anti- 
 quaries, by their charter of incorporation, 
 meet at their apartments in Somerset- 
 place, to elect a president, council, and 
 other offico,-s for the year ensuing, and 
 dine togetho"-, according to annual cus- 
 tom. 
 
 CuRoxoLor.y. 
 
 1616. Miguel Cervantes de Saavedra, 
 fiecelebiated Spanish author, died. Cer- 
 rantes was born in 1549; he is best 
 Known in England by his " Don Quixote," 
 which has rendered him popular through- 
 out Europe. 
 
 1616. On the same day with Cervantes 
 m Spain, Shakspeare died in England, 
 It was the anniversary of his birth- 
 
 day, whereon he had completed the 
 fifty-second year of his age. Who is qua- 
 lified to praise him, whose supereminent 
 genius all men acknowledge and rever- 
 ence ? To his greatness he added a 
 quality it is seldom allied with. "No 
 man had ever fewer enemies alive or 
 dead ; and this is the more remarkable as 
 he was himself prone to parody, and must 
 therefore have mortified many of his con- 
 temporaries."* 
 
 Goodness and he fill up one monument. 
 
 Shak.tpc'are's Jest Book. 
 Under this title a book was reprinted in 
 1815, from one lately discovered bearing 
 the title of 
 
 ^ a. C. iilcri) Cati)£j. 
 
 Referring to tlie preface of the reprint 
 for its value in support of the opinion 
 corroborated by other reprints, that Shaks- 
 peare was destitute of tiie learning attri- 
 buted to him by some writers, an ex- 
 tract (with the spelling modernized) is 
 taken from it as a specimen of the wit, 
 and morals which amused our ancestors : 
 Of the ivoman that followed her fourth 
 hnnbancVx bier and wept. 
 
 A woman there was which had four 
 husbands. It fortuned also tiiat her fourth 
 husband died and was brought to church 
 upon the bier, whom this woman followed, 
 and made great moan, and waxed very 
 sorry, insomuch that her neighbours 
 thought she would swoon and die for sor- 
 row ; wherefore one of her gossips came 
 to her and spake to her in her ear, and 
 bade her for God's sake comfort herself 
 and refrain that lamentation, or else it 
 would hurt her, and peradventure put her 
 in jeopardy of her life. To whom thi 
 woman answered and said " I wys gwod 
 gossip I nave great cause to mourn if ye 
 knew all, for I have buried three hus 
 bands beside this man, but I was never 
 in the case that I am now, for there was 
 not one of them but when that I followed 
 the corse to church, yet I w;u9 sure of 
 another husband, before the corse came 
 out of my house ; and now I am sure of 
 no other husband, and therefore ye may 
 be sure I have great cause to be sad ana 
 heavy." 
 
 By this tale ye may see, that the old 
 proverb is true, that it is as great a pity 
 10 see a woman weep, as a goose to go 
 barefoot. 
 
 * Mr. Gifford, Life i>f Ben Jonson, 
 
 252 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 2S. 
 
 If Ihe moral deduced by the story-teller 
 from the tale just related is satirical on 
 the sex, it should be remembered, that he 
 wrote at a period when jokes were homely, 
 and less felt than in our refined times. 
 To talk now of " no joke like a /r«e joke " 
 is scarcely passable, unless the applica- 
 tion be in itself true, and then it is no 
 longer a joke. 
 
 WIND. 
 
 A resident on the banks of the Thames 
 at Kingston observes, that when the swan 
 flies any distance against the ivind, how- 
 ever serene and fine the weather may 
 appear, a wind, amounting almost to a 
 liurricane, is always certain to ensue 
 within twenty-four hours afterwards, and 
 generally within twelve. If they fly tvith 
 the ivind, which rarely occurs, it seems to 
 be merely for their amusement, or for 
 reaching some certain spot in a quicker 
 way than floating down the tide, and in 
 this case no change takes place. The 
 gale is usually unaccompanied by wet, 
 though sometimes a heavy shower will be 
 brought up with it.* 
 
 According to our old works on hus- 
 bandry, we have many prognostics of 
 rain from the motions of animals. One 
 of them observes thus : "In a herd of 
 cows, as they are on their march towards 
 their pastures in a morning, if the bull 
 lead the van, and keep back his company 
 that they go not before him, it is a prog- 
 nostic of rainy or tempestuous weather ; 
 but if he be careless and let them go at 
 random, the contrary. Or if they eat more 
 than ordinary, or lick their hoofs all 
 about, rain follows forthwith. If they 
 run to and fro, flinging and kicking, and 
 extending their tails, tempests usually 
 follow."* 
 
 The same writer says that, " If the 
 swallow fly low, and near the waters, 
 it presageth rain : the coming of the 
 swallow is a true presage of the spring." 
 It has been already remarked, that the 
 15th of April, from the usual appearance 
 of this remarkable bird about that time, 
 is called " swallcw-dav." 
 
 THE SWALLOW. 
 
 The preceamg engraving is copied from 
 one which illustrates a scientific and 
 agreeable investigation concerning the 
 harbinger of spring, by Dr. Forster ; from 
 
 * Atlienxum. 
 
 which dissertation the following interest- 
 ing particulars are also deriveil.f 
 
 The swallow makes its first appearance 
 
 * Worliilge's Mystery of Husbandry. 
 + Obs--ivati<ins on the Brumal Ketroat of the Swa 
 low, by Tlio«. Forsier, F. L. .S. &c. fifth eait. iSl7. 
 
 253 
 
THE E\£RY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 23. 
 
 in Great Britain, eaily in spring ; remains 
 with us durinaj summer, and disappears 
 in autumn. The four species which in- 
 habit this island, are also found during 
 summer, in almost every other region in 
 Europe and Asia, where their manners 
 and habits are nearly the same as in this 
 country. In the more s lUthern parts of 
 the Continent, they appear somewliat 
 earlier than in England. The distinguish- 
 ing marks of the swallow tribe are — 
 a small bill ; a wide mouth ; a head ra- 
 ther large in proportion to the bulk of the 
 body, and somewhat flattish ; a neck 
 scarcely visible ; a short, broad, and cloven 
 tongue ; a tail mostly forked ; short legs ; 
 very long wings ; a rapid and contmued 
 flight. 
 
 The house or Chimney Swallow, hirun- 
 do rustica, (figured above) is the most 
 common, as well as the best known. Its 
 length is about six inches, its breadth 
 from tip to tip of the wings, when ex- 
 tended, about twelve inches; the upper 
 parts of its body and wings are black ; 
 the under parts whitish ash-colour ; the 
 head black •, the forehead and chin mark- 
 ed with a red spot ; the tail very much 
 forked. It generally arrives earlier than 
 the rest of its genus, and mostly before 
 the middle of April. It builds its nest in 
 chimnies, at the distance of about a foot 
 from the top, or under the roofs of barns 
 and outhouses, has commonly two broods 
 in the year, and usually disappears in the 
 latter end of September, or beginning of 
 October. Like all birds of the swallow 
 tribe, it is perpetually on the wing, and 
 lives upon insects, which it catches flying. 
 It has been calculated from the velocuy 
 of this bird on the wing, and its flight in 
 the air for fourteen or fifteen hours to- 
 gether, in search of food, that it flies from 
 two to three hundred miles m that time. 
 As previously observed by an early writer, 
 before rain it may often be seen skimming 
 round the edge of a lake or river, and not 
 imfrequently dipping the tips of its wings, 
 or under part of its body into the watei, 
 as it passes over its surface. Dr. Forster 
 cites Aratus and Virgil in corroboration, 
 that ancient authors had observed the 
 same fact. He describes the Martin, or 
 Martlett, hirundo vrbica, as being rather 
 less than the swallow, and as easily dis- 
 tinguishable from it, by the bright white 
 colour of all the under parts of the body. 
 This species usually makes its first appear- 
 ance early in May, though sometimes 
 sooner, and leaves us towards the latter end 
 
 of October. It builds under the eaves o1 
 houses, in crags of rocks and precipices 
 near the sea, has oftentimes three broods 
 in the year, and constructs its curious 
 nest like that of the swallow, with mud 
 and straw, lined with feathers on the in- 
 side, lie says that the Swift, hirundo 
 apiis, is the largest of the genus, being 
 seven inches in length, and nearly eigh- 
 teen in breadth, when its wings are ex- 
 tended, and that it is of a sooty black co- 
 lour, with a whitish spot on its breast. It 
 arrives towards the middle of May, and 
 departs about the middle of August. It 
 builds in holes of rocks, in ruined towers, 
 and under the tiling of houses ; and has 
 only one brood in the year. He observes 
 of the Bank or Sand Martin, hirundo ri- 
 paria, that it is the smallest of the genus, 
 is of a dusky brown colour above, and 
 whitish beneath ; and that it builds its 
 nest in holes, which it bores in banks of 
 sand, and is said to have only one brood 
 in the year. 
 
 No subject has more engaged the at- 
 tention of naturalists, in all ages, than 
 tlie brumal retreat of the swallow ; nei- 
 ther is there any subject on which more 
 various and contrary opinions have been 
 entertained. Some have supposed that 
 they retire at the approach of winter tc 
 the inmost recesses of rocks and moun- 
 tains, and that they there remain in a tor- 
 pid state until spring. Others have con- 
 jectured that these birds immerse them- 
 selves in the water at the approach of 
 winter, and that they remain at the bot- 
 tom in a state of torpidity, until they are 
 again called forth by the influence of the 
 vernal sun. Dr. Forster admits that there 
 are several instances on record of theii 
 having been found in such situations, 
 clustered together in great numbers, and 
 that, on being brought before the fire, 
 they have revived and flown away. But he 
 thinks that few of the accounts were well 
 authenticated; and that the celebrated 
 John Hunter and Mr. Pearson clearly 
 prove, from various experiments, that 
 these birds cannot continue long under 
 •water without being drowned. The 
 doctor does not deny that swallows have 
 occasionally been found under water ; 
 but he attributes their having been found 
 in such situations to mere accident. As 
 it is well known that, towards the latter 
 end of autumn, swallows frequently roost 
 by the sides of lakes and rivers ; he there- 
 fore supposes that a number of the.^e 
 bii Js had retired to roost on the banks of 
 
 254 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —APRIL 23. 
 
 some shallow and muddy river at low 
 .ide; that they had been induced by the 
 sold to creep among the reeds or rushes 
 which might grow in the shallow parts of 
 the river, and that while in that situation, 
 driven into a state of torpidity by the 
 cold, they had been overwhelmed, and 
 perVitps washed into the current, by the 
 coming in of the tide. He alludes to 
 occasional instances of other birds besides 
 swallows having been found in a state of 
 torpor during winter, and imagines that 
 fisheimen had availed themselves of the 
 coming in of the tide to catch fish, and 
 that the swallows, before supposed to 
 have been carried into the current, coming 
 in contact with their nets, were conse- 
 quently drawn out by them, and, not 
 having been long under water, were not 
 completely drowned. There are several 
 circumstances which seem to favour the 
 opinion, that these birds remain concealed 
 during winter in this country. Among 
 others, the most striking is, that swallows, 
 liiriindines rusticae, as well as martins, 
 hirundbies vrbicae, have sometimes ap- 
 peared very .ate in autumn, a consider- 
 able time after they were all supposed to 
 have taken their departure ; and that they 
 have likewise been found concealed in 
 the crevices of rocks, in holes of old 
 decayed trees, in old ruined towers, and 
 under the thatch of houses. Dr. Forster 
 further presumes, that those birds, which 
 have been found in a state of torpidity, 
 had, owing to some accident, been hatched 
 later in the year than ordinary, and con- 
 sequently had not acquired sufficient 
 strength to undergo the fatigue of a long 
 journey upon the wing, at the time when 
 the migration of the rest of their species 
 took place; and that to shelter themselves 
 from the inclem-ency of the weather, they 
 had sought retreats wherein, from cold 
 and hunger, they had sunk into a state of 
 torpidity. " For several years past," says 
 Dr. Forster, "I have observed that chim- 
 ney swallows have appeared first in cold 
 weather. I have sometimes seen them 
 as early as April the ^d, when the mer- 
 cury in the thermometer has been below 
 the freezing point. On the other hand, I 
 have often taken notice, that during a 
 continuance of mild weather foi the space 
 of d fortnight, in the month of April, not 
 so much as one swallow has appeared." 
 He remarks, that towards the latter end 
 of September, swallows, as well as mar- 
 tins, congregate in great numbers, and 
 are frequently seen sitting on the tops of 
 
 houses, and on rocksnear the sea. These 
 meetings usually continue for several 
 days, after which they suddenly disap- 
 pear. They seldom perch on trees, ex- 
 cept in autumn, shortly previous to their 
 disappearance, and they then choose 
 dead trees in preference. They some- 
 times sit on trees earlier in summer, 
 when the weather has been very cold. 
 
 Swifts begin to assemble in large 
 bodies previous to their departure, early 
 in July : their numbers daily increase, 
 and they soar higher in the air, with 
 shriller cries, and fly differently from their 
 usual mode. Such meetings continue 
 fill towards the middle of August, after 
 which they are seldom seen. Sand mar- 
 tins likewise flock together in autumn. 
 Some years ago they appeared in great 
 numbers in London and its neighbour 
 liood. Dr. Forster clearly shows that 
 swallows are birds of passage, and pro- 
 duces thp accounts of mariners, who had 
 seen these ^irds many hundred miles out 
 at sea, and on whose ships they had 
 alighted to rest, almost exhausted with 
 fotigue and hunger. By this means we 
 may be enabled, in some measure, to 
 determine to what quarter of the globe 
 they retire, when they leave Europe in 
 autumn. Adanson, in his "Voyage to 
 Senegal," relates, that on the 6th of Octo- 
 ber, being about fifty leagues from the 
 coast, between the island of Goree and 
 Senegal, four swallows alighted on the 
 shrouds of his ship, which he easily 
 caught, and knew to be European swal- 
 lows. He adds, that they never appear 
 at Senegal, until the winter season, and 
 that they do not build nests as in Europe, 
 but roost every night on the sand by the 
 sea shore. Sir Charles Wager, first lord 
 of the admiralty, relates, that in one of 
 his voyages home, as he came into sound- 
 ings of our channel, a great flock of swal- 
 lows settled on his rigging* every rope 
 was covered with them : they hung on 
 one another like a swarm of bees : the 
 decks and carvings were filled with them : 
 they seemed spent and famished, and, 
 to use his own expression, were only 
 feathers and bones ; but, recruited with a 
 night's rest, they resumed their flight in 
 the morning. A similar circumstance 
 happened to captain Wright, in a voyage 
 from Philadelphia to London. 
 
 There are many anecdotes of sagacity 
 in these birds. For several years some 
 svi-allows had built their mud habitations 
 in the window frames of a house at Beau- 
 
 255 
 
THE EVERf-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 24,25. 
 
 maris, m Anglesea. These dry, comfort- 
 able, and protected abodes, were envied 
 by the less favoured sparrows of the same 
 place, who embraced the opportunity 
 (while the unsuspected swallows were 
 skimming o'er the wide bosom of the 
 mam) and confidently took possession, 
 thinking also to establish an undoubted 
 settlement by depositing their eggs; the 
 swallows finding their rightful mansions 
 engrossed by other tenants, seemed re- 
 conciled to the ejectment; but to the 
 astonishment of the lady residing in the 
 house, no sooner had the sparrows hatched 
 their young, than the swallows gathered 
 all their forces and plastered up the en- 
 trance of the nest containing the old 
 sparrow and her brood, where they pe- 
 rished. 
 
 In most parts of the country, martins 
 and swallows are considered sacred birds, 
 and to kill one is deemed a greater sin 
 than the killing of other equally harmless 
 birds. Children of all ages in the coun- 
 ties of Berks, Buckingham, and Oxford, 
 repeat the following couplet, which if 
 not taught, is always sanctioned by their 
 parents : 
 
 The Martin and the Swallow, 
 
 Are God Almighty's birds to hollow. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Harebell. Hi/acinthns non scriptus. 
 Dedicated to St. George. 
 
 ^pril 24. 
 
 St. Fidclis. St. Mellitus; Abp. of Can- 
 terbury, A. D. 624. Sts. Bona, or 
 Beuve, a. d. 673, and Doda, Abbesses. 
 B. Robert, Abbot, a. d. 1067. 
 
 St. Fiddis. 
 According to Butler this saint was a 
 missionary among the Calvinists in Swit- 
 zerland, was killed by their soldiers in 
 1622, he and his relics worked three 
 hundred and five miracles, and he was 
 canonized in 1729 by pope Benedict 
 XIII. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Blackthorn. Prunns Sptnosa. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Fidelis. 
 
 gpn'l 25. 
 
 St. Mark, Evangelist. St. Macull, or 
 Mucallius, or Maughold, 5th Cent. St. 
 
 Anianus. St. Phmbad'ius, or Fiari 
 Bp. A. D. 392. St. Ivia, or Ivo, Bp, 
 7th Cent. St. Kebius, Bp. 4th Cent. 
 
 St. Mark. 
 
 Mr. Audley says, " It is generally al- 
 lowed, that iMark, mentioned i Pet. v. 13, 
 is the Evangelist, but it has been doubled 
 whether he be the same as John Mark, 
 mentioned in the Acts, and in some of 
 Paul's epistles. Dr Lardner thinks there 
 is but one Mark in the New Testament, 
 John Mark, the evangelist, and fellow- 
 labourer of Paul Barnabas and Peter. 
 He was the son of Mary, a pious woman 
 of Jerusalem, at whose house the disci- 
 ples used to meet. It is not known at 
 what period Mark became a follower of 
 Christ. His gospel was probably written 
 about the year 63 or 64, and it has been 
 said, that Mark going into Egypt first 
 preached the gospel which he had written, 
 and planted there many churches. He 
 does appear to have been a martyr; but 
 died in the eighth year of Nero, and was 
 buried at Alexandria." Butler says, 
 " It is certain that he was appointed by 
 St. Peter, bishop of Alexandria," that he 
 was martyred in the year 68, and that 
 when he was discovered by his persecu- 
 tors, he was "offering to God the prayer 
 of oblation or the mass." So that we 
 are to believe from Butler, that there was 
 the " mass " in Mark's time I 
 
 St. Anuinus, a. d. 86. 
 Alban Butler gravely quotes the " Acts 
 of St Mark " to acquaint us that St. 
 Anianus, whom he calls the second bishop 
 of Alexandria, " was a shoemaker of that 
 city, whose hand being wounded with an 
 awl, St. Mark healed when he first entered 
 the city : such was his fervour and pro- 
 gress in virtue and learning, that St. Mark 
 constituted him bishop of Alexandria 
 during his absence; and Anianus go- 
 verned that great church four years 
 with him, and eighteen years and seven 
 months after his death." Robinson 
 lowers the inflation of Butler's language 
 by stating that Mark, as he was walking 
 in Alexandria, " burst the stitching of his 
 shoe, so that he could not proceed till it 
 was repaired ; the nearest cobler v;as the 
 man ; he mended the shoe or sandal, or 
 whatever it was ; the man was taught the 
 gospel by Mark; he taught others; and 
 this was the first pontiff of Alexandria, 
 that is, the first regular teacher of a few 
 poor people at Alexandria, who perad- 
 venture had no other cathedral than a 
 
 256 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25. 
 
 garret.: a teacher of primitive Christianity 
 is not to be confounded with a patriarch 
 of Alexandria."* This is a very different 
 picture from that of the " great church " 
 represented by Butler. In truth, ihe early 
 christian pastors were poor and lowly 
 men, and hence the ideas we affix to the 
 denominations which they and their 
 flocks receive from catholic writers should 
 be derived from plain common-sense 
 views of their real situations, so far as 
 they can be ascertained. 
 
 SHOES AND SANDALS. 
 
 Shoes or slippers were worn in the 
 
 East, but sandals, which leave the toes 
 bare, very seldom. The Egyptians made 
 their shoes of papyrus or palm leaves. 
 The Greeks and Romans of both sexes 
 wore rich sandals of gold, silk, or other 
 precious stuffs; the soles were of cork, 
 which for that reason was called sandal 
 wood, and they were, in general, at least 
 one finger thick ; sometimes they sewed 
 fiv( .oles one over another. They were 
 covered within and without with leather 
 broader than tlie cork. Sandals were 
 among the early, but not the later, An?lo- 
 Saxons.* 
 
 A CURIOUS OLD SANDAL. 
 
 • KobinsoR's Ecclet. Reteurches, 42. 
 
 * Foebroke'a Uict. Antiq< 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 257 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25. 
 
 The preceding cut is of a " very curious 
 sandal," in tiiree different views, from one 
 made of leather, partly gilt, and variously 
 coloured. It was formerly in the posses- 
 sion of Mr. Bailey, leather-stainer, Little 
 Wild-street, Drury-lane, and afterwards in 
 that of Mr. Samuel Ireland, of Norfolk- 
 street, by whose permission, an engrav- 
 mg on copper was made by Mr. J. T. 
 Smith of the British Museum, and from 
 this the present representation is given. 
 The age of the sandal is not by the writer 
 determinable, but as a remarkable relic of 
 antiquity, its form and make deserve pre- 
 servation. It will be observed, that it be- 
 longed to the left foot of the wearer; so 
 that if other evidence could not be ad- 
 duced, this is proof that " rights and lefts" 
 are only " an old, old, very old'' fashion 
 revived. 
 
 The shoes of Bernard, king of Italy, 
 found in his tomb, were " right and 
 left :" the soles were of wood, the upper 
 part red leather, laced with thongs, and 
 they fitted so closely, that the order of the 
 toes, terminating in a point at the great 
 toe, might easily be discovered.* Stubbs, 
 the satirist in Shakspeare's time, de- 
 scribes cork shoes or pantofles, (slip- 
 pers) as bearing up their wearers two 
 .nches or more from the ground ; as of 
 various colours, and raised, carved, cut, 
 or stitched ; as frequently made of velvet, 
 embroidered with the precious metals; 
 and when fastened with strings, covered 
 with enormous and valuable roses of rib- 
 band curiously ornamented. " It is re- 
 markable that, as in the present age, both 
 shoes and slippers were worn shaped 
 after the right and left foot. Shakespeare 
 describes his smith as 
 
 ' Standing on slippers, which his nimble 
 
 haste 
 Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet : — 
 
 and Scott, in his * Discoverie of Witch- 
 craft,' observes, that he who receiveth a 
 mischance * will consider, whether he put 
 not on his shirt wroxg side outwards, or 
 his left shoe on hit right foot.'' "^ 
 
 Some light may be thrown on the en- 
 graving by an extract from an heraldic 
 writer: " He beareth or, two sandals sa- 
 ble, buckles or tyes argent. This was the 
 ancient way of securing the feet of travel- 
 lers from the hardness of the country pas- 
 sage; and consisted of nothing else but a 
 sole, (either of leather or wood) to which 
 
 was made fast 2 or 3 tyes or latches which 
 was buckled on the top of the foot ; the 
 better sort adorned these latches with 
 imbrauthered (embroidered) work, and set 
 them with stones." Whence it appears 
 that the engraving represents such a san- 
 dal " of the better sort." The same au- 
 thor mentions three sandals sa6/(?, buckled 
 and adorned or, on a field azure " borne 
 by Palmer."* Ladies may be amused by 
 looking at the form, as placed before his 
 readers, of a shoe which the author just 
 cited says was "of the gentest (genteelest) 
 fashion" of his time. 
 
 Tliis was the fashion that beautified the 
 feet of the fair in the reign of king Wil- 
 liam and queen Mary. The old " Deputy 
 for the kings of arras" is minutely diffuse 
 on the " gentle craft :" he engraves the 
 form of " a pair of wedges," which he 
 says " is to raise up a shooe in the instep 
 when it is too straight for the top of the 
 foot ;" and thus compassionates ladies' 
 sufferings. — " Shoomakers love to put 
 ladies in their stocks; but these wedges, 
 like merciful justices upon complaint, 
 soon do ease and deliver them." If the eye 
 turns to the cut — to the cut of the sole, 
 with the " line of beauty" adapted by the 
 cunning workman's skill to stilt the fe- 
 male foot — if the reader behold that asso- 
 ciation, let wonder cease, that a venera- 
 ble master in coat-armour should bend 
 his quarterings to the quartering of a 
 lady's shoe, and forgetful of heraldic 
 forms, condescend from his "high estate" 
 to the use of similitudes. 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 The difference of opinion respecting 
 the true time of Easter, in the year 1825, 
 and the explanation at p 416 of the error 
 at p. 190, as to the rule for finding this 
 feast have occasioned various letters to 
 the editor, from which he selects three, in 
 order to further elucidate and close the 
 subject. The first is a lively introduc- 
 tion. 
 
 * Fosbroke's Dirt. Antiq. 
 
 t Ur. Drake's StiaKspeare am his Timi 
 
 * Holme's Acad, of Armoric. 
 
 258 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every- Dmj Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 Tn your fourteenth number, you accuse 
 the almanac-makers of having thought 
 good to fix Easter-day on the 3rd of 
 April instead of the 10th, on which day, 
 you say, according to the act of parlia- 
 ment and the rubric of the church, Easter- 
 day ought to be celebrated. This state- 
 ment is calculated to "unsettle the faith 
 of thousands in their almanac-maker ;" 
 for, sure enough, the almanac-maker ap- 
 pears to have made Easter-day fall on the 
 day of the full moon, instead of the week 
 after; I therefore fully acquit you of all 
 intention to mislead your readers, and slan- 
 der the almanac-maker ; and yet you most 
 certainly have done both from not suffi- 
 ciently taking into your consideration the 
 omnipotence of parliament, especially m 
 astronomical matters. You may possi- 
 bly recollect, that, even a few years back, 
 parliament, for the purpose I think of 
 protecting game from poachers, declared 
 that night should commence, during the 
 summer month, before the sun thought 
 proper to set. Now, in defiance of those 
 matter-of-fact gentlemen, the almanac- 
 makers, the act of parliament for the uni- 
 formity of worship, has this year appoint- 
 ed the paschal full moon for the 2d of 
 April instead of the 3rd, and thereby con- 
 verted the 3rd into Easter Sunday. The 
 statute of 1 4 Car. II. says nothing about 
 Easter Sunday, but it orders the Book of 
 Common Prayer to be joined and an- 
 nexed to the act, so that the rubric has 
 the force and omnipotence of an act of 
 parliament to alter the course of the moon, 
 and to regulate its wane and increase. 
 
 The rubric exercises this power, by 
 compelling you to look out for the full 
 moon in certain tables of its own concoct- 
 ing, and does not allow you to consult the 
 almanac. The paschal full moon must 
 be ascertained by discovering the golden 
 number of the year, (for which a rule is 
 given,) and the day set next that Golden 
 Number (in the table before-mentioned,) 
 is, by the omnipotence of parliament, de- 
 clared to be the full moon day. The 
 Golden Number for the present year is 
 according to the rule 2, and the day fixed 
 against that number is April 2d, and is 
 therefore the paschal full moon in spite of 
 the almanac-makers. The full moon being 
 fixed thus by government, Easter-day is 
 ascertained by finding the Sunday letter by 
 another rule, according to which B is the 
 
 Sunday letter for the present year, ana '.he 
 day of the month affixed to the first B, 
 after the act of parliament full moon, i? 
 Easter Sunday ; unluckily this letter B 
 has chanced to fall upon the almanac 
 maker's full moon, viz. the 3rd of April 
 but surely you are too reasonable a man 
 to blame them for that : remember, how- 
 ever loyal they may be, they cannot com- 
 pel the sun to set at eight o'clock on the 
 longest day, nor persuade the moon to at 
 tain her full a moment before it pleases 
 her variable ladyship. 
 I am, sir, 
 Your much amused, and constant reader, 
 Causidicus. 
 
 Tlie next communication is in further 
 support of the almanac-maker's Easter. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Daij Book. 
 
 Sir 
 It appears tne autnor of the article 
 " Easter," in the Every-Day Book, p 
 416, thinks the almanac-makers wrong in 
 fixing Easter Sunday, for 1825, on the 
 3rd of April, when the full moon took 
 place at 6 h. 23 m. in the morning of that 
 very day. He probably was not aware, 
 that the astronomical day commences at 
 12 at noon, and ends the next noon. 
 The 2d of April (as an astronomical day,) 
 commenced on the Saturday, and ended 
 on the Sunday at noon. The festivals 
 being regulated according to this astrono- 
 mical division of time, it follows that the 
 almanac-makers were correct in consi- 
 dering the full moon to take place on Sa- 
 turday, the 2d of April, and in fixing 
 Easter Sunday for the 3rd of April. I 
 trust you will find it worth while to insert 
 this correction of your statement, from 
 
 A CONSTANT READER. 
 
 To the latter correspondent's observa- 
 tions, this answer has been received from 
 the gentleman to whom it became the 
 editor's duty to transmit it for consider- 
 ation 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 The object of those who fixed the aay 
 for the celebration of Easter, was to pre- 
 vent the full moon being on the Sunday 
 on which the offices for the Resurrection 
 were to be performed, and the custom oc 
 astronomers has nothing to do with the 
 question. The full moon according to 
 them might be on the twenty-third houi 
 
 259 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25. 
 
 of the Saturday, but this would be eleven 
 o'clock of Saturday, at which time the 
 Romish and English churches would be 
 performing the offices of the Resurrection; 
 this was the point to be avoided, and this 
 is done by the ecclesiastical canon and 
 the act of parliament. 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF THE ARTICLE ON EASTER. 
 
 In this correspondence Easter is disposed 
 of. The rubric clearly states the rule for 
 finding the festival, and the last letter 
 represents the ground whereon it was 
 deemed expedient that the church should 
 celebrate it according to that rule. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1595. Torquatus Tasso, the poet, died 
 at Rome. He was born, in 1544, at Sor- 
 rento in Naples, wrote verses at nine 
 years of age, became a student at law, 
 and composed the " Rinaldo" at seven- 
 teen. Although his celebrated epic " Je- 
 rusalem Delivered" is that whereon his 
 poetical fame is chiefly grounded, yet his 
 " Aminta," and other pieces are rich in 
 fancy and beautiful in style ; he was also 
 excellent in prose. The most remarkable 
 feature in his character was a hopeless 
 passion for the princess Eleanora, sister 
 of the duke of Ferrara, that he conceived 
 early in life, and nourished till his death. 
 
 1800. William Cowper, the poet, 
 died at Dereham, in Norfolk ; he was born 
 November, 26, 1731, at Berkhamstead, in 
 Hertfordshire. When a child he was shy 
 and diffident. " His own forcible ex- 
 pression," says Hayley, '' represented him 
 at Westminster-school as not daring to 
 raise his eye above the shoe-buckle of the 
 elder boys, who were too apt to tyrannize 
 over his gentle spirit." Fear of personal 
 publicity increased with his years. At 
 thirty-one it was necessary that he should 
 appear at the bar of the House of Loids, 
 to entitle himself to the appointment of 
 clerk of the journals which had been ob- 
 tained for him, he was incapable of the 
 effort, his terror overwhelmed his reason, 
 and he was subjected to confinement till 
 his 'acuities recovered. Morbid glooms 
 and horrors of the imagination clouded 
 his mind throughout life, and he more 
 than once attempted self-destruction. 
 When not subjected to these dreadful af- 
 fections he was cheerful and amiable. 
 Innocence of heart and extreme modesty 
 were the most remarkable features in his 
 cnaracter. His poetry is in the hands of 
 every body; its popularity is the best 
 praise of its high merits. He was enabled 
 
 by his fortune to indulge his love of re- 
 tirement, surrounded by a fev/ friends 
 whom he ardently loved. He speaks of 
 himself, in a letter to Mr. Park, so as to 
 exemplify his usual habits — " From the 
 agp of twenty to thirty-three I was oc 
 cupied, or ought to have been, in the 
 study of the law; from thirty-three to 
 sixty I have spent my time in the country, 
 where my reading has been only an apo- 
 logy for idleness, and where, when I had 
 not either a magazine or a review, I was 
 sometimes a carpenter, at others a bird- 
 cage maker, or a gardener, or a drawer of 
 landscapes. At fifty years of age I com- 
 menced an author : — it is a whim that has 
 served me longest and best, and will pro- 
 bably be my last." A little volume en- 
 titled the " Rural Walks of Cowper," 
 illustrates his attachment to the country, 
 by a series of fifteen views from drawings 
 made and engraved by Mr. James Storer ; 
 they exemplify scenery in Cowper's 
 poems, with descriptive sketches ; it is an 
 agreeable assistant to every one who 
 desires to know something of the places 
 wherein the poet delighted to ramble or 
 meditate. There is a natural desire to 
 become acquainted with the countenance 
 of a man whose writings we love or 
 admire, and tlie spots that were associated 
 with his feelings and genius. Who can 
 read Cowper's letter to his friend Hill, 
 descriptive of his summer-house, without 
 wishing to walk into it? "I write in a 
 nook that I call my boudoir; it is a sum- 
 mer-house not bigger than a sedan chair; 
 the door of it opens into the garden that 
 is now crowded with pinks, roses, and 
 honeysuckles, and the window into my 
 neighbour's orchard. It formerly served 
 an apothecary as a smoking-room ; at 
 present, however, it is dedicated to 
 sublimer uses ; here I write all that I 
 write in summer time, whether to my 
 friends or to the public. It is secure 
 trom all noise, and a refuge from all in- 
 trusion." The present engraving of it is 
 taken by Mr. Storer's permission from 
 his design made on the spot. 
 
 It was here, perhaps, that Cowper 
 wrote his poem on a nightingale, that 
 sung with a thorn in her breast, an af- 
 fecting allusion to the state of his own 
 feelings. There is another of his produc- 
 tions on the same " sweet bird," whom 
 all poets wait on, which is subjoined bj 
 way of conclusion to this brief notice of a 
 bard honoured for his talents^ and revered 
 for his love of \irtue. 
 
 iGO 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25 
 
 TO THE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Which the author heard xing on New Year's 
 Day, 1792. 
 Whence is it, tli it amaz'd I hear 
 
 From yonder wither'd spray, 
 This foremost morn of all the year. 
 The melody of May. 
 
 And why, since thousands would be proud 
 
 Of such a favour shown, 
 Am I selected from the crowd. 
 
 To witness it alone ! 
 Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, tome. 
 
 For that I also long 
 Have practised in the groves like thee, 
 
 Though not like thee in song ? 
 
 O' sing'st thou rather under force 
 
 Of some divine command, 
 Commissiou'd to presage'a course 
 
 Of happier days at hand ] 
 
 Thrice welcome then ! for many a long 
 
 And joyless year have I, 
 As thou to-day, put forth thy song 
 
 Beneath a wintry sky 
 
 But thee no wintry skies can harm, 
 
 Who only need'st to sing. 
 To make ev'n January charm. 
 
 And ev'ry season Spring. 
 
 COWPER'S SUMMER-HOUSE AT OLNEY. 
 
 ^t. iHarfe'g ©ap, or <Bbe. 
 
 This was a great fast-day in England 
 during the rule of the Romish church. 
 An old writer says, that in 158^, "I 
 being as then but a boy, do remembet 
 that an ale wife, making no exception of 
 dayes, would needs brue upon Saint 
 Marke's days; but loe, the marvailous 
 worke of God ? whiles she was thus la- 
 Doring, the top of the chimney tooke fire ; 
 and, hefore it oould bee quenched, her 
 house was quite burnt. Surely," says 
 this observer of sainted season?, " a gen- 
 tle warning to them that violate and pro- 
 
 fane forbidden daies."* Another writer 
 observes, that although there was not 
 anciently any fast-day between Easter 
 and Whitsunday, yet, besides many days 
 in the Rogation week, the popes had de- 
 vised " a monstrous fast on Saint Marke's 
 day." He says, " all other fasting*^ daies 
 are on the holy day Even, only Saint 
 Marke must have his day fasted." H.» 
 asks why and by what decree of thp 
 church, or by what general council the 
 fast was ordained? He inquires why one 
 side of the street in Cheapside being id 
 
 * Vauglian'« Golden Grove. 
 
 261 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 25, 
 
 the diocese of London fasts on that day, 
 and why the other side being in the 
 diocese of Canteibury fasts not 1* 
 
 On Si. Mark's day blessings on the 
 corn were implored. According to a 
 m-muscript of Mr. Pennant's, no farmer 
 in North Wales dare hold his team on 
 this day, because they there believe one 
 man's team that worked upon it was 
 marked with the loss of an ox A York- 
 shire clergyman informed Mr. Brand, 
 that it was customary in that county for 
 the common people to sit and watch in 
 the church porch on St. Mark's Eve, 
 from eleven o'clock at night till one in 
 the morning. The third year (for this 
 must be done thrice,) they are supposed 
 to see the ghosts of all those who are to 
 die ihe next year, pass by into the church. 
 When any one sickens that is thought to 
 have been seen in this manner, it is pre- 
 sently whispered about that he will not 
 recover, for that such, or such an one, 
 who has watched St. Mark's Eve, says so. 
 This superstition is ir^ such foice, that, if 
 the patients themselves liear of it, they 
 almost despair of recovery. Many are 
 said to have actually died by their ima- 
 ginary fears on the occasion. The terrors 
 of the ignorant are high in proportion to 
 the darkness wherein tney grovel 
 
 A correspondent near Peterborough, 
 who has obliged the editor by transmit- 
 ting what he denominates som»e " mis- 
 cellaneous superstitions and shadows of 
 customs whose origins are worn out," 
 includes among them the following inter- 
 esting communication respecting St. 
 Mark's day usages in Northamptonshire 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 On St. Mark's Eve, it is still a custom 
 about us for young maidens to make the 
 dumb cake, a mystical ceremony which 
 has lost its origin, and in some counties 
 may have ceased altogether. The number 
 of the party never exceeds three ; they 
 meet in silence to make the cake, and as 
 soon as the clock strikes twelve, they each 
 break a portion off to eat, and when 
 done, they walk up to bed backwards 
 without speaking a word, for if one speaks 
 the spell is broken Those that are to be 
 married see the likeness of their sweet- 
 hearts hurrying after them, as if wishing 
 to catch them before they get into bed, 
 but the maids being apprized of this 
 before hand, (by the cautions of old wo- 
 men who have tried it,) take care to un- 
 
 * The burrvynge of Paules Church in 1561. See 
 Brand. 
 
 pin their clothes before they start, and 
 are ready to slip into bed before they are 
 caught by the pursuing shadow ; if 
 nothing is seen, the desired token may be 
 a knocking at the doors, or a rustling in 
 the house, as soon as they have retired 
 To be convinced that it comes from 
 nothi '.g else but the desired cause, they 
 are always particular in turning out the 
 cats and dogs before the ceremony 'jegins. 
 Those that are to die unmarried neither 
 see nor hear any thing ; but they have 
 terrible dreams, which are sure to be of 
 new-made graves, winding-sheets, and 
 church-yards, and of ring3 that will fit no 
 finger, or which, if they do, crumble into 
 dust as soon as put on. There is another 
 dumb ceremony, of eating the yolk of an 
 e^'g in silence, and then filling the shell 
 with salt, when the sweetheart is sure to 
 make his visit in some way or other be- 
 fore morning. On this same night too, 
 the more stout-hearted watch the church- 
 porch ; they go in the evening and lay in 
 the church-porch a branch of a tree, or a 
 flower, large enough to be readily found 
 in the dark, and then return home to wait 
 the approach of midnight. They are to 
 proceed to the porch again before the 
 clock strikes twelve, and to remain in it 
 till it has struck ; as many as choose ac- 
 company the maid, who took the flower 
 or branch and is to fetch it again, a? far 
 as the church-gate, and there wait till 
 their adventuring companion returns, 
 who, if she is to be married within the 
 year, is to see a marriage procession pass 
 by her, with a bride in her own likeness 
 hanging on the arm of her future hus- 
 band; as many bridesmen and maidens 
 as appear to follow them, so many months 
 is the maid to wait before her marriage. 
 If she is to die unmarried, then the ex- 
 pected procession is to be a funeral, con- 
 sisting of a coffin covered with a white 
 sheet, borne on the shoulders of shadows 
 that seem without heads. This custom, 
 with all its contingent" hopes and fears," 
 is still practised, though with what success, 
 I am not able to determine. The imagi- 
 nation may be wrought to any height in 
 such matters, and doubtless some per- 
 suade themselves that they see what the 
 story describes. An odd character at 
 Helpstone, whose name is Ben Barr, and 
 whom the villagers call and believe as 
 " the prophet," watches the church-porch 
 every year, and pretends to know the 
 fate of every one in the villages round, 
 and who shall be married or die in the 
 
 2G2 
 
THE EVERY-D/vY BOOK.— APRIL 26. 
 
 year; but as a f'w pence, generally pur- 
 chase a good omen, he seldom prophesies 
 the deaths of his believers. ^. H. 
 
 This " Ben Barr," of Ilelpstone, must 
 be an useful fellow to timid believers in 
 such affairs. He seems to have created 
 for himself a place of trust and profit; if 
 he is only a wag he may enjoy his emo- 
 luments with his humour, and do no 
 harm; but should he assume to foretel 
 mischief to his believers, he is, legally 
 speaking, a " sturdy rogue." The seeing 
 of supernatural sights by a paid proxy is 
 a novelty in the annals of superstition. 
 But if Ben Barr is the first, so he is the 
 last of such seers. He will have no suc- 
 cessor in office, there will be little de- 
 mand for such a functionary, the income 
 will fall off, and no one will undertake to 
 see " Satan's invisible world," and warn 
 unbelievers in ghosts, for nothing. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Clarimond Tulip. TitUpa prcecox. 
 Dedicated to St. Murk. 
 
 ^pn'l 26. 
 
 St. Cfe^Hs, Pope and Martyr, a. d. 89. St. 
 Marcellimis, Pope and Martyr, a. d. 
 304. St. Richarius, or RiquicVy Abbot, 
 about 645. St. Paschasius Iladbert, 
 Abbot, about 865. - 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1716. The great lord Somers died. 
 He was lord chancellor, and at different 
 periods held other offices of high trust, 
 which he ennobled by acts of distinguished 
 virtue and patriotism : he vindicated 
 public liberty with courage, and main- 
 tained it with success to the end of his 
 life. 
 
 The Country. 
 
 A town life is coveted by the artificial, 
 and praised to ecstacy by mindless minds. 
 They who can only derive entertainment 
 from 
 
 Shows and sights, and hateful forms, 
 
 and they who are without intellectual re- 
 sources, throw themselves into the floods 
 of the " mighty heart," in search of re- 
 freshing pleasures. Not so he, who has 
 
 tasted the " knowledge of good and evil," 
 and from depth of reflection welled up 
 wisdom : he loves only what is good, and 
 attaches himself only to what is great in 
 his species ; this is from sympathy, not 
 contact. Silence and time are not of 
 man's make, and hence the wise court 
 solitude from the wrongs and follies of 
 sui rounding beings, and enjoy a portion 
 of their existence in contemplating the 
 pure forms of nature. The perverted 
 genius which preferred 
 
 " Tlie sweet shady side 
 Of a grove in I'all Mall" 
 
 to rural scenery, by a little furthei perver- 
 sion, would have preferred the groves of 
 Moloch to the plains of Mamre. 
 
 If one would live by nature's laws. 
 Regardless of the world's applause ; 
 And be desirous of a spot 
 Whereon to build a humble cot. 
 What situation can compare 
 With that where purest country air 
 Dispels tlie vapours and the spleen, 
 And makes one wear a heaithtul mien 
 
 Than in the country tell me where 
 Men freer are from pining care ? 
 Where can they sounder sleep enjoy, 
 Or time more harmlessly employ? 
 Do marble pavements more aelight. 
 Than the green turf that cheers the sight ! 
 Or does the water of the town, 
 From the New- river head brought down 
 Taste sweeter than the crystal rills. 
 That trickle down the verdant hills ] 
 
 So much are rustic scenes admir'd. 
 And rural prospects now desir'd, 
 That in the town one often sees 
 The houses shaded by tall trees. 
 Which give them quite a country look, 
 And fill with envy my lord-duke. 
 And if a mansion can command 
 A distant prospect o'er the land 
 Of Hampstead, or the Surrey hills, 
 Its site with admiration fills. 
 Each cojuwisseur, with wond'ring eyes, 
 Beholds it, and enraptur'd cries, 
 " What charming prospect ! air how free 
 " The rus iii jirbe here we see." 
 For nature still will have her way. 
 Let men do whatsoe'er they may. 
 And still that pure and genuine taste, 
 In every mind by Heav'n plac'd, 
 Will show itself some how in part, 
 Howe'er corrupted by vile art. 
 Who know not silver from vile dross. 
 Will not sustain a heavier loss 
 Than they who truth and falsehood join. 
 And know not where to strike the line. 
 
 263 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 27, 28. 
 
 Whoe'er with success is elated, 
 Will be more wretched when ill-fated ; 
 And things which mortals value most 
 Cause greatest pain when they are lost. 
 Let not ambition then destroy 
 Your happiness and heart-felt joy ; 
 Contentment more true pleasure brings 
 Than all the wealth and pomp of kings. 
 
 FLORAL DIR'ECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Erysemum. Erysemum Barharea. 
 Dedicated to St. Richarius. 
 
 apn'l 27, 
 
 8t. Anthimns, Bp. and many other Mar- 
 tyrs at Nicomedia, a. d. 303. St. 
 Anastashis, Pope, a. d. 401 . St. Zitu, 
 A. D. 1272. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1742. Nicholas Amhurst, an English 
 political, poetical, and miscellaneous 
 writer, died in poverty and of a broken 
 heart at Twickenham, at the age of thirty- 
 six. He was author of " Terrse Filius," 
 a severe satire on the vmiversity of Ox- 
 ford, from whence he had been expelled, 
 and he edited the once celebrated 
 " Craftsman." one of the most popular 
 journals ever printed, and the most eflec- 
 tive of all the publications against the 
 
 Walpole administration. Bohngbroke 
 and Pulteney with whom he had been 
 associated in the conduct of this paper, 
 and whose interests he had promoted by 
 his wit, learning, and knowledge, de- 
 serted him when they had attained their 
 purposes by Waipole's downfal. Mr. 
 A. Chalmers concludes a memoir of him 
 by an observation that ought to be rivet- 
 ted on the mind of every man who thinks 
 himself a public character. " The ingra- 
 titude of statesmen to the persons whom 
 they make use of as the instruments of 
 their ambition, should furnish an instruc- 
 tion to men of abilities in future times ; 
 and engage them to build their happiness 
 on the foundation of their own personal 
 integrity, discretion, and virtue." Ralph 
 the historian, in one of his pamphlets, 
 says " Poor Amhurst, after having been 
 the drudge of his party for the best part 
 of twenty years together, was as much 
 forgotten in the famous compromise of 
 1742, as if he had never been born ! and 
 when he died of what is called a broken 
 heart, which happened a few months 
 afterwards, became indebted to the cha- 
 rity of (Richard Francklin) a bookseller 
 for a grave ; not to be traced now, be- 
 cause then no otherwise to be distin- 
 guished, than by the freshness of the 
 turf, borrowed from the next common to 
 cover it." 
 
 There is an order 
 Of mortals on the earth, who do become 
 Old in their youth, and die ere middle age. 
 Without the violence of warlike death ; 
 Some perishing' of pleasure — some of study — 
 Some worn with toil — some of mere weariness^ 
 Some of disease — and some insanity — 
 And some of withered, or of broken hearts; 
 For this last is a malady which slays 
 More than are numbered in the lists of Fate, 
 Taking all shapes, and bearing many names. 
 
 Byron 
 
 1785. Prince Leopold of Brunswick, 
 was drowned by the waters of Frankfort 
 upon the Oder, in endeavouring to suc- 
 cour the inhabitants of a village which 
 was overflowed. 
 
 1794. Sir William Jones died, aged 
 forty-eight. 
 
 1794. James Bruce, the traveller into 
 Abyssinia, died by falling down the 
 stairs of his own house. He was born at 
 Kinnaird, .n Stirlingshire, North Britain, 
 1730. His veracity, defamed in his life- 
 time, has been supported by every subse- 
 
 quent information concerning the regions 
 he visited. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Daffodil. A^arcissns major. 
 Dedicated to St. Aiiastasius. 
 
 gipnl 28. 
 
 St. Vitalis, Martyr, about 62. Sts. Di- 
 dymus and Theodnra, a. d. 304. St. 
 Patrichis, Bp. of Puissia, in Bithynia, 
 Martyr 
 
 264 
 
THE EVEia-DAY BOOK.— APlllL 29, 30. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1535. Albert Pio, price of Carpi, was 
 buried with extraordinary pomp in the 
 church of the Cordeliers at Pang-. He had 
 been deprived of his principality by the 
 duke of Fenira, became an author, and 
 finally a fanatic. Entering one day into 
 one of the churches at Madrid, he pre- 
 sented holy water to a lady who had a 
 very thin hand ornamented by a most 
 beautiful and valuable ring. He exclaim- 
 ed in a loud voice as she reached the 
 water, " Madam, I admire the ring more 
 than the hand." The lady instantly ex- 
 claimed with reference to the cordon with 
 which he was decorated, " And for my 
 part, I admire the halter more than I do 
 the ass." He was buried in the habit of 
 a Cordelier, and Erasmus made a satire 
 upon the circumstance, entitled the " Se- 
 raphic Interment." 
 
 1 772. The counts Struensee, the Danish 
 prime minister, and Brandt, the favourite 
 of the king of Denmark, were executed 
 opposite the eastern gate of Copenhagen. 
 Their alleged crime was an intrigue with 
 the queen of Denmark, the princes Caro- 
 lina Alatilda of England, sister to king 
 George III., on whose entreaty she was 
 removed from confinement in the castle 
 of Cronenburg to Zell in the electorate of 
 Hanover, where she died about three 
 years afterwards. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cuckoo Pink. 4nim Maculatnm. 
 Dedicated to Sts. Dldymus and I'heodora 
 
 apn'l 29. 
 
 5f. Pefer, Martyr, a. d. 1252. St. Ro- 
 bert, Abbot of Molesme, a. d. 1110. 
 St. Hugh, Abbot of Cluni, a. d. 1109. 
 St. Fiaclina, a. d. 630. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1779. Died at Pershore in Worcester- 
 shire, the Rev. John Ash, L.L. D. He 
 was an eminent minister among the dis- 
 senters, but is better known for his gram- 
 mar and other works in philology. His 
 " Complete English Dictionary," until 
 the appearance of Mr. Todd's octavo edi- 
 tion of Johnson's, was the best compen- 
 dium of words that could be referred to, 
 and may still beconsuliea with advantage 
 by the student. 
 
 1822. Sir Isaac Heard, garter principal 
 king at arms, died aged ninety-one. He 
 was a good herald and an amiable man. 
 
 ^ Moriiiug in Spring. 
 
 The dawn now breaks, the dews ari^e, 
 And zep^iyrs fan the waving hill , 
 The low'ring clouds begin to rise, 
 And chilly vapours blot the skies 
 O'er neighb'ring woods the golden ray 
 Emits the blush of op'ning day : 
 The flocks, that leave the verdant brake. 
 The dew-drops from their fleeces shake • 
 The lawns, with gems besprinkled shine ; 
 The spider weaves his silky line ; 
 Ttie cowslip, mark'd with spots of gold. 
 And daisies, all their hues unfold ; 
 The violets, more modest, shade 
 Their odours in the silent glade ; 
 The early lark now wings her flight, 
 And gaily soars beyond the sight ; 
 The tender linnet, and the thrush. 
 Resound from ev'ry dripping bush , 
 And finches, perch'd on many a spray, 
 With dulcet sounds proclaim the day ; 
 The housewife now prepares to bake 
 The kneaded brfrad, or homely cake ; 
 Or sets the milk, or tends the race 
 That haunts her yard, or kitchen grace. 
 When nature clothes the various scene 
 With tufts of flow'rs, and robes of green ; 
 VVhen limpid streams their lustres give. 
 And health, and glad contentment live 
 With lovely nymphs and happj swains, 
 In humble co*s, or tranquil plains, 
 I bless ner bounties, and I raise 
 My artless theme to sounds of prtise. 
 While others seek for wealth and pow'r. 
 Let me enjoy the sober hour 
 Which converse, or which books bestow, 
 To soothe the heart, and blunt its woe ! 
 
 FLORAL directory. 
 
 Herb Robert. Geranium Roberttanum 
 Dedicated to St. Robert. 
 
 gpn'l 30. 
 
 St. Catharine oi Sienna, a. d. 1380. St, 
 Maxiinus, a. d. 250. Sts. James, Ma- 
 rian, ^c. Martyrs in Numidia, a. d. 
 259. St. Erkouwald, B. of London, 
 7th Cent. St. Ajutre ox Adjutor, a.d. 
 1131. 
 
 St. Catharine of Sienna. 
 St. Catharine often saw the devil. Ac- 
 cording to Ribadeneira, at six years old 
 she knew the lives of the holy fathers and 
 hermits by revelation, practised absti- 
 nence, and shut herself up with othei 
 children in a room, where they whipped 
 themselves. At seven she offered herself 
 to the Virgin as a spouse for her son. 
 When marriageable, she refused the ira 
 portunity of her parents to wed _ and ?iav' 
 
 265 
 
THE EVEilY-DAY BOOK.— APRIL 30. 
 
 ing cut off her hair to keep her vow, tliey 
 made her a kitchen-maid ; but her father, 
 one day as he was praying in a corner, 
 seeing tlie Holy Ghost sitting upon her 
 head in the shape of a dove, she was re- 
 leased from drudgery, and was favoured 
 with a revelation from St. Dominick. Siie 
 eat no meat, drank only water, and at 
 last left off bread, sustaining herself by 
 herbs alone, and her grace before meals 
 was, " Let us go take the punishment 
 due to this miserable sinner " She so 
 mastered sleep, tiiat she scarcely took any 
 rest, and her bed was only boards. She 
 wore around her body next to the skin a 
 chain of iron, which sunk into her flesh. 
 Three times a day, and for an hour and a 
 half each time, she flogged heiself with 
 another iron chain, till great streams of 
 blood ran down ; and when she took the 
 black and white habit of the order of St. 
 Dominick she increased her mortification. 
 For three years she never spoke, except at 
 confession ; never stirred out of her cell 
 but to go to the church; and sat up all 
 night watching — taking rest in the quire 
 at matins only, and then lying upon the 
 floor with a piece of wood under her 
 head for a bolster. She was tempted by 
 devils in a strange manner described by 
 Ribadeneira: but to drive them away, she 
 disciplined her body with the iron chain 
 so much the more. When the fiend per- 
 ceived he could make no impression on 
 her virginal heart, he changed his bat- 
 tery. She had undertaken to cure an old 
 woman who had a cancer in her breast so 
 loathsome, that no one would go near 
 her, but by the devil's instigation, the old 
 woman gave out that Catharine was not 
 as good as she should be, and stuck to 
 her point. Catharine, knowing the de- 
 vil's tricks, would not desist; and, to do 
 her honour,Christ appeared, and offered to 
 her the choice of two crowns — one of pure 
 gold, the other of thorns; she took the 
 -^rown of thorns, pressed it so close upon 
 her head, that it gave her great pain ; and 
 Christ commanded her to continue her 
 attendance upon the woman, who, in con- 
 sequence of a vision, confessed her ca- 
 .umny, to the great confusion of the devil. 
 Ribadeneira says that after this, Christ ap- 
 peared to her, " opened to her the wound 
 in his side, and made her drink till she was 
 so ravished, that her soul was deprived of 
 its functions." Her love and affection to 
 Christ were so intense, that she was almost 
 always languishing and sick ; at last it 
 took away Ker life, and she was dead for 
 
 fox r hours, in which time she saw itran^e 
 things concerning heaven, hell, and pur- 
 gatory. On a certain day he appeared to 
 her, with his mother and other saints, and 
 espoused her in a marvellous and singu- 
 lar manner; visited her almost continual- 
 ly with the greatest familiarity and affec- 
 tion, sometimes in their company, though 
 ordinarily he came alone, and entertained 
 her by reciting and singing psalms with 
 her. Once as she was coming home from 
 church, he appeared to her in the disguise 
 of a pilgrim, and begged a coat of her ; 
 she returned to the church, and secretly 
 taking off her petticoat, brought it to him, 
 not knowing who he was. He asked her 
 for a shirt ; she bade him follow her home, 
 and she gave him her shift. Not content 
 with this, he requested more clothes of 
 her, as well for himself as a companion ; 
 but as she had nothing else left, and was 
 much afflicted, in the night, he appeared 
 to her as the pilgrim, and showing her 
 what she had bestowed upon him in the 
 garb he had assumed, promised to give 
 her an invisible garment, which should 
 keep her from all cold both of body and 
 soul. One time she prayed to him to take 
 from her her heart of flesh, and it seemed 
 to her that he came, and opening her 
 side, took out her heart, and carried it 
 away with him. It appeared almost in- 
 credible to her confessor when she told 
 him she had no heart ; " Yet," says Riba- 
 deneira, " that which happened after- 
 wards was a certain argument of the 
 truth ; for, in a few days, Christ appear- 
 ed to her in great brightness, holding in 
 his hand a ruddy heart, most beautiful to 
 behold, and coming to her, put it into her 
 left side, and said, ' My daughter Catha- 
 rine, now thou hast my heart instead 
 of thy own ;' and having said this_ he 
 closed up her side again, in proof 
 whereof a scar remained in her side, 
 which she often showed." By her in- 
 fluence with heaven, she obtained forgive- 
 ness for numbers that were ready to fall 
 into hell. Two hardened and impenitent 
 thieves, being led to execution, and tied 
 and tortured on a cart, were attended by 
 a multitude of devils. Catharine begged 
 the favour of going with them in the cart 
 to the city gates, and there by her prayers 
 and intercession, Christ showed himself 
 to the thieves, all bloody and full ol 
 wounds, invited them to penance, and 
 promised them pardon if they would re- 
 pent, which they accordingly did. Through 
 her intercession, her mother, who died 
 
 266 
 
TilE EVER\-DaY book.— APRIL 30. 
 
 without confession, was raised to lifo 
 again, and lived till she was fourscore 
 and nine years old. She had the gift of 
 prophecy, healed the sick at the last gasp, 
 cast out devils, and worked miracles. 
 Once making bread of tainted flour, the 
 " queen of angels " came to help her to 
 knead it, and it proved to be most excel- 
 lent bread, white and savoury. She drew 
 also very good wine out of an empty 
 hogshead. Her numerous victories over 
 the devil enraged him so much, that he 
 tormented her till she was nothing but 
 skin and bones. Sometimes he amused 
 himself with throwing her into the fire, 
 and the marks and prints of the wounds 
 he gave her, appeared all over her body. 
 " At length," says Ribadeneira, " when 
 slie was three and thirty years old, she 
 entered into an agony, fought the devil 
 valiantly, and triumphed over him at her 
 death, which happened at Rome on the 
 29tli of April, 1380, her ghost appearing 
 
 to Father Raymundus, her confessor, at 
 Genoa, on the same day, and her body 
 working so many miracles, that for the 
 multitude of people resorting thither, it 
 could not be buried for three days." All 
 this may be seen in Ribadeneira's "Lives 
 of the Saints," with more, wliich, from 
 regard to the reader's feelings, is not even 
 adverted to. It should be added, that 
 the present particulars are from the 
 " Miraculous Host," a pamphlet published 
 in 1821, in illustration of a story, said to 
 have been used in converting two ladies 
 belonging to the family of Mr. Loveday 
 of Hammersmith. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 With the spring comes the lark, and 
 now she carols her rich melody from the 
 earliest beam to the meiidian of solar 
 glory. There is no enjoyment more deli- 
 cious to the ear of nature, than her aerial 
 song in this delightful season : — 
 
 THE SKY-LARK. 
 
 O, earliest singrer! O, care-cliarnnng bird , 
 
 Married to Morning by a sweeter hymn 
 
 Than priest e'er chaunted from his cloister dim 
 
 At midnight, — or veiled virgin's holier word 
 
 At sunrise or the paler evening heard, — 
 
 To which of all Heaven's young and lovely Hours, 
 
 Who wreathe soft light in hyacinthine bowers. 
 
 Beautiful Spirit, is thy suit preferred ' 
 
 — Unlike the creatures of this low dull earth, 
 
 Still dost thou woo, although thy suit be won ; 
 
 And thus thy mistress bright is pleased ever 
 
 Oh ! lose not thou this mark of finer birth — 
 
 So may'st thou yet live on, from sun to sun. 
 
 Thy joy uncheck'd, thy sweet song silent never. 
 
 Barry Cornwall 
 
 THE WEATHER. 
 
 To the indications respecting ram by 
 the flight of the swallow, mentioned under 
 April 23, should be added, that when the 
 swallow is observed to fly high, the 
 weather will probably be fair. Tliere are 
 also some other indications in a set of old 
 rules which may be consulted ; viz. 
 
 Progr.osHcs of the JFeather. 
 
 To be able to ascertain the future 
 changes of the weather, is of infinite use 
 to the farmer and gardener. 
 
 Animals are evidently sooner sensible 
 of the ensuing change of the atmosphere 
 than we are, and from their divers ap- 
 pearance, and apparent sensations, we 
 
 may in many instances determine what 
 changes are likely to take place. 
 
 The following maybe set down as ge- 
 neral rules, and upon minute observation 
 we shall find them correct. 
 
 When the raven is observed early in 
 the morning at a great height in the air, 
 soaring round and round, and uttering a 
 hoarse croaking sound, we may be sure 
 the day will be fine, and may conclude 
 the weather is about to clear and become 
 fair. 
 
 The loud and clamorous quackling ot 
 ducks, geese, and other water-fowl, is a 
 sign of rain 
 
 Before rain swine appear very uneasy 
 and rub in the dust, s.s do cocks and 
 hens. 
 
 267 
 
THE EVERY-DAY COOK.— APRIL 30. 
 
 Before storms kine and also sheep as- 
 semble at one corner of the field, and are 
 observed to turn all their heads toward 
 the quarter from whence the wind doth 
 not blow. 
 
 The appearance of sea gulls, petrels, or 
 other sea fowl in the inlands, indicates 
 stormy weather. 
 
 In fine weather the bat is observed to 
 continue flying about very late of an 
 evening. 
 
 In autumn before rain some flies bite, 
 and others become very troublesome, and 
 gnats are more apt to sting. 
 
 When flocks of wild geese are observed 
 flying in a westward or southern direction 
 in autumn, it indicates a hard winter. 
 
 The floating of gossamer, and its alight- 
 ing on the rigging of ships, foietels fine 
 weather. 
 
 The clamorous croaking of frogs in- 
 dicates rainy weather. 
 
 The appearance of beetles flying about 
 of an evening in summer, indicates that 
 the next day will be fair. 
 
 Before rain dogs are apt to grow very 
 sleepy and dull, and to lay all day before 
 the fire. 
 
 Before rain moles throw up the earth 
 more than usual. 
 
 The appearance of rare foreign birds in 
 this country, such as rollers, hoopoes, &c. 
 indicates hard weather. 
 
 When spiders are seen crawling on the 
 walls more than usual, rain will probably 
 ensue. 
 
 The much barking of dogs in the 
 night frequently indicates a change in 
 the weather. 
 
 When the trees and hedges are very 
 full of berries, it indicates a hard winter. 
 
 The abundance of woodseare and 
 honeydew on herbs indicates fair weather, 
 as does floating gossamer. 
 
 It is said in Wiltshire, that the dun- 
 pickles or moor buzzards alight in great 
 numbers on the downs before rain. 
 
 Before storms the missel thrush is ob- 
 served to sing particularly loud, and to 
 continue so till the commencement of the 
 rain ; from which c cumstance it is in 
 some places called the storm cock. 
 
 It is a sign of rain when pigeons return 
 slowly to the dovehouses. 
 
 When bees do not go out as usual, but 
 keep in or about their hives, rain may be 
 expected. 
 
 Before wind, swine run squeaking 
 about as though they were mad ; which 
 
 has given rise to the notion that pigs can 
 see the wind. 
 
 Before rain the pintados called come- 
 backs squall more than usual ; as do 
 peacocks. 
 
 The early appearance of woodcocks, 
 snipes, swinepipes, fieldfares, &c. are 
 prognostications of severe winters. 
 
 When the dew lies plenteously upon 
 the grass in the evening, the next day 
 will probably be fine ; when there is little 
 or no dew, probably wet. 
 
 Dr. Forster observes, on the authority 
 of Virgil, " that the blowing about ot 
 feathers, or any light substances on the 
 water, is also a sign of rain." 
 
 In the "Indicator" Mr. Leigh Hunt 
 discourses of this beautiful season with 
 his usual grace. He says — 
 
 " The spring is now complete. The 
 winds have done their work. The shaken 
 air, well tempered and equalized, has 
 subsided ; the genial rains, however 
 thickly they may come, do not saturate 
 the ground, beyond the power of the sun 
 to dry it up again. Tliere are clear 
 crystal mornings ; noons of blue sky and 
 white cloud ; nights, in which the grow- 
 ing moon seems to lie looking at the 
 stars, like a young shepherdess at her 
 flock. 
 
 " Then the young green. This is the 
 most apt and perfect mark of the season, 
 — the true issuing forth of the spring. 
 The trees and bushes are putting forth 
 their crisp fans ; the lilac is loaded with 
 bud ; the meadows are thick with the 
 bright young grass, running into sweeps 
 of white and gold with the daisies and 
 buttercups. The orchards announce their 
 riches, in a shower of silver blossoms. 
 The earth in fertile woods is spread with 
 yellow and blue carpets of primroses, 
 violets, and hyacinths, over which the 
 birch-trees, like stooping nymphs, hang 
 with their thickening hair. Lilies of the 
 valley, stocks, columbines, lady-smocks, 
 and the intensely red piony which seems 
 to anticipate the full glow of summer- 
 time, all come out to wait upon the 
 season, like fairies from their subterrane- 
 ous palaces." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORT. 
 
 Cowslip. Primula J'^erit. 
 Dedicated to St. Catharine of Sieuud. 
 
 2G8 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MAY. 
 
 MAY. 
 
 Tlien came faire IMay, the fayresl mayd on ground, 
 
 Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde, 
 And throwing flow'res out of her lap around : 
 
 Upon two brethren's shoulders she did ride, 
 
 The twinnes of Leda ; which on either side 
 Supported her, like to their soveraine Queene. 
 
 Lord ! how all creatures laught, when her they spide, 
 And leapt and dannc't as they had ravisht beene I 
 
 And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene. Spenser. 
 
 So hath " divinest Spenser" represented 
 the fifth month of the year, in the grand 
 pageant which, to all who have seen it, is 
 still present ; for neither the laureate's 
 office nor the poet's art hath devised a 
 spectacle more gorgeous. Castor and 
 Pollux, " the twinnes of Leda," who ap- 
 peared to sailors in storms with lambent 
 fires on their heads, mythologists have 
 constellated in the firmament, and made 
 Etill propitious to the mariner. Maia, the 
 brightest of the Pleiades, from whom 
 iome say this month derived its name, is 
 
 fabled to have been the daughter of Athti, 
 the supporter of the world, and Pleione, 
 a sea-nymph. Others ascribe its name to 
 its having been dedicated by Romuius t'- 
 the Majores, or Roman senators. 
 
 Verstegan affirms of the Anglo-Saxons, 
 that " the pleasant moneth of May they 
 termed by the name of Trimilki. because 
 in that moneth they began to milke their 
 kine three times in the day." 
 
 Scarcely a poet but praises, or describes 
 or alludes to the be.TJties of this month, 
 Darwin sings it as the offspring of th^ 
 
 269 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY. 
 
 solar beams, ana invites it to approach 
 and receive tiie greetings of the elementa 
 beings : — 
 
 Born in yon blaze of orient sky, 
 
 Sweet May 1 tliy radiant form unfold ; 
 
 Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye, 
 And wave thy shadowy locks of gold. 
 
 For thee the fragrant zephyrs blow. 
 For thee descends the sunny shower ; 
 
 Tlie rills in softer murmurs flow, 
 
 And brighter blossoms gem the bower. 
 
 Light Graces dress'd in flowery wreaths, 
 And tiptoe Joys their hands combine ; 
 
 And Love his sweet contagion breathes, 
 And laughing dances round thy shrine. 
 
 Warm with new life, the glittering throng 
 On quivering fin and rustling wing 
 
 Delighted join their votive songs, 
 And hail thee, goddess of the spring. 
 
 One of Milton's richest fancies is of 
 this month ; he says, that Adam, dis- 
 coursing with Eve — 
 
 Smil'd with superior love; as Jupiter 
 On Juno smiles, when he impregns the 
 
 clouds 
 Tliat shed May-flowers. 
 
 Throughout the wide range of poetic 
 excellence, there is no piece of higher 
 loveliness than his often quoted, yet never 
 tiring 
 
 SoJig on May Morning. 
 
 Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, 
 Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
 The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
 The yellow cowslip, and the ])ale primrose. 
 Hail, bounteous May ! that dost inspire 
 Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; 
 Woods and groves are of thy dressing. 
 Hill and dale both boast thy blessing ! 
 Thus we salute thee with our earlj song, 
 And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 
 
 With exquisite feeling and exuberant 
 grace he derives Mirth from — 
 
 The frolic wind that breathes the spring 
 Zephyr, with Aurora playing 
 As he met her once a Maying; 
 
 and, with beautiful propriety, as regards 
 the season, he makes the scenery 
 
 beds of violets blue, 
 
 And fresh blown roses wash'd in dew. 
 
 The first of his "sonnets" is to the night- 
 
 ingale warbling on a " bloomy spray" at 
 eve, while, as he figures, 
 
 "The jolly hours lead on propitious May " 
 
 In " a Conversational Poem written in 
 April," by Mr. Coleridge, there is a de- 
 scription of the nightingale's song, so 
 splendid that it may take the place ot 
 extracts from other poets who have cele- 
 brated the charms of the coming month^ 
 wherein this bird's high melody prevails 
 with increasing power : — 
 
 All is still, 
 A balmy night ! and tho' the stars be dim. 
 Yet let us think upon the vernal showers 
 That gladden the green earth, and we shall finrl 
 A pleasure in the dimness of the stars. 
 And hark? the nightingale begins its song. 
 He crowds, and hurries, and precipitates 
 With fast thick warble his delicious notes, 
 As he were fearful, that an April night 
 Would be too short for him to utter forth 
 His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul 
 Of all its music ! 
 
 1 know a grove 
 
 Of large extent, hard by a castle huge 
 Which the great lord inhabits not: and so 
 Tliis grove is wild with tangling underwood. 
 And the trim walks are broken up, and g:a.^s 
 
 270 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths 
 But never elsewhere in one place I knew 
 So many nightingales : and far and near 
 In wood and thicket over the wide grove 
 
 Tliey answer and provoke each other's songs 
 
 With skirmish and capricious passagings, 
 And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, 
 
 And one low piping sound more sweet than all 
 
 Stirring the air with such a harmony, 
 
 That should you close your eyes, you might almost 
 
 Forget it was not day ! On moonlight bushes, 
 
 Whose dewy leafits are but half disclos'd. 
 
 You may perchance behold them on the twigs, 
 
 Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full. 
 
 Glist'ning, while many a glow-worm in the shade 
 
 Lights up her love-torch. 
 
 Oft, a moment's space, 
 
 What time the moon was lost behind a cloud. 
 Hath heard a pause of silence : till the moon 
 Emerging, hath awaken'd earth and sky 
 With one sensation, and those wakeful birds 
 Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy. 
 As if one quick and sudden gale had swept 
 An hundred airy harps ! And I have watch'd 
 INIany a nightingale perch'd giddily 
 On blos'my twig, still swinging from the breeze, 
 And to that motion tune his wanton song, 
 Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head. 
 
 M^V 1- 
 
 St. Philip, and St. James the less. St. 
 Asaph, Bp. of Llan-Elway, a. d. 590. 
 St. Marcon, or Marcu/fns, a. d.558. St. 
 Sigismund, king of Burgundy, 6th Cent^ 
 
 St. Philip and St. James. 
 Philip is supposed to have been the 
 first of Christ's apostles, and to have died 
 at Hierapolis, in Phrygia. James, also 
 surnamed the Just, whose name is borne 
 by the epistle in the New Testament, and 
 who was in great repute among the Jews, 
 was martyred in a tumult in the temple, 
 about the year 62.* St. Philip and St. 
 James are in the church of England 
 Calendar. 
 
 FI.ORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Tulip. Tulipa Gesneri. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Philip. 
 
 Red Campion. Lrjchnis dioica rubra. 
 
 Red Bachelor's Buttons. Lychnis dioica 
 
 plena. 
 
 Dedicated to St. James. 
 
 • Mr. Audley, from Lardner. 
 
 Hail ! sacred thou to sacred joy. 
 
 To mirth and wine, sweet first of May'. 
 
 To sports, which no grave cares alloy. 
 The sprightly dance, the festive play ! 
 
 Hail ! thou, of ever-circling time 
 That gracest still the ceaseless flow ! 
 
 Bright blossom of the season's prime, 
 Aye, hastening on to winter's snow ! 
 
 When first young Spring his angel face 
 On earth unveiled, and years of gold. 
 
 Gilt with pure ray man's guileless race. 
 By law's stern terrors uncontrolled • 
 
 Such was the soft and genial breeze 
 Mild Zephyr breathed on all around 
 
 With grateful glee, to airs like these 
 Yielded its wealth th' unlaboured gro 
 
 So fresh, so fragrant is the gale, 
 Which o'er the islands of the blest 
 
 Sweeps ; wiiere nor aches the limbs assail. 
 Nor age's peevish pams infest. 
 
 Where thy hushed groves, Elysium, sleep, 
 Such winds with whispered murmurs blow 
 
 So, where dull Lethe's waters creep. 
 They heave, scarce heave the cypress-bougU 
 
 271 
 
THE EVERY Day BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 And such, when heaven with penal flame 
 Shall purge the globe, that golden day 
 
 Restoring, o'er man's brightened frame 
 Ilafly such gale again shall play. 
 
 Hail ! thou, the fleet year's pride and prime! 
 
 Hail ! day, which fame shall bid to bloom ! 
 JIail ! image of primeval time! 
 
 Hail ! sample of a world to come ' — 
 
 Buchanan, by Langhorne. 
 
 In behalf of this ancient festival, a 
 noble authoress contributes a little " for- 
 get me not :" — 
 
 The First of May 
 
 Colin met Sylvia on the green, 
 
 Once on the charming first of May, 
 
 And shepherds ne'er tell false I ween. 
 Yet 'twas by chance the shepherds say 
 
 Colin he bow'd and blush'd, then said. 
 Will you, sweet maid, this first of May 
 
 Begin the dance by Colin led. 
 To make this quite his holiday t 
 
 Sylvia replied, I ne'er from home 
 Yet ventur'd, till this first of May; 
 
 It is not fit for maids to roam. 
 And make a shepherd's holiday. 
 
 It is most fit, replied the youth. 
 
 That Sylvia should this first of May 
 
 By me be taught that love and trutii 
 Can make of life a holiday. 
 
 Lady Craven. 
 
 « We call," says Mr. Leigh Hunt — 
 *' we call upon the admirers of the good 
 and beautiful to help us in * rescuing 
 nature from obloquy.' All you that are 
 lovers of nature in books, — lovers of 
 music, painting, and poetry, — lovers of 
 sweet sounds, and odours, and colours, 
 and all the eloquent and happy face of 
 the rural world with its eyes of sunshine, 
 — you, that are lovers of your species, 
 of youth, and health, and old age, — of 
 manly strength in the manly, of nymph- 
 Jike graces in the female, — of air, of ex- 
 ercise, of happy currents in your veins, — 
 of the light in great Nature's picture, — of 
 all the gentle spiriting, the loveliness, the 
 luxury, that now stands under the smile 
 of heaven, silent and solitary as your 
 fellow-creatures have left it, — go forth on 
 May-day, or on the earliest fine May 
 morning, if that be not fine, and pluck 
 your flowers and your green boughs to 
 iidorn your rooms with, and to show that 
 you do not live in vain. These April 
 rams (for May has not yet come, accord- 
 ing to the old style, which is the proper 
 
 one of our climate), these April rains are 
 fetching forth the full luxury of the trees 
 and hedges ; — by the next sunshine, all 
 * the green weather,' as a little glad- 
 some child called it, will have come 
 again ; the hedges will be so many thick 
 verdant vvalls, the fields mossy carpets, 
 the trees clothed to their finger-tips with 
 foliage, the birds saturating the woods 
 with song. Come forth, come forth."* 
 
 This was the great rural festival of our 
 forefathers. Tlieir hearts responded mer- 
 rily to the cheerfulness of the season. At 
 the dawn of May morning the lads and 
 lasses left their towns and villages, and re- 
 pairing to the woodlands by sound of 
 music, they gathered the May, or blossomed 
 branches of the trees, and bound them 
 with wreaths of flowers ; then returning 
 to their homes by sunrise, they decorated 
 the lattices and doors with the sweet- 
 smelling spoil of their joyous journey, and 
 spent the remaining hours in sports and 
 pastimes. Spenser's " Shepherd's Calen- 
 dar " poetically records these customs in 
 a beautiful eclogue : — 
 
 Youths folke now flocken in every where 
 To gather May - huskets, and smelling 
 
 breere ; 
 And home they hasten, the postes to 
 
 dight, 
 And all the kirke pillers, ere dayiig-ht. 
 With hawthorne buds, and sweet eglantine. 
 And girlonds of roses, and soppes in wine. 
 
 * » # # » 
 
 Siker this morrow, no longer ago, 
 1 saw a shole of slicpheards outgo 
 With singing and showting, and jolly 
 
 cheere ; 
 Before them yode a lustie tabrere, 
 That to the meynie a hornepipe plaid. 
 Whereto they dauncen eche one with his 
 
 maide. 
 To see these folkes make such jovisaunc". 
 Made my hart after the pipe to daunce. 
 Tho' to the greene-wood they speedeii them 
 
 all. 
 To fetchcn home May with their mnsicall : 
 And home they bringen, in a royall throne. 
 Crowned as king ; and his queen attone 
 Was Ladie Flora, on whom did attend 
 A faire flock of faeries, and a fresh bend 
 Of lovely nymphs. O, that I were there 
 To helpen the ladies their May-bush beare . 
 
 Forbear censure, gentle readers and 
 kind hearers, for quotations from poets, 
 
 * Examir.er 1818. 
 
 272 
 
THEE VERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY i. 
 
 they have made the day especially their what; and becomes a grave authority to 
 
 own ; they are its annalists. A poet's in- the grave antiquary. The sweetest of all 
 
 vitation to his mistress to enjoy the festi- British bards that sing of our customs, 
 
 vity, is historical ; if he says to her, beautifully illustrates the May-day o? 
 
 * together let us range," he tells her for England : — 
 
 Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morne 
 Upon her wings presents the God unshorne. 
 
 See how Aurora throwes her faire 
 
 Fresh-quilted colours through the aire; 
 
 Get up, sweet slag-a-bed, and see 
 
 The dciv bespangling herbe and tree. 
 Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east. 
 Above an lioure since, yet you not drest. 
 
 Nay ! not so much as out of bed ; 
 
 When all the birds have matteyns seyd, 
 
 And sung their thankfull hymnes ; 'tis sin. 
 
 Nay, profanation io keep in. 
 When as a thousand virgins on this day. 
 Spring sooner then the lark, to fetch in May. 
 
 Rise, and put on your foliage, and be scene 
 
 To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and greeae, 
 
 And sweet as Flora. Take no care 
 
 For jewels for your gowne or haire; 
 
 Feare not, the leaves will strew 
 
 Gemms in abundance upon you ■; 
 Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, 
 Against you come, some orient, pearls unwept. 
 
 Come, and receive the.n while the light 
 
 Hangs on the dew-loci s of the night ; 
 
 And Titan on the eastern hill 
 
 Retires himselfe, or else stands still 
 Till you come forth. Wash, dresse, be brief in praying ; 
 Few beads are best, when once we goe a Maying. 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come; and, comming, niarke 
 How each field turns a street, each street a parke 
 
 Made green, and trimm'd with trees ; see how 
 
 Devotion gives each house a bough, 
 
 Or branch ; each porch, each doore, ere this- 
 
 An arke, a tabernacle is, 
 Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove ; 
 As if here were those cooler shades of love 
 
 Can such delights be in the street, 
 
 And open fields, and we not see't ? 
 
 Come, we'll abroad, and let's obay 
 
 The proclamation made for May : 
 And sin no more, as we have done, by staying 
 i3ut, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying. 
 
 There's not a budding boy or girlc, this day. 
 But is got up, and gone to bring in May. 
 
 A deale of youth, ere this, is come 
 
 Back, and with white-thorn laden home. 
 
 Some have dispatcht their cakes and cream* 
 
 Before that we have left to dreanie ; 
 And some have wept, and woo'd, ami plighted trotl^ 
 And chose their priest, ere we can cast oflf sloth t 
 
 Many a green gown has been given ; 
 
 Many a kisse, both odde and even ; 
 
 Many a glance, too, has been sent 
 
 From out the eye, love's firmameat) 
 
 Vol. I. 273 T 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 Many a jest told of tlic keye's I)etraying 
 
 Tliis night, and locks pickt; yet w'are not a Maying. 
 
 Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime 
 And take the harmlesse follie of the time. 
 We shall grow old apace and die 
 Before we know our liberty. 
 Our life is short, and our dayes run 
 As fast away as do's the sutnie ; 
 And as a vapour, or a drop of raine 
 Once lost, can ne'r be found againe ; 
 So when or you or I are made 
 A fable, song, or fleeting shade ; 
 All love, all liking, all delight 
 Lies drown'd with us in endless night. 
 Tlien, while time serves, and we are but decaying, 
 Come, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying. 
 
 Herricii. 
 
 A gatherer of notices respecting our 
 pastimes says, " Tlie after-part of May- 
 day is chiefly spent in dancing round a 
 tall Poll, which is called a May Poll ; 
 ■which being placed in a convenient part 
 of the village, stands there, as it were 
 consecrated to the Goddess of Flowers, 
 without the least violation ofier'd to it, in 
 the whole circle of the year."* One who 
 was an implacable enemy to popular 
 sports relates the fetching in of " the 
 May" from the woods. " But," says he, 
 " their cheefest Jewell they bring from 
 thence is their Male poole, whiche they 
 bring home with greate veneratiou, as 
 thus. They have twentie or fourtie yoke 
 of oxen, every oxe havyng a sweete nose- 
 gaie of flowers tyed on the tippe of his 
 homes, and these oxen drawe home this 
 Maie poole, which is covered all over 
 with flowers and hearbes, bounde rounde 
 aboute with stringes, from the top to the 
 bottome, and sometyme painted with va- 
 riable colours, with twoo or three hun- 
 
 dred men, women, aaa children follow- 
 yng it, with greate devotion. And thus 
 beyng reareJ up, with handkerchiefes and 
 flagges streamyiig on the toppe, they 
 strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene 
 boughes about it, sett up Sommer haules, 
 Bowers, and Arbours hard by it. And 
 then fall they to banquet and feast, to 
 leape and daunce aboute it, as the Hea- 
 then people did at the dedication of their 
 IdoUes, whereof this is a perfect patterne, 
 or rather the thyng itself."* 
 
 The May-pole is up. 
 
 Now give me the cup ; 
 I'll drink to the garlands around it , 
 
 But first imto those 
 
 Whose hands did compose 
 The glory of flowers that crown'd it. 
 
 Herrick. 
 
 Another poet, and therefore no op- 
 ponent to homely mnth on this festal 
 day, so describes part of its merriment as 
 to make a beautiful pictuie : — 
 
 I have seen the Lady of the May 
 
 Set ill ail arbour (on a holy-day) 
 
 Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swaines 
 
 Dance with the maidens to the bag-pipes straines, 
 
 When envious night commands them to be gone, 
 
 Call for the merry youngsters one by one. 
 
 And, for their well performance, soon disposes. 
 
 To tliis a garland interwove with roses. 
 
 To that a carved hooke, or well-wrought scrip; 
 
 Gracing another with her cherry lip ; 
 
 To one her garter ; to another, then, 
 
 A handkerchiefe, cast o'er and o'er again ; 
 
 And none returneth emptie that hath spent 
 
 His paines to fill their rural merriment, Browne's Pastorals 
 
 A poet, wlio has not versified, (Mr. 
 Washington Irving,) says, " I shall never 
 
 forget the delight I felt on first seeing a 
 May-pole. It was on the banks of the 
 
 * £tubb«3 
 
 27-i 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 Dee, close by the picturesque old bridge of Cheshire, and the beautiful borders of 
 
 that stretches across tt.e river from the 
 quaint little city oi Chester. I had 
 already been carried back into former 
 days by the antiquities of that venerable 
 place ; the examination of which is equal 
 to turning over the pages of a black-letter 
 volume, or gazing on the pictures in 
 Froissart. The May-pole on the margin 
 of that poetic stream completed the illu- 
 sion. My fancy adorned it with wreaths 
 of flowers, and peopled the green bank 
 with all the dancing revelry of May-day. 
 The mere sight of this May-pole gave a 
 glow to my feelings, and spread a charm 
 over the country for the rest of the day ; 
 and as I traversed apart of the fair plains 
 
 •' \Vith coat of Lincoln green, and mantle too. 
 And horn of ivory mouth, and buckle brijrlit. 
 And arrows winp:C(l with peacock -feathers light. 
 And trusty bow well gathered of the yew ; 
 
 " whilst near him, crowned as Lady of the May, maid Marian, 
 
 " With eyes of blue, 
 Shining through dusk hair, like the stars of night. 
 And habited in pretty forest plight — 
 His green- wood beauty sits, young as the dew : 
 
 " and there, too, in a subsequent stage of the pageant, were 
 
 " The archer-men in green, with belt and bow. 
 Feasting on pheasant, river-fowl, and swan, 
 With Robin at their head, and Marian, 
 
 Wales, and looked from among swelling 
 hills down a long green valley, through 
 which ' the Deva wound its wizard 
 stream,' my imagination turned all into 
 a perfect Arcadia. — One can readily ima- 
 gine what a gay scene it must have been 
 in jolly old London, wlien the doors 
 were decorated with flowering branches, 
 when every hat was decked with haw- 
 thorn ; and Robin Hood, tiiar Tuck, 
 Maid Marian, the morris-dancers, and all 
 the other fantastic masks and revellers 
 were performing their antics about the 
 May-pole in every part of the city. On 
 this occasion we are told Robin Hood 
 presided as Lord of the May .— 
 
 " I value every custom that tends to 
 -nfuse poetical feeling: into the common 
 people, and to sweeten and soften the 
 rudeness of rustic maimers, without de- 
 stroying their simplicity. Indeed it is to 
 Jhe decline of this happy simplicity that 
 the decline of this custom may be traced; 
 and the rural dance on the green, and the 
 homely May-day pageant, have gradually 
 disappeared, in proportion as the pea- 
 santry have become expensive and arti- 
 ficial in their pleasures, and too knowing 
 for simple enjoyment. Some attempts, 
 indeed, have been made of late years, by 
 men of both taste and learning, to rally 
 back the popular feeling to these stand- 
 ards of primitive simplicity ; but the time 
 has gone by, the feeling has become chill- 
 ed by habits of gain and traffic ; the 
 country apes the manners and amuse- 
 ments of the town, and little is heard of 
 May-day at present, except from the la- 
 Tientations of authors, who sigh after it 
 trora among the brick walls of the city," 
 
 Tliere v/ill be opportunity in the course 
 of this work to dilate somewhat concern- 
 
 ing the May-pole and the characters in 
 the May-games, and therefore little will 
 be adduced at present as to the origin of 
 pastimes, which royalty itself delighted 
 in, and corporations patronized. For ex- 
 ample of these honours to the festal day, 
 an honest gatherer of older chronicles 
 shall relate in his own words, so much as 
 he acquaints us with : — 
 
 " In the moneth of May, namely on 
 May day in the morning, every man, ex- 
 cept impediment, would walke into the 
 sweet nieddowes and green woods, there 
 to rejoyce their spirits with the beauty and 
 savour of sweet flowers, and with the har- 
 monic of birds, praising God in their 
 kinde. And for example hereof, Edward 
 Hall hath noted, that king Henry the 
 eighth, as in the third of his reigne, and 
 divers other yeeres, so namely in the 
 seventh of his reigne, on May day in the 
 morning, with queene Katharine his wife, 
 accompanied with many lords and ladies, 
 rode a Maying from Greenwich to the 
 high ground of Shooters-hill : where as 
 they passed by the way, they espyed a 
 company of tall yeomen, clothed all in 
 grcene, witn greene hoods, and *itl» 
 
 275 
 
TIIF, EVERY-DA? B0C)K.~1MAT 1. 
 
 Dowes and arrowes, to the number of " I find also, that in the month of May, 
 
 200. One, being their chieftaine, was the citizens of London (of all estates) 
 
 called Robin Hood, who required the lightly in every parish, or sometimes two 
 
 king and all his company to stay and see or thre^ parishes joyning together, had 
 
 his men shoot : whereunto the king their severall Mayings, and did fetch in 
 
 granting, Robin Hood whistled and all 
 the 200 archers shot off, loosing all at 
 once ; and when he whistled againe, they 
 likewise shot againe : their arrows whis- 
 tled by craft of the head, so that the noise 
 was strange and loud, which greatly de- 
 lighted the kmg, queene, and their com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Moreover, this Robin Hood desired 
 the king and queene, with their retinue, 
 to enter the greene wood, where, in ar- 
 bours made of boughes, and deckt with 
 flowers, they were set and served plenti- 
 fully with venison and wine, by Robin 
 Hood and his meyny, to their great con- 
 tentment, and had other pageants and 
 as yee may read in my said 
 
 May-poles, with divers warlike shewes, 
 with good archers, morice-dancers, and 
 other devises for pastime all the day long ; 
 and towards the evening, they had stage- 
 plaies, and bonefires in the streets. 
 
 " Of these Mayings, we read in the 
 reign of Henry the sixth, that the alder- 
 men and sheriffes of London, being on 
 May day at the bishop of Londons wood 
 in the parish of Stebunheath, and having 
 there a worshipfuU dinner for themselves 
 and other commers, Lydgate the poet, 
 that was a monk of Bury, sent to them 
 by a pursivant a joyfuU commendation of 
 that season, containing sixteene staves in 
 meeter royall, beginning thus : — • 
 
 pastiiToes ] 
 author. 
 
 " Mighty Flora, goddesse of fresh Howers, 
 
 which clothed hath the soyle in lusty green. 
 Made buds to spring, with her sweet showers, 
 
 by influence of tlie sunne shine. 
 To doe pleasance of intent full cleane, 
 unto the states which now sit here, 
 Hath Ver downe serit her own daughter deare, 
 
 " Making the vertue, that dured in the root. 
 Called the vertue, the vertue vegetable, 
 
 for to transcend, most wholesome and most soote, 
 Into the top, this season so agreeable : 
 
 the bawmy liquor is so commendable, 
 ♦ Tliat it rcjoyceth with liis fresh moisture, 
 
 man, beast, and fowle, and every creature," &c. 
 
 Thus far hath our London historian 
 conceived it good for his fellow citizens to 
 know. 
 
 Of the manner wherein a May game 
 was anciently set forth, he who above all 
 writers contemporary with him could best 
 devise it has " drawn out the platform," 
 and exhibited the pageant, as performed 
 by the household servants and depend- 
 ants of a baronial mansion in the 
 fifteenth century. This is the scene: — 
 " In the front of the pavilion, a large 
 square was staked out, and fenced with 
 ropes, to prevent the crowd from pressing 
 upon the performers, and interrupting the 
 diversion ; there were also two bars at 
 the bottom of the inclosure, through 
 which the actors might pass and repass, 
 as occasion required. — Six young men 
 first entered the square, clothed in jerkins 
 of leather, with axes upon their shoulders 
 
 like woodmen, and their heads bound 
 with large garlands of ivy-leaves, inter- 
 tv^ined with sprigs of hawthorn. Then 
 followed six young maide7is of the village, 
 dressed in blue kirtles, with garlands of 
 primroses on their heads, leading a fine 
 sleek cow decorated with ribbons of va- 
 rious colours, interspersed with floweis ; 
 and the horns of the animal were tipped 
 with gold. These were succeeded by 
 six foresters, equipped in green tunics 
 with hoods and hosen of the same colour 
 each of them carried a bugle-horn attac!.^ 
 ed to a baldrick of silk, which he sounded 
 as he passed the barrier. After them 
 came Peter Lanaret, the barons chici 
 falconer, who personified Robin Hood , 
 he was attired in a bright grass-green 
 tunic, fringed with gold ; his hood ana 
 his hosen were parti-coloured, blue and 
 white ; he had a large garland of rose- 
 buds on his head, a bow bent in his hand 
 
 276 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOlL.— MAY 1. 
 
 a slieaf cf a.-rovvs at his girdle, and a 
 but,ne-l)oru depending frum a baldrick of 
 light blue tarantine, embroidered with 
 silver; he had also a'sword and a dagger, 
 the hilts of both being richly embossed 
 with gold. — Fabian, a page, as Little 
 John, walked at his right hand ; and 
 Cecil Cellerman the butler, as Jf'ill 
 Stukebj, at his left. These, with ten 
 others of the jolly outlaw's attendants 
 who followed, were habited in green gar- 
 ments, bearing their bows bent in their 
 hands, and their arrows in their girdles. 
 Then came two maidens, in orange-co- 
 loured kirtles with white courtpies, strew- 
 ing flowers, followed immediately by the 
 lUaid Marian, elegantly habited in a 
 watohet-coloured tunic reaching to the 
 ground ; over which she wore a white 
 linen rochet with loose sleeves, fringed 
 "with silver, and very neatly plaited ; her 
 girdle was of silver baudekin, fastened 
 with a double bow on the left side ; her 
 long flaxen hair was divided into many 
 ringlets, and flowed upon her shoulders ; 
 viie top part of her head was covered 
 ■^vith a net-work cawlof gold, upon which 
 was placed a garland of silver, ornament- 
 td with blue violets. She was supported 
 by iioo bride-maidens, in sky-coloured 
 rochets girt with crimson girdles, wearing 
 garlands upon their heads of blue and 
 vvnite violets. After them came four 
 other females m green courtpies, and 
 uarlands of violets and cowslips. Tlien 
 Sampson the smith, as Friar Tuck, carry- 
 ing a huge quarter-stafl' on his shoulder ; 
 and Morris the mole-taker, who repre- 
 sented Much the miller's son, having a 
 long pole with an inflated bladder attach- 
 ed to one end. And after them the Mui/- 
 pole, drawn by eight flne oxen, decorated 
 with scarfs, ribbons, and flowers of divers 
 colours; and the tips of their horns were 
 em'oellished with gold. The rear was 
 closed by the hobby-horse and the dra- 
 gon. — When the JNIay-pole was drawn 
 into the square, the foresters sounded 
 their horns, and the populace expressed 
 tlieir ])leasure by shouting incessantly un- 
 til it reached the place assigned for its 
 elevation : — and during the time the 
 Erouivd was preparing for its reception, 
 the barriers of the bottom of the inclosure 
 were opened for the villagers to approach, 
 and adorn it with ribbons, garlands, and 
 flowers, as their inclination prompted 
 them. — The pole being sufficiently onera- 
 ted with finery, the square was cleared 
 from such as had no part to perform in 
 
 the pageant ; and then it was elevated 
 amidst the reiterated acclamations of the 
 spectators. The woodmen and the milk- 
 maidens danced around it according to the 
 rustic fashion ; the measure was played 
 by Peretto Cheveritte, the baron's chief 
 minstrel, on the bagpipet accompanied 
 with the pipe and labour, performed by 
 one of his associates. When the dance 
 was finished, Gregory the jester, who un- 
 dertook to play the hobby-horse, came 
 forward with his appropriate equipment, 
 and, frisking up and down the square 
 without restriction, imitated the gallop- 
 ing, curvetting, ambling, trotting, and 
 other paces of a horse, to the infinite sa- 
 tisfaction of the lower classes of the spec- 
 tators, lie was followed by Peter Parker, 
 the baron's ranger, who personated a 
 dragon, hissing, yelling, and shaking his 
 wings with wonderful ingenuity ; and to 
 complete the mirth, Morris, in the cha- 
 racter oi Much, having small bells attach- 
 ed to his knees and elbows, capered here 
 and there between the two monsters in 
 the form of a dance ; and as often as he 
 came near to the sides of the inclosure, 
 he cast slily a handful of meal into the 
 faces of the gaping rustics, or rapped 
 them about their heads with the bladdc* 
 tied at the end of his pole. In the mea- 
 time, Sampson, representing Friar Tuck 
 walked with much gravity around th' 
 square, and occasionally let fall his heavy 
 staflT upon the toes of such of the crowa 
 as he thought were approaching more 
 forward than they ought to do ; and if the 
 sufferers cried out from the sense of pain, 
 he addressed them in a solemn tone ol 
 voice, advising them to count their beads, 
 say a paternoster or two, and to beware 
 of purgatory. These vagaries were highly 
 palatable to the populace, who announced 
 their delight by repeated plaudits and 
 loud bursts of laughter ; for this reason 
 they were continued for a considerable 
 length of time : but Gregory, beginning 
 at last to faulter in his paces, ordered the 
 dragon to fall back : the well-nurtured 
 beast, being out of breath, readily obey- 
 ed, and their two companions followed 
 their example ; which concluded this 
 part of the pastime. — Then the archers 
 set up a target at the lower part of the 
 green, and made trial of their skill in a 
 regular succession. Robin Hood and 
 Will Stukely excelled their comrades 
 and both of thein lodged an arrow in the 
 centre circle of gold, so near to each 
 otlier that the differencr could not readily 
 
 277 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MAY 1. 
 
 be decided, which occasioned them to 
 ihoot again ; when Robin struck the gold 
 a second time, and Stukely's arrow was 
 affixed upon the edge of it. Robin was 
 therefore adjudged the conqueror ; and 
 the prize of honour, a garland of laurel 
 embellished with variegated ribbons, was 
 put upon his head ; and to Stukely was 
 given a garland of ivy, because he was 
 the second best performer iu that contest. 
 — The pageant was finished with the 
 archery ; and the procession began to 
 move away to make room for the vil- 
 lagers, who afterwards assembled in the 
 square, and amused themselves by danc- 
 ing round the May-pole in promiscuous 
 companies, according to the antient 
 custom."* It is scarcely possible to 
 give a better general idea of the regular 
 May-game, than as it has been here re- 
 presented. 
 
 Of the English May-pole this may be 
 observed. An author before cited says, that 
 *' at the north-west corner of Aldgate ward 
 in Leadenhall-street, standeth the fair and 
 beautiful parish church of St. Andrew 
 the apostle, with an addition, to be known 
 from other churches of that name, of the 
 knape, or undershaft, and so called St. 
 Andreiv Undershaft • because that of old 
 time, every year (on May-day in the morn- 
 ing,) it was used, that a high or long 
 shaft, or May-pole, was set up there, in 
 the midst of the street, before the south 
 door of the said church, which shaft or 
 pole, when it was set on end, and fixed in 
 the ground, was higher than the church 
 eteeple. Jeffrey Chaucer, writing of a 
 vain boaster, hath these words, meaning 
 of the said shaft ; — • 
 
 " Right well aloft, and high ye bear your 
 
 head, 
 
 * « * • • 
 
 As ye would bear the great shaft of Corn-hill. 
 
 " This shaft was not raised any time 
 since evil May-day, (so called of an 
 insurrection being made by prentices, 
 and other young persons against aliens, 
 in the year 1517,) hni the said shaft was 
 laid along over the doors, and under the 
 pentices of one rowe of houses, and Alley- 
 
 gate, called of tbe shaft, Shaft ■aUeii,(\^£\ng 
 of the possessions of Rochester-bridge,) in 
 the ward of Lime-street. — It was there, I 
 say, hanged on iron hooks many years, 
 till the third of king Edward the sixth, 
 (155'2), that one sir Stephen, curate of 
 St. Katherine Christ's church, preaching 
 at Paul's Cross, said there, that this shaft 
 was made an idoll, by naming the church 
 of St. Andrew with the addition of Under- 
 shaft ; he perswaded, therefore, that the 
 names of churches might be altered. — 
 This sermon at Paul's Cross took such 
 effect, that in the afternoon of that present 
 Sunday, the neighbors and tenants to 
 the said bridge, over whose doors the 
 said shaft had lain, after they had dined 
 (to make themselves strong,) gathered 
 more help, and, with great labor, raising 
 the shaft from the hooks, (whereon it had 
 rested two-and-thirty years,) they sawed 
 it in pieces, every man taking for his 
 share so much as had lain over his door 
 and stall, the length of his house ; and 
 they of the alley, divided amongst them, 
 so much as had lain over their alley-g ite. 
 Tlius was his idoll (as he termed it,) 
 mangled, and after burned."* 
 
 It was a great object with some of the 
 more rigid among our early reformers, 
 to suppress amusements, especially May- 
 poles ; and these '• idols " of the people 
 were got down as zeal 'grew fierce, and 
 got up as it grew cool, till, after various 
 ups and downs, the favourites of the po- 
 pulace were, by the parliament, on the 
 6th of April, 1644, thus provided against : 
 " The lords and commons do further 
 order and ordain, that all and singular 
 May-poles, that are or shall be erected, 
 shall be taken down, and removed by 
 the constables, bossholders, tithing-men, 
 petty constables, and churchwardens of 
 the parishes, where the same be, and that 
 no May-pole be hereafter set up, erect- 
 ed, or suffered to be set up within 
 this kingdom of England, or dominion of 
 Wales ; the said ofhcers to be fined five 
 shillings weekly till the said May-pole be 
 taken down." 
 
 Accordingly down went all the May- 
 poles that were left. A famous one in 
 the Strand, which had ten years before 
 been sung in lofty metre, appears to have 
 previously fallen. Tlie poet says, — 
 
 Slrutl's Quee-ahoo Hall. 
 
 278 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 Fairly we marched on, till our approach 
 
 Within the spacious passage of the Strand, 
 Objected to our sight a suiniuer broach, 
 
 Ycleap'd a May Pole, which in all our land, 
 No city, towne, nor strcete, can parralell. 
 Nor can the lofty spire of Ciarken-well, 
 Although we have the advantage of a rocke, 
 Pearcb up more high his turning weather cock. 
 
 Stay, quoth my Muse, and here behold a signe 
 
 Of harmelesse mirth and honest neighbourhood. 
 Where all the parish did in one combine 
 
 To mount the rod of peace, anu none withstood : 
 When no capritious constables disturb them, 
 Nor justice of the peace did seek to curb them. 
 Nor peevish puritan, in rayliiig sort. 
 Nor over-wise church-warden, spoyl'd the sport. 
 
 Happy the age, and harmlesse were the dayes, 
 
 (For then true love and amity was found,) 
 When every village did a May I'ole raise, 
 
 And Whitson-ales and May-games did abound : 
 And all the b»sty yonkers, in a rout. 
 With merry lasses daunc'd the rod about, 
 Then Friendship to their banquets bid the guests. 
 And poore men far'd the better for their feasts. 
 
 The lords of castles, mannors, townes, and towers, 
 Rejoic'd when they beheld the farmer's flourish. 
 
 And would come downe unto the summer-bowers 
 To see the country gallants dance the Morrice, 
 
 But since the Summeu Poles were overthroicn. 
 And all good sports and merriments decav'd, 
 
 H-3W times and men are chang'd, so well is knowne, 
 It were but labour lost if more were said. 
 
 But I doe hope once more the day will come. 
 
 That )"ou shall mount and pearch your cocks as high 
 As ere you did, and that the pipe and drum 
 
 Shall bid defiance to your enemy ; 
 And that all fidlers, which in corners lurke. 
 And have been almost starv'd for want of worke. 
 Shall draw their crowds, and, at your exaltation, 
 Play many a fit of merry recreation.* 
 
 The TCstoration of Charles II. was the Palace, and from thence it was conveyed 
 
 signal for the restoration of May-poles. April 14th to the Strand to be erected. 
 
 On the veiy first ]\Iay-day afterv/ards, in It was brought with a streamer flourish- 
 
 1661, the May-pole in the Strand was ing before it, Drums beating all the way 
 
 reared with great ceremony and rejoicing, and other sorts of mnsick ; it was sup- 
 
 a curious account of which, from a rare posed to be so long, that Landsmen (as 
 
 tract, is at the reader's service. " Let me Carpenters) could not possibly raise it ; 
 
 declare to you," says the triumphant nar- (Prince James the Duke of York, Lord 
 
 rator, " the manner in general of that High Admiral of England, commanded 
 
 stately cedar erected in the strand 134 twelve seamen off a boord to come and 
 
 foot high, commonly called the May-Pole, officiate the business, whereupon they 
 
 upon the cost of the parishioners there came and brought their cables, Pullies, 
 
 adjacent, and the gracious consent of his and other tacklins, with six great anchors) 
 
 sacred Majesty with the illustrious Prince after this was brought three Crowns, bore 
 
 The Duke of York. This Tree was a by three men bare-headed and a streamer 
 
 most choice and remarkable piece; 'twas displaying all the way before them, Drums 
 
 made bolow Bridge, and brought in two 
 
 parts up to Scotland Yard near the King's « Pasouii's PaiinMia. i634, 4io. 
 
 279 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 btating and other musick playing; nu- 
 merous multitudes of people thronging 
 the streets, with great shouts and accla- 
 mations all day long. The May pole 
 then being joyned together, and hoopt 
 about with bands of iron, the crown and 
 cane with the Kings Arms richly gilded, 
 was placed on the head of it, a large top 
 like a Balcony was about the middle of 
 it. This being done, the trumpets did 
 sound, and in four hours space it was 
 advanced upright, after which being 
 established fast in the ground six drums 
 did beat, and the trumpets did sound ; 
 again great shouts and acclamations 
 the people give, that it did ring through- 
 out all the strand. After that came a 
 Morice Dance finely deckt, with purple 
 scarfs, in their half-shirts, with a Tabor 
 and Pipe, the ancient Musick, and danced 
 round about the Maypole, and after that 
 danced the rounds of their liberty. Upon 
 the top of this famous standard is likewise 
 set up a royal purple streamer, about the 
 middle of it is placed four Crowns more, 
 with tlie King's Arms likewise, there is 
 also a garland set upon it of various 
 colours of delicate rich favours, under 
 which is to be placed three great J.iin- 
 thorns, to remain for three honours ; that 
 is, one for Prince .Tames Duke of York, 
 Ld High Admiral of England ; the other 
 for the Vice Admiral; and the third for 
 the rear Admiral ; these are to give light 
 in dark nights and to continue so as long 
 as the Pole stands which will be a perpe- 
 tual honour for seamen. It is placed as 
 near hand as they could guess, in the 
 very same pit where the former stood, but 
 far more glorious, bigger and higher, 
 than ever any one that stood before it ; 
 and the seamen themselves do confess 
 that it could not be built higher nor is 
 there not such a one in Europe beside, 
 which highly doth please his Majesty, 
 and the illustrious Prince Duke of York ; 
 little children did much rejoice, and 
 antient people did clap their hands, say- 
 ing, golden days began to appear. I 
 question not but 'twill ring like melodious 
 musick throughout every county in Eng- 
 lend, when they read this story being 
 exactly pen'd ; let this satisfie for the 
 giories of London that othei loyal sub- 
 jects may read what we here do see."* 
 
 A processional engraving, by Vertue, 
 »mong the prints of the Antiquarian So- 
 
 • Cities Loyalty IMsplayed, 1661, 4to. 
 
 ciety, represents this May-pole, as a door 
 or two westwaid beyond 
 
 '♦ \Micre Catharine-street descends into the 
 Strand ;" 
 
 atii as far as recollection of the prmt 
 sf rves, it was erected opposite to the site 
 cf sir Walter Stirling and Go's, present 
 oanking-house. In a compilation re- 
 specting " London and Middlesex," it is 
 stated that this May-pole having de- 
 cayed, was obtained of the parish by sir 
 Isaac Newton, in 1717, and carried 
 through the city to Wanstead, in Essex ; 
 and by license of sir Richard Child, lord 
 Castlemain, leared in the park by the 
 rev. Mr. Pound, rector of that parish, 
 for the purpose of supporting the largest 
 telescope at that period in the world, 
 given by Mons. Hugon, a French member 
 of the Royal Society, as a present ; the 
 telescope was one hundred and twenty- 
 five feet long. This May-pole on public 
 occasions was adorned with streamers, 
 flags, garlands of flowers ana other orna- 
 ments. 
 
 It was near the May-pole in the Strand 
 that, in 1677, Mr. Robert Perceval was 
 found dead with a deep wound under liis 
 left breast, and his sword drawn and 
 bloody, lying by him. lie was nineteen 
 years of age, had fought as many duels 
 as he had lived years, and with uncom- 
 mon talents was an excessive libertine. 
 He was second son to the right hon. 
 sir Robert Perceval, bart. Some singu- 
 lar particulars are related of him in the 
 " History of the House of Yvery." A 
 stranger's hat with a bunch of ribbons in 
 it was lying near his body when it was 
 discovered, and there exists no doubt of 
 his having been killed by some person 
 who, notwithstanding royal proclamations 
 and great inquiries, was never discover- 
 ed. The once celebrated Beau Fielding 
 was suspected of the crime. He was bu- 
 ried under the chapel of Lincoln's-inn. 
 His elder brother, sir Philip Perceval, 
 intent on discovering the murderers, vio- 
 lently attacked a gentleman in Dublin, 
 whom he declared he had never seen be 
 fore ; he could only account for his rage 
 by saying he was possessed with a belief 
 that he was one of those who had killed 
 his brother ; they were soon parted, and 
 the gentleman was seen no more. 
 
 The last poet who seems to have 
 mentioned it was Pope ; he gpys of ao 
 assemblage of persons that, — 
 
 280 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MAY 1. 
 
 Amidst the .irea wide tliey took their stand, 
 Where the tall May-pole onie o'er look'd 
 the Strand. 
 
 A native of Penzance, in Cornwall, 
 relates to the editor of the Evenj- 
 Daif Book, that it is an annual custom 
 there, on iNIay-eve, for a number of young 
 men and women to assemble at a public- 
 house, and sit up till the clock strikes 
 twelve, when they go round the town 
 vith violins, diums, and other instru- 
 ments, and by sound of music cal-l upon 
 otiiers who had previously settled to join 
 them. As soon as the party is formed, 
 they proceed to different farmhouses, 
 within four or five miles of the neighbour- 
 hood, where they are expected as regularly 
 as May morning comes ; and they there 
 jiartake of a beverage called junket, made 
 of raw milk and rennet, or running, as it 
 is there called, sweetened w'th sugar, and 
 a little cream added. After this, they 
 take tea, and " heavy country cake," com- 
 posed of flour, cream, sugar, and currants; 
 next, rum and milk, and then a dance. 
 After thus regaling, they gather the May. 
 While some are breaking down the 
 boughs, others sit and make the " May 
 music." This is done by cutting a circle 
 through the bark at a certain distance from 
 the bottom of the May branches; then, by 
 gently and regularly tapping the bark all 
 round, from the cut circle to the end, the 
 bark becomes loosened, and slips away 
 whole from the wood ; and a hole being 
 cut in the pipe, it is easily formed to 
 emit a sound when blown through, and 
 becomes a whistle. The gathering and 
 the " May music " being finished, they 
 then " bring honae the May," by five or 
 six o'clock in the morning, with the band 
 
 Slaying, and their whistles blowing. After 
 ancing throughout the town, they go to 
 their respective employments. Although 
 May-day should fall on a Sunday, they 
 observe the same practice in all respects, 
 ^vith the omission of dancing in the 
 town. 
 
 On the nrst Sunday after May-day, it is 
 a custom with families at Penzance to visit 
 liose-hill, Polticr, and other adjacent vil- 
 lages, by way of recreation. These plea- 
 sure-parties usually consist of two or three 
 families together. They carry flour and 
 other materials with then- to make the 
 "heavy cake,"just described, at the pleasant 
 r\rm-dairies,which are always open for their 
 reception. Nor do they forget to take tea, 
 sugar, rum, and other comfortable things 
 
 for their refreshment, which, by paying a 
 trifle for baking, and for the niceties await 
 ing their consumption, contents the far- 
 mers for the house-room and pleasure they 
 afford their welcome visitants. Here the 
 young ones find delicious "junkets," with 
 "sour milk," or curd cut in diamonds, 
 which is eaten with sugar and cream. 
 New made cake, refreshing tea, and ex- 
 hilarating punch, satisfy the stomach, 
 cheer the spirits, and assist the walk home 
 in the evening. These pleasure-takings 
 are never made before May-day ; but the 
 first Sunday that succeeds it, and the lei- 
 sure of every other afternoon, is open to 
 the frugal enjoyment ; and among neigh- 
 bourly families and kind friends, the en- 
 joyment is frequent. 
 
 To the Editor of the Evcrij-Day Book. 
 
 ^''^ 
 There still exists among the labouring 
 
 Classes in Wales the custom of May- 
 dancing, wherein they exhibit their per- 
 sons to the best advantage, and distinguish 
 their agility before the fair maidens of 
 their own rank. 
 
 About a fortnight previous to the day, 
 the interesting question among the lads 
 and lasses i*, " Who will turn out to 
 dance in the summer this year?" From 
 that time the names of the gay performers 
 are buzzed in the village, and rumour 
 " with her hundred tongues" proclaims 
 them throughout the surrounding neigh- 
 bourhood. Nor is it asked with less inte- 
 rest, " Who w ill carry the garland V and 
 " Who will be the Cadi ?" Of the peculiar 
 offices of these two distinguished person 
 ages you shall hear presently. 
 
 About nine days or a week previous to 
 the festival, a collection is made of the 
 gayest ribbons that can be procured. 
 Each lad resorts to his favoured lass, who 
 gives him the best she posse^,ses, and 
 uses her utmost interest with her friends 
 or her mistress to obtain a loan of what- 
 ever may be requisite to supply the defi- 
 ciency. Her next care is to decorate a 
 new white shirt of fine linen. This is 
 a principal part of her lover's dress. The 
 bows and puffs of ribbon are di;posed ac- 
 cording to the peculiar taste of each fai. 
 girl who is rendered happy by the pleas, 
 ing task; and thus the shirts of tl^ 
 dancers, from the various fancies of tU 
 adorners, form a diversified and lively 
 appearance. 
 
 During this time the ciiosen garland' 
 
 281 
 
niE EVliKY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 ocarer is also busily employed. Accom- 
 panied by one from among the intended 
 dancers, who is best known among the 
 farmers for decency of conduct, and con- 
 sequent responsibility, they go from house 
 to house, throughout their parish, begging 
 the loan of watches, silver spoons, of 
 whatever other utensils of this metal are 
 likely to make a brilliant display; and 
 those who are satisfied with the parties, 
 and have a regard for the celebration of 
 this ancient day, comply with their solicit- 
 ation. 
 
 When May-day morn arrives, the group 
 of dancers assemble at their rendezvous — 
 the village tavern. From thence (when 
 permission can be obtained from the 
 clergyman of the parish,) the rustic pro- 
 cession sets forth, accompanied by the 
 ringing of bells. 
 
 The arranc^ement and march are settled 
 by the Cadi, who is always the most active 
 person in the company ; and is, by virtue 
 of his important office, the chief marshal, 
 orator, buffoon, and money collector. He 
 is always arrayed in comic attire, generally 
 in a partial dress of both sexes : a coat 
 and waistcoat beir>g used for the upper 
 part of the body, and for the lower 
 TDetticoats, somewhat resembling Moll Fla- 
 gon, in the " Lord of the Manor." His 
 countenance is also particularly distin- 
 guished by a hideous mask, or is blackened 
 entirely over ; and then the lips, cheeks, 
 and orbits of the eyes are sometimes 
 painted red. The number of the rest of 
 the party, including the garland-bearer, is 
 generally thirteen, and with the excep- 
 tion of the varied taste in the decoration 
 of their shirts with ribbons, their costume 
 is similar. It consists of clothing en- 
 tirely new from the hat to the shoes, 
 which are made neat, and of a light tex- 
 ture, foi dancing. The white decorated 
 shirts, plaited in the neatest manner, are 
 worn over the rest of their clothing; the 
 remainder of the dress is black velveteen 
 breeches, with knee-ties depending half- 
 way down to the ancles, in contrast with 
 yarn hose of a light grey. The ornaments 
 of the hats are large rosettes of varied 
 colours, with streamers depending from 
 them ; wreaths of ribbon encircle the 
 crown, and each of the dancers carries in 
 his right hand a white pocket handker- 
 chief. 
 
 The garland consists of a long staff cr 
 pole, to which is affixed a triangular or 
 square frame, covered with strong white 
 linen, nn which the silver ornaments are 
 
 firmly fixed, and displayed -v^ xh the mos* 
 studious taste. Silver spoons and smillei 
 forms are placed in the shape of stars 
 squares, and circles. Between these are 
 rows of watches ; and at the top of the 
 frame, opposite the pole in its centre, 
 their whole collection is crowned with the 
 largest and most costly of the ornaments : 
 generally a large silver cup or tankard. 
 This garland, when completed, on the eve 
 of May-day, is left for the night at that 
 farmhouse from whence the dancers have 
 received the most liberal loan of silver 
 and plate for its decoration, or with that 
 farmer who is distinguished in his neigh- 
 bourhood as a good master, and liberal to 
 the poor. Its deposit is a token of respect, 
 and it is called for early on the following 
 morning. 
 
 The whole party being assembled, thej 
 march in single file, but more generally in 
 pairs, headed by the Cadi. After him fol- 
 lows the garland-bearer, and then the 
 fiddler, while the bells of the village 
 merrily ring the signal of their departure 
 As the procession moves slowly along, the 
 Cadi varies his station, hovers about his 
 party, brandishes a ladle, and assails 
 every passenger with comic eloquence and 
 ludicrous persecution, for a customary and 
 expected donation. 
 
 When they arrive at a farmhouse, they 
 take up their ground on the Dest station 
 for dancing. The garland-bearer takes 
 his stand ; the violin strikes up an old 
 national tune uniformly used on that oc 
 casion, and the dancers move forward in a 
 regular quick-step to the tune, in the order 
 of procession ; and at each turn of the 
 tune throw up their white handkerchiefs 
 with a shout, and the whole facing quickly 
 about, retrace their steps, repeating the 
 same manoeuvre until the tune is once 
 played. The music and dancing then vary 
 into a reel, which is succeeded by another 
 dance, to the old tune of " Cheshire 
 Round." 
 
 During the whole of this time, the buf- 
 foonery of the Cadi is exhibited without 
 intermission. He assails the inmates of 
 the house for money, and when this is 
 obtained he bows or curtsies his thanks,and 
 the procession moves off to the next farm- 
 house. They do not confine the ramble 
 of the day to their own parish, but go fron: 
 one to another, and to any country town ic 
 the vicinity. 
 
 When they return to their resident vil- 
 lage in the evening, the bells ringing 
 merrily announce their arrival. The 
 
 I 
 
 282 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1 
 
 money collected during the day's excur- 
 sion is appropriated to defray whatever 
 expenses may have been incurred in the 
 necessary preparations, and the remainder 
 B spent in jovial festivity. 
 
 This ancient custom, like many others 
 among the ancient Britons, is annually 
 growing into disuse. The decline of 
 sports and pastimes is in every age a sub- 
 ject of regret. For in a civil point of 
 view, they denote the general prosperity, 
 natural energy, and happiness of the 
 people, consistent with morality, — and 
 combined witli that spirit of true religion, 
 which unlike the howling of the dismal 
 hyaena or ravening wolf, is as a lamb 
 sportive and innocent, and as a lion mag- 
 nanimous and bold ! 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 H. T. B. 
 April \^, 1825. 
 
 MAY-DAY AT IIITCHIN, IN HERTFORDSHIRE. 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Extract from a letter dated HitcJan, 
 May 1«<, 1823. 
 
 On this day a curious custom is ob- 
 served here, of which I will give you a 
 brief account. 
 
 Soon after three o'clock m the morning 
 a large party of the town-people, and 
 neighbouring labourers, parade the town, 
 singing the " Mayer s Seng." They carry 
 in their hands large branches of May, and 
 they affix a branch either upon, or at the 
 side of, the doors of nearly every respect- 
 able house in the town ; where there are 
 knockers, they place these branches within 
 the handles ; that which was put into our 
 knocker was so large that the servant 
 could not open the door tiU the gardener 
 came and took it out. The larger the 
 branch is, that is placed at the door, the 
 more honourable to the house, or rather 
 to the servants of the house. If, in the 
 course of the year, a servant has given 
 offence to any of the Mayers, then, instead 
 of a branch of May, a branch of elder, 
 with a bunch of nettles, is affixed to her 
 door : this is considered a great disgrace, 
 and the unfortunate subject of it is ex- 
 posed to the jeers of her rivals. On iNIay 
 morning, therefore, the girls look with 
 some anxiety for their May-branch, and 
 rise very early to ascertain their good or 
 ill fortune. "The houses are all th»is de- 
 
 corated by four o'clock in the mornmg. 
 Throughout the day parties of these May- 
 ers are seen dancing and frolicking in 
 various parts of the town. The group 
 that I saw to-day, which remained in 
 Bancroft for more than an hour, was com- 
 posed as follows. First came two men 
 with their faces blacked, one of them with 
 a birch broom in his hand, and a large 
 artificial hump on his back ; the other 
 dressed as a woman, all in rags and tatters, 
 with a large strawbonnet on, and carrying 
 a ladle : these are called " mad Moll and 
 her husband :" next came two men, one 
 most fantastically dressed with ribbons, 
 and a great variety of gaudy coloured 
 silk handkerchiefs tied round his arms 
 from the shoulders to the wrists, and 
 down his thighs and legs to the ancles ; 
 he carried a drawn sword in his hand ; 
 leaning upon his arm was a youth dressed 
 as a fine lady, in white muslin, and pro- 
 fusely bedecked from top to toe with gay 
 ribbons: these, J understood, were called 
 the " Lord and Lady " of the company ; 
 after these followed six or seven couples 
 more, attired much in the same style as 
 the lord and lady, only the men were 
 without swords. When this group re- 
 ceived a satisfactory contribution at any 
 house, the music struck up from a violin, 
 clarionet, and fife, accompanied by the 
 long drum, and they began the merry 
 dance, and very well they danced, I as- 
 sure you ; the men-uwmen looked and 
 footed it so much like rea, women, that 1 
 stood in great doubt as to w hich sex they 
 
 belonged to, till Mrs. .J. assured me 
 
 that women were no* permitted to mingle 
 in these sports. While the dancers were 
 merrily footing it, the principal amuse- 
 ment to the populace was caused by the 
 grimaces and clownish tricks of mad Moll 
 and her husband. When the circle of 
 spectators became so contracted as to in- 
 terrupt the dancers, then mad Moll's 
 husband went to work with his broom, 
 and swept the road-dust, all round the 
 circle, into the faces of the crowd, and 
 when any pretended affronts were offered 
 (and many were offered) to his wife, he 
 pursued the offenders, broom in iKind ; if 
 he could not overtake them, whether they 
 were males or females, he flung his broom 
 at them. These flights and pursuits 
 caused an abundance of merriment. 
 
 I saw another company o*" Mayers in 
 Sun-street, and, as far as I could judge 
 from where I stood, it appeared to be o 
 
 283 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 exactly the same description as that above- 
 mentioned, but I did not venture very 
 near them, for 1 perceived mad Moll's 
 
 husband exercising his broom so briskly 
 upoa the fl\inn; crowd, that I kept at a 
 respccilul distance. 
 
 MAY-DAY AT HrfCIilN, IN IIERTFOTIDSHIRE. 
 
 The " Mayer^s Song " is a compositiou, 
 or rather a medley, of p;reat antiquity, and 
 I was therefore very desirous to procure 
 a copy of it ; in accomplishing this, how- 
 ever, I experienced more difficulty than I 
 had anticipated ; but at length succeeded 
 m obtaining it from one of the Mayers. 
 The following is a literal transciipt of it : 
 
 The Mayer's Song: 
 Remember us poor Mayers all. 
 
 And thus do we begin 
 To lead our lives in righteousness, 
 
 Or else we die in sin. 
 
 We have been rambling all this niglit, 
 
 And almost all this day, 
 And now returned back again 
 
 We have brought you a branch of May- 
 
 A branch ot May we have brought you, 
 A nd at your door it stands. 
 
 It is but a sprout, 
 But it's well budded out 
 By the work of our Lord's hands. 
 
 The hedges and trees they are so gre-su 
 
 As green as any leek, 
 Our heavenly Father He watered them 
 
 With his heavenly dew so sweet. 
 
 The heavenly gates are open wide, 
 
 Our paths are beaten plain, 
 And if a man be not too far gone. 
 
 He may return again. 
 
 The life of man is but a span, 
 
 It flourishes like a flower. 
 We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow. 
 
 And we are dead in an hour. 
 
 The moon shines bright, and the stars give E 
 light, 
 
 A little before it is day, 
 So God bless you all, both great and small. 
 
 And send you a joyf'd May. 
 
 284 
 
THE EVEEY-DAT BOOK.— MAT 1. 
 
 MILKMAIDS' GARLAND ON MAY-DAY. 
 
 In London, thirty years ago, 
 
 When pretty milkmaids went about. 
 
 It was a goodly sight to see 
 Their May-day Pageant all drawn out :- 
 
 Themselves in comely colours drest, 
 Their shining garland in the middle, 
 
 A pipe and tabor on before, 
 
 Or else the foot-inspiring fiddle. 
 
 They stopt at houses, where it was 
 Their custom to cry " milk below !" 
 
 And, while the music play'd, with smiles 
 Join'd hands, and pointed toe to toe. 
 
 Thus they tripp'd on, till — from the door 
 The hop'd-for annual present sent — 
 
 A signal came, to curtsy low. 
 And at that door cease merriment 
 
 Such scenes, and sounds, once blest my eyes. 
 And charm'd my cars — but all have vanish'd ! 
 
 On May-day, now, no garlands go, 
 
 I'or milk-maids, and their dance, are banish'd. 
 
 My recollections of these sights 
 
 " Annihilate both time and space ;" 
 
 i'm boy enough to wish them back, 
 And think their absence — out of placf,. 
 May 4, 18'^i.. 
 
 285 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 From the preceding lines somewhat miy 
 be learned of a lately disused custom in 
 LondoM. The milkmaids' garland was a 
 pyramidicaJ »rame, covered with damask, 
 glittering on each side with polished 
 silver plate, and adorned with knots of 
 gay-coloured ribbons, and posies of fresh 
 flowers, surmounted by a silver urn, or 
 tankard. The garland being placed on a 
 wooden horse, was carried by two men, 
 as represented in the engraving, some- 
 times preceded by a pipe and tabor, but 
 more frequently by a fiddle ; the gayest 
 milkmaids followed the music, others 
 followed the garland, and they stopped 
 at their customers' doors, and danced. 
 The plate, in some of these garlands, wa? 
 very costly. It was usually borrowed of 
 the pawnbrokers, for the occasion, upon 
 security. One person in tiiat trade was 
 particularly resorted to for this accommo- 
 dation. He furnished out the entire gar- 
 land, and let it at so much per hour, un- 
 der bond from responsible housekeepers 
 for its safe return. In this way one set 
 of milkmaids would hire the garland from 
 ten o'clock till one, and another set would 
 have the garland from one o'clock till 
 six ; and so on, during the first three days 
 of May. 
 
 It was customary with milk-people of 
 less profitable walks to make a display of 
 another kind, less gaudy in appearance, 
 bat better bespeaking their occupation, 
 and more appropriate to the festival. 
 This was an exhibition of themselves, in 
 their best apparel, and of the useful ani- 
 mal which produced the fluid they re- 
 tailed. One of these is thus described to 
 the editor of the Every-Daij Book, by an 
 intelligent eye-witness, and admirer of 
 the pleasant sight. A beautiful country 
 girl " drest all in her best," and more 
 gaily attired than on any other day, with 
 floial ornanients in her neat little liat, 
 and on her bosom, led her cow, by a rope 
 depending from its horns, garlanded with 
 flowers and kr.ots of ribbons ; the horns, 
 neck, and head of the cow were decorated 
 iin like manner ; a fine net, like those upon 
 ladies' palfreys, tastefully stuck with 
 flowers, covered Bess's back, and even 
 her tail was ornamented, with products 
 of the spring, and silken knots. The 
 proprietress of the cow, a neat, brisk, 
 little, matronly body, followed on one 
 side, in holiday-array, with a sprig in her 
 country bonnet, a blooming posy in her 
 handkerchief, and ribbons on her stomach- 
 er This scene was in Westminster, near 
 
 the old abbey. Ah ! those werp »he 
 days, 
 
 Tlie milkmaids' earlier plate-gariiind 
 was a pyramid of piled utensils, carried 
 on a stout damsel's head, under which 
 she danced to the violin. 
 
 MAY-FAIR. 
 
 The great May-fair was formerly held 
 near Piccadilly. An antiquary, (shudder 
 not, good reader, at the chilling name — he 
 was a kind soul;,) Mr. Carter, describes 
 this place in an interesting communica- 
 tion, dated the 6th of March, 1816, to his 
 valued friend, the venerable " Sylvanus 
 Urban." " Fifty years have passed away 
 since this place of amusement was at its 
 height of attraction : the spot where the 
 fair ^vas held still retains the name of 
 May-fair, and exists in much the same 
 state as at the above period : for instance, 
 Shepherd's market, and houses surrounding 
 it on the north and east sides, with While 
 Horse-street, Shepherd's-court, Sun-court, 
 Market-court. VVestwards an open space 
 extending to Tyburn (now Park) lane, 
 since built upon, in Chapel-street, Shep- 
 herd's - street. Market - street, Hertford- 
 street, &c. Southwards, the noted Duck- 
 ing-pond, house, and gardens, since built 
 upon, in a large Riding-school, Carring- 
 ton-street, (the noted Kitty Fisher lived in 
 this street,) &c. The market-house con- 
 sisted of two stories ; first story, a long 
 and cross aisle, for butcher's shops, exter- 
 nally, other shops connected with culinary 
 purposes ; second story, used as a theatre 
 at fair-time, for dramatic performances. 
 My recollection serves to raise before me 
 the representation of the ' Revenge,' in 
 which the only object left on remembrance 
 is the ' black man,' Zanga. Below, the 
 butchers gave place to toy-men and ginger- 
 bread-bakers. At present, the upper story 
 is unfloored, the lower ditto nearly desert- 
 ed by the butchers, and their shops occu- 
 pied by needy peddling dealers in smaL' 
 wares ; in truth, a most deplorable contrast 
 to what once was such a point of allurement 
 In the areas encompassing the market 
 building were booths for jugglers, prize- 
 fighters, both at cudgels and back-sword, 
 boxing-matches, and wild beasts. The 
 sports not under cover were moun- 
 tebanks, fire-eaters, ass-racing, sausage- 
 tables, dice-tables, up-and-downs, merry- 
 go-rounds, bull-baiting, grinning for a 
 hat, running for a shift, hasty-pudding 
 eaters, eel-divers, and an infinite variety 
 of other similar pastimes. Among the 
 
 28G 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— 5IAY 1. 
 
 extraordinary and wonderful delights of 
 tiie happy spot, take the following items, 
 which still hold a place within my mind, 
 though I cannot affirm they all occurred 
 at one precise season. The account may 
 be relied on, as 1 was born, and passed 
 my youthful days in the vicinity, in Picca- 
 dilly, (Caller's Statuary,) two doors from 
 the south end of White Horse-street, 
 since rebuilt (occupied at present by 
 lady I'ulleney). — Before a large commo- 
 dious house, with a good disposure of 
 walks, arbours, and alcoves, was an area, 
 with an extensive bason of water, other- 
 wise ' Ducking-pond,' for the recreation 
 of lovers of that polite and humane sport. 
 Persons who came with their dogs paid a 
 trifling fee for admission, and were con- 
 sidered the chief patrons and supporters 
 of the pond ; others, who visited the place 
 as mere spectators, paid a double fee. A 
 duck was put into the pond by the mas- 
 ter of the hunt ; the several dogs were 
 then let loose, to seize the bird. For a long 
 time they made the attempt in vain ; for, 
 when they came near the devoted victim, 
 she dived under water, and eluded their 
 remorseless fangs. Herein consisted the 
 extreme felicitii of the interesting scene. 
 At length, some dog more expert than 
 the rest, caught the feathered prize, and 
 bore it away, amidst the loudest acclama- 
 tions, to its most fortunate and envied 
 master. This diversion was held in such 
 high repute about the reign of Charles \1., 
 that he, and many of his prime nobility, 
 did not disdain to be present, and partake, 
 with their dogs, of the elegant entertain- 
 ment. In i\Irs. Behn's play of ' Sir Pa- 
 tient Fancy,' (written at the above pe- 
 riod,) a sir Credulous Easy talks about a 
 cobbler, his dog-tutor, and his expectation 
 of soon becoming ' the duke of Duck- 
 ing-pond.* — A ' Mountebanks' Stage ' 
 was erected opposite the Three Jolly 
 Butchers' public-house, (on the east side 
 of the market area, now the King's 
 Arms.) Here Woodward, the inimitable 
 comedian and harlequin, made his first 
 appearance as merry-andrew ; from these 
 humble boards he soon after found his 
 way to Covent-garden theatre. — Then 
 there was ' Beheading of Puppets.' In a 
 coal-shed attached to a grocer's shop, 
 (then Mr. Fiith's, now Mr. Frampton's,) 
 one of these mock executions was exposed 
 to the attending crowd. A shutter was 
 fixed horizontally ; on the edge of which, 
 after many previous ceremonies, a puppet 
 
 laid its head, and anotner puppet then 
 instantly chopped it off with an axe. In 
 a circular staircase-window, at the north 
 end of Sun-court, a similar performance 
 took place by another set of puppets. 
 The condemned puppet bowed its head 
 to the cill which, as above, was soon de- 
 capitated. In these representations, the 
 late punishment of the Scotch chieftain 
 (lord Lovat) was alluded to, in order to 
 gratify the feelings of southern loyalty, at 
 the expense of that farther north. — In a 
 fore one-pair room, on the west side of 
 Sun-court, a Frenchman submitted to 
 the curious the astonishing strength of 
 the ' Stro7ig Woman,' his wife. A 
 blacksmith's anvil being procured from 
 White Horse-street, with three of the 
 men, they brought it up, and placed it 
 on the floor. The woman was short, but 
 most beautifully and delicately formed, 
 and of a most lovely countenance. She 
 first let down her hair, (alight auburn.) of 
 a length descending to her knees, which 
 she twisted round the projecting part of 
 the anvil, and then, with seeming ease, 
 lifted the ponderous weight some inches 
 from the floor. After this, a bed was laid 
 in the middle of the room ; when, reclin- 
 ing on her back, and uncovering her 
 bosom, the husband ordered the smiths 
 to place thereon the anvil, and forge upon 
 it a horse-shoe ! This they obeyed ; by 
 taking from the fire a red-hot piece of iron, 
 and with their forging hammers com- 
 pleting the shoe, with the same might 
 and indifference as when in the shop at 
 their constant labour. The prostrate fair 
 one appeared to endure this with the 
 utmost composure, talking and singing 
 during the whole process ; then, with an 
 effort which to the by-standers seemed 
 like some supernatural trial, cast the 
 anvil from off her body , jumping up at the 
 same moment with extreme gaiety, and 
 without the least discomposure of her 
 dress or person. That no trick or collu- 
 sion could possibly be practised on the 
 occasion was obvious, from the following 
 evidence : — Tlie audience stood promis- 
 cuously about the room, among whom 
 were our family and friends ; the smiths 
 were utter strangers to the Frenchman, 
 but known to us ; therefore the several 
 efforts of strength must have proceeded 
 from the natural and surprising power 
 this foreign dame was possessed of. She 
 next put her naked feet on a red-hot 
 salamander, without receiving the lea.s' 
 
 287 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK— MAY 1- 
 
 injury : but this is a feat familiar with us 
 at this time. Here this kind of gratifica- 
 
 tion to the senses concludscl. — Here, too 
 was ' Tiddy-doU.' 
 
 TIDDY DIDDY DOLL— LOLL. LOLL, LOLL. 
 
 This celebrated vender of gingerbread, 
 from his eccentricity of character, and ex- 
 tensive dealings in his way, was always 
 hailed as the king of itinerant tradesmen.* 
 In his person he was tall, well made, and 
 his features handsome. He affected to 
 dress like a person of rank ; white gold 
 laced suit of clothes, laced ruffled shirt, 
 laced h.it and feather, white silk stock- 
 ings, with the addition of a fine white 
 apron. Among his harangues to gain 
 customers, take this as a specimen : — 
 
 • He was a constant atteudant in the crowd 
 on Ijord Mayor's day. 
 
 * Mary, Mary, where are you nou\ 
 Mary? I live, when at home, at the se- 
 cond house in Little Ball-street, two 
 steps underground,withawiscum, riscum, 
 and a why-not. Walk in, ladies and 
 gentlemen ; my shop is on the second- 
 floor backwards, with a brass knocker at 
 the door. Here is your nice gingerbread, 
 your spice gingerbread ; it will melt in 
 your mo-Jth like a red-hot brickbat, and 
 rumble in your inside like Punch and hia 
 wheelbarrow.' He always finished bis 
 address by singing this fag end of sora 
 popular ballad :■ — 
 
 288 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK -MAY 1, 
 
 ^ 
 
 Allefrretto. 
 
 m 
 
 Ti-Md Jv. ti-ti, 
 
 w 
 
 fefe 
 
 4=^ 
 
 t:-tid-dy, ti-ti. 
 
 ti - tid - dv. ti - ti, 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 ^^ic 
 
 P" )9- 
 
 =S"-=3: 
 
 ^ 
 
 tid-dv did-dy dol-lol, ti - tid - dy ti - ti<l - dy 
 
 ti - ti. 
 
 P-- 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^=^ 
 
 lid-dy tld-dy, dol. 
 
 Hence arose his nickname of ' Tiddy-doll.' 
 In Hogarth's print of the execution of 
 the ' Idle 'Prentice,' at Tyburn, Tiddy- 
 doll is seen holding up a gingerbread cake 
 ■with his left hand, his right being within 
 his coat, and addressing the mob in his 
 usual way: — 'Mary, Mary,' &c. His 
 costume agrees with the aforesaid de- 
 scription. For many years, (and perhaps 
 at present,) allusions were made to his 
 name, as thus : — ' You are so fine, (to a 
 person dressed out of character,) you look 
 like Tiddy-doll. Y( u are as tawdry as 
 Tiddy-doll. You are quite Tiddy-doll,' 
 &c. — Soon after the late lord Coventry 
 occupied the house, corner of Engine- 
 street, Piccadilly, (built by sir Henry 
 Hunlocke, Bart., on the site of a large 
 ancient inn, called the Greyhound ;) he 
 being annoyed with the unceasing up- 
 roar, night and day, during the fair, (the 
 whole month of May,) procured, I know 
 not by what means, the entire abolition 
 of this festival of ' misrule ' and dis- 
 order." 
 
 ITie engraving here given is from an 
 old print of Tiddy-doll ; it is presumed, 
 that the readers of the Every-Day Book 
 will look at it with interest. 
 
 EVIL MAY-DAY. 
 
 In the reign of king Henry VIII., a 
 great jealousy arose in the citizens of 
 London towhrds foreign artificers, who 
 were then called " strangers." By the 
 interference of Dr. Standish, in a Spital 
 sermon, at Easter, this was fomented 
 into so great rancour, that it violently 
 broke forth in the manner hereafter re- 
 lated by Stow, and occasioned the name 
 of " Evil May-day " to the hrst of May, 
 whereon the tumult happened. It 
 appears then from him that : — 
 
 ''The 25th day of April, 1517, divers 
 yong-men of the citie picked quarels with 
 certaine strangers, as tliey passed along 
 
 the streets : some they smote and buffet- 
 ted, and some they threw in the channell : 
 for which, the lord maior sent some of 
 tlie Englishmen to prison, as Stephen 
 Studley, Skinner, Stevenson, Bets, and 
 ot.her. 
 
 *' Then suddenly rose a secret rumour, 
 and no man could tell how it began, that 
 on May-day next following, the citie 
 would slay all the aliens : insomuch that 
 divers strangers fled out of the citie. 
 
 "Tliis rumour came to the Knowledge of 
 the kings councell : whereupon the lord 
 cardiriall sent for the maior, and other of 
 the councell of the citie, giving them to 
 understand what hee had heard. 
 
 " The lord maior (as one ignorant of the 
 matter) told the cardinal!, that he doubted 
 not so to governe the citie, but as peace 
 should be observed. 
 
 " The cardinall willed him so to doe, 
 and to take good heed, that if any riotous 
 attempt were intended, he should by good 
 policy prevent it. 
 
 "The maior comming from the cardi- 
 nals house, about foure of the clocke in 
 the afternoone on May eve, sent for his 
 brethren to the Guild-hall, yet was it al- 
 most seven of the clocJce before the assem- 
 bly was set. Vpon conference had of the 
 matter, some thought it necessary, that a 
 substantial watch should be set of honest 
 citizens, which might withstand the evill 
 doers, if they went about any misrule. 
 Other were of contrary opinion, as rather 
 thinking it best, that every man should be 
 commanded to shut in his doores, and to 
 keepe his servants within. Before 8 of 
 the clock, master recorder was sent to the 
 cardinall, with these opinjens : who hear- 
 ing the same, allowed the^at^er. And then 
 the recorder, and sir Thcanas More, late 
 iinder-sheriffe of London, and now of the 
 kings councell, came backe againe to the 
 Guild-hall, halfe an houre before nine of 
 tne cock, and there shewed the pleasure 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 289 
 
 U 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 of the kings councell : wliereupon every 
 alderrian sent to his ward, that no man 
 (after nine of the clocke) should stir out 
 of his house, but keepe his doores shut, 
 and his servants within, untill nine of the 
 clocke in the morning. 
 
 " After this commasdement was given. 
 In the evening, as sir lohn Mundy, alder- 
 man, came from his ward, hee found two 
 young-men in Cheapp, playing at the 
 bucklers, and a great many of young-men 
 looking on them, for the command seem- 
 ed to bee scarcely published ; he com- 
 manded them to leave off"; and because 
 one of them asked him why, hee v/ould 
 have him sent to the counter. But the 
 prentices resisted the alderman, taking 
 the young-man from him, and cryed 
 prentices, prentices, clubs, clubs ; then 
 out at every doore came clubs and other 
 weapons, so that the alderman was 
 forced to flight. Then more people arose 
 out of every quarter, and forth came 
 servingmen, watermen, courtiers, and 
 other, so that by eleven of the clocke, 
 there were in Cheape, 6 or 7 hundred, 
 and out of Pauls church-yard came about 
 300. From all places they gathered to- 
 gether, and brake up the Counter, look 
 out the prisoners, which had been com- 
 mitted thither by the lord maior, for hurt- 
 ing the strangers : also they went to New- 
 gate, and tooke out Studley and Bets, 
 committed thither for the like cause. The 
 maior and sheriffes were present, and 
 made proclamation in the kings name, 
 but nothing was obeyed. 
 
 "Being thus gathered into several! heaps, 
 they ran thorow saint Nicholas shambles, 
 and at saint Martins gate, there met with 
 them sir Thomas More, and other, desir- 
 ing them to goe to their lodgings. 
 
 "As they were thus intreating, and had 
 Almost perswaded the people to depart, 
 they within saint Martins threw out stones 
 and bats, so that they hurt divers honest 
 persons, which were with sir Thomas 
 More, perswading the rebellious rout to 
 cease. Insomuch as at length, one Ni- 
 cholas Dennis, a Serjeant at arms, being 
 there sore hurt, cryed in a fury, Downe 
 with them : and then all the unruly per- 
 sons ran to the doores and windowes of 
 the houses within St. Martins, and spoil- 
 ed all that they found. After that they 
 ran into Cornehili, and so on to a house 
 east of Leadenhal, called the Green-gate, 
 where dwelt one Mewtas a Piccard or 
 Frenchman, within whose house dwelled 
 elvers French men, whom they likewise 
 
 spoyled : and if they had found Mewtas, 
 they would have stricken off his head. 
 
 " Some ran to Blanchapleton, and there 
 brake up the strangers houses, and spoiled 
 them. Thus they continued till 3 a clocke 
 in the morning, at which time, they be- 
 gan to withdraw : but by the way they 
 were taken by the maior and other, and 
 sent to the Tower, Newgate and Count- 
 ers, to the number of 300. The cardinal! 
 was advertised by sir Tliomas Parre, 
 whom in all haste he sent to Richmond, 
 to informe the king : who immediately 
 sent to understand the state of the city, 
 and was truely informed. Sir Roger 
 Cholmeley Lievtenant of the Tower, dur- 
 ing the time of this business, shot off'cer- 
 taine peeces of ordnance against the city, 
 but did no great hurt. About live of the 
 clock in the morning, the earles of Shrews- 
 bury and Surrey, Thomas Dockery, lord 
 prior of saint lohns, George Nevill, lord 
 Aburgaveny, and other, came to London 
 with such powers as they could make, so 
 did the innes of court; but before they 
 came, the business was done, as ye have 
 heard. 
 
 "Then were the prisoners examined, and 
 the sermon of doctor Bell called to re- 
 membrance, and hee sent to the Tower. 
 A commission of oyer and determiner 
 was directed to the duke of Norfolke, and 
 other lords, for punishment of this insur- 
 rection. The second of May, the com- 
 missioners, with the lord maior, aldermen, 
 and iusticos, went to the Guildhall, where 
 many of the offenders were indicted, 
 whereupon they were arraigned, and 
 pleaded not guilty, having day given them 
 till the 4. of May. 
 
 "On which day, the lord maior, the duke 
 of Norfolke, the earle of Surrey and 
 other, came to sit in the Guildhall. The 
 duke of Norjolke entred the city with one 
 thousand three hundred men. and the 
 prisoners were brought through the streets 
 tyed in ropes, some men, some kids but of 
 thirteen or foureteene yeeres old, to the 
 number of 278 persons. That day lohn 
 Lincolne and divers other were indicted, 
 and the next day thirteen were adjudged 
 to be drawne, hanged, and quartered : 
 for execution whereof, ten payre of gal- 
 lowes were set up in divers places of the 
 city, as at Aldgate, Blanchapleton, Grasse- 
 street. Leaden-hall, before either of the 
 counters, at Newgate, saint Martins, at 
 Aldersgate and Bishopgate. And these 
 gallowes were set upon wheels, to bee re- 
 moved from street to street, and from 
 
 290 
 
TTIli E VERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 Joore to doore, whereas the prisoners 
 were to be executed. 
 
 " On the seventh of May, lolin Lincoln, 
 one Shirwin, and two brethren, named 
 Betts, with divers other were adjudged to 
 dye. They were on the hurdles drawne 
 to the standard in Cheape, and first was 
 Lincolne executed : and as the other had 
 the ropes about their neckes, there came 
 a commandement from the king, to respit 
 .he execution, and then were the prisoners 
 Sent againe to prison, and the armed men 
 tent away out of the citie. 
 
 " On the thirteenth of May, the king 
 came to Westminster-hall, and with him 
 the lord cardinall, the dukes of Norfolke, 
 and Suffolke, the earles of Shrewsbury, 
 Essex, Wiltshire, and Surrey, with many 
 lords and other of the kings councell ; the 
 lord maior of London, aldermen and other 
 chiefe citizens, were there in their best 
 liveries, by nine of the clocke in the 
 morning. Then came in the prisoners, 
 hound in ropes in a ranke one after an- 
 other,, in their shirts, and every one had 
 a halter about his necke, being in number 
 400 men, and 11 women. 
 
 "When they were thus come before the 
 kings presence, the cardinall laid sore to 
 the maior and aldermen their negligence, 
 and to the prisoners he delared how justly 
 they had deserved to dye. Then all the 
 prisoners together cryed to the king for 
 mercy, and there with the lords besought 
 his grace of pardon : at whose request, 
 the king pardoned them all. The gene- 
 rail pardon being pronounced, all the pri- 
 soners shouted at once, and cast their 
 halters towards the roofe of the hall. The 
 prisoners being dismissed, the gallowes 
 were taken downe, and the citizens tooke 
 more heed to their servants : keeping (for 
 ever after) as on that night, a strong 
 watch in Armour, in remembrance of 
 Evill May-day. 
 
 '' These great Mayings and Maygames 
 made by the governours and masters of 
 this city, with the triumphant setting up 
 of a great shaft (a principall May-pole in 
 Cornehill, before the parish of saint An- 
 drew) therefore called Vndershaft, by 
 meane of that insurrection of youths, 
 against aliens on May-day, 1517. the d. 
 of Henry the eighth, have not been so 
 freely used as before." 
 
 DRURY-LANE MAY-POLE 
 
 Tliere was formerly a May-pole put up 
 by a " smith " at the north end of little 
 
 Drury-lane, to commemorate his daugh- 
 ter's good fortune, who being married t«. 
 general Monk, while a private gentle- 
 man, became duchess of Albemarle, bj 
 his being raised to the dukedom after the 
 Restoration. Tlie May-pole is only mer.- 
 tioned here on account of its origin. It 
 appears, from a trial at bar on action 
 of trespass, that the name of this " smith" 
 was John Clarges, that he was a farrier ir. 
 the Savoy, and farrier to colonel Monk 
 and that the farrier's daughter, Anne, was 
 first married in the church of St. Laurence 
 Pountney to Thomas Ratford, son of 
 Thomas Ratford, late a farrier, servant to 
 prince Charles, and resident in the Mews. 
 She had a daughter, who was born in 
 1634, and died in 1638. Her husband 
 and she " lived at the Three Spanish 
 Gipsies in the New Exchange, and sold 
 wash-balls, powder, gloves, and such 
 thing*^, and she taught girls plain work. 
 About 1647, she, being a sempstress to 
 colonel Monk, used to carry him linen." 
 In 1648, her father and mother died. In 
 1 649, she and her husband " fell out, and 
 parted." But no certificate from any 
 parish register appears reciting his burial. 
 In 1652, she was married in the church 
 of St. George, Southwark, to " general 
 George Monk ;" and, in the following 
 year, was delivered of a son, Christopher 
 (afterward the second and last duke of 
 Albemarle abovementioned), who " was 
 suckled by Honour Mills, who sold ap- 
 ples, herbs, oysters," &c. One of the 
 plaintiff's witnesses swore, that " a little 
 before the sickness, Thomas Ratford de- 
 manded and received of him the sum of 
 twenty shillings ; that his wife saw Rat- 
 ford again after the sickness, and a second 
 time after the duke and duchess of Albe- 
 marle were dead." A woman swore, that 
 she saw him on " the day his wife (then 
 called duchess of Albemarle) was put into 
 her coffin, which was after the death of 
 the duke," her second husband, who died 
 Jan. 3, 1669-70. And a third witness 
 swore, that he saw Ratford about Julv 
 1660. In opposition to this evidence it 
 was alleged, that " all along, during the 
 lives of duke George and duke Christo- 
 pher, this matter was never questioned" 
 — that the latter was universally received 
 as only son of the former — and that " this 
 matter had been thrice before tried at the 
 bar of the King's Bench, and the defend- 
 ant had had three verdicts." The verdict 
 on the trial was in favour of sir Walter 
 Clarges, a grandson of the farrier, who 
 
 291 
 
THE EVERY-DAf BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 was knighted when his daughter, from 
 the selling of wash-balls, became duchess 
 of Albemarle. This sir Walter Clarges 
 was created a baronet October 30, 1674, 
 
 and was ancestor to the baronets of this 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 CHIMNEY SWEEPERS ON MAY-DAY. 
 
 Here they are! The "sweeps" aie 
 come ! Here is the garland and the lord 
 and lady ! Poor fellows ! this is their 
 great festival. Their garland is a large 
 cone of holly and ivy framed upon hoops, 
 which gradually diminishes in size to an 
 apex, whereon is sometimes a floral 
 crown, knots of ribbons, or bunches of 
 flowers ; its sides are decorated in like 
 manner; and within it is a man who 
 walks wholly unseen, and hence the gar- 
 land has the semblance of a moving hil- 
 lock of evergreens. The chimney-sweep- 
 ers' jackets and hats are bedizened with 
 gilt embossed paper ; sometimes they 
 wear coronals of flowers in their heads ; 
 their black faces and legs a/e grotesquely 
 coloured with Dutch-pink ; their shovels 
 are scored with this crimson pigment, 
 interlaced with white chalk. Their lord 
 and lady are magniflcent indeed ; the lord 
 
 is always .he tallest of the party, and 
 selected from some other profession to 
 play this distinguished character : he 
 wears a huge cocked hat, fringed with 
 yellow or red feathers, or laced with gold 
 paper : his coat is between that of the 
 full court dress, and the laced coat of the 
 footman of quality ; in the breast he car- 
 ries an immense bunch of flowers ; his 
 waistcoat is embroidered ; his frill is 
 enormous; his "shorts" are satin, with 
 paste knee-buckles ; his stockings silk 
 with figured clocks ; his shoes are danc- 
 ing pumps, with large tawdry buckles ; 
 his hair is powdered, with a bag and ro- 
 sette ; he carries in his right hand a high 
 cane with a shining metal knob, and in 
 his left a handkerchief held by one cor 
 ner, and of a colour once white. His 
 lady is sometimes a strapping girl, though 
 usually a boy in female attire, indescriba- 
 
 192 
 
THE EVERY-DA^ BOOK.— MAY t 
 
 bly flaunty and gaudy ; her head in full 
 dress; in her right hand a brass ladle, in 
 her left a handkerchief like to my lord's. 
 When the garland stops, my lord and 
 lady exhibit their graces in a minuet de 
 la cour, or some other grave movement ; 
 in a minute or two they qaicken into a 
 dance, which enables my lord to picture 
 his conceptions of elegance; the curvili- 
 near elevation of his arm, with his cane 
 between his finger and thumb, is a courtly 
 grace, corresponding with the stiff thrown- 
 back position of his head, and the strait 
 fall of the handkerchief in the other hand. 
 My lady answers these inviting positions 
 by equal dignity ; they twirl and whirl in 
 sight of each other, though on opposite 
 sides of the dancing garland, to tiie con- 
 tinued clatter of the shovel and brush 
 held by each capering member of the 
 sooty tribe. The dance concluded, my 
 lord and my lady interchange a bow and 
 a curtsy; my lord flings up his cane- 
 arm, displaces his magnificent hat with 
 the other hand, and courteously bends, 
 with imploring looks, to spectators at the 
 adjacent windows or in the street; the 
 little sootikins hold up their shovels, my 
 lady with outstretched arm presents the 
 bowl of her ladle, and " the smallest do- 
 nations are thankfully received" by all 
 the sable fraternity. This is the chimney- 
 sweepers' London pageant on May-day 
 1825; but for the first time, there was 
 this year added a clown, a-la-Grimaldi, 
 to one or two of tlie sweeping proces- 
 sions ; he grimaces with all his might, 
 walks before Jack-in-the-green on his 
 hands or his feet, as may be most con- 
 venient, and practises every antic and 
 trick that his ingenuity can devise, to 
 promote the interest of his party. 
 
 It is understood, however, that the 
 offerings on the festival are not exclu- 
 sively appropriated to the receivers ; 
 masters share a certain portion of their 
 apprentices' profits from the holiday ; 
 others take the whole of the first two 
 days' receipts, and leave to the worn-out, 
 helpless objects, by whom they profit all 
 the year round, no more than the scanty 
 gleanings of the third day's performance. 
 
 ELIA, AND JEM WHITe's IEAST TO THE 
 SWEEPS. 
 
 Elia, the noble heart of Elia, responds 
 to these humble claimants upon humani- 
 ty ; they cry and have none to help them; 
 he is happy that a personal misfortune to 
 himtielf can make one of them laugh; he 
 
 imagines " all the blood of all the How 
 ards" in another ; he conceives no degra 
 dation by supping with them in publit 
 at " Bartlemy Fair." Kind feelings ana 
 honesty make poets and piiilosophers. 
 Listen to what Elia says : — 
 
 " I have a kindly yearning toward these 
 dim specks — poor blots — innocent black- 
 nesses — 
 
 *' I reverence these young Africans ot 
 our own growth — these almost clergy 
 imps, who sport their cloth without as- 
 sumption ; and from their little pulpits 
 (the tops of chimnies), in the nipping 
 air of a December morning, preach a 
 lesson of patience to mankind. 
 
 " When a child, what a mysterious 
 pleasure it was to witness their opera- 
 tion ! to see a chit no bigger than one's- 
 self enter, one knew not by what process, 
 into what seemed Uie/awcej Averni — to 
 pursue him in imagination, as he went 
 sounding on through so many dark, stifling 
 caveins, horrid shades ! — to shudder with 
 the idea that ' now, surely, he must be 
 lost for ever' — to revive at hearing his 
 feeble shout of discovered day-light — and 
 then (O, fulness of delight) running out 
 of doors, to come just in time to see the 
 sable phenomenon emerge in safety, the 
 brandished weapon of his art victorious 
 like some flag waved over a conquered 
 citadel ! I seem to remember having 
 been told, that a bad sweep was once left 
 in a stack with his brush, to indicate 
 which way the wind blew. It was an 
 awful spectacle certainly ; not much un- 
 like the old stage direction in Macbeth, 
 where the ' Apparition of a child crowned 
 with a tree in his hand rises.' 
 
 " Reader, if thou meetest one of these 
 small gentry in thy early rambles, it is 
 good to give him a penny. It is better 
 to give him two-pence. If it be starving 
 weather, and to the proper troubles of 
 his hard occupation, a pair of kibed heels 
 (no unusual accompaniment) be super- 
 added, the demand on thy humanity will 
 surely rise to a tester. 
 
 " I am by nature extremely susceptible 
 of street aff'ronts ; the jeers and taunts of 
 the populace ; the low-bred triumph they 
 display over the casual trip, or splashed 
 stocking, of a gentleman. Yet can I en- 
 dure the jocularity of a young sweep with 
 something more than forgiveness. — Ic 
 the last winter but one, pacing along 
 Cheapside with my accustomed precipi- 
 tation when I walk westward, a treache- 
 rous slide brought me m^on my bac-.k la 
 
 293 
 
THE every-day book.— may 1. 
 
 an instant, I sciambled up with pain 
 and shame enough — yet outwardly trying 
 to face It down, as if nothing had hap- 
 pened — when the roguish grin of one of 
 these young wits encountered me. There 
 he stood, pointing me out with his dusky 
 finger to the mob, and to a poor woman 
 (I suppose his mother) in particular, till 
 the tears for the exquisiteness of the fun 
 (so he thought it) worked themselves out 
 at the corners of his poor red eyes, red 
 from many a previous weeping, and soot- 
 inflamed, yet twinkling through all with 
 such a joy, snatched out of desolation, 
 
 that Hogarth but Hogarth has got 
 
 him already (how could he miss him ?) in 
 the March to Fincliley, grinning at the 
 pie-man — there he stood, as he stands in 
 the picture, irremovable, as if the jest 
 was to last for ever — with such a maxi- 
 mum of glee, and minimum of mischief, 
 in his mirth — for the grin of a genuine 
 sweep hath absolutely no malice in it — 
 that I could have been content, if the 
 honour of a gentleman might endure it, 
 to have remained his butt and his mock- 
 ery till midnight. 
 
 " I am by theory obdurate to the se- 
 ductiveness of what are called a fine set 
 of teeth. Every pair of rosy lips (the 
 ladies must pardon me) is a casket, pre- 
 sumably ho4ding such jewels; but, me- 
 thinks, they should take leave to ' air' 
 them as frugally as possible. The fine 
 lady, or fine gentleman, who show me 
 theii teeth, show me bones. Yet must I 
 confess, that from the mouth of a true 
 sweep a display (even to ostentation) of 
 those white and shining ossifications, 
 strikes me as an agreeable anomaly in 
 manners, and an allowable piece of fop- 
 pery. It is, as when 
 
 " A sable cloud 
 Turns forth her silver lining on the night. 
 
 It is like some remnant of ge:itry not 
 quite extinct ; a badge of better days ; a 
 hint of nobility : — and, doubtless, under 
 the obscuring darkness and double night 
 of their forlorn disguisement, oftentimes 
 lurketh good blood, and gentle condi- 
 tions, derived from lost ancestry, and a 
 lapsed pedigree. The premature appren- 
 ticements of these tender victims gi-^e 
 but too much encouragement, I fear, to 
 clandestine, and almost infantile abduc- 
 tions ; the seeds of civility and true 
 courtesy, so often discernible in these 
 young grafts (not otherwise to be ac- 
 counted for) plainly hint at some forced 
 
 adoptions ; many noble Rachels mourn- 
 ing for their children, even in our days, 
 countenance the fact ; the tales of fairy- 
 spiriting may shadow a lamentable verity, 
 and the recovery of the young Montague 
 be but a solitary instance of good for- 
 tune, out of many irreparable and hope- 
 less defiUations. 
 
 " In one of the state-beds at Arundel 
 Castle, a few years since — under a ducal 
 canopy — (that seat of the Howards is an 
 object of curiosity to visitors, chiefly for 
 its beds, in which the late duke was espe- 
 cially a connoisseur) — encircled with cur- 
 tains of delicatest crimson, with starry 
 coronets inwoven — folded between a pair 
 of sheets whiter and softer than the lap 
 where Venus lulled Ascanius — was dis- 
 covered by chance, after ail methods of 
 search had failed, at noon-day, fast asleep, 
 a lost chimney-sweeper. The little crea- 
 ture, having somehow confounded his 
 passage among the intricacies of those 
 lordly chimnies, by some unknown aper- 
 ture had alighted upon this magnificent 
 chamber; and, tired with his tedious ex- 
 plorations, was unable to resist the de- 
 licious invitement to repose, which he 
 there saw exhibited; so, creeping between 
 the sheets very quietly, laid his black 
 head upon the pillow, and slept like a 
 young Howard. 
 
 " Such is the account given to the 
 visitors at the Castle. But I cannot help 
 seeming to perceive a confirmation of 
 what I have just hinted at in this story. 
 A high instinct was at work in the case. 
 or I am mistaken. Is it probable tb 
 poor child of that description, with wliat- 
 ever weariness he might be visited, would 
 have ventured, under such a penalty as 
 he would be taught to expect, to uncover 
 the sheets of a duke's bed, and delibe- 
 rately to lay himself down between them, 
 when the rug or the carpet presented an 
 obvious couch, still far above his preten- 
 sions — is this probable, I would ask, if 
 the great power of nature, which I con- 
 tend for, had not been manifested within 
 him, prompting to the adventure ? Doubt- 
 less this young nobleman (for such my 
 mind misgives me that he must be) was 
 allured by some memory, not amounting 
 to full consciousness, of his condition in 
 infancy, when he was used to be lapt by 
 his mother, or his nurse, in just such 
 sheets as he there found, into which lie 
 v/as now but creeping back as into his 
 proper incunabula and resting-place. By 
 no other theory, than by this sentiment 
 
 294 
 
THE E\E11Y-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 of a pre-existent state (as I mny call it), 
 can 1 explain a deed so venturous, and, 
 indeed, upon any other system so inde- 
 corou«, HI this tender, but unseasonable, 
 sleeper. 
 
 " My pleasant friend Jem White was 
 so impressed with a belief of metamor- 
 phoses like this frequently taking place, 
 that in some sort to reverse the wrongs 
 of fortune in these poor changelings, he 
 instituted an annual feast of chimney- 
 sweepers, at which it was his pleasure to 
 officiate as host and waiter. It was a 
 solemn supper held in Smithfield, upon 
 the yearly return of the fair of St. Bar- 
 tholomew. Cards were issued a week 
 before to the master-sweeps in and about 
 the metropolis, confining the invitation to 
 their younger fry Now and then an 
 elderly stripling would get in among us, 
 and be good-naturedly winked at; but 
 our main body were infantry. One un- 
 fortunate wight, indeed, who, relying 
 upon his dusky suit, had intruded himself 
 into our party, but by tokens was provi- 
 dentially discovered in time to be no 
 chimney-sweeper (all is not soot which 
 looks so), was quoited out of the presence 
 with universal indignation, as not having 
 on the wedding garment ; but in general 
 the greatest harmony prevailed. The 
 place chosen was a convenient spot 
 among the pens, at the north side of the 
 fair, not so far distant as to be impervious 
 to I he agreeable hubbub of that vanity ; 
 but remote enough not to be obvious to 
 the interruption of every gaping spectator 
 in it. The guests assembled about seven. 
 In those little temporary parlours three 
 tables were spread with napery, not so 
 fine as substantial, and at every board a 
 comely hostess presided with her pan of 
 hissing sausages. The nostrils of the 
 young rogues dilated at the savour. 
 James White, as head waiter, had charge 
 of the first table; and myself, with our 
 trusty companion Bigod, ordinarily mi- 
 nistered to the other two. There was 
 clambering and jostling, you may be 
 sure, who should get at the first table — 
 for Rochester in his maddest days could 
 not have done the humours of the scene 
 with more spirit than my friend. After 
 some general expression of thanks for 
 the honour the company had done him, 
 his inaugural ceremony was to clasp the 
 greasy waist of old dame Ursula (the 
 fattest of the three), that stood frying and 
 fretting, half-blessing, half-cursing ' the 
 gentleman,' and imprint upon her chaste 
 
 lips a tender salute, whereat the universal 
 host would sei up a shout that toie tlie 
 concave, while hundreds of grinning teeth 
 startled the night with tl.eir brightness, 
 O, it was a pleasure to see the sable 
 younkers lick in the unctuous meat, with 
 /lis more unctuous sayings — how he would 
 fit the tit-bits to the puny mouths, re- 
 serving the lengthier links for the seniors 
 — how he would intercept a morsel even 
 in the jaws of some young desperado, 
 declaring it * must to the pan again to 
 be browned, for it was not fit for a gen- 
 tleman's eating' — how he would recom- 
 mend this slice of white bread, or that 
 piece of kissing-crust, to a tender juve- 
 nile, advising them all to have a care of 
 cracking their teeth, which were their 
 best patrimony, — how genteelly he would 
 deal about the small ale, as if it were 
 wine, naming the brewer, and protesting, 
 if it were not good, he should lose their 
 custom ; with a special recommendation 
 to wipe the lip before drinking. Then 
 v.e had our toasts — ' The King,' — the 
 ' ClotT),' — which, whether they under- 
 stood or not, was equally diverting and 
 flattering ; — and for a crowning senti- 
 ment, which never failed, ' May the 
 Brush supersede the Laurel.' All these, 
 and fifty other fancies, which were rather 
 felt than comprehended by his guests, 
 would he utter, standing upon tables, and 
 prefacing every sentiment with a ' Gen- 
 tlemen, give me leave to propose so and 
 so,' which was a piodigious comfort to 
 those young orphans ; every now and 
 then stuffing into his mouth (for it did 
 not do to be squeamish on these occa- 
 sions,) indiscriminate pieces of those reek- 
 ing sausages, which pleased tliem might- 
 ily, and was the savouriest part, you may 
 believe, of the entertainment : — 
 
 " Golden lads and lasses must, 
 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust — 
 
 " James White is extinct, and with 
 him these suppers have long ceased. He 
 carried away with him half the fun of 
 the world when he died — of my world at 
 least. His old clients look for him among 
 the pens; and, missing him, reproach the 
 altered feast of St. Bartholomew, and the 
 glory of Smithfield departed for ever." 
 
 A philanthropist, who rejoices over 
 every attempt to cheer helplessness, will 
 not quarrel with the late annua! treat ol 
 "Jem White." Our kindnesses wear 
 different fashions, and Elia's report of th« 
 
 295 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 festival is a feast for a feeling and merry 
 heart. Mrs. Montague's entertainment 
 to the London chimney-sweepers was 
 held every May-day, at ner house, in 
 Portman-square ; she gave them roast- 
 beef and plumb-pudding, and a shilling 
 each, and they danced after their dinner. 
 But Mrs. Montague and Jem White are 
 dead ; and now the poor fellows, though 
 the legislature has interfered for their 
 protection, want "a next friend " to cheer 
 them once a year, and acquaint the suf- 
 ferers that they have sympathizers. An 
 extract from a letter to the editor of the 
 Every- Da;/ Book, dated April 16, 1825, 
 from Sheffield, in Yorkshire, is a reproach 
 to us of the metropolis : — " In the ^Ch'wi- 
 nej/siveepers' Friend, and Climbing- 
 boys' Album,' by Mr. James Mont- 
 gomery, the poet, and editor of the 'Shef- 
 field Iris,' is a literal representation of an 
 annual dinner which that gentleman, and 
 a few of us, give to the lads employed as 
 climbing-boys in Sheffield. This we have 
 done for about eighteen years in succes- 
 sion. From twenty-four to twenty-six 
 Pittend ; and their appearance, behaviour, 
 and acquirements, (1 may say,) do credit 
 to their masters. They are a much 
 better generation to look upon than they 
 were when we first took them by the 
 hand. On last Easter Monday, out of 
 the twenty-four present, there were only 
 iwo who did not attend Sunday-schools ; 
 which, in whatever estimation these in- 
 stitutions may be held, shows that once, 
 at least, every week, these poor children 
 looked like other people's children, and 
 associated with them; being clean 
 washed, decently dressed, and employed 
 ;n reading, or in learning to read : many 
 of them could ivrite. Something of 
 the kind is projected at Leeds A be- 
 nevolent lady, at Derby, has this year 
 raised friends, and a fund, for an annual 
 dinner to the climbing-boys there on 
 Easter Monday." Mr. Montgomery's 
 *' Chimney-sweepers' Friend " is a series 
 of representations calculated to insist 
 " the immediate relief of the sufferers, 
 and the gradual abolition of this honje 
 slave-trade in little children." His ap- 
 plications to distinguished characters for 
 literary contributions to his work were 
 successful. " May I," he said, " entreat 
 your aid to this humbie cause? Were 
 you to see all the climbing-boys in the 
 kingdom (and cliinhing-^^-Zs, too, for we 
 have known parents who have employed 
 their own daughters in this hideous way,) 
 
 assembled in one place you wculd meet 
 a spectacle of deformed, degraded, and 
 depraved humanity, in its very age of 
 innocence, (pardon the phrase,) which 
 would so affect your heart that we should 
 be sure of your hand." Not one being of 
 humanity can read the statements in Mr. 
 Montgomery's volume with a dry eye — 
 not one but before he has half perused it 
 will resolve never to let a climbing-boy 
 enter his chimney again. Fathers and 
 mothers of England, read the book ! The 
 " Examiner," some time ago, related an 
 anecdote much to the purpose, from a 
 pamphlet by Mr. J. W. Orderson, late of 
 Barbadoes; it is a fine specimen of pure 
 feeling. " About fourteen years ago,'' 
 says Mr. Orderson, " a Mrs. P. arrived 
 at Bristol, from the West Indies, ana 
 brought with her a female Negro servant, 
 mother of two or three children left ir 
 that country. A few days after their 
 arrival, and they had gone into private 
 lodgings, a sweep-boy was sent for by 
 the landlady to sweep the kitchen chim- 
 ney. This woman being seated in the 
 kitchen when little Soot entered, was 
 struck with amazement at the spectacle 
 he presented ; and with great vehemence, 
 clapping her hands together, exclaimed, 
 ' Wha dis me see ! La, la, dat buckara 
 piccaninny ! So help me, nyung Misse,' 
 (addressing herself to the housemaid then 
 present,) * sooner dan see one o'mine pic- 
 caninnies tan so, I droivn he in de sea,' 
 The progress of the poor child in sweep- 
 ing the chimney closely engrossed her 
 attention, and when she saw him return 
 from his sooty incarceration, she addressed 
 him with a feeling that did honour to her 
 maternal tenderness, saying, 'Child! 
 come yaw, child,' (and without waiting 
 any reply, and putting a sixpence into 
 his hand ;) 'Who you mammy ? You hab 
 daddy, too ? Wha dem be, da la you go 
 no chimney for?' and moistening bet 
 finger at her lips, began to rub the poor 
 child's cheek, to ascertain, what yet ap- 
 peared doubtful to her, whether he was 
 really a buccara, (white.) I saw ihis 
 woman some time after in the West 
 Indies ; and it was a congratulation to 
 her ever after, that her ' children were not 
 born to be sweeps.' " 
 
 MAY-DAY IN IRTLAND. 
 
 It appears from a volume of "Fairy 
 Legends and Traditions of the South cf 
 
 296 
 
THE EVEBY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1 
 
 Ireliind,"* that there are romantic remains 
 of antiquity connected with the celebra- 
 tion of j\la}-day in that country of imag- 
 nation. " Mummers in Ireland," says 
 iie author, "are cleaily a family of the 
 fime race witli those festive bands, termed 
 Morrice-dancers, in England. They 
 appear at all seasons in Ireland, but May- 
 day is their favourite and proper festival. 
 They consist of a number, varying accord- 
 ing to circumstances, of the girls and 
 young men of the village or neighbour- 
 hood, usually selected for their good 
 looks, or their proficiency, — the females 
 in the dance, the youths in hurling and 
 other athletic exercises. They march in 
 procession, two abreast, and in three 
 divisions ; the young men in the van and 
 the rear, dressed in white or other gay- 
 coloured jackets or vests, and decorated 
 with ribbons on their hats and sleeves ; 
 the ycving women are dressed also in 
 light-coloured garments, and two of them 
 bear each a holly bush, in which are hung 
 several new hurling balls, the May-day 
 present of the girls to the youths of the 
 village. The bush is decorated with a 
 profusion of long ribbons or paper cut in 
 imitation, which adds greatly to the gay 
 and joyous, yet strictly rural, appearance 
 of the whole. The procession is always 
 preceded by music ; sometimes of the 
 bagpipe, but more commonly of a mili- 
 tary fife, with the addition of a drum or 
 tamboureen. A clown is, of course, in, 
 attendance : he wears a frightful mask, 
 and bears a long pole, with shreds of 
 cloth nailed to the end of it, like a mop, 
 which ever and anon he dips in a pool of 
 water, or puddle, and besprinkles such of 
 the crowd as pi ess upon his companions, 
 much to the delight of the younger spec- 
 tators, who greet his exploits with loud 
 and repeated shouts and laughter. The 
 Mummers, during the day, parade the 
 neighbouring villages, or go from one 
 gentleman's seat to another, dancing be- 
 fore the mansion-house, and receivmg 
 money. The evening, of course, termi- 
 nates with drinking. May-eve is considered 
 a time of peculiar danger. The ' good 
 people,* are supposed then to possess the 
 power and the inclination to do all sorts 
 of mischief without the slightest re.straint. 
 The * evil eye' is then also deemed to 
 have more than its usual vigilance and 
 malignity ; and the nurse who would 
 walk m the open air with a child in her 
 
 * Published in 1825, fc. 6vo. 
 
 arms, would be roprobated as a monster. 
 Youth and loveliness are thought to be 
 especially exposed to peril. It is there- 
 fore a natural consequence, that not one 
 woman in a thousand appears abroad : 
 but it must not be understood that the 
 want of beauty affords any protection. 
 The grizzled locks of age do not always 
 save the cheek from a blast ; neither is 
 the brawny hand of the roughest plough- 
 man exempt from a similar visitation. 
 The blast is a large round tumour, which 
 is thought to rise suddenly upon the part 
 affected, from the baneful breath cast on 
 it by one of the ' good people' in a 
 moment of vindictive or capricious malice. 
 May-day is called la na Beal tbiay and 
 May-eve neen na Beal tiva, — that is. day 
 and eve of Beal's fire, from its having 
 been in heathen times, consecrated to the 
 god Beal, or Belus ; whence also the 
 month of May is termed in Irish ' Mi na 
 Beal-tine.' Tlie ceremony practised on 
 May-eve, of making the cows leap over 
 lighted straw, or faggots, has been gene- 
 rally traced to the w-orship of that deity. 
 It is now vulgarly used in order to save 
 the milk from being pilfered by ' the 
 good people.' — Another custom prevalent 
 on May-eve is the painful and mischievous 
 one of stinging with nettles. In the south 
 of Ireland it is the common practice for 
 school-boys, on that day, to consider them- 
 selves privileged to run wildly about with 
 a bunch of nettles, striking at the face 
 and hands of their companions, or of 
 such other persons as they think they may 
 venture to assault with impunity." 
 
 A popular superstition related in the 
 last quoted work, is, that at early dawn on 
 i\Iay-morning, " the princely O'Donoghue 
 gallops his white charger over the waters 
 of Killarney." The foundatior of this is, 
 
 The Legend of O' Donoghue. 
 
 In an age so distant that the precise 
 period is unknown, a chieftain named 
 O'Donoghue ruled over the country which 
 surrounds the romantic Lough lean, now 
 called the lake of Killarney. Wisdom, 
 beneficence, and justice distinguished his 
 reign, and the prosperity and happiness 
 of his subjects were their natural results. 
 He is said to have been as renowned for 
 his warlike exploits as for his pacific vir- 
 tues ; and as a oroof that his domestic 
 administration was not the less rigorous 
 because it was mild, a rocky island is 
 pointed out to strangers, called ' O'Donog- 
 
 297 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 1. 
 
 hue's Prison' in wliich this prince once 
 confined his own son for some act of 
 disorder and disobedience. 
 
 " His end — for it cannot correctly be 
 called his death — was singular and mys- 
 terious. At one of those splendid feasts 
 for which his court was celebrated, sur- 
 rounded by the most distinguished of his 
 subjects, he was engaged in a prophetic 
 relation of the events which were to hap- 
 pen in ages yet to come. His auditors 
 listened, now wrapt in wonder, now fired 
 with indignation, burning with siiame, or 
 melted into soriow, as he faithfully de- 
 tailed the heroism, the injuries, the crimes, 
 and the miseries of their descendants. In 
 the midst of his predictions, he rose slowly 
 from his seat, advanced with a solemn, 
 measured, and majestic tread to the shore 
 of the lake, and walked forward com- 
 posedly upon its unyielding surface. 
 When he had nearly reached the centre, 
 he paused for a moment, then turning 
 slowly round, looked towards his friends, 
 and waving his arms to them with the 
 cheerful air of one taking a short farewell, 
 disappeared from their view. 
 
 " The memory of the good O'Donoghue 
 has been cherished by successive genera- 
 tions, with affectionate reverence ; and it 
 is believed, that at sunrise, on every May- 
 day morning, the anniversary of his de- 
 parture, he revisits his ancient domains : 
 a favoured few only are, in general, per- 
 mitted to s"e him, and this distinction is 
 always an omen of good fortune to the 
 beholders : when it is granted to many, 
 it is a sure token of an abundant harvest, 
 ' — a blessing, the want of which, during 
 this prince's reign, was never felt by his 
 people. 
 
 " Some years have elapsed since the last 
 appearance of O'Donoghue, The April 
 of that year had been remarkably wild 
 and stormy ; but on May-morning the 
 fury of the elements had altogether sub- 
 sided. The air was hushed and still ; 
 and the sky, which was reflected in the 
 serene lake, resembled a beautiful but de- 
 ceitful countenance, whose smiles, after 
 the most tempestuous emotions, tempt 
 the stranger to believe that it belongs to 
 a soul which no passion has ever ruffled 
 
 " The first beams of the rising sun were 
 just gilding the lofty summit of Glenaa, 
 when the waters near the eastern shore of 
 the lake became suddenly and violently 
 agitated, though all the rest of its surface 
 lay smooth and still as a tomb of polished 
 maible. The next moment a foaming 
 
 wave darted forward, ana like a proud 
 high-crested war-horse, exulting in hib 
 strength, rushed across the lake towards 
 Toomies mountain. Behind this wave 
 appeared a stately warrior, fully armed, 
 mounted upon a milk-white steed : his 
 snowy plume waved gracefully from a 
 helmet of polished steel, and at his back 
 fluttered a light-blue scarf. The horse, 
 apparently exulting in his noble burthen, 
 sprung after the wave along the water, 
 which bore him up like firm earth, while 
 showers of spray, that glittered brightly 
 in the morning sun were dashed up at 
 every bound. 
 
 " The warrior was O'Donoghue : he was 
 followed by numberless youths and maid- 
 ens, who moved light and unconstrained 
 over the watery plain, as the moonlight 
 fairies glide through the fields of air; they 
 were linked together by garlands of de- 
 licious spring flowers, and they timed their 
 movements to strains of enchanting me- 
 lody. When O'Donoghue had nearly 
 reached the western side of the lake, he 
 buddenly turned his steed, and directed 
 his course along the wood-fringed shore 
 of Glenaa, preceded by the huge wave 
 that curled and foamed up as high as the 
 horse's neck, whose fiery nostrils snorted 
 above it. The long train of attendants 
 followed, with playful deviations, the 
 track of their leader, and moved on with 
 unabated fleetness to their celestial music, 
 till gradually, as they entered the narrow 
 strait between Glenaa and Dinis, they be- 
 came involved in the mists which still 
 partially floated over the lakes, and faded 
 from the view of the wondering beholders : 
 but the sound of their music still fell upon 
 the ear, and echo catching up the har- 
 monious strains, fondly repeated and pro- 
 longed them in soft and softer tones, till 
 the last faint repetition died away, and 
 the hearers awoke as from a dream of 
 bliss." 
 
 Such is the story of O'Donoghue, in the 
 words of the author of " Irish Legends," 
 an elegant work of amusing and recondite 
 lore regarding the land of his fathers. 
 
 MAY-DAY IN ITALY 
 
 Misson, who travelled in Italy in the 
 beginning of the last century, speaks ct 
 May there in these terms. " The present 
 season of the year inspires all the world 
 with joy and good humour ; and this 
 month is every where ])articularly remark- 
 able for sports and festivals : but I never 
 
 298 
 
THE EVEUY-DAY BOOK.— MAY I. 
 
 saw a more diverting object than troops 
 of young girls, who regaled us with 
 dances and songs on all this road ; though 
 perhaps the rarity of the sex might, in 
 some measure, contribute to heighten the 
 pleasure we took in seeing these merry 
 creatures. Five or six of the prettiest and 
 best attired girls of the village meet to- 
 gether, and go from house to house sing- 
 ing, and wishing every where a ' merry 
 May.' All their songs consist of a great 
 number of wishes, which are commonly 
 very pleasant ; for they wish you may at 
 once enjoy all the pleasures of youth, and 
 of the blooming season : that you may be 
 still possessed with an equal love, morn- 
 ing and evening : that you may live a 
 Hundred and two years : that every thing 
 
 you may eat may be turned to sugar and 
 oil : that your clothes and lace may never 
 wear old : that nature may smile eter- 
 nally, and that the goodness of its fruits 
 may surpass the beauty of its flowers, &c. 
 And then come their spiritual wishes : 
 that the lady of Loretto may pour down 
 her favours upon you : that the soul of 
 St. Anthony of Padua may be your guard- 
 ian angel : that St. Katharine of Sienna 
 may intercede for you. And, for the 
 burthen of the song, after every stanza, 
 ' Allegro Magio, Allegro Mugio :' ' a 
 merry, merry, merry INIay.' " To this 
 picture of gladness might be added scenes 
 from other countries, which testify the 
 general rejoicing under the genial in- 
 fluence of the month. 
 
 All gentle hearts confess the quick'ning spring, 
 For May invig'rates every living thing. 
 Hark liuw the merry minstrels of the grove 
 Devote the day to melody and love; 
 Their little breasts with emulation swell, 
 And sweetly strive in singing to excel. 
 In the thick forests feed the cooing dove ; 
 The starling whistles various notes of love ; 
 Up spring the airy larks, shrill voic'd and loud. 
 And breathe their matins from a morning cloud, 
 To greet glad nature, and the god of day. 
 And flow'ry Venus, blooming queen of Alay 
 Thus sing the sweet musicians on the spray : 
 Welcome thou lord of light, and lamp of day ; 
 Welcome to tender herbs and myrtle bowers, 
 Welcome to plants and odour-breathing flowers. 
 Welcome to every root upon the plain, 
 Welcome to gardens, and the golden grain : 
 Welcome to birds that build upon the breere; 
 Welcome great lord and ruler of the year : 
 Welcome thou source of universal good. 
 Of buds to boughs, and beauty to the wood: 
 Welcome bright Phoebus, whose prolific power 
 In every meadow spreads out every flower ; 
 Where'er thy beams in wild efi'ulgence play, 
 Kind nature smiles and all the world is gay. 
 
 Gawin Douglas, by Fawkes 
 
 REMARKABLE CORRESPONDENT. 
 
 Although public notice has been given 
 that anonymous correspondents will only 
 be answered on the wrappers to \he parts 
 of this work, and that those who attach 
 their real names will be noticed privately, 
 yet it is necessary to remark on one who is 
 without a local habitation, and is out of the 
 reach of the two-penny and general post. 
 This is the communication alluded to : — 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 
 I am the youngest of Three hundred 
 
 ana sixty-six brethren — there are no fewer 
 of us — who have the honour, in the words 
 of the good old Song, to call the Sun our 
 Dad You have done the rest of our fa- 
 mily the favour of bestowing an especial 
 compliment upon each member of it indi- 
 vidually — I mean, as far as you have 
 gone ; for it will take you some time be- 
 fore you can make your bow all round — 
 and I have no reason to think that it is 
 your intention to neglect any of us but 
 poor Me. Some you have hung round with 
 flowers ; others you have made fine vitb 
 
 299 
 
THE EVLRY-DAY BOOK.—MAY I 
 
 martyrs' palms and saintly garlands. The 
 most insignificant of us you have sent 
 away pleased with some fitting apologue, 
 or pertinent story. What have 1 done, 
 that you dismiss me without mark or at- 
 tribute ? What though I make my pub- 
 lic appearance seldomer than the rest of 
 my brethren .' 1 thought that angels' visits 
 had been accounted the more precious for 
 their very rarity. Reserve was always 
 looked upon as dignified. I am seen but 
 once, for four times that my brethren ob- 
 trude themselves ; making their presence 
 cheap and contemptible, in comparison 
 with the state which I keep. 
 
 Am I not a Day (when I do come) to 
 all purposes as much as any of them. De- 
 compose me, anatomise me; you will 
 find that I am constituted like the rest. 
 Divide me into twenty-four, and you 
 shall find that I cut up into as many 
 goodly hours (or main limbs) as the rest. 
 1 too have my arteries and pulses, which 
 are the minutes and the seconds. 
 
 It is hard to be dis-fanii lied thus, like 
 Cinderella in her rags and ashes, while 
 her sisters flaunted it about in cherry- 
 coloured ribbons and favors. My bre- 
 thren forsooth are to be dubbed ; one. 
 Saint Day ; another, Pope Day ; a third, 
 Bishop Day ; the least of them is Squire 
 Day, or Mr. Day, while I am — plain 
 Day. Our house. Sir, is a very ancient 
 one, and the least of us is too proud to 
 
 fut up with an indignity. What though 
 am but a younger brother in some 
 sensfi — for the youngest of my brethren is 
 by some thousand years my senior — yet I 
 bid fair to inherit as long as any of them, 
 while I have the Calendar to show; 
 which, you must understand, is our Title 
 Deeds. 
 
 Not content with slurring me over with 
 a bare and naked acknowledgement of my 
 occasional visitation in prose, you have 
 done your best to deprive me of my verse- 
 honours. In column 310 of your Book, you 
 quote an antique scroll, leaving out the 
 last couplet, as if on purpose to affront 
 me. " Thirty days hath September" — so 
 you transcribe very faithfully for four 
 lines, and most invidiously suppress the 
 exceptive clause : — 
 
 Except in Leap Year, that's the time 
 When February's days hath twenty and — 
 
 I need not set down the rhyme which 
 should follow ; I dare say you know it 
 very well, though you were pleased to 
 
 leave it out. These indignities demano 
 reparation. While you have time, it will 
 be well for you to make the amende ho- 
 norable. Ransack your stores, learned 
 Sir, I pray of you, for some attribute, 
 biographical, anecdotical, or floral, to in- 
 vest me with. Did nobody die, or no- 
 body flourish — was nobody born — upon 
 any of my periodical visits to this globe? 
 does the world stand still as often as I 
 vouchsafe to appear? Am I a blank in 
 the Almanac ? alms for oblivion ? If you 
 do not find a flower at least to grace me 
 with (a Forget Me Not would cheer me ii 
 my present obscurity), I shall prove the 
 worst Day to you you ever saw in your 
 life ; and your Work, instead of the Title 
 it now vaunts, must be content (every 
 fourth year at least) to go by the lame 
 appellation of 
 
 The Every-Day — but — one — Book, 
 Yours, as you treat me. 
 Twenty Ninth of February. 
 
 To this correspondent it may be de- 
 murre(J and given in proof, that neither ir. 
 February, nor at any other time in the 
 year 1825, had he, or could he, have had 
 existence ; and that whenever he is seen, 
 he is only an impertinence and an inter- 
 polation upon his betters. To his " floral 
 honours" he is welcome ; in the year 992, 
 he slew St. Oswald, archbishop of York 
 in the midst of his monks, to whom the 
 greater periiwinkle, Vinca Major, is de- 
 dicated. For this honour our correspond 
 ent should have waited till his turr, ar- 
 rived for distinction. His ignorant im- 
 patience of notoriety is a mark of weak 
 ness, and indeed it is only in compassior 
 to his infirmity that he has been conde- 
 scended to ; his brothers have seen more 
 of the world, and he should have been 
 satisfied by having been allowed to be in 
 their company at stated times, and like 
 all little ones, he ought to have kept re- 
 spectful silence. Besides, he forgets his 
 origin; he is illegitimate; and as a bur- 
 then to " the family," and an upstart, it 
 has been long in contemplation to disown 
 him, and then what will become of him ? 
 If he has done any good in the world 
 he may have some claim upon it, but 
 whenever he appears, he seems to throw 
 things into confusion. His desire to 
 alter the title of this work excites a 
 smile — however, when he calls upon the 
 editor he shall have justice, and be com 
 pelled to own that it is calumny to call 
 this the Everv-Dav — but — one — Book. 
 
 ;uo 
 
TTTE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 2. 
 
 iHap 2. 
 
 St. Athanaslns, Patriarch of Alexandria. 
 
 A. D. 37:i. 
 
 St. Athanax'ins. 
 
 This learned doctor of the church, was 
 patriarch of Alexandria; he is celebrated 
 
 his name having been affixed to the crees* 
 which contains his doctrines. He diei 
 in 373. Alban Butler says, the creec 
 was compiled in Latin in the fifth ceutuiy, 
 
 for his opposition to the Arians, and from died 
 
 Chronology. 
 1519. Leonardo daVinci, the painter, 
 
 KICHMOND. 
 
 In the beginning of May, a steam-boat 
 for conveying passengers ascends the 
 Thames in the morning from Queenhithe 
 to Richmond, and returns the same day ; 
 and so she proceeds to and fro until the 
 autumn. Before she unmoors she takes 
 in little more than half her living freight, 
 the remainder is obtained during the pas- 
 sage. Her band on deck plays a lively 
 tune, and " off she goes" towards Black- 
 friars'-bridge. From thence, leisurely 
 walkers, and holiday-wishing people, on 
 their way to business, look from between 
 the balustrades on the enviable steamer ; 
 they see her lower her chimney to pass 
 beneath the arch, and ten to one, if thev 
 cross the road to watch her coming forth 
 on the other side, they receive a pvC 
 
 from the re-elevatmg mast; this hiligi- 
 nous rebuke is inspiring. 
 
 .^ Legal Lament. 
 Ye Richmond Navigators bold 
 
 all on the liquid plain, 
 "When from the bridge we envied you, 
 
 with pleasure niix'd with pain. 
 Why could you be so cruel as 
 
 to ridicule our woes, 
 By in our anxious faces turn- 
 ing up you>- steamer's nose .' 
 'Twas 'strange, 'twas passing strange, 'twas 
 
 pitiful, twa? wonderous 
 Pitifill, as Sliakspeare says, 
 
 by you then being under us. 
 To be insulted as we werp,| 
 
 when von vour rliironi'y rose 
 And thought yourselves at liberty 
 
 to cloud rnr hopes and clothe.s 
 
 301 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 2. 
 
 The samp sweet poet says, you know, 
 
 " earh dog ■will have his day," 
 And hence for Richmond we, in turn, 
 
 may yet get under weigh. 
 So thus we are consoled in mind, 
 
 and as to being slighted, 
 For that same wrong, we'll right ourselves, 
 
 and get you all indicted. * 
 
 The steam-boat is a good half hour in 
 clearing the port of London, and arriving 
 at Westminster; this delay in expedition 
 IS occasioned by " laying to " for " put 
 offs " of single persons and parties, in 
 Thames wherries. If the day be fine, 
 the passage is very pleasant. The citizen 
 sees various places wherein he has en- 
 joyed himself, — he can point out the 
 opening to Fountain-court, wherein is 
 the " coal hole," the resort of his brother 
 " wolves,'' a club of modern origin, re- 
 nowned for its support of Mr. Kean ; on 
 the left bank, he shows the site of 
 " Cuper's-gardens," to which he was 
 taken when a boy by his father's fore- 
 man, and wheie the halfpenny-hatch 
 stood ; or he has a story to tell of the 
 " Fox-under-the-hill, " near the Strand, 
 where Dutch Sam mustered the fighting 
 Jews, and Perry's firemen, who nightly 
 assisted John Kemble's " What d'ye 
 want," during the "O. P. row," at 
 Covent-garden theatre. Then he directs 
 his attention to the Mitre, at Stangate, 
 kept by " independent Bent," a house 
 celebrated for authors who " flourish " 
 there, for " actors of all work," and artists 
 of less prudence than powers. He will 
 tell you of the capital porter-shops that 
 were in Palace-yard before the old 
 coffee-houses were pulled down, and he 
 directs you to the high chimney of 
 Hodges^s distillery, in Church -street, 
 Lambeth. He stands erect, and looks 
 at Cumberland-gardens as though they 
 were his freehold — for there has he been 
 in all his glory ; and at the Red-house, 
 at Battersea, he would absohitely go 
 ashore, if his wife and daughters had not 
 gone so far in geography as to know that 
 Richmond is above Battersea-bridge. 
 Here he repeats after Mathews, that 
 Battersea-steeple, being of copper, was 
 coveted by the emperor of Russia for an 
 extinguisher ; that the horizontal wind- 
 mill was a case for it ; and that his im- 
 perial majesty intended to take them to 
 Russia, but left them behind from for- 
 getfulness. Others see other things. The 
 grounds from which the walls of Brand- 
 cnburgn-nouse were rased to tne foun- 
 
 dation, after the decease of fallen ma- 
 jesty — the house wherein Sharp, the en- 
 graver, lived after his removal from 
 Acton, and died — the tomb of Hogarth, 
 in Chiswick church-yard — " Brentford 
 town of mud," so immortalized by one 
 of our poets, from whence runs Boston- 
 lane, wherein dwelt the good and amiable 
 Granger, who biographized every Eng- 
 lishman of whom there was a portrait — 
 and numerous spots remarkable for 
 their connection with some congenial 
 sentiment or person. 
 
 The Aits, or Osier Islands, are pic- 
 turesque interspersions on the Thames. 
 Its banks are studded with neat cottages, 
 or elegant villas crown the gentle heights ; 
 the lawns come sweeping down like 
 carpets of green velvet, to the edge of its 
 soft-flowing waters, and the grace of the 
 scenery improves till we are borne into 
 the full bosom of its beauty — the village 
 of Richmond, or as it was anciently 
 called. Sheen. On coming within sigtit 
 of this, the most delightful scene in our 
 sea-girt isle, the band on board the 
 steam-boat plays " the lass of Richmond- 
 hill," while the vessel glides on the 
 translucent water, till she curves to the 
 bridge-foot, and the passengers disem- 
 bark. Ascending the stone stairs to the 
 street, a short walk through the village 
 brings us to the top of the far-famed hill, 
 from whence there is a sudden sight of 
 one of the loveliest views in the world. 
 Here, unless an overflowing purse can 
 command the preference of the " Star and 
 Garter," we enter the pleasant and 
 comfortable " Roebuck " inn, which has 
 nothing to recommend it but civil treat- 
 ment and domestic conveniences. The 
 westward room on the second floor is 
 quiet, and one of the pleasantest in the 
 house. The walls of this peaceful apart- 
 ment have no ornament, unless so can be 
 called a mezzotinto engraving by Wat- 
 son, after Reynolds, of Jeffery, lord Am- 
 herst, in armour, with a countenance 
 remarkably similar to the rev. Rowland 
 Hill's in his younger days. The advan- 
 tage of this room is the delightful view 
 from its windows. Hither come ye 
 whose hearts are saddened, or whose 
 nerves are shattered by the strife of life, 
 or the disturbances of the world ; inhale 
 the pure air, and gaze awhile on a 
 prospect more redolent of beauty than 
 Claude or Poussin ever painted or saw. 
 Whatever there be of soothing charnr: 
 in scenery, is here exuberant. De- 
 
 302 
 
Tilt EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 2. 
 
 icnption must not be attempted, for poets 
 liave made it their theme and failed. 
 
 To the over-wearied inhabitants of the 
 metropolis, the trip to Riclimond iscovet- 
 able. The lively French, the philosophic 
 German, the elegant Italian, the lofty 
 Spaniard, and the Cossack ol the Don, 
 pronounce the prospect from the hill the 
 most enchanting in Europe. There was 
 no itinerary of Richmond until Dr. John 
 Evans, during a visit in 1824, hastily 
 threw some memoranda into a neat little 
 volume, illustrated by a few etchings, 
 under the title of " Richmond and 
 its Vicinity," which he purposes to im- 
 prove. 
 
 In honour of the female character, and 
 in illustration of the first of May, should 
 be added, that upon the coin of Dort, or 
 Dordrecht, in Holland, is a cow, undei 
 which is sitting a milk-maid. The same 
 representation is in relievo on the pyra- 
 mid of an elegant fountain in that beauti- 
 ful town. Its origin is from the following 
 historical fact : — When the United Pro- 
 vinces were struggling for their liberty 
 two beautiful daughters of a rich farmer, 
 on their way to the town, with milk, 
 observed, not far from their path, several 
 Spanish soldiers concealed behind some 
 hedges. The patriotic maidens pretend- 
 ing not to have seen any thing, pursued 
 their journey, and as soon as they arrived 
 in the city, insisted upon an admission 
 to the burgo-master, who had not yet left 
 his bed ; they were admitted, and related 
 what they had discovered. He assembled 
 the council, measures were immediately 
 taken, the sluices were opened, and a 
 number of the enemy lost their lives in 
 
 the water. Tlie magistrates in a body 
 honoured the farmer with a visit, wheie 
 they thanked his daughters for the act of 
 patriotism, which saved the town ; thej' 
 afterwards indemnified him fully for the 
 loss he sustained from the inundation 
 and the most distinguished young citizens, 
 vied with each other, who should be 
 honoured with the hands of those virtuous 
 milk-maids. 
 
 It should also be noticed, in connection 
 with Mr. Montgomery's volume in behalf 
 of the chimney-sweepers, that a Mr. J. C. 
 Hudson has addressed " A Letter to the 
 Mistresses of Families, on the Cruelty of 
 employing Children in the odious, dan- 
 gerous, and often fatal Task of sweeping 
 Chimnies." To Mr. Hudson's pamphlet, 
 which is published at sixpence, there are 
 two cuts, from designs by Mr. George 
 Cruiksliank. 
 
 It is observed by Dr. Forster, in the 
 " Perennial Calendar," that " the melody 
 of birds is perhaps at no time of the year 
 greater and more constant than it is at 
 this present period. The nightingale, the 
 minstrel of the eve; and the krk, the 
 herald of the morn; together with the 
 numerous birds whose music fills the 
 groves ail day, contribute, in no smal 
 degree, to the pleasure derived from the 
 country in this month. Nor is the lowing 
 of distant cattle in the evening, the hooting 
 of the owl, and many other rustic sounds, 
 deficient in power to please by association 
 of ideas. Shakspeare has a beautifu 
 comparison of the lark and nightingale in 
 ' Romeo and Juliet :' — 
 
 Scene. Juliet's Chamber. 
 
 Jul. Wilt thon be gone ? it is not yet near day : 
 It was the nitrhtingale, and not the lark, 
 That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ; 
 Nightly she sings on yon Pomegranate tree : 
 Believe me, love, it was the Nightingale. 
 
 Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn. 
 No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 
 Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund d^/ 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 
 I must he gone and live, or stay and die. 
 
 Jul. Yon light is not daylight, I know it, 1. 
 It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
 To be to thee this night a torchbeatci, 
 And liifht thee on thy way to Montua . 
 Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gom. 
 
 303 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 2. 
 
 Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ; 
 I am content, so tbou wilt have it so. 
 I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye ; 
 Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow : 
 Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
 The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. 
 I have more care to stay than will to go." 
 
 Dr. Forster notices, that " beds of 
 tulips begin now to flower, and about 
 London, Haerlem, Amsterdam, and other 
 cities of England ar.d Holland, are seen 
 in perfection in the gardens of florists, 
 who have a variety of very whimsical 
 names for the diff'erent varieties. The 
 early, or Van Thol tulip, is now out of 
 blow, as is the variety called the Clari- 
 mond, beds of which appear very beau- 
 tiful in April. The sort now flowering 
 is the tulipa Gesneriana, of which the 
 names Bizarre, Golden Eagle, &c. are only 
 expressive of varieties. For the amuse- 
 ment of the reader, we quote from the 
 ' Tatler ' the following account of an ac- 
 cident that once befell a gentiem-an in a 
 tulip-garden : — ' I chanced to rise very 
 eaily one particular morningthis summer, 
 and took a walk into the country, to di- 
 
 vert myself among the fields and meadows 
 while the green was new, and the flowers 
 in their bloom. As at this season of the 
 year every lane is a beautiful walk, and 
 every hedge full of nosegays, I lost myself 
 with a great deal of pleasure among 
 several thickets and bushes that were 
 filled with a great variety of birds, and an 
 agreeable confusion of notes, which formed 
 the pleasantest scene in the world to one 
 who had passed a whole winter in noise 
 and smoke. The freshness of the dews 
 that lay upon every thing about me, with 
 the cool breath of the morning, which 
 inspired the birds with so many delightful 
 instincfi, created in me the same kind o» 
 animal pleasure, and made my heart over- 
 flow with such secret emotions of joy and 
 satisfaction as are not to be described or 
 accounted for. On this occasion, I could 
 not but reflect upon a beautiful simile in 
 Milton : — 
 
 As one who long in populous city pent, 
 Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 
 Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe 
 Among the pleasant villages, and farms 
 Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight : 
 The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 
 Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound. 
 
 " * Those who are conversant in the 
 writings of polite authors, receive an ad- 
 ditional entertainment from the country, 
 as it revives in their memories those 
 charming descriptions, with which such 
 authors do frequently abound. I was 
 thinking of the foregoing beautiful simile 
 in Milton, and, applying it to myself, 
 when I observed to the windward of me 
 a black cloud falling to the earth in long 
 trails of rain, which made me betake my- 
 self for shelter to a house which I saw at 
 a little distance from the place where I 
 was walking. As I sat in the porch, I 
 Heard the voices of two or three persons, 
 who seemed very earnest in discourse. 
 My curiosity was raised when I heard the 
 names of Alexander the Great and Ar- 
 taxerxcs ; and as their talk seemed to 
 run on ancient heroes, I concluded there 
 could not be any secret in it ; for which 
 reason I thought I might very fairly listen 
 
 to what they said. After several pa- 
 rallels between great men, which ap- 
 peared to me altogether groundless and 
 chimerical, I was surprised to hear one 
 say, that he valued the Black Prince more 
 than the duke of Vendosme. How the 
 duke of Vendosme should become a rival 
 of the Black Prince, I could not conceive : 
 and was more startled when I heard a 
 second affirm with Rreat vehemence, that 
 if the emperor of Germany was not going 
 off, he should like him better than either 
 of them. He added, that though the sea- 
 son was so changeable, the duke of Marl- 
 borough was in blooming beauty. I was 
 wondering to myself from whence they 
 had receive^ this odd intelligence ; es 
 pecially when I heard them mention the 
 names of several other great generals, as 
 the prince of Hesse, and the king of 
 Siveden, who, they said, were both run- 
 ning away. To which they added, what 
 
 304 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY B()OK.— MAY 2. 
 
 r entirely as;reed with them in, that the 
 crown of France was very weak, but that 
 the marshal Fillurs still kept his colours. 
 At last one of them told the company, if 
 they would go along with him he would 
 show them a Clitmney-swficper and a 
 Painted Lad;/ in the same bed, which he 
 was sure would very much please them. 
 The shower svhich had driven them as 
 well as myself into the house, was now 
 over ; and as they were passing by me 
 into the garden, 1 asked them to let me 
 be one of their company. The g.entleman 
 of the house told me, if I delighted in 
 flowers, it would be worth my while; for 
 that he believed he could show me such a 
 blow of tulips as was not to be matched in 
 the whole country. I accepted the offer, 
 and immediately found that they had been 
 talking in terms of gardening, and that 
 the kings and generals they had men- 
 tioned were only so many tulips, to which 
 the gardeners, according to their usual 
 custom, had given such high titles and 
 appellations of honour. I was very much 
 pleased and astonished at the glorious 
 show of these gay vegetables, that arose 
 in great profusion on all the banks about 
 us. Sometimes 1 considered them with 
 the eye of an ordinary spectator, as so 
 many beautiful objects varnished over 
 with a natural gloss, and stained with 
 such a variety of colours as are not to be 
 equalled in any artificial dyes or tinctures. 
 Sometimes I considered every leaf as an 
 elaborate piece of tissue, in which the 
 threads and fibres were woven to- 
 ' gether into different configurations, which 
 gave a different colouring to the light as 
 it glanced on the several parts of the stir- 
 face. Sometimes I considered the whole 
 bed of tulips, according to the notion of 
 the greatest mathematician and philoso- 
 pher that ever lived, (sir Isaac Newton,) 
 as a multitude of optic instruments, de- 
 signed for the separating light into aVl 
 those various colours of which it is com- 
 posed. I was awakened out of these my 
 philosophical speculations, by observing 
 the company often seemed to laugh at me. 
 1 accidentally praised a tulip as one of 
 the finest I ever saw, upon which they 
 told me it was a common Fool's Coat. 
 Upon that I praised a second, which it 
 teems was but another kind of Fool's 
 Coat. I had the same fate with tAvo or 
 three more ; for which reason I desired 
 the owner of the garden to let me know 
 which were the fiuc-tt of the flowers, for 
 that I was so unskilful in the art, that I 
 
 Vol. I. 305 
 
 tnouglit the most beautiful weio the ino.^.t 
 valuable, and that those which had the 
 gayest colours were the most beautiful. 
 The gentleman smiled at my ignorance : 
 he seemed a very plain honest man, and 
 a person of good sense, had not his 
 head been touched with that distemper 
 which Hippocrates calls the Tv\nnr.oi.t.avta, 
 Tulippomania, insomuch, that he would 
 talk very rationally on any subject in the 
 world but a tulip. He told me, that he 
 valued the bed of flowers, which lay be- 
 fore us, a'ld was not above twenty yards 
 in length and two in breadth, more than 
 he would the best hundred acres of land 
 in England ; and added, that it would 
 have been worth twice the money it is, 
 if a foolish cookmaid of his had not 
 almost ruined him the last winter, by mis- 
 t'uking a handful of tulip roots for a heap 
 of onions, and by that means, says he, 
 made me a dish of porridge, that cost me 
 above a thousand pounds sterling. He 
 then showed me what he thought the 
 finest of his tulips, which I found re- 
 ceived all their value from their rarity and 
 oddness, and put me in mind of your 
 great fortunes, which are not always the 
 greatest beauties. I have often looked 
 upon it as a piece of happiness, that I 
 have never fallen into any of these fan- 
 tastical tastes, nor esteemed any thing 
 the more for its being uncommon and 
 hard to be met with. For this reason, I 
 look upon the whole country in spring 
 time as a spacious garden, and make as 
 many visits to a spot of daisies, or a 
 bank of violets, as a florist does to his 
 borders or parterres. There is not a bush 
 in blossom within a mile of me which I 
 am not acquainted with, nor scarce a 
 daffodil or cowslip that withers away in 
 my neighbourhood wi hout ray missing 
 it. I walked hraie in this temper of 
 mind through several fields and meadows 
 with an unspeakable pleasure, not with- 
 out reflecting on the bounty of Provi- 
 dence, which has made the most pleasing 
 and the most beautiful objects the most 
 ordinary and most common.' " 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Charlock. Rhapkanus Rhafari strum. 
 Dedicated to St. Athanasins. 
 
 X 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 3. 
 
 ilap 3. 
 
 The Invention, or Discovery of the Holy 
 Cross, A. D. 326. St. Alexander, Pope, 
 
 A. D. 119 
 
 INVENTION OF THE CROSS. 
 
 This festival of the Romish church is 
 also in the church of England calendar ; 
 Mr. Audley says, " the word invention 
 sometimes signifies the finding a thing 
 that was hidden;" thence the name of 
 this festival, v^fliich celebrates the alleged 
 finding of the cross of Christ by St. 
 Helena, who is said to have found three 
 crosses on Mount Calvary, but the true 
 one could not be distinguished, till a sick 
 woman being placed on each, was herded 
 by one, which was therefore pronounced 
 the veritable cross. Mr.Audley quotes, that 
 " the custody of the cross was committed 
 to the bishop of Jerusalem. Every Easter 
 Sunday it was exposed to view, and pil- 
 grims from all countries were indulged 
 with little pieces of it enchased in gold of 
 gems. What was most astonishing, the 
 sacred wood was never lessened, although 
 it was perpetually diminished, for it 
 possessed a secret power of vegetation." 
 It appears from Ribadeneira, that St. 
 Paulinus says, " the cross being a piece 
 of wood without sense or feeling, yet 
 seemeth to have in it a living and ever- 
 lasting virtue ; and from that time to this 
 it permittelh itself to be parted and 
 divided to comply with innumerable 
 persons, and yet suffereth no loss or 
 detriment, but remains as entire as if it 
 had never been cut, so that it can be 
 severed, parted, and divided, for those 
 among whom it is to be distributed, and 
 still remains whole and entire for all that 
 come to reverence and adore it." There 
 is no other way left to the Romish church 
 to account for the superabundance of the 
 wood of the cross. 
 
 Robert Parker wrote a remarkably 
 learned book, in folio, entitled — " A Scho- 
 lasticall Discourse against symbolizing 
 with Antichrist in ceremonies: especially 
 m the signe of the Crosse, 1607." This 
 erudite work subjected Parker to a perse- 
 cution under James I., from which he fled 
 to Doesburg, where he died m 1630. 
 
 CROSS OF THE SOUTH 
 
 This constellation is in about 185 (le 
 grees of longitude ; its south-polar dis- 
 
 tance being only about 39 degrees, it can- 
 not be seen in the northern parts cl 
 Europe.* Humboldt who observed the 
 cross of the south, thus eloquently des- 
 cribes it : — " The lower regions of tl>e air 
 were loaded with vapours for some days 
 We saw distinctly, for the first time, the 
 cross of the south, only in the night of the 
 4th and 5th of July, in the sixteenth 
 degree of latitude. It was strongly in- 
 clined, and appeared, from time to time, 
 between the clouds, the centre of which, 
 furrowed by uncondensed lightnings, re- 
 flected a silver light. The pleasure felt 
 on discovering the southern cross was 
 warmly shared by such of the crew as had 
 lived in the colonies. In the solitude of 
 the seas, we hail a star as a friend from 
 whom we have been long separated. 
 Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards, 
 peculiar motives seem to increase this 
 feeling ; a religious sentiment attaches 
 them to a constellation, the form of which 
 recalls the sign of the faith planted by their 
 ancestors in the deserts of the new world. 
 The two great stars which mark tlie sutU' 
 mit and the foot of the cross, having 
 nearly the same right ascension, it fol- 
 lows, that the constellation is almost ver- 
 tical at the moment when it passes the 
 meridian. This circumstance is known 
 to every nation that lives beyond the 
 tropics, or in the southern hemisphere 
 It is known at what hour of the night, in 
 difierent seasons, the southern cross is 
 erect, or inclined. It is a timepiece that 
 advances very regularly nearly four 
 minutes a day ; and no other group ot 
 stars exhibits, to the naked eye, an obser 
 vation of time so easily made. How 
 often have we heard our guides exclaim, 
 in the savannas of Venezuela, or in the 
 desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, 
 ' Midnight is past, the cross begins to 
 bend !' How often these words reminded 
 us of that affecting scene, where Paul and 
 Virginia, seated near the source of the 
 river of Lataniers, conversed together for 
 the last time ; and when the old man, at 
 the sight of the southern cross, warns 
 them that it is time to separate !" 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Poetic Narcissus. Narcissus poeticus. 
 Invention of the Cross. 
 
 • Dr. Foruter Peren. Cal. 
 
 306 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 4. 
 
 St. Monica. St. Godard, Bp. a. d. 1038. 
 
 ST. MONICA, A. D. 387. 
 
 She was mother of St. Augustine, whom 
 she sent to study at Carthage, where, in 
 373, he became a jVIanichee, and re- 
 mained so, to his mother's affliction, 
 until 386 ; she was a woman of piety, 
 and he revered her memory. Her sup- 
 posed remains were translated with the 
 customary ceremonies of the church of 
 Rome, but their identity has been 
 doubted.* 
 
 CnUONOLOGY. 
 
 1471. Battle of Tewkesbury, Glouces- 
 tershire, gained by Edward IV^ over the 
 Lancasterians. 
 
 1677. Dr. Isaac Barrow died, aged 47. 
 He was an eminent mathematician, a 
 learned divine, and a high cavalier. 
 Educated at the Charter-house, he was 
 disinclined to study; his recreation was 
 in sports that led to fighting among the 
 boys, yet he afterwards subdued his in- 
 clination to quarrels, and distinguished 
 himself as a scholar. He became pro- 
 fessor of mathematics at Cambridge, 
 master of Trinity-college, served the 
 office of vice-chancellor, and was buried 
 in Westminster Abbey. Charles H. used 
 to say of him, that he exhausted every 
 subject whereon he treated ; yet he did 
 nothing for him. After the Restoration, 
 Barrow wrote a Latin distich, thus trans- 
 lated :— 
 
 O, how my breast did ever burn, 
 To see my lawful king return ! 
 Yet, whilst his happy fate I bless, 
 No one has felt his influence less. 
 
 Barrow was a great smoker to help his 
 thinking. He was a great wit : he met 
 Rochester at court, who said to him, 
 " doctor, I am yours to my shoe-tie;" 
 Barrow bowed obsequiously with, " my 
 lord, lam yours to the ground;" Roches- 
 ter returned this by, " doctor, I am yours 
 to the centre ;" Barrow rejoined, " my 
 lord, I am yours to the antipodes ;" Ro- 
 chester, not to be foiled by " a musty old 
 piece of divinity," as he was accustomed 
 to call him, exclaimed, " doctor, I am 
 yours to the lowest pit of hell;" where- 
 upon Barrow turned from him with, 
 " there, my lord, I leave you." 
 
 1736. Eustace Budgell drowned him 
 self, at the age of 52, from vexation, that 
 a bequest to him of 2,000/. in the will of 
 Dr. Tindal, was set aside. He wrote in the 
 " Spectator," " Tatler," and " Guardian ;" 
 was a member of the Irish parliament, and 
 lost his property in the South-sea bubble 
 
 1738. George Bickham, the eminent 
 writing-engraver, died, aged 74 ; and was 
 buried at St. Luke's, Old-street. 
 
 1795. John James Barthelemy, the 
 celebrated author of " The Travels of 
 Anacharsis the younger in Greece," died, 
 aged 79. He was a man of deep learn- 
 ing and simplicity of character ; un- 
 happily he became involved in the troubles 
 of the French revolution, and endured 
 great hardships from the turbulence of 
 men opposed to his views of social hap- 
 piness. 
 
 BIRDS. 
 
 A distinguished naturalist obligingly 
 communicates the subjoined table and 
 prefatory remark. 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 A notion prevails that birds do great 
 injury in gardens and fields, and lience 
 Tewards are frequently offered to induce 
 boys and others to kill them in spring. 
 The notion and the practice are erroneous. 
 A gentleman of long experience in hor- 
 ticulture, has ascertained that birds, in 
 general, do more good by destroying ver- 
 min than they do harm by the little fruit 
 and grain they consume ; an entire dis- 
 trict in Germany was once nearly deprived 
 of its corn harvest, by an order to kill all 
 the rooks having been geneially obeyed. 
 
 SPRING BIRDS. 
 
 Table of the average terms of their 
 arriv'il, deduced from a Jozirnul of Ahitii- 
 ral History, kept during nearly sixty 
 years. 
 
 Tlie Least Willow Wren arrives 
 
 about - . - _ March 31 
 
 Stone Curlew _ . _ March 27 
 
 Chimney Swallow - - April 15 
 
 Redstart - - - April 16 
 
 Blackcap - - - . April 17 
 
 Nightingale - _ . April 14 
 
 Martlet - - - - April 20 
 
 Sand Martin - - - April 25 
 
 Yellow Willow Wren - - April 15 
 
 Lesser Reed Sparrow - - Apnl 23 
 
 Cuckoo - - . - April 21 
 
 307 
 
IHE EVERY-DAY BOOK,— MAV 5 
 
 Great Green Willow Wren 
 Grasshopper Lark 
 Spotted Flycatcher 
 Pied Flycatcher - 
 Black Martin 
 Fern Owl - - - 
 Swift - 
 
 April 21 
 April 16 
 April 20 
 April 15 
 May 9 
 May 20 
 May 14 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Stock Gilly Flower. Mathiola incann. 
 Dedicated to St. Monica. 
 
 ilap 5. 
 
 St. Pius v.. Pope, A. D. 1572. St, Hilary, 
 Abp. of Aries, a. d. 449. St. An- 
 gelus, A. D. 1225. St. Mauront, 
 Abbot, A. D. 706. St. Avertin, a. d. 
 1189. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1760. Tlie right honourable Laurence, 
 earl Ferrers, viscount Tamworth, was 
 hanged at Tyburn, for the murder of John 
 Johnson, his steward. 
 
 1785. Thomas Davies, died. lie is 
 well recollected from frequent creditable 
 mention made of him in Boswell's " Life 
 of Johnson ;" Davies was an actor, after- 
 wards a bookseller, turned strolling player, 
 returned to the bookselling business in 
 Russel- street, Co vent-garden, became 
 
 bankrupt, v/as roliovp'l i"r\ ^;8 rr"sfortunes 
 by Dr. Johnson, wrote the " Life of Gar- 
 rick," " Dramatic Miscellanies." and 
 other pieces ; and acquired before his 
 death the honourable appellation o 
 " honest Tom Davies." He was intrusted 
 by the rev. James Granger with the pub- 
 lication of his " Biographical History of 
 England." 
 
 1789. Joseph Baretti, author of the 
 ** Italian Dictionary," &c. died, aged 73. 
 
 1821. Napoleon died at St. Helena, in 
 the sixth year of his confinement. What 
 he was all men pretend to know, ana 
 historians will tell. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 " Here they are ! blowing, growing, all 
 alive !" This was an old London cry by 
 little flower gardeners, who brought the 
 products of their grounds to the metro- 
 polis, and wheeled them through the 
 streets in a barrow, " blowing, growing, 
 all alive !" to tempt purchasers in the 
 humble streets and alleys of working 
 neighbourhoods. Acts of Parliament 
 have put down the flower-pots, which 
 were accustomed to " topple on the 
 walkers' heads," from the windows of 
 houses, wherein flower-fanciers dwelt. 
 
 Floiver Garden. 
 
 Fairhanded Spring unbosoms every grace, 
 
 Throws out the snowdrop and the crocu3 first. 
 
 The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue. 
 
 And polyanthus of unnumbered dyes ; 
 
 The yellow wallflower, stained with iron brown. 
 
 The lavish stock that scents the garden round. 
 
 From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed 
 
 Anemonies, auriculas, enriched 
 
 With shining meal o'er all tlieir velvet leaves 
 
 And full ranimculus of glowing red. 
 
 Then comes the tulip race, where beauty plays 
 
 Her idle freaks, from family diffused 
 
 To family, as flies the father dust. 
 
 The varied colours run ; and while they oreak 
 
 On the charmed eye, the exulting florist marks. 
 
 With secret pride, the wonders of his hand. 
 
 No gradual bloom is wanting, from the bud, 
 
 First born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes- 
 
 Nor hyacinths of purest virgin white, 
 
 Low bent and blushing inwards — nor jonquils 
 
 Of potent fragrance — nor Narcissus fair, 
 
 As o'er the fabled mountain hanging still — 
 
 Nor broad carnations, nor gay spotted pinks, 
 
 Nor showered from every bush the damask rose. 
 
 Tho»i.itiH. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Apple Tree. Pyrus Ma/n.i. 
 Dedicated to St. Angelas and St. Pius* 
 
 308 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 6. 
 
 ;mnn 6, 
 
 St. -Tuhii before the Latin Gate. St. John 
 Dama.icen, a. d. 780. St. Eadbert, 
 Bp. of Lindisfarne, a. d. 687. 
 
 ST. JOHN PORT LATIN. 
 
 This was St. John the Evangelist, 
 though his name stands with Ante Port. 
 Lat. annexed to it in the church of Eng- 
 land calendar. The description is founded 
 on a Roman Catholic legend that St. John 
 
 the Evangelist in his old age was accused 
 of atheism to Domitian, who sent him 
 to Rome, and there, before the gate called 
 Porta Latina, caused him to be put into 
 a cauldron of boiling oil, from whence he 
 suffered no pain, and came forth without 
 harm. This miracle is fabled to have oc- 
 curred before the exile of St. John to the 
 desert isle of Patmos, in the Archipelago, 
 where he is supposed to have written 
 the Apocalypse, or book of "Revelations," 
 
 ST. JOHN IN THE ISLE OF PATMOS. 
 
 Tliere is no evidence that St. John suf- 
 fered martyrdom; on the contrary, he is 
 laid to have returned to Ephesus in the 
 reign of Nerva, who succeeded Domitian 
 in the imperial dignity. Painters usually 
 represent him in Patmos with an eagle by 
 
 nis siae ; tnough, as St. John Port Latin, 
 there are many engravings of him in tiie 
 legendary oil cauldron. Other represent- 
 ations of him put a chalice in his hand, 
 with a serpent issuing from it, founded 
 on anoJhpr Ingcnd, that being constrained 
 
 309 
 
THE EVERY-DA.Y BOOK.— MAY 6. 
 
 to drink poison, he swallowed it without 
 sustaining injury. 
 
 There is a further legend, that while 
 St. Edward the Confessor was dedicating 
 a church to St. John, a pilgrim demanded 
 alms of him in the saint's name, where- 
 upon the king gave him the ring from his 
 fii>ger. This pilgrim was St. John, who 
 discovered himself to two English pil- 
 grims in the Holy Land, bidding them 
 hear the ring to the king in his name, and 
 require him to make ready to depart this 
 world ; after this they went to sleep. On 
 awakening they found themselves among 
 flocks of sheep and shepherds in a strange 
 place, which turned out to be Barham 
 Downs in Kent, wherefore they thanked 
 God and St. John for their good speed, 
 and coming to St. Edward on Christmas- 
 day, delivered to him the ring with the 
 warning ; these the king received in a 
 suitable manner, " And on the vigyll of 
 the Epyphanye, next after, he dyed and 
 departed holyly out of this worlde, and is 
 buryed in the Abbey of Westmester by 
 London, where as is yet unto this daye 
 that same rynge." Again it is said, that 
 Isidore affirms of St. John, that he trans- 
 formed branches of trees into fine gold, 
 and sea-gravel into precious stones, with 
 other like incredibilities.* 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1677. Samuel Bochart, a learned French 
 Protestant divine and orientalist, died at 
 Caen, aged 68 years. 
 
 1802. Died at Guernsey, aged 40, of 
 water in his chest, serjeant Samuel 
 M'Donald, of the 93d regiment, com- 
 monly known by the name of Big Sam. 
 He served during the American war with 
 his countrymen, the Sutherland Fencibles, 
 and afterwards as fugelman in the Royals, 
 till 1791, when he was taken into the 
 
 household of hi-s royal highness the prince 
 of Wales, as lodge-porter at Carlton- 
 house, and remained in that capacity till 
 1793 ; he was then appointed a serjeant 
 in the late Sutherland l-'encibles, and con- 
 tinued to act in that corps, and the 93d 
 regiment, formed from it, till his death. — 
 He was six feet ten inches in height, four 
 feet round the chest, and well propor- 
 tioned. He continued active till his 35th 
 year, when he began to decline. His 
 strength was prodigious, but he was never 
 known to exert it improperly. Seveial 
 considerable offers were made to engage 
 him as a public exhibition, all of which 
 he refused, and always disliked being- 
 stared at. 
 
 SPRING BLIGHT. 
 
 The greatest misfortune that the cul- 
 tivator of a garden apprehends at 
 this season, is blight, of which, ac- 
 cording to Dr. Forster, there are three 
 kinds. " The first occurs in the early 
 spring, about the time of the blossoming 
 of the peach, and is nothing more than a 
 dry frosty wind, usually from the north or 
 north-east, and principally affects the 
 blossoms, causing them to fall off pre- 
 maturely. The two other kinds of blight 
 occur in this month, affecting principally 
 the apple and pear trees, and sometimes 
 the corn. One of these consists in the 
 appearance of an immense multitude of 
 aphides, a kind of small insect of a 
 brown, or black, or green colour, attack- 
 ing the leaves of plants, and entirely 
 incrusting the young stems. These pests 
 are always found to make their appear- 
 ance after a north-east wind, and it has 
 been supposed by many that they are 
 actually conveyed hither by the wind. 
 Thomson, too, positively ascribes them to 
 the north wind : — 
 
 For oft engendered by the hazy north. 
 Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 
 Keen in the poisoned breeze ; and wasteful eat, 
 Through buds and bark, into the blackened core 
 Tlieir eager way. 
 
 "In our opinion, an east wind more 
 often brings blights. Many circum- 
 stances, indeed, favour the opinion that 
 blights are animalculae ; as the sudden- 
 ness with which they appear, being ge- 
 nerally in the course of a single night, 
 and those trees* that are sheltered from 
 hie wind bein^;" uninfected : indeed, it 
 
 * Golden Legend. 
 
 frequently happens that a single branch 
 that chances to be screened, will escape 
 unhurt, while the rest of the tree is quite 
 covered with these minute destroyers. 
 A third reason may be derived from the 
 inactivity of these insects: they generally 
 remain almost immovable on the branch 
 or leaf where they are first seen, and are 
 for the most part, unprovided with wings 
 vet the places where they are commonly 
 
 310 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— Mx\Y 7. 
 
 found are those parts of a tree wliich are 
 farthest from the ground, and the most 
 exposed to the wind. The last kind of 
 bhght is generally preceded by a south 
 or south-west wind, unaccompanied by 
 insects ; the effects of which are visible 
 in the burnt appearance of all leaves and 
 shoots which are exposed to that 
 quarter. Oaks and other large trees 
 suffer from this blight."* 
 
 To Blossoms. 
 
 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 
 
 Why do ye fall so fast ] 
 
 Your date is not so past, 
 But you may stay yet here awhile 
 To blush and gently smile. 
 
 And go at last ! 
 
 What, were ye born to be 
 
 An hour or half's delight 1 
 
 And so to bid good nigiit t 
 Tis pity Nature brought ye forth 
 Merely to show your worth. 
 
 And lose you quite ! 
 
 But your lovely leaves, where we 
 May read how soon things have 
 Their end, though ne'er so brave : 
 
 And after they have shown their pride, 
 
 Like you, awhile they glide 
 Into the grave ! 
 
 Hen-ici. 
 
 lifetime. William of Malmesbury relates, 
 that the inhabitants of Beverley acknow- 
 ledge the sanctity of their patron, be- 
 cause the fiercest bulls being dragged 
 with the strongest ropes, by the lustiest 
 men, into his church-yard, lose their fury, 
 become gentle as lambs, and being left 
 to their freedom, innocently sport them- 
 selves, instead of goring and trampling 
 with their horns and feet ail that come 
 near them.* It is related by another 
 author that in 1312, on the feast of St. 
 Bernard, wonderful oil miraculously 
 issued from his sepulchre, which was a 
 sovereign remedy against many diseases. 
 Also, that king Ethelstan laid his knife 
 on the saint's altar, in pledge, that if by 
 his interference he obtained a victory 
 over the Scots, he would enrich his 
 church ; by the merits of the saint he 
 conquered, and desiring to have a sign 
 as a perpetual testimony of prerogative 
 over the Scots, he struck his sword into a 
 rock near Dunbar-castle, which for many 
 ages retained a mark of a yard in length 
 from the blow, and this was referred to 
 by king Edward I. before pope Boniface, 
 in proof of his right over Scotland. 
 Ethelstan, in consequence of his victory, 
 granted right of sanctuary to the church 
 of Beverley, with other privileges.-}- 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lucken Gowins. TroUius EuropcBus. 
 Dedicated to St. John Damascen, 
 
 St. Slair.slas, Bp. of Cracow, a. d. 
 1079. St. Benedict II. Pope, a. d. 
 686. St. John of Beverley. 
 
 ST. JOHN OF BEVERLEY, A. D. 721, 
 
 Was born at Harpham, a village in 
 the north of England. In the reign of 
 king Alfred, he was made bishop of Hex- 
 ham ; he gave venerable Bede the orders 
 of deacon and priest; and built the 
 monastery of Beverley, then a foiest, now 
 a market-town, twenty-seven miles from 
 York, where he died, in 1721.t Bede 
 assigns several miracles to him in his 
 
 SEASONABLE STORY. 
 
 If the north-east wind blow on this 
 day, or on any other day in May, or in 
 any other summer month, the nervous 
 reader will experience the uneasiness 
 which is sure to afflict him from that 
 baleful quarter. The sun may shine, 
 and the birds may sing, and flowers may 
 give forth their odours, yet pernicious 
 influences prevail against the natural 
 harmony and spirit of the season. To 
 one, therefore, so afllicted, the story of 
 Daniel O'Rourke, from the " Fairy Le- 
 gends," may be diverting. 
 
 DANIEL O'ROURKE. 
 
 People may have heard of the re- 
 nowned adventures of Daniel O'Rourke, 
 but how few are there who know that 
 the cause of all his perils, above and 
 below, was neither more nor less than 
 his having slept under the walls of the 
 Phooka's tower. I knew the man well : 
 
 • Peren. Calendar. 
 
 + Uiitler. 
 
 * Cressy. 
 
 ( Porter's FloTcrt. 
 
 311 
 
THE EVERY-DAY UUOK.-MAY 7, 
 
 he lived at the bottom of Hungry Hill, 
 jvist at the right han-d side of the road as 
 you go towards Bantry. An old man 
 was he at the time that he told me the 
 story, with gray hair, and a red nose; 
 and it was on the 2.5th of June, 181;^, 
 that 1 heard it from his own lips, as he 
 sat smoking his pipe under the old pop- 
 lar tree, on as fine an evening as ever 
 shone fro.m the sky. I was going to visit 
 the caves in Dursey Island, having spent 
 the morning at GlengarifT. 
 
 " I am often axed to tell it, sir," said 
 he, " s;i that this is not the first time. 
 The master's son, you see, had come from 
 beyond foreign parts in France and Spain, 
 as young gentlemen used to go, before 
 Buonaparte or any such was heard of; 
 and sure enough there was a dinner given 
 to all the people on the ground, gentle 
 and simple, high and low, rich and poor. 
 The onld gentlemen were the gentlemen, 
 after all, saving your honour's presence. 
 They'd swear at a body a little, to be 
 sure, and, may be, give one a cut of a 
 whip now and then, but we were no 
 losers by it in the end ; — and they were 
 so easy and civil, and kept such rattling 
 houses, and thousands of welcomes; — 
 and there was no grinding for rent, an*! 
 few agents ; and tliere was hardly a tenant 
 on the estate that did not taste of his 
 landlord's bounty often and often in the 
 year; — but now it's another thing: no 
 matter for that, sir, for I'd better be telling 
 you my story. 
 
 " Weil, we had every thing of the best, 
 and plenty of it; and we ate, and we 
 drank, and we danced, and the young 
 master by the same token danced with 
 Peggy Barry, from the Bohereen — a lovely 
 young couple they were, thouc;h they are 
 both low enough now. To make a long 
 story short, I got, as a body may say, 
 the same thing as tipsy almost, for I 
 can't remember ever at all, no ways, how 
 it was that I left the place : only I did 
 leave it, that's certain. Well, I thought, 
 for all that, in myself. I'd just step to 
 Mody CroTiahan's, the fairy woman, to 
 speak a word about the bracket heifer 
 what was bewitched: and so as I was 
 crossing the stepping-stones of the ford 
 of Ballya.'ihenogh, and was looking up at 
 the stars and blessing myself — for why ? 
 it was hady-day — I missed my foot, and 
 souse I fell into the water. * Death 
 alive!' thought I, 'I'll be drowned 
 now?' However, I began swimming:, 
 sw'mming, swimmmg away foi the dear 
 
 life, till at last I got ashore, somehow or 
 other, but never the one of me can tell 
 how, upon a dissolute island. 
 
 " 1 wandered and wandered about 
 there, without knowing where I wan- 
 dered, until at last I got into a big bog. 
 The moon was shining as bright as day, 
 or your fair lady's eyes, sir, (with your 
 pardon for mentioning her,) and I looked 
 Bast and west, and north and south, and 
 every way, and nothing did I see but 
 bog, bog, bog, — I could never find out 
 how I got into it; and my heart grew 
 cold with fear, for sure and certain I was 
 that it would be my berrin place. So 1 
 sat down upon a stone which, as good 
 luck would have it, was close by me, and 
 r began to scratch my head, and sing the 
 UUugone — when all of a sudden the moon 
 grew black, and I looked up, and saw 
 something for all the world as if it was 
 moving down between me and it, and I 
 could not tell what it was. Down it 
 came with a pounce, and looked at me 
 full in the face ; and what was it but an 
 eagle ? as fine a one as ever flew from 
 the kingdom of Kerry. So he looked 
 at me in the face, and says he to me, 
 'Daniel O'llourke,' says he, 'how do 
 you do?' * Very well, I thank you, sir,' 
 says I: * I hope you're well;' wondering 
 out of my senses all the time how an 
 eagle came to speak like a Christian. 
 ' What brings you here, Dan?' says he. 
 'Nothing at all, sir,' says I; 'only I wish 
 I was safe home again.' ' Is it out of 
 the island you want to go, Dan?' says he. 
 ''Tis, sir,' says .: so I up and told him 
 how I had taken a drop too much, and 
 fell into the water; how I swam to the 
 island ; and how I got into the bog, and 
 did not know my way out of it. ' Dan,' 
 says he, after a minute's thought, ' though 
 it was very improper for you to get drunk 
 on Lady-day, yet as you are a decent, 
 sober man, who 'tends mass well, and 
 never flings stones at me or mine, nor 
 cries out after us in the fields — my life 
 for yours,' says he ; 'so get up on my 
 back, and grip me well for fear you'd fall 
 oflT, and I'll fly you out of the bog.' '1 
 am afraid,' says I, ' your honour's making 
 game of me ; for who ever heard of riding 
 a horseback on an eagle before Y ' 'Pon 
 the honour of a gentleman,' says he, put- 
 ting his right foot on his breast, ' I am 
 quite in earnest ; and so now either take 
 my offer or starve in the bog — besides, I 
 see that your weight is sinking tfie stone. 
 
 " It was true enough as he said, for I 
 
 312 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 f<nind the stone every minute going from 
 under me. I had no choice; so thinks I 
 to myself, faint heart never won fair 
 lady, and this is fair persuadance : — ' I 
 thank your honour,' says I, 'for the loan 
 of your civility ; and I'll take your kind 
 offer.' I therefore mounted upon the 
 back of the eagle, and held him tight 
 enough by the tnroat, and up he flew in 
 the air like a lark. Little I knew the 
 trick he was going to serve me. Up — 
 up — up — God knows how far up he flew. 
 ' Why, then,' said I to him — thinking he 
 did not know the right road home — very 
 civilly, because why? — I was in his 
 power entirely; — 'sir,' says I, 'please 
 your honour's glory, and with humble 
 submission to your better judgment, if 
 you'd fly down a bit, you're now just 
 over my cabin, and I could be put down 
 there, and many thanks to your worship.' 
 
 " ' Arrah, Dan,' said he, ' do you think 
 me a fool ? Look down in the next field, 
 and don't you see two men and a gun ? 
 By my word it would be no joke to be 
 shot this way, to oblige a drunken black- 
 guard that I picked up off" of a could stone 
 in a bog.' ' Bother you,' said I to my- 
 self, but I did not speak out, for where 
 was the use? Well, sir, up he kept, fly- 
 ing, flying, and I asking him every minute 
 to fly down, and all to no use. 'Where 
 in the world are you going, sir?' says I 
 to him. ' Hold your tongue, Dan,' says 
 he : ' mind your own business, and don't 
 be mterfering with the business of other 
 people.' ' Faith, this is my business, I 
 think,' says I. ' Be quiet, Dan,' says he : 
 60 I said no more. 
 
 " At last where should we come to, 
 but to the moon itself Now you can't 
 see it from this, but there is, or there 
 was in my time a reaping-hook sticking 
 out of the side of the moon, this way 
 (drawing the figure on the ground with the 
 ei'd of his stick.) 
 
 "'Dan,' said the eagle, 'I'm tired 
 with this long fly ; I had no notion 'twas 
 so far.' * And my lord, sir,' said \, ' who 
 in the world axed you to fly so far — was 
 it I ? did not I beg, and pray, and beseech 
 you to stop half an hour ago ?' ' There's 
 no use talking, Dan,' said he ; ' I'm tired 
 bad enough, so you must get off, and sit 
 down on the moon until I rest myself.' 
 ' Is it sit down on the moon V said I ; 
 ' is it upon that little round thing, then ? 
 why, then, sure I'd fall off" in a minute, 
 and be kilt and spilt, and smashed all to 
 biii . you are a vile deceiver — so you 
 
 are.' ' Not at all, Dan,' said he : ' you 
 can catch fast hold of the reapii.g-hook 
 that's sticking out of the side of the moon, 
 and t"will keep you up.' ' I won't, then,' 
 said I. ' May be not,' said he, quite 
 quiet. ' If you don't, my man, I shall 
 just give you a shake, and one slap of my 
 wing, and send you down to the ground, 
 where every bone in your body will be 
 smashed as small as a drop of dew on a 
 cabbage-leaf in the morning.' ' Why, 
 then, I'm in a fine way,' said I to myself, 
 ' ever to have come along with the likes 
 of you ;' and so giving him a hearty curse 
 in Irish, for fear he'd know what I said, 
 I got oif of his back with a heavy heart, 
 took a hold of the reaping-hook, and sat 
 down upon the mo&n, and a mighty cold 
 seat it was, I can tell you that. 
 
 " When he had me there fairly landed, 
 he turned about to me, and said, ' Good 
 morning to you, Daniel O'Kourke,' said 
 he : ' 1 think I've nicked you fairly now. 
 You robbed my nest last year,' ('twas true 
 enough for him, but how he found it out 
 is hard to say,) * and in return you are 
 freely welcome to cool your heels dan- 
 gling upon the moon like a cockthrow.' 
 
 "'Is that all, and is this the way you 
 leave me, you brute, you ?' says I. ' You 
 ugly unnatural baste, and is this the way 
 yo'u serve me at last ? Bad luck to your- 
 self, with your hook'd nose, and to all 
 your breed, you blackguard.' 'Twas all 
 to no manner of use : he spread out his 
 great big wings, burst out a laughing, 
 and flew away like lightning. I bawled 
 after hiin to stop; but I might have called 
 and bawled for ever, without his minding 
 me. Away he went, and I never saw 
 him from that day to this — sorrow fly 
 away with him ! You may be sure I was 
 in a disconsolate condition, and kept 
 roaring out for the bare grief, when all at 
 once a door opened right in the middle 
 of the moon, creaking on its hinges as if 
 it had not been opened for a month be- 
 fore. I suppose they never thought of 
 greasing 'em, and out there walks — who 
 do you think but the man in the moon ? 
 I knew him by his bush. 
 
 "'Good morrow to you, Daniel 
 O'Rourke,' said he: 'How do you do?' 
 'Very well, thank your honour,' said I. 
 ' I hope your honour's well.' ' What 
 brought you here, Dan ?' said he. So I 
 told him how I was a little overtaken in 
 liquor at the master's, and how I was 
 cast on a dissolute island, and how I lost 
 my way in the bog, and how the thief ol 
 
 313 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 7. 
 
 an eagle promised to fly me out of it, 
 and how instead of that he had tied me 
 up to the moon. 
 
 " ' Dan,' said the man in the moon, 
 taking a pinch of snuff when I was done, 
 ' you must not stay here.' ' Indeed, 
 sir,' says 1, ' 'tis much against my will 
 ['m here at all ; but how am I to go 
 back?' 'That's your business,' said he, 
 'Dan : mine is to tell you tliat here you 
 must not stay, so be oft' in less than no 
 time.' ' I'm doing no harm,' says I, 
 ' only holding on hard by the reaping- 
 hook, lest I fall off.' ' That's what you 
 must not do, Dan,' says he. ' Pray, sir,' 
 says I, ' may I ask how many you are in 
 family, that you would not give a poor 
 traveller lodging : I'm sure 'tis not so 
 often you're troubled with strangers 
 coming to see you, for 'tis a long way.' 
 'I'm by myself, Dan,' says he; 'but 
 you'd better let go the reaping-hook.' 
 ' Faith, and with your leave,' says I, ' I'll 
 not let go the grip.' ' You had better, 
 Dan,' says he again. 'Why, then, my 
 little fellow,' says I, taking the whole 
 weight of him with my eye from head 
 to foot, ' there are two words to that bar- 
 gain ; and I'll not budge, but you may if 
 you like.* 'We'll see how that is to 
 be,' says he ; and back he went, giving 
 the door such a great bang after him 
 (for it was plain he was huffed), that 
 I thought the moon and all would fall 
 down with it. 
 
 " VVell, I was preparing myself to try 
 strength with him, when back again he 
 comes, with the kitchen cleaver in his 
 hand, and without saying a word, he gave 
 two bangs to the handle of the reaping- 
 hook that was keeping me up, and whap ! 
 it came in two. 'Good morning to you, 
 Dan,' says the spiteful little old black- 
 guard, when he saw me cleanly falling 
 down with a bit of the handle in my 
 nand ; ' I thank you for your visit, and 
 fair weather after you, Daniel.' I had 
 not time to make any answer to him, for 
 I was tumbling over and over, and rolling 
 And rolling at the rate of a foy-hunt. 
 ' God help me,' says I, ' but this is a 
 pretty pickle for a decent man to be seen 
 :n at this time of night : I am now sold 
 fairly.' The word was not out of my 
 mouth, when whiz ! what should fly by 
 close to my ear but a flock of wild geese ; 
 and the ould gander, who was their gene- 
 ral, turning about his head, cried out to 
 me, ' Is that you Dan?' I was not a bit 
 daunted now at what he said, for I was 
 
 by this time used to -^ll kinds of bedevil- 
 ment, and, besides, I knew him of ould. 
 ' Good morrow, to you,' says he, ' Daniel 
 O'Rourke : how are you in health this 
 morning?* 'Very well, sir,' says I, 'I 
 thank you kindly,' drawing my breath, 
 for I was mightily in want of some. ' I 
 hope your honour's the same.' ' I think 
 'tis falling you are, Daniel,' says he 
 ' You may say that, sir,' says I. 'And 
 where are you going all the way so fast "*' 
 said the gander. So I told him now _ 
 had taken the drop, and how I came on 
 the island, and how I lost my way in ine 
 bog, and how the thief of an eagle flew me 
 up to the moon, and how the man in the 
 moon turned me out. ' Dan,' said he, 
 'I'll save you: put out your hand and 
 catch me by the leg, and I'll fly you 
 home.' ' Sweet is your hand in a pitcher 
 of honey, my jewel,' says I, though all 
 th ^ time I tnought in myself that I don't 
 much trust you ; but there was no help, 
 so I caught the gander by the leg, and 
 away I and the other geese flew after him 
 as fast as hops. 
 
 " We flew, and we flew, and we flew, 
 until we came right over the wide ocean. 
 I knew it well, for I saw Cape Clear to 
 my right hand, sticking up out of the 
 water. ' Ah ! my lord,' said I to the 
 goose, for I thought it best to keep a 
 civil tongue in my head any way, ' fly to 
 land if you please.' 'It is impossible, 
 you see, Dan,' said he, 'for a while, be- 
 cause you see we are going to Arabia.' 
 ' To Arabia,' said I; 'that's surely some 
 place in foreign parts, far away. Oh ! 
 Mr. Goose : why then, to be sure, I'm a 
 man to be pitied among you.' ' Whist, 
 whist, you fool,' said he, ' hold your 
 tongue; I tell you Arabia is a very de 
 cent sort of place, as like West Carbery 
 as one egg is like another, only there is a 
 little more sand there.' 
 
 "Just as we were talking, a ship hove 
 in sight, scudding so beautiful before the 
 wind: 'Ah ! then, sir,' said I, 'will you 
 drop me on the ship, if you please?' 
 ' We are not fair over it,' said he. ' We 
 are,' said I. ' We are not,' said he : ' I 
 I dropped you now, you would go 
 splash into the sea.' I would not,' says 
 I ; 'I know better than that, for it is 
 just clean under us, so let me drop now at 
 once.' 
 
 " ' If you must, you must,' said he. 
 * There, take your own way ;' and he 
 opened his claw, and faith he was righ. 
 — sure enough I came down plump into 
 
 3U 
 
riiE F.VEllY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 tlie very bottom of the salt sea ! Down 
 to the very bottom I went, and I gave 
 myself up then for ever, when a whale 
 walked up to me, scratching himself after 
 his night's sleep, and looked me full in 
 the face, and never the word did he say, 
 but lifting up his tail, he splashed me all 
 over again with the cold salt water, till 
 there wasn't a dry stitch upon my whole 
 carcass ; and T heard somebody saying — 
 'twas a voice I knew, too — ' Get up, you 
 drunken brute, off of that :' and with 
 that I woke up, and there was Judy with 
 a tub full of water, which she was splash- 
 ing me all over ; — for, rest her soul ! 
 though she was a good wife, she never 
 could bear to see me in drink, and had a 
 bitter hand of her own. 
 
 " ' Get up,' said she again: ' and of 
 all places in the parish, would no place 
 sarve your turn to lie down upon but 
 under the o;(W walls of Carrigaphooka? 
 an uneasy resting I am sure you had of 
 it.' And sure enough I had ; for I was 
 fairly bothered out of my senses with 
 eagles, and men of the moons, and flying 
 ganders, and whales, driving me through 
 bogs, and up to the moon, and down to 
 the bottom of the great ocean. If I was 
 in drink ten times over, long would it 
 be before I'd lie down in the same spot 
 again, I know that." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Asiatic Globeflower. Troll'mx Asiatkus. 
 Dedicated to St. John of Beverley. 
 
 iilap 8. 
 
 The Apparition of St. Michael the Arch- 
 angel. St. Peter, Abp. of Tarentaise, 
 or Monstiers, a. d. 1174. St. Victor, 
 A. D. 303. St. Wiro, Bp. 7th Cent. 
 St. Odrian, Bp. of VVaterford. St. 
 Grjbrian, or Gobrian, 8th Cent. 
 
 ST. MICHAEL, THE ARCHANGEL. 
 
 It is not clear what particular appa- 
 rition of St. Michael is celebrated 
 in the Roman Catholic church on this 
 day ; their books mention several of his 
 apparitions. They rank him as field- 
 marshal and commander-in-chief of the 
 armies of heaven, as prince of the angels 
 opposed to Lucifer, and, especially, as 
 principal guardian of human souls agamst 
 
 the inl'crnal powers.* In heraldry, as 
 liead of the order of archangels, his 
 ensign is a banner hanging on a cross, 
 and he is armed as \ ictory, with a dan 
 in one hand, and a cross on his forehead, 
 or the top of the head ; archangels are 
 distinguished from angels by that sign. 
 Usually, however, he is painted in coat- 
 armour, in a glory, with a dart, throwing 
 Lucifer headlong into a flame of fire 
 issuing out of a base proper ; this is also 
 termed the battle between Michael and 
 the devil, with his casting out of heaven 
 into the lake of fire and brimstone. 
 '* There remained," says a distinguishing 
 herald, " still in heaven, after the fall of 
 Lucifer, the bright star, and his company, 
 more angels than there ever was, is, and 
 shall be men born in the earth, which 
 God ranked into nine orders or chorus, 
 called the nine quoires of holy angels. "f 
 St. Michael is further represented in 
 catholic books as engaged with weighing 
 souls in a pair of scales. A very curious 
 spiritualizing romance, originally in 
 French, printed in English by Caxton, in 
 the reign of Edward V., exemplifies the 
 office of St. Michael in this capacity ; the 
 work is entitled — " The Pilgremage of the 
 Sowle." The author expresses himselt 
 under "the similitude of a dream," which, 
 he says, befell him on a St. Laurence' night 
 sleeping in his bed. He thought himself 
 travelling towards the city of Jerusalem, 
 when death struck his body and soul 
 asunder; whereupon Satan in a foul and 
 horrible form came towards the soul, 
 ■M'hich being in great terror, its warden, 
 or guardian angel, desired Satan to flee 
 away and not meddle with it. Satan 
 refuses, alleging that God had permitted 
 that no soul which had done wrong 
 should, on its passage, escape from being 
 "snarlyd in his trappe;" and he said, that 
 the guardian angel well knew that he, the 
 said guardian, could never withdraw the 
 soul from evil, or induce it to follow his 
 good counsel ; and that even if he had, 
 the soul would not have thanked him for 
 it ; Satan, therefore, knew not why the 
 angel should interfere,and begged he would 
 let him alone to do with the soul what he 
 had a right to do, and could not be pre- 
 vented from doing. The parley con- 
 tinued, until they agreed to carry the 
 soul before Michael, the provost of heaven, 
 and abide his award on Satan's claim. 
 
 * Holnn-. 
 
 315 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 Tlie soul was then liftrd between tlicm 
 both into the transparent air, wherein the 
 spirits of the newly dead were passing 
 thickly on every side, to and fro, as moles 
 flitting in the sun-beam. They tarried 
 not until they arrived at a marvellous 
 place of bright fire, shining with a brilliant 
 li^ht, surrounded by a great multitude of 
 pouls attending there for a like purpose. 
 The guardian angel entered, leaving Satan 
 without, and also the soul, who could hear 
 the voice of his warden speaking in his 
 behalf, and acquainting Michael that he 
 had brought from earth a pilgrim, who 
 was without, and with him Satan his 
 accuser, abiding judgment. 
 
 Then Satan began to cry out and said, 
 " Of right he is mine, and that I shall 
 prove ; wherefore deliver him to me by 
 judgment, fori abide naught else." This 
 caused proclamation to be made by sound 
 of trumpet in these words : — " All ye that 
 are without, awaiting your judgment, pre- 
 sent yourselves before the provost to re- 
 ceive your doom ; but first ye that have 
 longest waited, and especially those that 
 have no great matter and are not much 
 troubled ; for the plain and light causes 
 shall first be determined, and then other 
 matters that need greater tarrying." 
 
 This proclamation greatly disturbed 
 the souls without. Satan and his evil 
 spirits were most especially angry, and 
 holding a consultation, he spoke as 
 follows : " It appears we are of little con- 
 sequence, and hence our wicked neigh- 
 bours do us injustice. These wardens 
 hinder us from our purposes, and we are 
 without favour. There is no caitiff pil- 
 grim but hath had a warden assigned 
 him from his birth, to attend him and 
 defend him at all times from our hands, 
 and especially from the time that he 
 washed in the * salt lye,' ordained by 
 grace de Dieu, who hath ever been our 
 enemy ; and then they are taken, as soon 
 as these wardens come, before the provost, 
 and have audience at their own pleasure; 
 while we are kept here without, as mere 
 ribalds. Let us cry out a rowe [/iaro], 
 and out upon them all ! they have done 
 us wrong ; and we will speak so loud that 
 m spite of them they shall hear us." Then 
 Satan and his spirits cried out all at once, 
 •* Michael ! provost, lieutenant, and com- 
 missary of the high judge ! do us right, 
 without exception or favour of any party. 
 You know very well that in every upright 
 court the prosecutor is admitted to make 
 li.s accusation and propose his petition ; 
 
 but you first admit the defendant to make 
 his excusation. This manner of judging 
 is suspicious ; for were these pilgrims 
 innocent yet, if reason were to be heard, 
 and right were to prevail, the accusers 
 would have the first hearing to say what 
 they would, and then the defendants after 
 them, to excuse themselves if they could : 
 we, then, being the prosecutors, hear us 
 fiist, and then the defendants." 
 
 After Satan's complaint, the soul heard 
 within the curtain, " a longe parlament ;" 
 and, at the last, there was another procla- 
 mation ordered by sound of trumpet, as 
 follows : — " All ye that are accustomed 
 to come to our judgments, to hear and to 
 see, as assessors, that right be performed, 
 come forth immediately and take your 
 seats; ye well knowing your own assigned 
 places. Ye also that are without, waiting 
 the sitting of the court, present yourselves 
 forthwith to the judgment thereof, in 
 order as ye shall be called ; so that no one 
 hinder another, or interrupt another's dis- 
 course. Ye pilgrims, approach the en- 
 trance of this curtain, awaiting without 
 and your wardens, because they are om 
 equals, belonging to our company, are t, 
 appear, as of right they ought, within our 
 presence.'' 
 
 After this proclamation was observed, 
 the guardian angel said, — " Provost 
 Michael ! I here present to you this pil- 
 grim, committed to my care in the world 
 below : he has kept his faith to the las* 
 and ought to be received into the heavenL 
 Jerusalem, whereto his body hath lon^ 
 been travelling." — Satan answered — "Mi- 
 chael ! attend to my word and I shall tell 
 you another tale." The soul being be- 
 friended throughout by St. Michael, finally 
 escapes the dreadful doom of eternal pu- 
 nishment. 
 
 On St. Michael's contention with the 
 devil about the body of Moses, more 
 may be seen in the volume on " Ancient 
 Mysteries," from which the present no- 
 tice is extracted, or in " Bishop Marsh's 
 translation of Michaeli's Introduction to 
 the New Testament." 
 
 The managers of an institution for the 
 encouragement of British talent, less 
 versed in biblical criticism than in art, 
 lately ofl^ered a prize to the painter who 
 sliould best represent this strange subject 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lily of the Valley. ConvnUnria vHijal'it 
 Dedicated to St. Selena 
 
 1)16 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 CANONBURY TOWER. 
 
 People metln'nks are better, but the scenes 
 Wherein my youth delighted are no more. 
 I wander out in search of tliem, and find 
 A sad deformity in all I see. 
 Strong recollections of my former pleasures, 
 And knowledge that they never can return. 
 Are causes of my sombre raindediiess : 
 I pray you then bear with my discontent. 
 
 A walk out of London is, to me, an 
 event ; I have an every-day desire to bring 
 it about, but weeks elapse before the time 
 arrives whereon I can sally forth. In my 
 boyhood, I had only to obtain parental 
 permission, and stroll in fields now no 
 more, — to scenes now deformed, or that I 
 have been wholly robbed of, by " the 
 spirit of improvement.'' Five and thirty 
 years have altered every thing; — myself 
 with the rest. I am obliged to " ask 
 leave to go out," of time and circum- 
 stance ; or to wait till the only enemy I 
 cannot openly face Ins ceased from before 
 me — the north-east wind — orlo brave that 
 foe and get the worst of it. I did so 
 yesterday. " This is the time," I said, 
 to an artist, " when we Londoners begin 
 
 to get our walks ; we will go to a place or 
 two that I knew many years ago, and see 
 how they look now; and first to Canon- 
 bury-house." 
 
 Having crossed the back Islington- 
 road, we found ourselves in the rear of 
 the Pied Bull. Ah ! I know this spot 
 well : this stagnant pool was a " famous'' 
 carp pond among boys. How dreary the 
 place seems ! the yard and pens were 
 foimerly filled with sheep and cattle for 
 Smuhfield market ; graziers and drovers 
 were busied about them ; a high barred 
 gate was constantly clo^ed ; now all is 
 thrown open and neglected, and not a 
 living thing to be seen. We went round 
 to the front, the house was shut up, and 
 nobody answered to the knocking. It had 
 
 817 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 
 
 been the residence of the gallant sir 
 Walter Raleigh, who threw down his 
 court mantle for queen Elizabeth to walk 
 on, that she might not damp her feet ; he, 
 whose achievements in Virginia secured 
 immense revenue to his country ; whose 
 individual enterprise in South America 
 carried terror to the recreant heart of 
 Spain ; who lost years of his life within 
 the walls of the Tower, where he wrote 
 the "History cf the World," and better 
 than all, its inimitable preface ; and who 
 finally lost his life on a scaffold for his 
 courage and services. By a door in the 
 rear we got into " the best parlour ;" this 
 was on the ground-floor; it had been 
 Raleigh's dining-room. Here the arms 
 of sir John Miller are painted on glass 
 in the end window; and we found Mr. 
 John Cleghorn sketching them. This 
 gentleman, who lives in the neighbour- 
 hood, and whose talents as a draftsman 
 and engraver are well known, was 
 obligingly communicative ; and we con- 
 doled on the decaying memorials of past 
 greatness. On the ceiling of this room 
 are stuccoed the five senses; Feeling in 
 an oval centre, and the other four in the 
 scroll-work around. The chimney-piece 
 of carved oak, painted white, represents 
 Charity, supported by Faith on her right, 
 and Hope on her left. Taking leave of 
 Mr. Cleghorn, we hastily passed through 
 the other apartments, and gave a last 
 farewell look at sir Walter's house; yet 
 we bade not adieu to it till my accom- 
 panying friend expressed a wish, that as 
 sir Walter, according to tradition, had 
 there smoked the first pipe of tobacco 
 drawn in Islington, so he might have 
 been able to smoke the last whiff within 
 the walls that would in a few weeks be 
 levelled to the ground. 
 
 We got to Canonbury. Geoffrey 
 Crayon's " Poor Devil Author " so- 
 journed here : — 
 
 " Chance threw me," he says, -'in the way 
 of Canonbury Castle. It is an ancient 
 brick tower, hard by * merry Islington ;' 
 the remains of a hunting-seat of queen 
 Elizabeth, where she took the pleasure of 
 the country when the neighbourhood was 
 all woodland. What gave it particular 
 interest in my eyes was the circumstance 
 that it had been the residence of a poet. 
 It was here Goldsmith resided when he 
 wrote his ' Deserted Village.' I was shown 
 the very apartment. It was a relic of 
 the original style of the castle, with 
 pannelled wainscots and Gothic windows. 
 
 I was pleased with its air of aniiquity 
 and with its having been the residence 
 of poor Goldy. ' Goldsmith was a pretty 
 poet,' said I to myself, ' a very pretty 
 poet, though rather of the old school. 
 He did not think and feel so strongly as 
 is the fashion now-a-days ; but had he lived 
 in these times of hot hearts and hot heads, 
 he would no doubt have written quite 
 differently.' In a few days I was quietly 
 established in my new quarters ; my books 
 all arranged ; my writing-desk placed by 
 a window looking out into the fields, and 
 I felt as snu,j as Robinson Crusoe when 
 he had finished his bower. For several 
 days I enjoyed all the novelty of change 
 and the charms which grace new lodgings 
 before one has found out their defects. I 
 rambled about the fields where I fancied 
 Goldsmith had rambled. I explored 
 merry Islington ; ate my solitary dinner 
 at the Black Bull, which, according to 
 tradition, was a country seat of sir Walter 
 Raleigh, and would sit and sip my wine, 
 and muse on old times, in a quaint old 
 room where many a council had been 
 held. All this did very well for a few 
 days ; I was stimulated by novelty ; in- 
 spired by the associations awakened in 
 my mind by these curious haunts ; and 
 began to think I felt the spirit of compo- 
 sition stirring with me. But Sunday 
 came, and with it the whole city world, 
 swarming about Canonbury Castle. I 
 could not open my window but I was 
 stunned wiih shouts and noises from the 
 cricket ground ; the late quiet road be- 
 neath my window was alive with the 
 tread of feet and clack of tongues ; and, 
 to complete my misery, I found that my 
 quiet retreat was absolutely a ' show 
 house,' the tower and its contents being 
 shown to strangers at sixpence a head 
 There was a perpetual tramping up stairs 
 of citizens and their families to look about 
 the country from the top of the tower, 
 and to take a peep at the city through 
 the telescope, to try if they could discern 
 their own chimneys. And then, in the 
 midst of a vein of thought, or a moment 
 of inspiration, I was interrupted, and al' 
 my ideas put to flight, by my intolerable 
 landlady's tapping at the door, and asking 
 me if I would 'just please to let a lady 
 and gentleman come in, to take a look at 
 Mr. Goldsmith's room.' If you know 
 any thing what an author's study is, ana 
 what an author is himself, you must know 
 that there was no standing this. I put ? 
 positive interdict on my room's beinp 
 
 318 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 exhibited ; but then it was shown when 
 I was absent, and my papers put in con- 
 fusion ; and on returning liome one day 
 I absolutely found a cursed tradesman and 
 his daughters gaping over my manuscripts, 
 and my landlady in a panic at my appear- 
 ance. I tried to make out a little longer, 
 by taking the key in my pocket; but it 
 would not do. I overheard mine hostess 
 one day telling some of her customers on 
 the stairs that the room was occupied by 
 an author, who was always in a tantrum 
 if interrupted ; and I immediately per- 
 ceived, by a slight noise at the door, that 
 they were peeping at me through the key- 
 hole. By the head of Apollo, but this was 
 quite too much ! With all my eagerness 
 for fame, and my ambition of the stare of 
 the million, t had no idea of being ex- 
 hibited by retail, at sixpence a head, and 
 that through a key-hole. So I bade adieu 
 to Canonbury Castle, merry Islington, and 
 the haunts of poor Goldsmith, without 
 having advanced a single line in my 
 labours." 
 
 Now for this and some other descrip- 
 tions, I have a quarrel with the aforesaid 
 Geoffrey Crayon, gent. What right has 
 a transatlantic settler to feelings in Eng- 
 land ? He located in America, but it 
 seems he did not locate his feelings there ; 
 if not, why not ? What right has he of 
 New York to sit " solitary" in Raleigh's 
 house at Islington, and " muse" on our 
 "old times;" himself clearly a joiVrf animal, 
 mistaking the pied bull for a " black" 
 bull. There is " black" blood between 
 us. By what authority has he a claim to 
 a domicile at Canonbury ? Under what 
 international law laid down by Vattel or 
 Martens, or other jurist, ancient or 
 modern, can his pretension to feel and 
 muse at sir Walter's or queen Elizabeth's 
 tower, be admitted? He comes here and 
 describes as if he were a real Englishman ; 
 and claims copyright in our courts for his 
 feelings and descriptions, while he him- 
 self is a copyist ; a downwright copyist 
 of my feelings, who am an Englishman, 
 and a forestaller of my descriptions — 
 bating the " black" bull. He has left me 
 nothing to do. 
 
 My friend, the artist, obligingly passed 
 the door of Canonbury tower to take a 
 sketch of its north-east side; not that the 
 tower has not been taken before, but it 
 has not been given exactly in that position. 
 We love every look of an old friend, and 
 this look we get after crossing the bridge 
 of the New River, coming from the 
 
 " Thatched house" to "Canonbury tavern." 
 A year or so ago, the short walk from the 
 lower Islington-road to this bridge was 
 the prettiest " bit" on the river nearest t< 
 London. Here the curve of the stream 
 formed the " horse-shoe." In by-gone days 
 only three or four hundred, from the back 
 of Church-street southerly, and from the 
 back of the upper street westerly, to 
 Canonbury, were open green pastures 
 with uninterrupted views easterly,bounded 
 only by the horizon. Then the gardens 
 to the houses in Canonbury-place, ter- 
 minated by the edge of the river, were 
 covetable retirements ; and ladies, lovely 
 as the marble bust of Mrs. Thomas Gent, 
 by Behnes, in the Royal Academy Exhi- 
 bition, walked in these gardens, " not 
 unseen," yet not obtruded on. Now, how 
 changed ! 
 
 My ringing at the tower-gate was 
 answered by Mr. Symes, who for thirty- 
 nine years past has been resident in the 
 mansion, and is bailiff of the manor of 
 Islington, under lord Northamptijn. Once 
 more, to " many a time and oft" aforetime, 
 I ranged the old rooms, and took perhaps 
 a last look from its roof. The eye shrunk 
 from the wide havoc below. Where new 
 buildings had not covered the sward, it 
 ■was embowelling for bricks, and kilns 
 emitted flickering fire and sulphurous 
 stench. Surely the dominion of the brick- 
 and-mortar king will have no end ; and 
 cages for commercial spirits will be in- 
 stead of every green herb. In this high 
 tower some of our literary men frequently 
 shut themselves up, " far from the busy 
 haunts of men." Mr. Symes says that 
 his mother-in-law, Mrs. Evans, who had 
 lived there three and thirty years, and was 
 wife to the former bailiff, often told him 
 that her aunt, Mrs.Tapps, a seventy years' 
 inhabitant of the tower, was accustomed 
 to talk much about Goldsmith and his 
 apartment. It was the old oak room on 
 the first floor. Mrs. Tapps affirmed that 
 he there wrote his " Deserted Village," 
 and slept in a large press bedstead, placed 
 in the eastern corner. From this room two 
 small ones for sleeping in have since been 
 separated, by the removal of the pannelled 
 oak wainscotting from the north-east 
 wall, and the cutting of two doors through 
 it, with a partition between them ; an'' 
 since Goldsmith was here, the window on 
 the south side has been broken through. 
 Hither liave I come almost every year, 
 and frequently in many years, and seen 
 the changing occupancy of these apail- 
 
 J19 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 ments. Goldsmith's room I almost sus- 
 pect to have been tenanted by Geoffrey 
 Crayon; about seven years ago I saw 
 books on one of the tables, with writing 
 materials, and denotements of more than 
 a " Poor Devil Author." This apart- 
 ment, and other apartments in the tower, 
 are often to be let comfortably furnished, 
 " with other conveniences." It is worth 
 while to take a room or two, were it only 
 to hear Mr. Symes's pleasant conversation 
 about residences and residentiaries, mano- 
 rial rights and boundaries, and " things as 
 they used to be" in his father's time, who 
 was bailiff before him, and " in Mrs. 
 Evans's time," or " Mrs. Tapps's time." 
 The grand tenantry of the tower has been 
 in and through him and them during a 
 hundred and forty-two years. 
 
 Canonbury tower is sixty feet high, 
 and seventy feet square. It is part of an 
 old mansion which appears to have been 
 erected, or, if erected before, much altered 
 about the reign of Elizabeth. The more 
 ancient edifice was erected by the priors 
 of the canons of St. Bartholomew, Smith- 
 field, and hence was called Canonbury, 
 to whom it appertained until it was sur- 
 rendered with the priory to Henry VIII.; 
 and when the religious houses were dis- 
 solved, Henry gave the manor to Thomas 
 lord Cromwell ; it afterwards passed 
 through other hands till it was possessed 
 by sir John Spencer, an alderman and 
 lord mayor of London, known by the 
 name of " rich Spencer.'' While he 
 resided at Canonbury, a Dunkirk pirate 
 came over in a shallop to Barking creek, 
 and hid himself with some armed men in 
 Islington fields, near to the path sir John 
 usually took from his house in Crosby- 
 place to this mansion, with the hope of 
 making him prisoner; but as he remained 
 in town that night, they were glad to 
 make off, for fear of detection, and re- 
 turned to France disappointed of their 
 prey, and of the large ransom they calcu- 
 lated on for the release of his person. 
 His sole daughter and heiress, Elizabeth, 
 was carried off in a baker's basket from 
 Canonbury-house by William, the second 
 lord Compton, lord president of Wales. 
 He inherited Canonbury, with the rest 
 of sir John Spencer's wealth at his death, 
 and was afterwards created earl of North- 
 ampton ; in this family the manor still 
 remains. The present earl's rent-roll will 
 be enormously increased, by the extinction 
 of coiiitort to the inhabitants of Islington 
 and its vicinity, through the covering up 
 
 of the open fields and verdant spots on 
 his estates. 
 
 As a custom it is noticeable, that many 
 metropolitans visit this antique edifice in 
 summer, for the sake of the panoramic 
 view from the roof. To those who in- 
 quire concerning the origin or peculiarities 
 of its erection or history, Mr. Symes obli- 
 gingly tenders the loan of "Nelson's His- 
 tory of Islington," wherein is ample in ■ 
 formation on these points. In my visit, 
 yesterday, I gathered one or two particu- 
 lars from this gentleman not befitting me 
 to conceal, inasmuch as I hold and main- 
 tain that the world would not be the 
 worse for being acquainted with what 
 every one knows ; and that it is every 
 one's duty to contribute as much as he 
 can to the amusement and instruction of 
 others. Be it known then, that Mi . Symes 
 says he possesses the ancient key of the 
 gate belonging to the prior's park. " It 
 formerly hung there," said he, pointing 
 with his finger as we stood in the kitchen, 
 •' withinside that clock-case, but by some 
 accident it has fallen to the bottom, and 
 I cannot get at it.'' The clock-case is let 
 into the solid wall flush with the surface, 
 and the door to the weights opening only 
 a small way down from the dial plate, 
 they descend full two-thirds the length of 
 their lines within a" fixed abode." Adown 
 this space Mr. Symes has looked, and let 
 down inches of candle without being able 
 to see, and raked with long sticks with- 
 out being able to feel, the key ; and yet 
 he thinks it there, in spite of the negative 
 proof, and of a suggestion I uncharitably 
 urged, that some antiquary, with confused 
 notions as to the " rights of things," might 
 have removed the key from the nail in the 
 twinkling of Mr. Symes's eye, and finally 
 deposited it among his own "collections." 
 A very large old arm chair, with hand- 
 some carved claws, and modern verdant 
 baize on the seat and back, which also 
 stands in the kitchen, attracted my atten- 
 tion. " It was here," said Mr. Symes, 
 " before Mrs. Tapps's time ; the old ta- 
 pestry bottom was quite worn out, and 
 the tapestry back so ragged, that I cut 
 them away, and had them replaced as you 
 see ; but I have kept the back, because it 
 represents Queen Elizabeth hunting in the 
 woods that were hereabout in her time^ 
 I'll fetch it." On my hanging this tapes- 
 try against the clock-case, it was easy to 
 make out a lady gallantly seated on horse- 
 back, with a sort of turbaned headdress, 
 and about to throw a spear from her right 
 
 520 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 8. 
 
 hand ; a lumtsman on foot, with a pole in 
 one hand, and leading a brace of dogs 
 with the other, runs at the side of the 
 horse's head ; and another man on foot, 
 with a gun on his shoulder, follows the 
 horse; the costume, however, is not so 
 early as the time of Elizabeth; certainly 
 not before the reign of Charles I. 
 
 This edifice is well worth seeing, and 
 Mr. Symes's plain civility is good en- 
 tertainment. Readers have o.nly to ring 
 at the bell above the brass plate with the 
 word " Tower" on it, and ask, " Is Mr. 
 Tower at home ?" as I do, and they will 
 
 be immediately introduced ; at the con- 
 clusion of the visit the tender of sixpence 
 each, by way of " quit-rent," will be ac- 
 cepted. Those who have been before and 
 not lately, will view " improvement" ra- 
 pidly devastating the forms of nature 
 around tliis once delightful spot ; others 
 who have not visited it at all may be 
 amazed at the extensive prospects ; and 
 none who see the " goings on" and " pon- 
 der well," will be able to foretell whether 
 Mr. Symes or the tower will enjoy benefit 
 of survivorship. 
 
 To Canonhury Tower. 
 
 As some old, stout, and lonely holyhock, 
 Within a desolate neglected garden, 
 Doth long survive beneath the gradual choke 
 Of weeds, that come and work the general spoil ; 
 So, Canonbury, thou dost stand awhile: 
 Yet full at last thou must; for thy rich warden 
 Is fast " improving ;" all thy pleasant fields 
 Have fled, and brick-kilns, bricks, and houses rise 
 At his command; the air no longer yields 
 A fragrance — scarcely health ; the very skies 
 Grow dim and townlike; a cold, creeping gloom 
 Steals into thee, and saddens every roc'ra : 
 And so realities come unto me, 
 
 Clouding the chambers of my mind, and making me — like thee. 
 May 18, 1825. 
 
 Tliis is the fifth Sunday after Easter. 
 *' Rogation" is supplication, from the 
 Latin rogare, to beseech. 
 
 Rogation Sunday obtained its name 
 from the succeeding Monday, Tuesday, 
 and Wednesday, which are called Roga- 
 tion-days, and were ordained by Mam- 
 mertus, archbishop of Vienne, in Dau- 
 phine ; about the year 469 he caused the 
 litanies, or supplications, to be said upon 
 them, for deliverance from earthquakes, 
 fires, wild beasts, and other public calami- 
 ties, which are alleged to have happened 
 in his city ; hence the whole week is 
 called Rogation-week, to denote the con- 
 tinual praying.* 
 
 Shepherd, in his " Elucidation of the 
 Book of Common Prayer," mistaking 
 Vienne for Vienna the capital of Ger- 
 many, says : "The example of Mammertus 
 was followed by many churches in the 
 West, and the institution of the Rogation- 
 days, soon passed from the diocese of 
 
 • Butler 
 
 .Vienna into France, and from France into 
 England." 
 
 Rogation-vieek is also called grasx- 
 week, from the appetite being restricted 
 to salads and greens ; rros*-week, from 
 the cross being more than ordinarily used ; 
 procession-week, from the public proces- 
 sions during the period ; and gang-week, 
 from the ganging, or going about in these 
 processions.* 
 
 The rogations and processions, or sing- 
 ing of litanies along the streets during 
 this week, were practised in England till 
 the Reformation. In 1554, the priests ot 
 queen Mary's chapel made public pro- 
 cessions. " All the three days there went 
 her chapel about the fields : ihe first day 
 to St. Giles's, and there sung mass : the 
 next day, being Tuesday, to St. Martin's in 
 the Fields ; and there a sermon was 
 preached, and mass sung; and the com- 
 pany drank there : the third day to West 
 minstef; where a sermon was made, ant 
 then mass and good cheer made ; ana 
 after, about the park, and so to St. James's 
 
 • Brand. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 321 
 
THE E VERY-DAY ]iOOK.--MAY 9 
 
 court. Tlie same Rogation-week went 
 out of the Tower, on procession, priests 
 and clerks, and the lieutenant with all 
 his waiters ; and the axe of the Tower 
 borne in procession : tire waits attended. 
 There joined in this procession the inha- 
 bitants of St. Katharine's, lladclitf, Lime- 
 house, Poplar, Stratford, Bow, Shore- 
 ditch, and all those that belonoed to the 
 Tower, with their halberts. They went 
 about the fields of St. Katharine's, and the 
 liberties."* On the following Thursday, 
 " Being //o/(/ Thursday, at the court of 
 St. James's, the queen went in procession 
 ■within St. James's, with heralds and Ser- 
 jeants of arms, and four bishops mitred ; 
 and bishop Bonner, beside his mitre, wore 
 a pair of slippers of silver and gilt, and 
 a pair of rich gloves with ouches of silver 
 upon them, very rich."-|- 
 
 The efi'ect of processions in the 
 churches, must have been very striking. 
 A person sometimes inquires the tise of 
 a large portion of unappropriated room 
 in some of our old ecclesiastical edifices ; 
 
 he is especially astonished at the enor.mous 
 unoccupied space in a cathedral, and 
 asks, "what is it for?" — the answer is, 
 at this time, nothing. But if the Stuarts 
 had succeeded in reestabhshmg the 
 catholic religion, then this large and now 
 wholly useless portion of the structure, 
 would have been devoted to the old prac- 
 tices. In that event, we should have had 
 cross-carrying, canopy-carrying, censing, 
 chanting, flower-strewing, and all the 
 other accessories and essentials of the 
 grand pageantry, which distinguishes 
 catholic from protestant worship. The 
 utmost stretch of episcopal ceremonial in 
 England, can sca.rcely extend to the use 
 of an eighth part of any of our old 
 cathedrals,eachofwhich,in every essential 
 particular as a building, is papal. 
 
 i^ap 9. 
 
 St Gregory Nazianzen, a.d, 389, or 391. 
 St. Hennas, 1st Cent. St. Nicholas 
 Bp. A.D. 1391. 
 
 May Morniug. 
 The sun is up, and 'tis a morn of May 
 Round old Ravenna's clear-shown towers and bay, 
 A morn, the loveliest which the j'ear has seen 
 Last of the spring, yet fresh with all its green ; 
 For a warm eve, and gentle rains at night, 
 Have left a sparkling welcome for the light, 
 And there's a crystal clearness all about ; 
 The leaves are sharp, the distant hills look out 
 A balmy briskness comes upon the breeze ; 
 The smoke goes dancing from the cottage trees ; 
 And when you listen, you may hear a coil 
 Of bubbling springs about the grassy soil ; 
 And all the scene, in short — sky, earth, and sea 
 Breathes like a bright-eyed face, that laughs out openly. 
 
 Leis-k Hunt, 
 
 A benevolent lover (>f nature,]; — and 
 who that loves natui-e is not benevolent — 
 observes, in a notice of this day, that 
 " the Sivifc, which arrives in England 
 about this time, in the morning and in 
 the evening comes out in quest of food, 
 and utters, while rapidly flying, its pecu- 
 liar scream, whence it is called Squeaker. 
 In a warm summer morning these birds 
 may be seen flying round in small com- 
 panies, and all squeaking together : in 
 the evening- they come forth again; but 
 
 there are times in the middle of the day 
 when few or none of these birds are seen. 
 We have already observed," continues 
 Dr. Forster, " that the scenery of a May 
 morning is particularly beautiful ; a se 
 rene sky, a refreshing fragrance arising 
 from the face of the earth, and the melody 
 of the birds, all combine to render it in- 
 expressibly delightful, to exhilarate the 
 spirits, and call forth a song of grateful 
 adoration. 
 
 How fresh the breeze that wafts the rich perfume. 
 And swells the melody of waking birds ! 
 
 The hum of bees beneath the verdant grove, 
 
 And woodman's song, and low of distant herds ! 
 
 * Strype. 
 
 t Ibid- 
 
 t Dr. Forster. 
 
 322 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 10. 
 
 And yet there are some to whom these Having no exquisite relish of the beauties 
 
 scenes give no delight, and who hurry of nature, and being more delighted with 
 
 away from all the varieties of rural beau- the ' busy hum of men,' I answered, 
 
 ty, to lose their hours and divert their ' Yes, sir ; but not equal to Fleet-street, 
 
 thoughts by a tavern dinner, or the prattle Johnson said, ' You are right, sir.' I am 
 
 or the politics of the day. Such was, by aware that many of my readers may cen- 
 
 his own confession, Mr. Boswell, the sure my want of taste. Let me, however, 
 
 biographer of Johnson ; and, according to shelter myself under the authority of a 
 
 this ' honest chronicler's' report, the doctor very fashionable baronet in the brilliant 
 
 himself was alike insensible to the charms world, who, on his attention being called 
 
 of nature. ' We walked in the evening,' to the fragrance of a May evening in the 
 
 says Boswell, ' in Greenwich-park. John- country, ' This may be very well; but, 
 
 son asked me, I suppose by way of trying for my part, I prefer the smell of a flam 
 
 my disposition, ' Is not this very fine ?' beau at the playhouse !' " 
 
 Green fields, and shady groves, and crystal springs 
 
 And larks, and nightingales, are odious things. 
 
 But smoke and dust, aad noise and crowds, delight ; 
 
 And to be pressed to death, transports her quite : 
 
 Where silvery rivulets play through flowery meads. 
 
 And woodbines give their sweets, and limes their shades 
 
 Black kennels' absent odours she regrets, 
 
 And stops her nose at beds of violets ; 
 
 Nor likes to leave her bed at early dawn, 
 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 
 
 FLORAt DIRECTORY. 
 
 Solomon's Seal. Convallaria multiftoTa. 
 Dedicated to St. Gregory of Nazianzen. 
 
 ilap 10. 
 
 St. Antoninus, or Little Antony, Abp. 
 A. D. 1459. Sts. Gordian, a. d. 362, 
 and Epimachus, a n. 250. St. Isidore, 
 Patron of Madrid, a. d. 11 70. St. Corn- 
 wall, Irish abbot, a. d. 601. St. Catal- 
 dus, Bp. of Tarentum. 
 
 floral directory 
 
 Slender-leaved Piony. Pceonia Tenuifolia. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Comgall. 
 
 proached, and the net dropped ovei 
 it. There is a tradition current here, 
 that king James I. was very fond of 
 seeing dotterels taken ; and when he came 
 to Newmarket, used to accompany the 
 birdcatchers to the Gogmagog-hills and 
 moors, for that purpose. It is said, a 
 needy clergyman residing in the parish of 
 Sawston.who was very expert in dotterel- 
 catching, attended the king ; his majesiy 
 was pleased with his skdl, and promised 
 him a living : the clergyman waited some 
 years, till, concluding that the king " had 
 
 remembered to forget his promise," he 
 
 THE DOTTEREL. Went to Loudon and appeared at court, 
 
 rv„„ ,1^ 17 T» r, .\ where too he was unnoticed and for- 
 
 Itor the Eieiy-JJay Book.) ^ ,, .^ i ,, , • , , ■ 
 
 /■ y y ) gotten; at length, approaching the king, 
 
 In May and June this bird is to be and making the same signs as he was wont 
 
 found on Gogmagog-hills and the moors to do when catching dotterels with the king 
 
 adjacent. It is caught with nets, by near Cambridge, his majesty exclaimed, 
 
 people using a whistle made to imitate " Why, here is my reverend dotteieU 
 
 itj note ; the bird is so simple and fond catcher," and instantly gave him the long- 
 
 of imitation, it suffers itself to be ap- delayed living : 
 
 The boggy moor a fruitful field appears, 
 Since the inclosure of those latter years ; 
 Though oft a victim to the fowler's snare, 
 The dotterel keeps her wonted vigils there ! 
 Ah ! simple bird to imitate false man, 
 Who does by stratagem thy life trepan ' 
 So by the world is man oft led astray. 
 Nor strives to Baun the siren's 'witching lay * 
 
 323 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY It. 
 
 B'lt know's, alas ! like thee, when 'tis too late, 
 The want of caution, and repents his fate. 
 In sad reality — too often seen, 
 Does folly end in sorrow's tragic scene. 
 CM,b)ii/ge, May ]8 1825. T.N 
 
 i^ap 11. 
 
 St. Mammertus, Abp. of Vienne, a. D. 
 477. St. Muicul, or Majolus, Abbot 
 A. D. 994. 
 
 BEES AM) BIRDS. 
 
 A Warwickshire correspondent sayy, 
 that in that county " the tirst swarm of 
 bees is simply called a swarm, the second 
 from the same hive is called a cast, and 
 the third from the same hive a spindh. 
 It is a saying in this county, that 
 
 " A swarm of bees in May 
 Is worth a load of hay ; 
 A swarm of bees in Jnne 
 Is worth a silver spune (spoon ;) 
 A swarm of bees in July 
 Is not worth a fly. 
 
 " In Warwickshire, also, there is a dif- 
 ferent version of verses about the swal- 
 low, &c. 
 
 •* Tlie robin and the wren 
 
 Are God Almighty's cock and hen ; 
 
 The martin and the swallow 
 
 Are God Almighty's bow and arrow." 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 King James T. and his queen arrived in 
 Scotland on Old May-day, 1590, it being 
 then according to the old style the first 
 day of May, in order to be at the queen's 
 coronation. The entry and coronation 
 ■were conducted with great ceremony ; the 
 pageant on the latter occasion is an ex- 
 ample of splendid dramatic effect, which 
 in this country no longer prevails on 
 such occasions. According to the account 
 printed at London, in black letter, a. d. 
 1590, these are the particulars :— - 
 
 " Tlie King arrived at Lyeth the first 
 day of May, anno 1590, with the Queene 
 his wife and his traine in thirteene shippes, 
 accompanied with Peter Munck, Admirall 
 of Denmarke, one of the Regentes of the 
 King, Steven Brave, a Danish Lorde, and 
 sundry other the Lordes of the same 
 countrey, where at theyr arrivall they 
 were welcommed by the Duke of Leuox, 
 
 the Earle Bothwell, and sundry other tlte 
 Scottisli Nobility. At their landing,, one 
 M. James Elpheston, a Senator of the 
 Colledge of Justice, with a Latine oration 
 welcommed them into the countrey, which 
 done, the King went on to the church of 
 Lyeth, where they had a sermon preached 
 by Maister Patrick Galloive;/, in English, 
 importing a thanksgiving for their safe 
 arnvail, and so they departed to their 
 lodging, where they expected the comming 
 in of the rest of the nobility, together 
 with such preparation as was to bee pro- 
 vided in Edinborough and the Abbey of 
 the Holy Rood House. 
 
 " This performed and the nobility joyn- 
 ing to the township of Edinborough, they 
 receaved the King and Queene from the 
 town of Lyeth, the King '•iding before, 
 and the Queene behind him in her chariot, 
 with her maides of honor on ech side of 
 her Majesties one. Her chariot was 
 drawne with eight horses, capparisoned 
 m velvet, imbrodred with silver and gold, 
 veiy rich, her highnesse maister of her 
 householde, and other Danish ladies on 
 the one side, and the Lorde Hamilton on 
 the other, together with the rest of the 
 nobility, and after her chariot followed the 
 Lorde Chancelours wife, the Lady Both- 
 well, and other the ladies, with the bur- 
 gesses of the towne and others round 
 about her, as of Edinborough, of Lyeth, of 
 Fishrow, of Middleborow, of Preston, of 
 Dalkith, &c. all the inhabitants being in 
 armour, and giving a voile of shotte to 
 the King and Queene in their passage, 
 in joy of their safe arrivall. In this 
 manner they passed to the Abbey of 
 Holy Roode House, where they re- 
 mained until the seaventeenth of May, 
 upon which day the Queene was crowned 
 in the said Abbey Church, after the ser- 
 mon was ended by Maister Robert Brnce 
 and M. David Liusey, with great tn- 
 umphes. The coronation ended, she was 
 conveide to her chamber, being led by 
 the Lord Chancelour, on the one side and 
 the Embassador of Englande on the other, 
 sixe ladies bearing uppe her traine, 
 having going before her twelve heraultes 
 in their coates of amies, and sundrye 
 trumpets still sounding. The Earle of 
 
 324 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY II. 
 
 Angus bare the sworde of honor, the L. 
 Hamilton tlie scepter, and the Duke of 
 Lenox the ciowne. Thus was that day 
 spent in joy and mirth. Uppon Tuesday 
 the nineteenth of May, her Majesty made 
 Her entry into Edinborough in herciiariot, 
 with the Lordes and Nobility giving their 
 attendance, among the which ther were 
 sixe and thirty Danes on horsebacke wiih 
 foote clothes, every of them being accom- 
 panied with some Scottish Lorde or 
 Knight, and all the ladies following the 
 chariot. At her comming to the South 
 side of the yardes of the Canogit, along 
 the parke wall, being in sight of the 
 Castle, they gave her thence a great voile 
 ofshotte, with their banners and auncientes 
 displaied upon the walles. Thence shee 
 came to the West port, under the which 
 her highnesse staied, and had an oration 
 to welcome her to the towne, uttered in 
 Latine by one maister John Russell, who 
 was thereto appointed by the towne- 
 shippe, whose sonne also being placed 
 uppon the toppe of the portehead, and 
 was let downe by a devise made in a 
 globe, which being come somewhat over 
 her Majesties heade, opened at the toppe 
 into foure quarters, where the childe ap- 
 pearing in the resemblance of an angell 
 delivered her the keyes of the towne in 
 silver, which done, the quarters closed, 
 ani^ the globe was taken uppe agayne, so 
 as .ne childe was no more seene there. 
 Shee had also a canapie of purple velvet, 
 embrodered with gold, carried over her 
 by sixe ancient townes-men. There were 
 also tliree score young men of the towne 
 lyke Monres, and clothed in cloth of sil- 
 ver, with chaines about their neckes, and 
 bracelets about their amies, set with 
 diamonds and other precious stones, verie 
 gorgeous to the eie, who went before the 
 chariot betwixt tjie horsemen and it, 
 everie one with a white staffe in his hande 
 to keepe off the throng of people, where 
 also rid the Provost and Baileefes of the 
 towne with foote clothes to keepe the 
 people in good order, with most of the 
 inhabitants in their best araie to doe the 
 like. In this order her Grace passed on 
 the Bow street, vhere was erected a 
 table, whereupon stood a globe of the 
 tvhole worlde, with a boy sitting therby, 
 who represented tlie person of a King, 
 and made her an oration, which done, slie 
 went up the Bowe, wher were cast forth 
 a number of banketing dishes as they 
 came by, and comming to the butter trone, 
 there were nlaccd nine maidens bravely 
 
 arraied in cloth of silver ai d gold, inpre- 
 senting the nine Muses, who sung verie 
 sweete musicke, where a brave youth 
 played upon the organs, whicli accorded 
 excellentlie with the singing of their 
 psalmes, whereat her Majestie staied 
 awhile, and thence passed downe through 
 the high gate of Edinborough, which 
 was all decked with tapistry from the top 
 to the bottom : at her Graces comming 
 to the Tolboth, there stood on high the 
 four vertues, as first, Justice with the 
 ballance in one hand, and the sword of 
 justice in the other; then Temperance, 
 having in the one hand a cup of wine, 
 and in the other hand a cup of water ; 
 Prudence, holding in her hand a serpent 
 and a dove, declaring that men ought to 
 bee as wise as the serpent to prevent 
 mischief, but as simple as a dove eyther 
 in wrath or malice. The last is Fottitude, 
 who held a broken piller in her hand, re- 
 presenting the strength of a kingdome. 
 
 " Thus shee passed on to the crosse, up- 
 pon the toppe whereof shee had a psalm 
 sung in verie good musicke before her 
 comming to tlfe churche, whiche done, 
 her Majestie came forth of her chariot, 
 and was conveied unto S. Giles Church, 
 v\here she heard a sermon preached by M. 
 Bobert Bnice. That ended, with praiers 
 for her highnesse, shee was conveied 
 againe to her chariot. Against her com- 
 ming forth, there stood upon the top of 
 the crosse a table covered, whereupon 
 stood cups of gold and silver full of wine, 
 with the goddess of Come and Wine 
 sitting thereat, and the come on heapes 
 by her, who in Latine cried that there 
 should be plentie thereof in her time, and 
 on the side of the crosse sate the God 
 Bacchus upon a punchion of wine, drink- 
 ing and casting it by cups full upon the 
 people, besides other of the townsmen 
 that cast apples and nuts among them, 
 and the crosse itself ranne claret wine 
 upon the caulsway for the royaltie of 
 that dale. Thence her Grace rode downe 
 the gate to the sault trone, whereupon 
 sate all the Kings heretofore of Scotland, 
 one of them lying along at their feete, as 
 if he had bene sick, whom certain soul- 
 diers seemed to awake at her Majesties 
 comming; whereupon he arose and made 
 her an oration in Latine. Which ended, 
 she passed down to the reather bow 
 which was beautified with the marage oi 
 a King and his Queene, with all their 
 nobilitie about them, among whom at 
 her highnes? presence there arose a youth 
 
 325 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 who applied the same to the marria2;e of 
 the King and herselfe, and so blessed that 
 marriage. Which done, there was let 
 downe unto her from the top of the porte 
 in a silke string a box covered with purple 
 velvet, whereupon was embroderedan A. 
 for Anna (her Majesties name) set -with 
 diamonds and precious stones, esteemed 
 at twentie thousand crownes, which the 
 townshippe gave for a present to her 
 highness ; and then, after singing of some 
 psalmes with very good musicke, her 
 Grace departed to the Abbey for that 
 night." 
 
 f778. William Pitt, the great earl of 
 Chatham, died in the House of Lords, 
 aged 70 years. 
 
 1782. Richard Wilson, the eminent 
 English landscape painter,died, neglected, 
 at the age of 68 years ; for in his lifetime 
 his labours were unappreciated. He was 
 accustomed to say, that posterity would 
 do him justice ; and now his pictures pro- 
 duce astonishing sums. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lancashire Asphodel. Aspkodehis Lu- 
 
 teus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Mammertus. 
 
 iWa]) 12. 
 
 Holy Thursday, holiday at the Public Offices, except 
 Excise, Stamp, and Custom. 
 
 Sts. Nereiis and Achilleus. St. Flavia 
 DomitUla. St. Pancras, a.d. 304. St. 
 Epipkanms, Abp. a. d. 403. St. Ger- 
 manus, Patriarch of Constantinople, 
 A. D. 733. St. Rictrudes, Abbess, 
 A. D. 688. 
 
 Jlolp Cftursstia]), 
 
 Or Ascension Day, 
 
 The anniversary of Christ's Ascension 
 as kept by the Romish church, is set 
 forth in the " Popish Kingdome," thus : 
 
 Then comes the day when Christ ascended 
 
 to his father's seate 
 Which day they also celebrate, 
 
 with store of drinke and meate, 
 Then every man some birde must eate, 
 
 I kpow not to what eude. 
 And after dinner all to church 
 
 they come, and their attende 
 The blocke that on the aultar still, 
 
 till then was seene to stande, 
 
 Is drawne vp hie aboue the roofe, 
 
 by ropes, and force of hande : 
 The Priestes about it rounde do slaiid, 
 
 and chaunt it to the skie, 
 For all these mens religion great, 
 
 in singing most doth lie. 
 Then out of hande the dreadfull shape 
 
 of Satlian downe they throw, 
 Oft times, with fire burning bright, 
 
 and dasht a sunder tho,* 
 The boyes with greedie eyes do watch, 
 
 and on him straight they fall, 
 And beate him sore with rods, and breake 
 
 him into peeces small. 
 This done, they wafers downe doe cast, 
 
 and singing Cakes the while, 
 With papers round amongst them put, 
 
 the children to beguile. 
 With laughter great are all things done : 
 
 and from the beames they let 
 Great streames of v/ater downe to fall, 
 
 on whom they meane to wet. 
 And thus this solemne holiday, 
 
 and hye renowned feast, 
 And all their whole deuotion here, 
 
 is ended with a ieast.f 
 
 It is sufficient for the present to ob- 
 serve of Holy Thursday, that with us on 
 this day it is a common custom of estab- 
 lished usage, for the minister of each 
 parish, with the parochial officers and 
 other inhabitants of the parish, followed 
 by the boys of the parish school, headed 
 by their master, to go in procession to 
 the different parish boundaries ; which 
 boundaries the boys strike with peeled 
 willow wands that they bear in their 
 hands, and this is called "beating the 
 bounds." More, concerning this and 
 other practices connected with the day, is 
 purposely deferred till the subject be pro- 
 perly set forth hereafter. 
 
 Rule of Health for May. 
 
 The month of May is called a " trying" 
 month, to persons long ailing with cri- 
 tical complaints. It is common to say, 
 " Ah, he'll never get up May-kill!" or, 
 " If he can climb over May-hill he'll do." 
 "As a rule of health for May," says Dr. 
 Forster, " we may advise early rising in 
 particular, as being essentially conducive 
 to that blessing. Every thing now in- 
 vites the sluggard to leave his bed and go 
 abroad. Milton has given such a lively 
 description of morning scenes as must 
 rouse every lover of the country from his 
 couch : — 
 
 • Shepherd. * Naogeorgus, by Goofte. 
 
 32G 
 
TIIE EVERY DAY BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 Lines from V Allegro 
 To hear the 'aik begin his flight, 
 And singing, startle the dull night. 
 From his watch-tower in the slcies, 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise; 
 Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window bid good morrow, 
 Tlirough the sweet-brier, or the vine, 
 Or the twisted eglantine: 
 While the cock, with lively din. 
 Scatters the rear of darkness tiiin ; 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door, 
 Stoutly struts his dames before. 
 Oft listening now the hounds and horn 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn. 
 From the side of some hoar hill, 
 Through the high wood eclioing shrill : 
 Some time walking, not unseen. 
 By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green. 
 Right against the eastern gate 
 Where the great sun begins his state, 
 Ilobed inflames, and amber light, 
 'I'he clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 
 While the ploughman, near at hand. 
 Whistles o'er the furrow'd land. 
 And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
 And the mower whets his sithe. 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 Whilst the landscape round it measures ; 
 Russet lawns, and fallows gray. 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 ^Mountains, on whose barren breast. 
 The labouring clouds do often rest; 
 Meadows trim with daisies pide, 
 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide: 
 Towers and battlements it sees 
 Bosomed high in tufted trees, 
 Where perhaps some beauty lies, 
 The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
 
 MANNERS IN IRELAND. 
 
 Not as a picture of general manners, 
 but as sketches of particular characters 
 in certain parts of Ireland, the following 
 anecdotes are extracted from one of the 
 "Letters from the Irish Highlands," dated 
 in May, 1823. 
 
 " In the same spirit, the pleasures of 
 the table are but too often shared by the 
 gentlemen of the country with those who 
 are very much their inferiors, both in 
 birth and fortune. The lowest and most 
 degrading debauchery must be the natural 
 consequence, and here I must not forget 
 an anecdote which will at once illustrate 
 this, and also make you acquainted with 
 a childish superstition, with which it is a 
 frequent practice of all ranks to combat 
 this pernicious vice, encouraged by their 
 indolent manner of life, and by the former 
 
 fanilitv of procuring smuggled liquors. 
 A gentleman, whose rental at one time 
 amounted to 10,000/. per annum, and 
 who was in the constant habits of intoxi- 
 cation, took an oath to drink nothing 
 after the cloth was removed ; but, unable 
 to comply with the spirit, he soon con- 
 tented himself with adhering to the letter 
 of this rash vow, and, keeping the cloth 
 on table after dinner was over, could 
 drink all night without fear of infringing 
 it He then swore not to drink in his 
 dining-parlour, but again as easily evaded 
 his engagement, by adjourning to the 
 next apartment ; in the next apartment, 
 however, on some fresh quaJms of can- 
 science,, the vow was renewed ; and so, 
 in each room successively, until he fairly 
 swore hiniseU out of the house. He then 
 took refuge in the summer-house of his 
 garden, and there used to dine and drink 
 daily ; till, rashly renewing his vow here 
 also, he was reduced to find a new sub, 
 terfuge by taking lodgings in a neighbour- 
 ing town. 
 
 " Tliis story reminds me of a circum- 
 stance which has taken place within these 
 few days, and in which the chief actor 
 was one of the remaining branches of a 
 numerous family, among the second-rate 
 gentry, who are here distinguished by the 
 title of bncksens. Originally supported 
 in a state of comparative ease and induU 
 gence, partly by their share in the oontrar 
 band trade, partly by their close connect 
 tion and alliance with the principal fami- 
 lies in the country, their incomes have 
 gradually sunk with the change of cir^ 
 cumstances, which has, in a great mea- 
 sure, dissolved this ancient bond of fel- 
 lowship, as well as destroyed their more 
 illegitimate sources of revenue. Many 
 of these, without seeking employment for 
 themselves, or education for their chil- 
 dren, still cling to customs which have 
 now passed away ; and, when reduced 
 almost to a state of mendicity, continue 
 their former boast of being ' gentlemen.' 
 
 " A puncheon of spirits lately came 
 ashore, and fell to the share of the indi- 
 vidual above mentioned. It was too 
 large to be got in at the door of his 
 house ; he therefore pulled part of the 
 wall down ; still, however, it stuck half 
 way. His small stock of patience could 
 last no longer; he tapped the end that 
 was within, and he and his wife, with 
 their servant, soon became completely 
 intoxicated. His neighbours, aware of 
 this, tapped the casir «t the other end. 
 
 327 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 12. 
 
 and the next day, when this worthy per- 
 sonage would have taken his mornimr, 
 he found the cask completely emptied 1" 
 
 Conduct, or rather misconduct, such as 
 tiiis, is very natural in a country wherein 
 social feelings are cultivated ; wherein 
 capital is not employed ; and wherein the 
 kncwledge of principles amon? the influ- 
 
 ential classes ot the community, is net 
 sufficiently extended to unite in cooper- 
 ation by way of example and instruction. 
 Industry is essential to happiness, and 
 the unemployed will be either playful or 
 vicious. We say of children, " Give 
 them something to do, or they will be in 
 mischief;" this is equally true of men 
 
 FRANCIS GROSE, ESQ., F.S.A., &c. 
 
 This gentlemen died on the 12th of 
 May, 1791 ; he was son of Francis Grose, 
 esq. jeweller at Richmond, who fitted 
 up the coronation crown of George II. 
 He was a captain in the Surrey militia, 
 an eminent antiquary, and a right worthy 
 man. His " Antiquities of England and 
 Wales, Scotland and Ireland," are more 
 generally known perhaps than other topo- 
 graphical works of more profound inquiry. 
 They were commenced in numbers, and 
 published by " Master Samuel Hooper," 
 
 so he called his bookseller, to whom he 
 was a steady and affectionate friend, 
 though he says, in one of his letters, " he 
 never did any one thing I desired him." 
 His " Classical Dictionary of the Vu.gar 
 Tongue," Mr. Nichols says, " it would 
 have been for his credit to have suppress^ 
 ed." The truth of this observation is pal« 
 pable to every one who is not sophisticat- 
 ed by the wretchedly mischievous line, thai 
 " V'ice, to be hated, needs but to be seen." 
 A more mischievous sentiment was 
 
 328 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 13,14, 15. 
 
 never promulgated. Capl. Grose's " Olio" oellent" likeness; a co])y of which we 
 
 is a pleasant medley of whimsicalities 
 lie was an excellent companion, a hu- 
 morist, and caricaturist : he wrote" Rules 
 for drawing Caricatures," and drew and 
 etched many, wherein he took consider- 
 able liberties with his friends. Yet he 
 seems to have disliked a personal repre- 
 sentation of himself sleeping in a chair, 
 which Mr. Nichols pronounces " an ex- 
 
 " Now Grose, like bright Phoebus, has sunk into rest. 
 
 Society droops for the loss of his jest ; 
 
 Antiquarian debates, unseason'd with mirth, 
 
 To Genius and Learning will never give birth. 
 
 Then wake. Brother Member, our friend from his s'ccp. 
 
 Lest Apollo should frown, and Bacchus should weep." 
 
 have given in the preceding page. Adjoin- 
 ing it is another of him, a whole length, 
 standing, from an engraving by Bartolozzi, 
 after a drawing by E)ance. The sleeping 
 portrait is attributed to the rev. James 
 Douglas, one of his brother antiquaries, 
 who dedicated the print to their " devoted 
 brethren" of the society. Beneath it were 
 inscribed the foUowin.jr lines : 
 
 [le was remarkably corpulent, as the 
 engravings show. In a letter to the rev. 
 James Granger, he says, " I am, and ever 
 have been, the idlest fellow living, even 
 before I had acquired the load of adventi- 
 tious matter which at present stuffs my 
 doublet." On the margin of this letter 
 Mr. Grange" wrote, " As for the matter 
 that stiijfs your doublet, I hope it is all 
 good stuff ; if you should double it, I shall 
 call it morbid matter and tremble for you. 
 But I consider it as the effect of oood di- 
 gestion, pure blood, and laughing spirits, 
 coagulated into a wholesome mass by as 
 much sedentariness (I hate thi\ long 
 word) as is consistent with the activity 
 of your disposition." In truth, Grose 
 was far from an idle man ; he had great 
 mental activity, and his antiquarian 
 knowledge and labours were great. He 
 was fond however of what are termed the 
 pleasures of the table ; and is represented 
 in a fine mezzotinto, drawn and engraved 
 by his friend Nathaniel Hone, with Theo- 
 dosius Forrest, the barrister, and Ilone 
 himself, dressed in the character of monks, 
 over a bowl, which Grose is actively pre- 
 paring for their carousal. He died of 
 apoplexy in Mr. Hone's house in Dublin, 
 at the age of fifty-two. In reference to 
 his principal warks, the following epitaph, 
 quoted by Mr.Nichols in his " Anecdotes,'' 
 was proposed for him in the " St. James's 
 Chronicle :" — 
 
 Here lies Francis Grose. 
 On Thursday, May 12, 1791, 
 Death put an end to 
 His views and prospects. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 German Fleur de lis. Iris Gcrmaiaca. 
 Dedicat d to <S/. Germanus 
 
 i!fla|) ]3. 
 
 St John the Silent, Bp. a.d. 558. 
 Peter Regaluti, a. d. 1456. St. 
 vatus, Bp. of Tongres, a. d. 384. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 nmon Comfrey. Symphetum 
 
 cinale. 
 Dedicated to St. John the Silent. 
 
 St. 
 
 offi- 
 
 iBaj) 14. 
 
 St. Boniface, a. d. 307 St. Pachomin.f, 
 Abbot, A. D. 348. St. Pontius, a. p. 
 258. St. Carthagh, or Mnchudu, Bp. of 
 Lismore, a. d. 637 or 638. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Piony. Pcsonia officinalis. 
 
 Coralline Piony. PcBonia corallina. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Pontius. 
 
 iHaj) 15. 
 
 St. Peter, Andrew, and Companions, 
 INIartyrs, a. d. 250. St. Dympna, 7th 
 Cent. St. Genebrard or Genebern^ 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 A " SEASONABLE STORY.'' 
 
 'Tis hard, you'll tell me. but tis true — 
 
 Thanks to that heathen dog, Mahomet — 
 In Turkey if you want to woo — 
 
 But, by the bye, you'd best keep from it — 
 Tlie object of your love must hide 
 
 Her face from every idle gazer — 
 A wholesome check on female pride 
 
 /think ; and what's yowr notion, pray sir? 
 
 " Where beechen boughs their shade di.i'use" 
 'Twas once my lot to hear a ditty, 
 
 Fill'd with such stuff as lovers use 
 To meli the maiden heart with pity, 
 
 329 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- MAY 16 
 
 Recited by a Turk : 'twas queer 
 
 I thought that one like him, who never 
 
 Had seen his mistress, should appear 
 In " puft" and " eulogy" so clever. 
 
 '* Two swains were smoking," tales, you know, 
 
 Of love begin and end in vapour — 
 •' Beside a purling stream, when lo ! 
 
 By came a maiden, slim and taper. 
 Her eyes were like two stars at night" — 
 
 No matter how 1 came to know it — 
 The one beholds her with delight 
 
 And all at once becomes a poet. 
 " Why sits thy soul within those eyesl" 
 
 The other asks, " resume your smoking," 
 The lover hears him wiih surprise 
 
 And answers, " Set aside ail joking, 
 The pipe has now no charms for me ; 
 
 My heart is, as a fig, transported 
 To the thick foliage of some tree. 
 
 And there a bright-eyed bird has caught it." 
 
 Now hear a moral ! Love's a sly 
 
 And roguish fellow : look about ye 
 Watch all he does with careful eye. 
 
 Or else 'tis ten to one he'll flout ye. 
 Give him an inch he'll take an ell ; 
 
 And, if he once make conquest o'er ye. 
 Then sense, wit, reason, will, farewell ! — 
 
 Thus ends this seasonable story. 
 
 FLORAL DIRF.CTORY. 
 
 Welsh Poppy. Papaver Camhricnm. 
 Dedicated to St. Dympna. 
 
 iiflay 16. 
 
 St. John Nepomucen, a. d. 1383. St. 
 Shnon Stock, a. d. 1265. St. Ubaldus, 
 A. D. 1160. St. Honoratus, Bp. a.d. 
 660. St. j4bdjesiifty or Hebedjesus, Bp. 
 St. Abda.s, Bp. •*>/. Brendan the Elder, 
 Abbot of Clonfert, a. u. 578. 
 
 Last day of Easter Term, 1825; it com- 
 menced 20th of April. 
 
 A PASTORAL RECESS. 
 
 From the " Diana" of Geo"ge of Mon- 
 temayor, 1598, there is an extract in the 
 Literary Pocket Book sweetly descriptive 
 of a placid scene in nature. It begins 
 ■with — " When the joyous companie ar- 
 rived thus far, they saw how a little 
 brooke, covered almost all over with 
 sweet and smelling herbs, ran gently 
 thorow a greene meadow amongst a ranke 
 of divers trees that were nourished and 
 maintained by the cleere water ; under 
 the shadowes of which, as they were now 
 determined to rest themselves, Syrenus 
 
 said, * Let us see from whence this little 
 spring doth issue forth. It may be the 
 place is more fresh and cool the reabouls : 
 if not, or if we cannot finde out the foun- 
 taine from whence it fiowes, we will re- 
 turn here.' It liked his company well, 
 and so they desired him to lead the way. 
 Everie place and part of all the brooke 
 upwards invited them to pleasant rest ; 
 but, when, at length, after much perplex- 
 itie, resulting from the very abundance 
 and luxurie of their choice, they were 
 about to lay themselves downe, they sawe 
 that with greater quantitie of waters and 
 fresher shades of green trees the brooke 
 ran up higher, forsaking its right course 
 towards the left hande, where our com- 
 panie discovered a great thicket and spring 
 of divers trees, in which they saw a very 
 narrow entrance, and somewhat long, 
 whose sides were nut of walls fabricated 
 by artificiall hand but made of trees by 
 nature, the mistresse of all things. Foi 
 there were scene the deadly Cypresse, the 
 triumphant laurell, the hard oke, the low 
 sallow, the invincible palme, the blacke 
 and ruggie elme, the olive, the prickie 
 chesteuut, and the high pine-apple, one 
 amongst another, whose bodies were bound 
 about with greene ivie and the fruitful! 
 vine, and beset with sweet jesmines and 
 many other redolent flowers, that grew 
 very thicke together in that place. Amongst 
 the which many little birds (inhabitants 
 of that wood) went leaping from bough to 
 bough, making the place more pleasant 
 with their sweet and silver notes. The 
 trees were in such order set together that 
 they denied not the golden sunbeames to 
 have an entrance, to paint the greene 
 ground with divers colours (which rever- 
 berated from the flowers) that were never 
 steadie in one place, by reason that the 
 moveable leaves did disquiet them. This 
 narrow way did leade to a little greene, 
 covered all over with fine grasse, and not 
 touched with the hungrie mouthes of de- 
 vouring flockes. At the side of it was the 
 fountaine of the irooke, having a care that 
 the place should not drie up, sending forth 
 on every side her flowing waters." 
 
 Tlie season is coming on wherein the 
 heart will court retreat to such a scene of 
 natural beauty. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Star of Bethlehem. Ornithogalum 
 
 Uinl)rellatnin. 
 
 Dedicated to St. John Nevomvccn. 
 
 330 
 
TTIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 17, 18. 
 
 Jrla|) 17. 
 
 St. Paschal Babylon, a. d. 1592. St. 
 Po-ssidius, Bp. ofCalama, in Numidia, 
 A. D. 430. St. Maden, or Madern. St. 
 Maw. St. Catlian, 6th or 7th Cent. 
 St. Silave, or Silun, Bp. a.d. 1100. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1317. Died at Ileckington, aged sixty- 
 five, Mr. Samuel Jessup, an opulent gra- 
 zier, of pill-taking memory. lie lived in 
 a very eccentric way, as a bachelor, with- 
 out known relatives ; and at his decease 
 possessed of a good fortune, notwithstand- 
 ing a most inordinate craving for physic, 
 by which he was distinguished for the last 
 thirty years of his life, as appeared on a 
 trial for the amount of an apothecary's 
 bill, at the assizes at Lincoln, a short time 
 before Mr. Jessup's death, wherein he was 
 defendant. The evidence on the trial af- 
 fords the following materials for the epi- 
 taph of the deceased, which will not be 
 transcended by the memoTabilia of the life 
 of any man: — In twenty-one years (from 
 1791 to 1816) the deceased took 226,934 
 pills, supplied by a respectable apothecary 
 at Bottesford ; wliich is at tlie rate of 
 10,806 pills a year, or twenty-nine pills 
 each day ; but as the patient began with 
 a more moderate appetite, and increased 
 it as he proceeded, in the last five years 
 preceding 1816, he took the pills at the 
 rate of seventy-eight a day, and in the 
 year 1814 he swallowed not less than 
 51,590. Notwithstanding this, and the 
 addition of 40,000 bottles of mixture, and 
 juleps and electuaries,extending altogether 
 to fifty-five closely written columns of an 
 apothecary's bill, the deceased lived to 
 attain the advanced age of sixty-five years. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Early Red Poppy. Papaver Argemone 
 Dedicated to St. Paschal Babylon. 
 
 iBa|) 18. 
 
 St. Eric, King of Sweden, a.d. 1151. 
 -S^ Theodotns, Vintner, and Seven 
 Virgins, Martyrs, a.d. 303. St.Fenan- 
 tiris, a. d. 250. St. Potamon, Bp. of 
 Heraclea, in Egypt, a. d. 341. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1808. Sir John Carter, knt. died at 
 Portsmouth, his native town, aged sixty- 
 seven. He v/as an alderman, and nine 
 
 times mayor of the borough ; and a ma- 
 gistrate of the county, for which he also 
 served the office of sheriff in 1784. His 
 name is here introduced to commemorate 
 an essential service that he rendered to his 
 country, by his mild and judicious conduct 
 during the mutiny at Spithead, in the 
 spring of 1797. The sailors having lost 
 three of their body in consequence of the 
 resistance made to their going on board 
 the London, then bearing the flag ol 
 admiral Colpoys, wished to bury them in 
 Kingston churchyard, and to carry them 
 in procession through the town of Ports- 
 mouth. This request was most positively 
 refused them by the governor. They then 
 applied to sir John Carter to grant their 
 request, who endeavoured to convince the 
 governor of the propriety and necessity 
 of complying with it, declaring that he 
 would be answerable for the peace of the 
 town, and the orderly conduct of the 
 sailors. The governor would not be pre- 
 vailed on, and prepared for resistance ; 
 and resistance on both sides would most 
 probably have been resorted to, had not 
 the calmness, perseverance, and forbear- 
 ance of sir John Carter at length compro- 
 mised the affair, by obtaining permission 
 for the sailors to pass through the garri- 
 son of Portsmouth in procession, and the 
 bodies to be landed at the Common Hard 
 in Portsea, where the procession was to 
 join them. 
 
 So great was sir John Carter's influence 
 over the sailors, that they most scrupu- 
 lously adheied to the terms he prescribed 
 to them in their procession to the grave. 
 Two of their comrades having become "a 
 little groggy " after they came on shore, 
 they were carefully locked up in a room 
 by themselves, lest they should become 
 quarrelsome, or be unable to conduct 
 themselves with propriety. Itwasamost 
 interesting spectacle. Si-r John ac- 
 companied them himself through the 
 garrison, to prevent any insult being 
 offered to them. At the Common Hard 
 he was joined by Mr. Godwin, the friend 
 and associate of his youth, and also a 
 most worthy magistrate of this borough. 
 They attended the procession till it had 
 passed the fortifications at Portsea : every 
 thing was conducted with the greatest 
 decorum. When the sailors returned, 
 and were sent off to their respective ships, 
 two or three of the managing delegates 
 came to sir John, to inform him that the 
 men were all gore on board, and to 
 thank him for his great goodness to them. 
 
 331 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY IB 
 
 Sir Joiin seized the opportunity of in- 
 q-Ljiriiig after their admiral, as tliese dele- 
 gates belonged to the Loudon. " Do you 
 know him, your honour V " Yes ; I have 
 a great respect for him, and I hope you 
 will not do him any harm." "Wo, by 
 G— d, your honour, he shall not be hurt." 
 It was at that time imagined admiral 
 Colpoys would be hung at the yard-arm, 
 and he had prepared for this event by 
 arranging his affairs and making his will. 
 In this will he had left to the widows of 
 the three men who were so unfortunately 
 killed an annuity of 20/. each. The next 
 morning, however, the admiral was pri- 
 vately, unexpectedly, and safely brought 
 on shore, though pursued by a boat from 
 the Mars, as soon as they suspected what 
 was transacting. The delegates brought 
 him to sir John Carter, and delivered 
 him to his care : they tlien desired to have 
 a receipt for him, as a proof to their 
 comrades that they had safely delivered 
 him into the hands of the civil power ; 
 and this receipt he gave. The admiral 
 himself, in his first appearance at court 
 afterwards, acknowledged to the king that 
 he owed his life to sir John Carter, and 
 assured his majesty that his principles 
 were misinterpreted and his conduct mis- 
 represented, and that he had not a more 
 faithful and worthy subject in his 
 dominions. Notwithstanding this, the 
 duke of Portland, then secretary of state 
 for the home department, received a very 
 strong letter against him, which letter his 
 grace sent to sir John, assuring him at 
 the same time that the government placed 
 the utmost confidence in his honour, in- 
 tegrity, and patriotism, and concluded by 
 proposing to offer a large reward for the 
 discovery of the writer : this, with a dig- 
 nified consciousness of the purity of his 
 conduct, sir John declined ; though, from 
 some well-founded conjectures, the dis- 
 covery might possibly have been easily 
 made. This inestimable consciousness 
 enabled him to meet with the greatest 
 composure every effort of party rage to 
 sully his reputation and destroy his in- 
 fluence. So pure were his principles, 
 that when in the year 1806 he was offered 
 a baronetage by Mr. Fox, he declined it 
 on the ground that he believed the offer 
 to have been made for his undeviating 
 attachment to Mr. Fox's politics; and 
 that, to accept it, would be a manifest 
 departure from his principles. In every 
 public and domestic relationship he was 
 uniformly mild, impartial, and upright ; 
 
 nor was he ever deterred by perjona. 
 difficulties or inconveniences from a faith- 
 ful, and even minute attendance on his 
 widely extended duties. The poor in him 
 ever found a friend, and the unfortunate 
 a protector. The peace, comfort, and 
 happiness of others, and not his own 
 interest, were the unwearied objects of 
 his pursuit. Never was there a character 
 in which there was less of self than in his. 
 
 MANURES. 
 
 Rambling in cultivated spots renders 
 one almost forgetful of cultivating friends. 
 On the subject of " manure," the editor 
 of the Every- Dm/ Book has no competent 
 knowledge ; he has not settled in his own 
 mind whether he should decide for "long 
 straw or short straw," and as regards him- 
 self would willingly dispose of the im- 
 portant question by " drawing cuts ;" all 
 he can at present do for his country readers, 
 is to tell them what lord Bacon affirms ; 
 his lordship says that " muck should be 
 spread." This would make a capital text 
 or vignette for a dissertation ; but there is 
 no space here to dissertate, and if Messrs. 
 Taylor and Hessey's London Magazine, 
 for May, had not suggested the sub- 
 ject, it would scarcely have occurred. 
 There the reviewer of " Gaieties and 
 Gravities" has extracted some points from 
 that work, which are almost equal to the 
 quantity of useful information derivable 
 from more solid books — here they are : — 
 Gaieties. 
 " Residing upon the eastern coast, and 
 farming a considerable extent of country, 
 I have made repeated and careful expe- 
 riments with this manure ; and as the 
 mode of burial in many parts of the 
 Continent divides the different classes 
 into appropriated portions of the church 
 yard, I have been enabled, by a little 
 bribery to sextons and charnel-house men, 
 to obtain specimens of every rank and 
 character, and to ascertain with precision 
 their separate qualities and results for the 
 purposes of the farmer, botanist, or com- 
 mon nurseryman. These it is my pur- 
 pose to communicate to the reader, who 
 may depend upon the caution with which 
 the different te.sts were applied, as well 
 as upon the fid:!lity with which they are 
 reported. 
 
 " A few cartloads of citizens' bones 
 gave me a luxuriant growth of London 
 pride, plums, Sibthorpia or base money- 
 wort, mud-wort, bladder-wort, and mush- 
 rooms : but for .'aburnum or golden 
 
 332 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 18. 
 
 chain, I wa? oblicied to select a lord 
 major. Hospital bones supplied inevvith 
 CYclanien in any quantity, which I inter- 
 mixed with a few seeds from the Cyclndes 
 Islands, and tiie scurvy-grass came up 
 spontaneously , while manure from dif- 
 ferent fields of battle proved extremely 
 favourable to the ha;manthus or blood- 
 flower, the trumpet-flower and laurel, as 
 well as to widuw-wail and cypress. A 
 few sample skulls from the poet's corner 
 of a German abbey furnished poet's 
 cassia, grass of Parnassus, and bays, in 
 about equal quantities, with wormwood, 
 crab, thistle, stinging-nettle, prickly holly, 
 teasel, and loose-strife. Courtiers and 
 ministers, when converted into manure, 
 secured an ample return of jackin-a-box, 
 service-apples, climbers, supple-jacks, pa- 
 rasite plants, and that species of sun-flower 
 wliich invariably turns to the rising lumi- 
 nary. Nabobs form a capital compost 
 for hepatica, liver-wort, spleen-wort, hips, 
 and pine ; and from those who had three 
 or four stars at the India-house, I raised 
 some particularly fine C'iiina asters. A 
 good show of adonis, narcissus, jessamine, 
 cockscomb, dandelion, money-flower, and 
 buckthorn, may be obtained from dan- 
 dies, although they are apt to encumber 
 the ground with tickvveed ; while a good 
 drilling with daiidisettes is essential to 
 those beds in which you wish to raise 
 Venus's looking-glass, Venus's calchfly, 
 columbines, and love-apples. A single 
 dressing of jockies will ensure you a 
 quick return of horse-mint, verciiica or 
 speedwell, and cult's-foot ; and a very 
 slight layer of critics suffices for a good 
 thick spread of scorpion seuna. viper's 
 bugloss, serpent's tongue, poison-nut, 
 nightshade, and hellebore. If yfu are 
 fond of raising stocks, manure your bed 
 with jobbers ; wine-merchants form the 
 most congenial stimulant for sloes, for- 
 tune-hunters for the marygold and golden 
 rod, and drunkards for Canaiy wines, 
 mad-wort and horehound. Failing in 
 repeated attempts to raise the chaste tree 
 from the bones of nuns, which gave me 
 nothing but liquorice-root, I applied those 
 of a dairy-maid, and not only succeeded 
 perfectly in my object, but obtained a 
 good crop of butter-wort, milk-wort, and 
 heart's-ease. I was equally unsuccessful 
 in raising any sage, horesty, or ever- 
 lasting from monks ; but they yielded a 
 plentiful bed of monk's hood, or Jesuit's, 
 oark, medlars, and cardinal flowers. My 
 annortation of shoemakers was unfor- 
 
 tunately too scanty to try their eflTecl upon 
 a large scale, but I contrived to procure 
 from them two or three ladies' slippers. 
 As school-boys are raised by birch, it 
 may be hardly necessary to mention, that 
 when reduced to manure, they return the 
 compliment; but it may be useful to 
 make known as widely as possible, that 
 dancing-masters supply the best hops 
 and capers, besides quickeniijg the growth 
 of tlie citharexylum or fiddle-wood. For 
 your mimosas or sensitive plants there is 
 nothing better than a layer of novel-read- 
 ers, and you may use up the first bad 
 author that you can disinter for all the 
 poppies you may require. Coffee-house 
 waiters will keep you supplied in 
 cummin ; chronologists furnish the best 
 dales, post-oftice men serve well for 
 rearing scarlet-runners, poulterers for 
 iien-bane, tailors for cabbage, and phy- 
 sicians for truffles, or any thing that re- 
 quires to be quickly buried. I could 
 have raised a few bachelors' buttons from 
 the bones of that class ; but as nobody 
 cares a button for bachelors, I did not 
 think it worth while. As a general re- 
 mark it may be noticed, that young peo- 
 ple produce the passion-flower in abund- 
 ance, while those of a more advanced 
 age may be beneficially used for the elder- 
 tree, the sloe, and snapdragon ; and with 
 respect to different nations, rny experi- 
 ments are only sufiiciently advanced to 
 enable me to state that Frenchmen are 
 favourable to garlic, and that Poles are 
 very good for hops. Of mint I have 
 never been able to raise much ; but as to 
 thyme, I have so large a supply, as the 
 reader will easily perceive, that 1 am 
 enabled to throvv it away ; and as he 
 may not possibly be in a similar predica- 
 ment, I shall refer him for the rest of m.y 
 experiments to the records of the Horti- 
 cultural Society. 
 
 It is noticed by Dr. Forster, that about 
 this time the ])urple goatsbeard trago- 
 pogon porrifolius and the yellow goats- 
 beard tragopogon pratensis begin to 
 blow ; and that of all the indices in the 
 HOROLOGiUM FLORAE the above plants 
 are the most regular: they open thei 
 flowers at sunrise, and shut them so regu- 
 larly -at mid-day, that they have been 
 called by the whimsical name of go h 
 bed at nojn. They are as regular as a 
 clock, and are 'nention«a as such in the 
 following: verses:— 
 
 833 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— MAY i6. 
 
 RETIRED LEISURES UEEIGIIT. 
 
 To sit and smoke between two rows of Limes, 
 
 Along the wall of some neat old Uutch town, 
 In noontide lieat, and hear the jinglinij chimes 
 
 From Siadhouse Steeple ; then to lay one down 
 Upon a Primrose bank, where Violet flowers 
 
 Smell sweetly, and the meads in bloomy prime, 
 "fill Flora's clock, the Goat's Beard, mark the hours. 
 
 And closing says. Arise, 'tis dinner time ; 
 Then dine on Pyes and Cauliflower heads. 
 And roam away the afternoon in Tulip Beds. 
 
 To give an idea of the general face of 
 nature at this period, Dr. Forster com- 
 posed the subjoined 
 
 Catalogue of Plants ivhich compose the 
 VERNAL FLORA in the Garden. 
 
 Common Peony Paeonia officinalis in 
 full blow. 
 
 Slenderleaved Peony P. tenuifolia 
 going off. 
 
 Crimson Peony P. peregriua. 
 
 Dwarf Peony P. humilis. 
 
 Tulip Tiilijya Gesneriana in infinite 
 varieties. 
 
 Monkey Poppy Papaver Orientate. 
 
 Welch Poppy P. Cambricum, 
 
 Pale Poppy P. nudicaule. 
 
 European Globeflower TroUitu, 
 Enropaeus. 
 
 Asiatic Globeflq-wer TrolVnu Asia- 
 ticus. 
 
 Bachelor's Buttons Ranunculus acrh 
 plenus. 
 
 BiFLOVi'ERED Narcissus N. Mfiorus. 
 
 Poetic Narcissus N. poetiaia. 
 
 German Fleur de Lis Iris Germa- 
 nica, two varieties. 
 
 Lurid Iris Iris Inrida. 
 
 Wallflower Chieranthus cheiri, nu- 
 merously, both single and double sorts. 
 
 Stock Gilliflower Chiranthus friiti- 
 ckIosus beginp'.TJg'. Of this plant there 
 are red, white, and purple varieties ; also 
 double Stocks. 
 
 Yellow Asphodel Asphodelus luteus. 
 
 Columbine Aquilegia vulgaris begins 
 to flower, and has several varieties in 
 gardens. 
 
 Great Star of Bethlehem Ornitho- 
 galum iimbellatnm. 
 
 Peruvian Squill Scilla Peruviana. 
 Yellow Azalea Azalea Pontica. 
 Scarlet Azalea Azalea nudiflora. 
 Purple Goatsbeard Tragopogon por- 
 ri/olius. 
 
 Yfllow Goatsbeard Tragopogon 
 prutensis. 
 
 Motherwort Hesperis tnatronalis 
 begins to blow. 
 
 Great Leopard's Bane Doroniaim 
 pardulianchcs. 
 
 Lesser Leopard's Bane Doronicum 
 plantagineum. 
 
 Ramshorns or Male Orchis O. mas- 
 cula still blows. 
 
 Female Orchis Orchis morio still 
 flowers. 
 
 In the Fields. 
 
 The Harebell Scylla nutans makes 
 the ground blue in some places. 
 
 Bulbous Crowfoot Ranunculus bul- 
 bosus. 
 
 Creeping Crowfoot R. repens now 
 common. 
 
 Upright Meadow Crowfoot R. acris 
 tlie latest of all. 
 
 Rough Crowfoot R. hirsutus not so 
 common as the above. The fields are 
 quite yellow with the above genus. 
 
 Meadow Lychnis Lychnis Flos Cu- 
 culi. 
 
 Campion Lychnis Lychnis dioica 
 under hedges in our chalky 'feoils. 
 
 Germander Speedwell Veronica 
 chamaedris on banks, covering them with 
 its lively blue, comparable only to the 
 Borage, or the Cynoglossum Omphalodes, 
 still blowing and luxuriant in gardens. 
 
 MousEAR Scorpion Grass Myosotus 
 Scorpioides. 
 
 Our Lady's Smock Cardamine pra- 
 tensis. 
 
 Bitter Lady's Smock Cardamine 
 amara. 
 
 Hedge Geranium Geranium Roberti- 
 anum; also several other wild Gera- 
 niums. 
 
 KiDLOCK Sinapis arvensis. 
 
 Charlock Rapkanus Ruphanistrum. 
 
 Stichwort Stellaria Holostea. 
 
 Yellow Water Lily Nuphar luteum 
 in ponds and rivers. 
 
 White Water Lily Nymphea alba in 
 the same. 
 
 We might add nunierous othen, which 
 will be found noticed on the days when 
 they usually first flower. Besides these, 
 many of the plants of the Primaveral Flor<? 
 
 331 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 19. 
 
 still reiaain in blow, as violets, hearteases, 
 hepaticas, narcissi, some hyacinths, marsh 
 marigolds, wood anemonies, garden ane- 
 monies, &c. &c. The cuckoo pint, or 
 lord and lady Arum, is now in prime. 
 
 The nations among whom a taste for 
 flowers was first discovered to prevail in 
 modern times, were China, Persia, and 
 Turkey. The vegetable treasures of the 
 eastern world were assembled at Con- 
 stantinople, whence they passed into 
 Italy, Germany, and Holland, and from 
 the latter into England ; and since botany 
 has assumed the character of a science, 
 we have laid the whole world under con- 
 tribution for trees, and shrubs, and flowers, 
 which we have not only made our own, 
 but generally improved in vigour and 
 beauty. The passion for flowers preceded 
 that of ornamental gardening. The Dutch 
 system of straight walks, enclosed by high 
 clipped hedges of yew or hol.y, at length 
 prevailed ; and tulips and hyacinths 
 bloomed under the sheltered windings of 
 the " Walls of Troy," most ingeniously 
 traced in box and yew. A taste for gar- 
 dening, which, however formal, is found 
 at length to be preferable to the absurd 
 windin'j paths, and the close imitation of 
 wild nature by art, which modern garden- 
 makers have pretended to of late years. 
 The learned baron JNIaseres used to say, 
 " Such a garden was to be had every 
 where wild in summer, and in a garden 
 formality was preferable.'' 
 
 Proverbs relating to May. 
 
 A cold May and a windy 
 
 Makes a fat baru and a findy. 
 
 A hot May makes a fat churchyard. 
 
 Proverbs relating to the JFeather and 
 Seasons generally. 
 
 Collected by Dr. Forster. 
 
 Drought never bred dearth in England. 
 
 Whoso hath but a mouth, shall ne'er in 
 England suffer drought. 
 
 When the sand doth feed the clay, 
 England woe and welladay ; 
 But when the clay doth feed the sand. 
 Then it is well with Angle land. 
 
 After a famine in the stall, 
 Comes a famine in the hall. 
 
 When the cuckoo comes to the bare thorn, 
 
 Sell your cow, and buy your corn ; 
 
 But when she comes to the full bit, 
 
 Sell your corn, and buy your sheep. 
 
 If the cock moult before the hen, 
 
 Wfc shall have weather thick and thin ; 
 
 But if the hen moult before the cock. 
 We shall have weather hard as a block 
 As the days lengthen, so the cold strengthen 
 
 If there he a rainbow in the eve, it will rain 
 
 and leave, 
 But if there be a rainbow in the morrow, it 
 
 will neither lend nor borrow. 
 
 A rainbow in the morning 
 Is the shepherd's warning j 
 But a rainbow at night 
 Is the shepherd's delight. 
 
 No tempest, good July, 
 Lest corn coine off blue by. 
 
 When the wind's in the east. 
 It's neither good for man nor beast. 
 When the wind's in the south. 
 It's in the rain's mouth. 
 
 "VMien the wind's in the south. 
 
 It blows the bnit into the fishes' mnulh. 
 
 No weather is ill. 
 If the wind be still. 
 
 When the sloe-tree is as white as a sheet, 
 Sow your barley, whether it be dry or v.et 
 
 A green winter makes a fat churchyard. 
 
 Hail brings frost in the tail. 
 
 A snow year, a rich year. 
 
 Winter's thunder 's summer's wonder. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mouse Ear, Hierachim Pilosella. 
 Dedicated to St. Eric. 
 
 iBaL) 19. 
 
 St. Peter Celestine, Pope, a. d. 1296 
 St. Pudentiana. St. Dunstan, Abp. of 
 Canterbury, a. d. 988. 
 
 St. Dunstan. 
 
 He was born at Glastonbury, of which 
 monastery he became abbot, and died 
 archbishop of Canterbury in 988.* 
 
 The legend of St. Dunstan relates 
 many miracles of him, the most popular 
 of which is to this effect; that St. Dun- 
 stan, as the fact really was, became expert 
 in goldsmith's work ; it then gives as a 
 story, that while he was busied in making 
 a chalice, the devil annoyed him by his 
 personal appearance, and tempted him ; 
 whereupon St. Dunstan suddenly seized 
 the fiend by the nose with a pair of iron 
 tongs, burning hot, and so held him while 
 he roared and cried till the night was far 
 spent. 
 
 * Builer. 
 
 335 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 19. 
 
 ST. DUNSTAN AND THE DEVIL. 
 
 There is an engraved portrait of St. 
 Dunstan thus detaining the devil in bond- 
 age, with these lines, or lines to that 
 effect beneath; they are quoted from 
 memory : — 
 
 St. Dunstan, as the story goes, 
 Once puU'd the devil by the nose 
 With red-hot tongs, which made him roar, 
 That he was heard three miles or more. 
 
 On lord mayor's day, in 1687, the 
 pageants of sir John Shorter, knt. as 
 lord mayoi, were very splendid. He was 
 of the company of goldsmiths, who, at 
 their own expense, provided one of the 
 pageants representing this miracle of St 
 Dunstan. It must have been of amazmg 
 size, for it was a " Hieroglyphic of the 
 Company," consisting of a spacious labora- 
 tory or workhouse, containing several con- 
 veniences and distinct apartments, for the 
 different operators and artificers, with 
 forges, anvils, hammers, and all instru- 
 ments proper for the mystery of the 
 goldsmiths In the middle of the front- 
 ispiece, on a rich golden chair of state, 
 sat ST. DUNSTAN, the ancient patron 
 and tutelar guardian of the company. He 
 was attired, to express his prelatical dig- 
 nity and canonization, in a robe of fine 
 lawn, with a cope over it of shining cloth 
 af gold reaching to the ground. He 
 wore a golden mitre beset with precious 
 
 stones, and bore in his left hana a golden 
 crosier, and in his right a pair of gold- 
 smith's tongs. Behind him were Or- 
 pheus and Amphion playing on melodi- 
 ous instruments ; standing more forward 
 were the cham of Tartary, and the 
 grand sultan, who, being " conquered by 
 the christian harmony, seemed to sue for 
 reconcilement." At the steps of the pre- 
 latical throne were a goldsmith's forge 
 and furnace, with fire, crucibles, and 
 gold, and a workman blowing the bel- 
 lows. On each side was a large press 
 of gold and silver plate. Towards thf 
 front were shops of artificers and jewel- 
 lers all at work, with anvils, hammers, 
 and instruments for enamelling, beating 
 out gold and silver plate ; on a step be- 
 low St. Dunstan, sat an assay-master, 
 with his trial-balance and implements 
 There were two apartments for the pro- 
 cesses of disgrossing, flattmg, and drawing 
 gold and silver wire, and the fining, 
 melting, smelting, refining, and separating 
 of gold and silver, both by fire and water. 
 Another apartment contained a forge, 
 with miners in canvass breeches, red 
 waistcoats and red caps, bearing spades, 
 pickaxes, twibbles, and crows for sinking 
 shafts and making adits. The lord mayor 
 having approached and viewed the cu- 
 riosity of the pageant, was addressed iu 
 
 3C6 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 20. 
 
 A SPKECn BY ST. DUNSTAN. 
 
 Waked with this imisick from my silent urn, 
 Your patron dunstan comes t* attend your ttirn. 
 Ampiiion and old orpheus playing by, 
 To keep our y^r^e in tuneful harmony. 
 These pontifical ornaments 1 wear, 
 Are types of rule and order all the year 
 In these white robes none can a fault descry, 
 Since all have liberty as well as I : 
 Nor need you fear the shipwreck of your cause, 
 Your loss of charter or the penal laws, 
 Indulgence granted by your bounteous prince. 
 Makes for that loss too great a reconi pence. 
 This charm the Lernsean Hydra will reclaim ; 
 Your patron shall the tameless rabble tame. 
 Of the proud cham I scorn to be afear'd ; 
 ril take the angry sultan by the beard. 
 
 Nay, should the devil intrude amongst your foes [Enter Det'il, 
 Devil. What then ? 
 St. Dniistan. Snap, thus, I have him by the nose ! 
 
 The most prominent feature in the But for me no songster sings. 
 
 devil's face being held by St. Dunstan's 
 tongs, after the prelate had duly spurned 
 the submission of the cham of Tartary 
 and the grand sultan, a silversmith with 
 three other workmen proceeding to the 
 great anvil, commenced working a plate 
 of massy metal, singing and keeping time 
 upon the anvil.* 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1536. Anne Boleyn, queen of Henry 
 V^IIL, fell a victim to his brutal passions 
 by the hands of the executioner. 
 
 1692. The great sea battle off laHogue. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Monk's hood. Aconitmn NapeUim. 
 Dedicated to S^ Dunstan. 
 
 M^V 20. 
 
 St. Bernardin of Sienna, a. d. 1444. St. 
 Ethelbert, King of the East Angles, 
 A. D. 793. St. Yvo, Bp. of Chartres, 
 A. D. 1115. 
 
 For me no joyous lark up-springs ; 
 
 For I, confined in gloomy school, 
 
 Must own the pedant's iron rule, 
 
 And, far from sylvan shades and bowers^ 
 
 In durance vile, must pass the hours ; 
 
 There con the sclioliast's dreary lines. 
 
 Where no bright ray of genius shines. 
 
 And close to rugged learning cling, 
 
 While laughs around the jocund spring. 
 
 How gladly would my soui forego 
 
 All that arithmeticians know, 
 
 Or stitf grammarians quaintly teach, 
 
 Or all that industry can reach. 
 
 To taste each morn of all the joys 
 
 That with the laughing sun arise ; 
 
 And unconstrain'd to rove along 
 
 The bushy brakes and glens among ; 
 
 And woo the muse's gentle power, 
 
 In unfrequented rural hower' 
 
 But, ah ! such heaven-approaching joys 
 
 Will never greet my longing eyes ; 
 
 Still will they cheat in vision fine. 
 
 Yet never but in fancy shine. 
 
 Oh, that I were the little wren 
 
 That shrilly chirps from yonder glen 
 
 Oh, far away I then would rove. 
 
 To some secluded bushy grove ; 
 
 There hop and sing with careless glee. 
 
 Hop and sing at liberty; 
 
 And till death should stop my lays. 
 
 Far from men would spend my days. 
 
 In the " Perennial Calendar,*' Dr 
 Forster with great taste introduces a 
 beautiful series of quotations adapted to 
 the season from different poets : — 
 
 ON BEING CONFINED TO SCHOOL ONE 
 PLEASANT MORNING IN SPRING. 
 
 The morning sun's enchanting rays 
 
 Now call forth every songster's praise ; 
 
 Now the lark, with upward flight. 
 
 Gaily ushers in the light; 
 
 While wildly warbling from each tree, 
 
 I'he birds sing songs to Liberty. 
 
 Lucretius on Spring and the Seasons, translated by Good 
 Spring conies, and Venus with fell foot advanced ; 
 Then light-winged Zephyr, harbinger beloved ; 
 Maternal Flora, strewing ere she treads. 
 For every footstep flowers of choicest hue. 
 And the glad aether loading with perfumes 
 
 * Hone, on Ancient Mysteries. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 337 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 20. 
 
 Then Heat succeeds, the parched Etesian breeze. 
 And dust-discoloured Ceres ; Autumn then 
 Follows, and tipsy Bacchus, arm in arm. 
 And storm? and tempests ; Eurus roars amain. 
 And the red sourh brews thunders ; till, at length, 
 Cold shuts the scene, and Winter's train prevails, 
 Snows, hoary Sleet, and Frost, with chattering teetk 
 
 Milton makes the most heavenly clime to consist of an eternal spring :■ 
 
 The birds that quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, 
 Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 
 The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, 
 Knit with the graces, and the hours in dance, 
 Led on the eternal spring. 
 
 From Atherstones Last Days of Herculaneum. 
 
 Soft tints of sweet May morn, when day's bright god 
 Looks smiling from behind delicion's mists ; 
 Tlirowing his slant rays on the glistening grass. 
 Where 'gainst the rich deep green the Cowslip hangi 
 His elegant bells of purest gold : — the pale 
 Sweet perfumed primrose lifts its face to heaven. 
 Like the full, artless gaze of infancy : — • 
 The little ray-crowned daisy peeps beneath, 
 When the tall neighbour grass, heavy with dew, 
 Bows down its head beneath the freshening breeze ; 
 Where oft in long dark lines the waving trees 
 Throw their soft shadows on the sunny fields ; 
 Where, in the music-breathing hedge, the thorn 
 And pearly white May blossom, full of sweets, 
 Hang out the virgin flag of spring, entwined 
 With dripping honey-suckles, whose sweet breat'ii 
 Sinks to the heart — recalling, with a sigh, 
 Dim recollected feelings of the days 
 Of youth and early love. 
 
 From Spring, by Kloht 
 
 Who thus, O tulip ! thy gay-painted breast 
 
 In all the colours of the sun has drest ? 
 
 Well could I call thee, in thy gaudy pride, 
 
 Tlie queen of flowers ; but blooming by thy side 
 
 Her thousand leaves that beams of love adorn, 
 
 Her throne surrounded by protecting thorn, 
 
 And smell eternal, form a juster claim. 
 
 Which gives the heaven-born rose the lofty name, 
 
 Who having slept throughout the wintry storm, 
 
 Now through the opening buds displays her smiling t^-mu 
 
 Between the leaves the silver whitetliorn shows 
 
 Its dewy blossoms, pure as mountain snows. 
 
 Here the blue hyacinth's nectareous cell 
 
 To my charmed senses gives its cooling smell. 
 
 In lowly beds the purple violets bloom, 
 
 And liberal shower around their rich perfume. 
 
 See, how the peacock stalks yon beds beside, 
 
 Where rayed in sparkling dust and velvet pride, 
 
 Like brilliant stars, arranged in splendid row, 
 
 The proud auriculas their lustre show : 
 
 The jealous bird now shows his swelling breast. 
 
 His many-coloured neck, and lofty crest; 
 
 Tlien all at once his dazzling tail displays, 
 
 On whose broad circle thousand rainbows blaze. 
 
 The wanton butterflies, with fickle wing. 
 
 Flutter round every flower that decks the spring 
 
 Then on their painted pinions eager haste. 
 
 The luscious cherry's blood to taste. 
 
 338 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 20. 
 
 Prognostics of JFeather and Horologe 
 of Flora. 
 
 FOR SPRING AND SUMMER. 
 
 From the " Pwennial Calendar." 
 
 Chickweed. — When the flower expands 
 boldly and fully, no rain will happen foi 
 ibur hours or upwards : if it continues in 
 .hat open state, no rain will disturb the 
 summer's day : when it half conceals its 
 miniature flower, the day is generally 
 showery ; but if it entirely shuts up, or 
 veils the white flower with its green 
 mantle, let the traveller put on his great 
 coat, and the ploughman, with his beasts 
 of drought, expect rest from their labour. 
 
 Siberian sowthistle. — If the flowers of 
 this plant keep open all night, rain will 
 certainly fall the next day. 
 
 Trefoil. — The different species of tre- 
 foil always contract their leaves at the 
 approach of a storm : hence these plants 
 have been termed the husbandman's 
 barometer. 
 
 African marygold. — If this plant opens 
 not its flowers in the morning about seven 
 o'clock, you may be sure it will rain that 
 day, unless it thunders. 
 
 The convolvulus also, and the pim- 
 pernel anagalis arvensis, fold up their 
 leaves on the approach of rain : the last 
 in particular is termed the poor man's 
 weather-glass. 
 
 White thorns and dog-rose bushes. — 
 Wet summers are generally attended 
 with an uncommon quantity of seed on 
 these shrubs ; whence their unusual fruit- 
 fulness is a sign of a severe winter. 
 
 Besides the above, there are several 
 plants, especially those with compound 
 yellow flowers, which nod, and during 
 the whole day turn their flowers towards 
 the sun : viz. to the east in the morning, 
 to the south at noon, and to the west 
 towards evening ; this is very observable 
 in the sowthistle sonchus ariiensis : and 
 it is a well-known fact, that a great part 
 of the plants in a serene sky expand 
 their flowers, and as it were with cheerful 
 looks behold the light of the sun ; but 
 Defore rain they shut them up, as the 
 tulip. 
 
 The flowers of the alpine whitlow 
 grass draba alpina, the bastard fever- 
 few partheninm, and the wintergreen 
 trientalls, hang down in the night as if 
 the plants were asleep, lest rain or the 
 tioist air should injure the fertilizing dust. 
 
 One species of woodsorrel shuts up or 
 doubles its leaves before storms and tem- 
 pests, but in a serene sky expands or 
 
 unfolds them, so that the husbandman 
 can pretty clearly foretell tempests from 
 it. It is also well known that the moun- 
 tain ebony bauhinia, sensitive plants, 
 and cassia, observe the same rule. 
 
 Besides affording prognostics, many 
 plants also fold themselves up at parti- 
 cular hours, with such regularity, as to 
 have acquired particular names from this 
 property. The following are among the 
 more remarkable plants of this descrip- 
 tion :~ 
 
 Goatsbeard. — The flowers of both 
 species of tragopogon open in the morn- 
 ing at the approach of the sun, and with- 
 out regard to the state of the weather 
 regularly shut about noon. Hence it is 
 generally known in the country by the 
 name of go to bed at noon. 
 
 The princesses' leaf, or four o'clock 
 flower, in the Malay Islands, is an elegant 
 shrub so called by the natives, because 
 their ladies are fond of the grateful odour 
 of its white leaves. It takes its generic 
 name from its quality of opening its 
 flowers at four in the evening, and not 
 closing them in the morning till the same 
 hour returns, when they again expand 
 in the evening at the same hour. Many 
 people transplant them from the woods 
 into their gardens, and use them as a dial 
 or a clock, especially in cloudy weather. 
 
 Tlie evening primrose is well known 
 from its remarkable properties of regularly 
 shutting with aloud popping noise, about 
 sunset in the evening, and opening at 
 sunrise in the morning. After six o'clock, 
 these flowers regularly report the approach 
 of night. 
 
 The tamarind tree parkhisonia, the 
 nipplewort lapsana communis^ the water 
 lily nymphnea, the marygolds calendu- 
 lae, the bastard sensitive plant aeschy- 
 nomene, and several others of the 
 diadelphia class, in serene weather, ex- 
 pand their leaves in the daytime, and 
 contract them during the night. Accord- 
 ing to some botanists, the tamarind-tree 
 enfolds within its leaves the flowers o"- 
 fruit every night, in order to guard them 
 from cold or rain. 
 
 The flower of the garden lettuce, 
 which is in a vertical plane, opens at 
 seven o'clock, and shuts at ten. 
 
 A species of serpentine aloe, without 
 prickles, whose large and beautiful 
 flowers exhale a strong odour of the 
 vanilla during the time of its expansion, 
 which is very short, is cultivated in the 
 imperial garden at Paris. It does uot 
 
 .339 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- MA t* 20. 
 
 blow till towards the month of July, and 
 about five o'clock in the evening, at 
 which time it gradually opens its petals, 
 expands them, droops, and dies. By ten 
 o'clock the same night, it is totally 
 withered, to the great astonishment of 
 the spectators, who flock in crowds to see 
 
 The cerea, a native of Jamaica and 
 Vera Cruz, expands an exquisitely beau- 
 tiful coral flower, and emits a highly 
 fragrant odour, for a few hours in the 
 night, and then closes to open no more. 
 The flower is nearly a foot in diameter; 
 the inside of the calyx, of a splendid yel- 
 low ; and the numerous petals are of a 
 pure white. It begins to open about 
 seven or eight o'clock in the evening, 
 and closes before sunrise in the morning. 
 
 The flower of the dandelion possesses 
 very peculiar means of sheltering itself 
 from the heat of the sun, as it closes en- 
 tirely whenever the heat becomes ex- 
 cessive. It has been observed to open, in 
 summer, at half an hour after five in the 
 morning, and to collect its petals towards 
 the centre about nine 3'clock. 
 
 Linnaeus has enumerated forty-six 
 flowers, which possess this kind of sen- 
 sibility : he divides them into three 
 classes. — 1. Meteoric flowers, which less 
 accurately observe the hour of folding, 
 but are expanded sooner or later accord- 
 ing to the cloudiness, moisture, or pres- 
 sure of the atmosphere. 2. Tropical 
 flowers, that open in the morning and 
 close before evening every day, but the 
 hour of their expanding becomes earlier 
 or later as the length of the day increases 
 or decreases. 3. Equinoctial flowers, 
 which open at a certain and exact hour 
 of the day, and for the most part close at 
 another determinate hour. 
 
 On Flora's Horologe, by Charlotte Smith. 
 In every copse and sheltered dell. 
 
 Unveiled to the observant eye, 
 Are faithful monitors, who tell 
 
 How pass the hours and seasons by. 
 
 The grten-robed children of the Spring 
 Will mark the periods as they pass, 
 
 iviingle with leaves Time's feathered wing, 
 And bind with flowers his silent glass. 
 
 Mark where transparent waters glide. 
 Soft flowing o'er their tranquil bed ; 
 
 There, cradled on the dimpling tide, 
 Nymphsea rests her lovely head. 
 
 I5ut conscious of the earliest beam, 
 
 She rises from her humid nest, 
 And sees reflected in the stream 
 
 The virgin whiteness of her breast. 
 
 Till the bright Daysfar to tlie west 
 Declines, in Ocean's surge to lave 
 
 Then, folded in her modest vest. 
 She slumbers on the rocking wuve. 
 
 See Hieracium's various tribe, 
 
 Of plumy seed and radiate flowers. 
 
 The course of Time their blooms describe 
 And wake or sleep appointed hours. 
 
 Broad o'er its imbricated cup 
 
 The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays 
 But shuts its cautious petals up, 
 
 Retreating from the noontide blaze. 
 
 Pale as a pensive cloistered nun, 
 The Bethlem Star her face unveils. 
 
 When o'er the mountain peers the Sun, 
 But shades it from the vesper gales. 
 
 Among the loose and arid sands 
 
 Tlie humble Arenaria creeps; 
 Slowly the Purple Star expands. 
 
 But soon within its calyx sleeps. 
 
 And those small bells so lightly rayed 
 
 With young Aurora's rosy hue, 
 Are to the noontide Sun displayed. 
 
 But shut their plaits against the dew. 
 
 On upland slopes the shepherds mark 
 The hour, when, as the dial true, 
 
 Cichorium to the towering Lark 
 Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue. 
 
 And thou, "Wee crimson tipped flower," 
 Gatherest thy fringed mantle round 
 
 Thy bosom, at the closing hour, 
 
 When nightdrops bathe the turfy ground 
 
 Unlike Silene, who declines 
 
 The garish noontide's blazing light ; 
 
 But when the evening crescent shines. 
 Gives all her sweetness to the night. 
 
 Thus in each flower and simple bell 
 
 Tliat in our path betrodden lie. 
 Are sweet remembrancers who tell 
 
 How fast their winged moments fly. 
 
 Dr. Forster remarks that towards the 
 close of this month, the cat's ear hypo- 
 ckoeris radicata is in flower every where ; 
 its first appearance is about the ISth day. 
 This plant, as well as the rough dande- 
 lion, continues to flower till after Midsum- 
 mer. The lilac, the barberry tree, the 
 maple, and other trees and shrubs, are 
 also in flower. The meadow grasses are 
 full grown and flowering. The flowers 
 of the garden rose, in early and warm 
 years, begin to open. 
 
 On n Vounf Rosebud in 'Maij, from the 
 German of Go'ithe. 
 
 A Hose, that bloomed the roadside by. 
 Caught a young vagrant's wan*'m eye ; 
 
 ;iO 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MAI 20 
 
 The cliild was g^y, the morn was clear, 
 TJie child would see the rosebud near ; 
 
 She saw the blooming 6ow'r. 
 My little Rose, my Rosebud dear ' 
 My Rose that blooms the roadside near ! 
 
 The cliild exclaimed, " My hands shall dare. 
 Thee, Rose, from off thy stem to tear:" 
 The Rose replied, " It" I have need, 
 J\Iv thorns shall make thy fingers bleed- 
 
 Thy rash design give o'er." 
 My little Rose, my Rosebud dear ! 
 My Rose that blooms the roadside near I 
 
 Regardless of its thorny spray, 
 The child would tear the Rose awav ; 
 The Rose bewailed with sob and sigh. 
 But all in vain, no help was nigh 
 
 To quell the urchin's pow'r. 
 ]My little Rose, my Rosebud dear ! 
 My Rose that bloomed the roadside near ! 
 A'ew Monthly Magazine. 
 
 From Dr. Aikin's '-Natural History of 
 the Year," the ensuing passages regard- 
 ing the season will be found agreeable 
 and useful. 
 
 On hedge-banks the wild germander of 
 a fine azure blue is conspicuous, and the 
 whole surface of meadows is often covered 
 by the yellow crowfoot. These flowers, 
 also called buttercups, are erroneously 
 supposed to communicate to the butter 
 at this season its rich yellow tinge, as 
 the cows will not touch it on account of 
 its acrid biting quality; thi'^ is strikins;lv 
 visible in pastures, where, though all the 
 grass is cropped to the very roots, tlie 
 numerous tufts of this weed spring up, 
 flower, and shed their seeds in perfect 
 security, and the most absolute freedom 
 from molestation by the cattle ; they are 
 indeed cut down and made into hay to- 
 gether with the rest of the rubbish that 
 usually occupies a large proportion of 
 every meadow ; and in this state are 
 eaten by cattle, partly because they are 
 incapable of separating them, and partly 
 because, by drying, their acrimony is con- 
 siderably subdued ; but there can be no 
 doubt of their place being much better 
 supplied by any sort of real grass. In 
 the present age of agricultural improve- 
 ment the subject of grass lands among 
 others has been a good deal attended to, 
 but much yet remains to be done, and 
 the tracts of the ingenious Stillingfleet, 
 and of Mr. Curtis, on this important di- 
 vision of rural economy, are well deserv- 
 ing the notice of every liberal farmer. 
 "Die excellence of a meadow consists in 
 its producing as much herbage as pos- 
 
 sible, and that this herbage should be 
 agreeable and nutritious to the animals 
 which are fed with its crop. Every 
 plant of crowfoot therefore ought, if prac- 
 ticable, to be extirpated, tor, so far from 
 being grateful and nourishing to any kind 
 of cattle, it is notorious, that in its fresh 
 state nothing will touch it. The same 
 may be said of the hemlock, kex, and 
 other umbelliferous plants which are 
 common in most fields, and which have 
 entirely overrun others ; for these when 
 fresh are not only noxious to the animals 
 that are fed upon hay, but from their 
 rank and straggling manner- of growth 
 occupy a very large proportion of the 
 ground. Many other plants that are 
 commonly found in meadows may upon 
 the same principles be objected to; and 
 though the present generation of farmers 
 has done much, yet still more remains 
 for their successors to perform. 
 
 The gardens now yield an agreeable 
 though immature product in the young 
 gooseberries and currants, which are 
 highly acceptable to our tables, now 
 almost exhausted of their store of pre- 
 ser^'ed fruits. 
 
 Early in the month the latest species 
 of the summer birds of passage arrive, 
 generally in the Rdlowing order : fern- 
 owl or goat-sucker, fly -catcher, and sedge- 
 bird. 
 
 This is also the principal time in which 
 birds hatch and rear their young. The 
 assiduity and patience of the female dur- 
 ing the task of sitting: are admirable, as 
 well as the conjugal aliection of the male, 
 who sings to his mate, and often supplies 
 her place ; and nothing can exceed the 
 parental tenderness of both when the 
 young are brought to light. 
 
 Several species of insects are this 
 month added to those which have alreadv 
 been enumerated ; the chief of which are 
 the great white cabbage butterfly, capilio 
 brassiciE ; the may-chaffer, the favourite 
 food of the fern-owl ; the horse-fly, or 
 forest-fly, so great a plague to horses and 
 cattle ; and several kinds of moths and 
 butterflies. 
 
 Towards the end of May the bee-hives 
 send forth their earlier swarms. These 
 colonies consist of the young progeny, 
 and some old ones, now grown too nu- 
 merous to remain in their present habita- 
 tion, and sufficiently strong and vigorous 
 to provide for themselves. One queen 
 bee is necessary to form each colony , 
 and wherever she flies they follow. Na- 
 
 341 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 21, 22. 
 
 ture directs tliem to march in a body in 
 quest of a new settlement, which, if left 
 to their choice, would generally be some 
 hollow trunk of a tree. But man, who 
 converts the labours and instincts of so 
 many animals to his own use, provides 
 them with a dwelling, and repays him- 
 self with their honey. The early swarms 
 are generally the most valuable, as they 
 have time enough to lay in a plentiful 
 store of honey for their subsistence through 
 the winter. 
 
 About the same time the glow-worm 
 shines. Of this species of insect the fe- 
 males are without wings and luminous, 
 the males are furnished with wings, 
 but are not luminous ; it is probable, 
 therefore, that this light reay serve to 
 direct the male to the haunts of the fe- 
 male, as Hero of Sestos is said to have 
 displayed a torch from the top of a high 
 tower to guide her venturous lover Le- 
 ander in his dangerous passage across 
 the Hellespont :— 
 
 You (i. e. the Sylphs) 
 
 Warm on her mossy couch the radiant worm, 
 
 Guard from cold dews her love-illumined 
 
 form , 
 From leaf to leaf conduct the virgin light, 
 Star of the earth, and diamond of the night. 
 
 Darwin. 
 
 These little animals are found to ex- 
 tinguish their lamps between eleven and 
 twelve at night. 
 
 Old May-day is the usual time for 
 turning out cattle into the pastures, 
 though frequently then very bare of grass. 
 The milk soon becomes more copious, 
 and of finer quality, from the juices of 
 the young grass ; and it is in this month 
 that the making of cheese is usually be- 
 gun in the dairies. Cheshire, Wiltshire, 
 and the low parts of Gloucestershire, are 
 the tracts in England most celebrated for 
 the best cheese. 
 
 Many trees and shrubs flower in May, 
 such as the oak, beech, maple, sycamore, 
 
 barberry, laburnum, horse-chestnut, lilar, 
 mountain ash, and Guelder rose ; of the 
 more humble plants the most remarkable 
 are the lily of the valley, and woodroof in 
 woods, the male orchis in meadows, and 
 the lychnis, or cuckoo flower, on hedge- 
 banks. 
 
 This month is not a very busy season 
 for the farmer. Some sowing remains 
 to be done in late years ; and in forward 
 ones, the weeds, which spring up abun- 
 dantly in fields and gardens, require to be 
 kept under. The husbandman now looks 
 forward with anxious hope to the reward 
 of his industry: — 
 
 Be gracious, Heaven I for now laborious 
 man 
 
 Has done his part. Ye fost'ring breezes, 
 blow ! 
 
 Ye soft'ning dews, ye tender show'rs de- 
 scend ; 
 
 And temper all, thou world-receiving sun, 
 
 Into the perfect .year ! Thomson 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 The Horse-chestnut, ^schyhis Hippu- 
 
 castanum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Darnardine of Sienna, 
 
 i^ap 21. 
 
 Holiday at the Public Offices. 
 
 St. Felix of Cantalicio. a. d. 1587. 
 Godrick, Hermit, a. d. 1170. 
 Hospithis, A. D. 681. 
 
 St. 
 St. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Ragged Robin. Lychnis flos ciiculi 
 Dedicated to St. Felix. 
 
 iBaj) 22. 
 
 Si. Yuo, A. D. 1303. St. Basiliscus, Bp. 
 A. D. 312. Sts. Castus and jF.milius, 
 A. D. 250. St. Bobo, A. D. 985. St 
 Conall, Abbot. 
 
 When first the soul of Love is sent abroad, 
 Warm through the vital air, and on the heart 
 Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, 
 In gallan*' thought, to plume the painted wiug, 
 And try again the long-forgotten strain. 
 At first faint warbled. But no sooner grows 
 The soft infusion prevalent and wide, 
 Than all alive at once their joy o'erflows 
 In music unconfined. Up springs the Lark, 
 Shrill voiced and loud, the messenger of morn ; 
 Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings 
 Amid the dawning clouds, and from their liaurit 
 Tails up the tuneful nations. Every copse 
 
 342 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 23 
 
 Dt ep tangled, tree irregular, and bush 
 
 Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads 
 
 Of the coy quoristers that lodge within, 
 
 Are prodigal of iiarmony. The Thrush 
 
 And Woodlark, o'er the kind contending throng 
 
 Superior heard, run through the sweetest length 
 
 Of notes, when listening Philomela deigns 
 
 To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 
 
 Elate, to make her night excel their day. 
 
 The Blackbird whistles from the thorny brake, 
 
 The mellow Bullfinch answers from the grove. 
 
 Nor are the Linnets, o'er the flowering furze 
 
 Pour'd out profusely, silent. Joined to these 
 
 Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade 
 
 Of newsprung leaves, their modulations mix, 
 
 Mellifluous. The Jay, the Rook, the Daw, 
 
 And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, 
 
 Aid the full concert, while the Stockdove breathes 
 
 A melancholy murmur through the whole. 
 
 Around our heads the whitewinged Plover wheels 
 
 Her sounding flight, and then directly on, 
 
 In long excursion, skims the level lawns, 
 
 To tempt him from her nest. The Wild Duck hence 
 
 O'er the rough moss and o'er the trackless waste 
 
 The Heath Hen flutters, pious fraud, to lead 
 
 The hot pursuing Spaniel far astray ! 
 
 Thornton, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Star of Bethlehem. Tragopogon 
 
 prateims. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Yvo. 
 
 i^a|) 23. 
 
 St. Julia, 5th Cent. St. Des'iderius, Bp. 
 of Langres, 7th Cent. -S^ Desiderius, 
 Bp. of Vienne, a. d. 612. 
 
 Mr. Fosbroke remarks that this feast 
 was celebrated in Spain with representa- 
 tions of the gift of the Holy Ghost, and of 
 thunder from engines, which did much 
 damage. Wafers, or cakes, preceded by 
 water, oak -leaves, or burning torches, 
 were thrown down from the church roof; 
 small birds, with cakes tied to their legs, 
 and pigeons wpre let loose; sometimes 
 there were tame white ones tied with 
 strings, or one of wood suspended. A long 
 censer was also swung up and down. In 
 an old Computus, anno 1509, of St. Pa- 
 trick's, Dublin, we have iv». vii^. paid to 
 fliose playing with the great and little 
 angel and the dragon ; iii». paid for little 
 cords employed about the Holy Ghost ; 
 iv». vi^. for making the angel (thurificantis) 
 censing, and ii». ii^. for cords of it — all on 
 the feast of Pentecost. On the day before 
 Whitsuntide, in some places, men and 
 boys rolled themselves, after drinking, &c. 
 in the mud in the streets. The Irish kept 
 the feast with milk food, as among the 
 
 Hebrews ; and a breakfast composed of 
 cake, bread, and a liquor made by hot 
 water poured on wheaten bran. The 
 JVhitson Ales were derived from the 
 Agapai, or love -feasts of the early 
 Christians, and were so denominated 
 from the churchwardens buying, and lay- 
 ing in from presents also, a large quan- 
 tity of malt, which they brewed into beer, 
 and sold out in the church or elsewhere. 
 The profits, as well as those from sundry 
 games, there being no poor rates, were 
 given to the poor, for whom this was one 
 mode of provision, according to the 
 christian rule that all festivities should 
 be rendered innocent by alms. Aubrey 
 thus describes a Whitson Ale. " In every 
 parish was a church-house, to which be- 
 longed spits, crocks, and other dtensils 
 for dressing provisions. Here the house- 
 keepers met. The young people were 
 there too, and had dancing, bowling, 
 shooting at butts, &c. the ancients sitting 
 gravely by, and looking on." It seems 
 too that a tree was erected by the church 
 door, where a banner was placed, and 
 maidens stood gathering contributions. 
 An arbour, called Robin Hood's Bower, 
 was also put up in the church-yard. TTie 
 modern Whitson Ale consists of a lord 
 and lady of the ale, a steward, sword- 
 bearer, purse-bearer, mace-bearer, train- 
 bearer, or page, fool, and pipe and tabor 
 man, with a company of young men and 
 women, who dance in a barn. 
 
 343 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 23. 
 
 ODK, WRITTEN ON WHIT-MONUAY 
 
 Hark ! how the merry bells ring- jocund round, 
 And now they die upon the veering breeze j 
 
 Anon they thunder loud 
 
 Full on the musing ear. 
 
 Wafted in varying cadence, by the shore 
 Of the still twinkling river, they bespeak 
 
 A day of jubilee, 
 
 An ancient holiday. 
 
 And, lo! the rural revels are begun, 
 And gaily echoing to the laughing sky, 
 
 On the smooth-shaven green 
 
 Resounds the voice of Mirth^ 
 
 Alas ! regardless of the tongue of Fate, 
 
 That tells them 'tis but as an hour since they, 
 
 Who now are in their graves. 
 
 Kept up the Whitsun dance ; 
 
 And tliat another hour, and they must fall 
 Like those who went before, and sleep as still 
 
 Beneath the silent sod, 
 
 A cold and cheerless sleep. 
 
 Vet why should thoughts like these intrude to scaie 
 The vagrant Happiness, when she will deign 
 
 To smile upon us here, 
 
 A transient visitor ? 
 
 Mortals ! be gladsome while ye hare the power, 
 And laugh and seize the glittering lapse of joy ; 
 
 In time the bell will toll 
 
 That warns ye to your graves. 
 
 I to the woodland solitude will bend 
 
 My lonesome way — where Mirth's obstreperous show: 
 
 Shall not intrude to break 
 
 The meditative hour; 
 
 There will I ponder on the state of man, 
 Joyless and sad of heart, and consecrate 
 
 This day of jubilee 
 
 To sad Reflection's shrine ; 
 
 And I will cast my fond eye far beyond 
 This world of care, to where the steeple loud 
 
 Shall rock above the sod, 
 
 Where I shall sleep in peace. H. K. White. 
 
 Whitsuntide at Greenwich. ^^^ neighbourhood, "she is always doing 
 
 I have had another holiday — a Wliit- as much good as she can, and more, per- 
 
 suntide holiday at Greenwich : it is true haps, than she ought ; her heart is larger 
 
 that I did not take a run down the hill, than her purse." I found myself in this 
 
 but I saw many do it who appeared to retreat I scarcely know how, and ima- 
 
 me happier and healthier for the exercise, gincd that a place like this miglft make 
 
 and the fragrant breezes from the fine good dispositions better, and intelligent 
 
 May trees of the park. minds wiser. Some of its scenes seemed, 
 
 I began Whit-Monday by breakfasting to my imagination, lovely as were the 
 
 on Blackheath hill. It was my good spots in " the blissful seats of Eden." 
 
 fortune to gain a sight of the beautiful Delightful green swards with rtiajestic 
 
 grounas belonging to the noblest man- trees lead on to private walks ; and glad- 
 
 sion on the heath, the residence of the dening shrubberies terminate in broad 
 
 princess Sophia of Gloucester. It is borders of fine flowers, or in sloping 
 
 not a *' show house," nor is her royal paths, whereon fairies might dance in 
 
 highness a woman of show. " She is a silence by the sleeping moonlight, or to 
 
 uoble lady," said a worthy inhabitant of the chant of nigb.tingales that come 
 
 344 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— iM AY 23. 
 
 hither, to an amphitheatre of copses sur- 
 rounding a " rose mount," as to their 
 proper choir, and pour their melody, un- 
 heard by earthly beings, 
 
 save by the ear 
 
 Of her alone who wanders here, or sits 
 Intrelissed and enchanted as the Fair 
 Fabled by him of yore in Conius' song. 
 Or rather like a saint in a fair shrine 
 Carved by I'ellini's hand. 
 
 It may not be good taste, in declarini,^ 
 the truth, to stale " the whole truth," but 
 it is a fact, that I descended from the 
 hiights of royalty to " Sot's hole." There, 
 for " corporal refection," and from desire 
 to see a place which derives its name 
 from the great lord Chesterfield, I took 
 a biscuit and a glass of ginger-beer. His 
 lordship resided in the mansion I had 
 just left, and his servants were accustomed 
 to "use" this alehouse too frequently. 
 On one occasion he said to liis butler, 
 " Fetch the fellows from that sot's hole :" 
 from that time, though the house has 
 another name and sign, it is better known 
 by the name or sign of "Sot's hole." 
 Ascending the rise to the nearest park- 
 gate, I soon got to the observatory in the 
 park. It was barely noon. The holiday 
 folks had not yet arrived ; the old pen- 
 sioners, who ply there to ferry the eye up 
 and down and across the river with their 
 telescopes, were ready with their craft. 
 Yielding to the importunity of one, 
 to be freed from the invitations of the 
 rest, I took my stand, and in less than 
 ten minutes was conveyed to Barking 
 church, Epping Forest, the men in chains, 
 the London Docks, St. Paul's Cathedral, 
 and Westminster Abbey. From the seat 
 around the tree I watched the early comers ; 
 as each party arrived the pensioners 
 hailed them with good success. In every 
 instance, save one, the sight first de- 
 manded was the " men in chains :" these 
 are the bodies of pirates, suspended on 
 gibbets by the river side, to warn sailors 
 against crimes on the high seas. An able- 
 bodied sailor, with a new hat on his 
 Saracen-looking head, carrying a hand- 
 kerchief full of apples in his left hand, 
 with a bottle neck sticking out of the 
 neck of his jacket for a nosegay, dragged 
 his female companion up the hill with all 
 the might of his right arm and shoulder ; 
 and the moment he was at the top, assent- 
 ed to the proposal of a telescope-keeper for 
 his " good lady" to have a view of the 
 " men in chains." She wanted to " see 
 sometlung else tirst." " Don't be a foo'. " 
 
 said Jack, " see them first ; it's the best 
 sight." No ; not she : all Jack's argu- 
 ments were unavailing. " Well ! what 
 is it you'd like better, you fool you ?" 
 " Why I wants to see our house in the 
 court, with the flower-pots, and if I don't 
 see that, I wont see nothing — what's the 
 men in chains to that ? Give us an apple." 
 She took one out of the bundle, and be- 
 ginning to eat it, gave instructions for the 
 direction of the instrument towards Lime- 
 house church, while Jack drew forth the 
 bottle and refreshed himself. Long she 
 looked, and squabbled, and almost gave 
 up the hope of finding " our house ;" but 
 on a sudden she screamed out, " Here 
 Jack ! here it is, pots and all ! and there's 
 our bed-post ; I left the window up o' pur- 
 pose as 1 might see it!" Jack himself 
 took an observation. " D'ye see it. Jack ?" 
 " Yes." " D'ye see the pots ?" " Yes." 
 " And the bed-post ?" " Ay ; and here 
 Sal, here, here's the cat looking out o' the 
 window." "Come away, let's look 
 again ;" and then she looked, and squalled 
 " Lord ! what a sweet place it is !" and 
 then she assented to seeing the " men in 
 chains," giving Jack the fiist look, and 
 tliey looked " all down the river," and 
 saw " Tom's ship," and wished Tom was 
 with them. The breakings foith of 
 nature and kind-heartedness, and espe- 
 cially the love of "home, sweet home," 
 in Jock's " good lady," drew forth Jack's 
 delight, and he kissed her till the apples 
 rolled out of the bundle, and then he 
 pulled her down the hill. From the 
 moment they came up they looked at 
 nobody, nor saw any thing but themselves, 
 and what they paid for looking at through 
 the telescope. They were themselves a 
 sight : and though the woman was far 
 from 
 
 whatever fair 
 High fancy forms or lavish hearts could wish, 
 
 yet she was all that to Jack ; and all 
 that she seemed to love or care for, were 
 " our house," and the " flower-pots," and 
 the " bed-post," and "Jack." 
 
 At the entrances in all the streets of 
 Greenwich, notices from the magistrates 
 were posted, that they were determined to 
 put down the fair ; and accordingly not a 
 show was to be seen in the place wherein 
 the fair had of late been held. Booths 
 were fitting up for dancing and refresh- 
 ment at night, but neither Richardson's, 
 nor any other itinerant company of per- 
 foimers, was there. There were gin- 
 gerbread stalls, but no learned fig, no 
 
 345 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 2J. 
 
 dwarf, no gi^iri*^? no fire-eater, no exhibi- 
 tion of any kind. There was a large 
 round-about of wooden horses for boys, 
 and a few swings, none of them half 
 filled. The landlord of " the Struggler" 
 could not struggle his stand into notice. 
 In vain he chalked up " Ilagger's entire, 
 two-pence a bottle:" this was ginger- 
 beer ; if it was not brisker than the de- 
 mand for it, it was made " poor indeed ;" 
 he had little aid, but unsold " Lemmun 
 aid, one penny a glass." Yet the public- 
 houses in Greenwich were filling fast, 
 and the fiddles squeaked from several 
 first-floor windows. It was now nearly 
 two o'clock, and the stage-coaches from 
 London, thoroughly filled inside and out, 
 drove rapidly in : these, and the flocking 
 down of foot passengers, gave sign of 
 great visitation. One object I cannot 
 pass by, for it forcibly contrasted in me 
 mind with the joyous disposition of the 
 day. It was a poor blackbird in a cage, 
 from the first-floor window of a house in 
 Melville-place. The cage was high and 
 square ; its bars were of a dark brown 
 bamboo ; the top and bottom were of the 
 same dolorous colour ; between the bars 
 were strong iron wires ; the bird himself 
 sat dull and mute; I passed the house 
 several times ; not a single note did he 
 give forth. A few hours before I liad 
 heard his fellows in the thickets whistling 
 in full throat ; and here was he, in endless 
 thrall, without a bit of green to cheer 
 him, or even the decent jailery of a 
 light wicker cage. I looked at him, and 
 thought of the Lollards at Lambeth, of 
 Thomas Delaune in Newgate, of Prynne 
 in the Gatehouse, and Laud m the Tower : 
 — all these were offenders ; yet wherein 
 had this poor bird offended that he should 
 be like them, and be forced to keep 
 Whitsuntide in prison? I wished him a 
 holiday, and would have given him one 
 to the end of his life, had I known how. 
 
 After dining and taking tea at the 
 " Yorkshire Grey," I returned to the 
 park, through the Greenwich gate, near 
 tDe hospital. The scene here was very 
 lively. Great numbers were seated on 
 ihe grass, some refre^ing themselves, 
 others were lookers at the large company 
 of walkers. Surrounded by a goodly 
 number was a man who stood to exhibit 
 the wonders ot a single-folded sheet of 
 'vriting paper to the sight of all except 
 himself; he was blind. By a motion of 
 his liand he changed it into various forms. 
 " Here," said he, " is a garden-chair for 
 
 your seat — this is a flight of stairs to 
 your chamber — here is a flower-stand for 
 your mantle-piece ;" and so he went on ; 
 presenting, in rapid succession, the weli- 
 shaped representation of more than thirty 
 forms of different utensils or conveni- 
 ences : at the conclusion, he was well 
 rewarded for his ingenuity. Further on 
 was a larger group ; from the centre 
 whereof came forth sounds unlike those 
 heard by him who wrote — 
 
 *' Orpheus play'd so well, he moved old 
 Nick, 
 But thou mov'st nothing but thy fiddle- 
 stick." 
 
 This player so " imitated Orpheus," that 
 he moved the very bowels , uneasiness 
 seemed to seize on all who heard his 
 discords. He was seated on the grass, in 
 the garb of a sailor. At his right hand 
 lay a square board, whereon was painted 
 " a tale of woe," in letters that disdained 
 the printer's art ; at the top, a little box, 
 with a glass cover, discovered that it was 
 "plus" of what himself was "minus;" 
 its inscription described its contents — 
 " Tliese bones was taken out of my leg." 
 I could not withstand his claim to sup- 
 port. He was effecting the destruction 
 of " Sweet Poll of Plymouth," for which 
 t gave him a trifle more than his " fair" 
 audience usually bestowed, perhaps. He 
 instantly begged I would name my 
 " favourite ;" 1 desired to be acquainted 
 with his ; he said he could not " deny 
 nothing to so noble a benefactor," and 
 he immediately began to murder " Black- 
 eyed Susan." If the man at the wall ot 
 the Fishmongers' almshouses were dead, 
 he would be the worst player in England. 
 There were several parties playing at 
 " Kiss in the ring,'' an innocent merri- 
 ment in the country ; here it was cer- 
 tainly not merriment. On the hill the 
 runners were abundant, and the far 
 greater number were, in appearance and 
 manners, devoid of that vulgarity and 
 grossness from whence it might be inferred 
 that the sport was any way improper ; 
 nor did I observe, during a stay of several 
 hours, the least indication of its being 
 otherwise than a cheerful amusement. 
 One of the prettiest sights was a game at 
 " Thread my needle," played by about a 
 dozen lasses, with a grace and glee that 
 reminded me of Angelica's nymphs. I 
 indulged a hope that the hilarity of rural 
 pastimes might yet be preserved. There 
 "v/as no drinking in the park. It lost its 
 
 346 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 23. 
 
 visitants fast while the sun was going 
 down. Many were arrested in their pro- 
 giess to the gate by the sight of the boys 
 belonging to the college, who were at 
 their evening play within their own 
 grounds, and who, before they retired for 
 the niglit, sung " God save the King," 
 and " Rule Britannia," in full chorus, with 
 fine effect. 
 
 The fair, or at least such part of it as 
 was suffered to be continued, was held 
 in the open space on the right hand of 
 the street leading from Greenwich to the 
 Creek bridge. " The Crown and Anchor" 
 booth was the great attraction, as indeed 
 well it might. It was a tent, three hun- 
 dred and twenty-three feet long, and 
 sixty feet wide. Seventy feet of this, 
 at the entrance, was occupied by seats for 
 persons who chose to take refreshment, 
 and by a large space from whence the 
 viands were delivered. The remaining 
 two hundred and fifty feet formed 
 the " Assembly room," wherein were 
 boarded floors for four rows of dancers 
 throughout this extensive length ; on each 
 side were seats and tables. The price of 
 admission to the assembly was one shil- 
 ling. The check ticket was a card, 
 whereon was printed, 
 
 ^^AUXHALL. 
 
 CROWN AND ANCHOR, 
 
 WHIT MONDAY. 
 
 Tliis room was thoroughly lighted up 
 by depending branches from the roofs 
 handsomely formed ; and by stars and 
 festoons, and the letters G. R. and other 
 devices, bearing illumination lamps. It 
 was more completely filled with dancers 
 and spectators, than were convenient to 
 either. Neither the company nor the 
 scene can be well described. The or- 
 chestra, elevated across the middle of the 
 
 tent, consisting of two harps, three violins, 
 a bass viol, two clarionets, and a flute, 
 played airs fu^m " Der Freischiitz," and 
 other popular tunes. Save the crowd, 
 there was no confusion ; save in the quality 
 of the dancers and dancing, there was no 
 observable difference between this and 
 other large assemblies ; except, indeed, 
 that there was no master of the ceremo- 
 nies, nor any difficulty in obtaining or 
 declining partners. It was neither a 
 dancing school, nor a school of morals ; 
 but the moralist might draw conclusions 
 which would here, and at this time, be out 
 of place. There were at least 2,000 per- 
 sons in this booth at one time. In the 
 fair were about twenty other dancing 
 booths; yet none of them comparable in 
 extent to the " Crown and Anchor." In 
 one only was a price demanded for ad- 
 mission ; the tickets to the " Albion As- 
 sembly'* were sixpence. Most of these 
 booths had names ; for instance, " The 
 Royal Standard ;" " The Lads of the Vil- 
 lage," " The Black Boy and Cat Tavern," 
 " The Moon-rakers," &c. At eleven 
 o'clock, stages from Greenwich to London 
 were in full request. One of them ob- 
 tained 4*. each for inside, and 2*. 6d. for 
 outside passengers ; the average price was 
 3p. inside, and 2s. outside; and though 
 the footpaths were crowded with passen- 
 gers, yet all the inns in Greenwich and 
 on the road were thoroughly filled. Cer- 
 tainly, the greater part of the visitors were 
 mere spectators of the scene. * 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 The late Henry Kirke White, in a frag 
 ment of a poem on " Time," beautifully 
 imagines the slumbers of the sorrowful 
 Reader, bear with its melancholy tone. 
 A summer's day is not less lovely for a 
 passing cloud. 
 
 Behold the world 
 Rests, and her tired inhabitants have paused 
 From trouble and turmoil. The widow now 
 Has ceased to weep, and her twin-orphans lie 
 Lock'd in each arm, partakers of her rest. 
 The man of sorrow has forgot his woes ; 
 The outcast that his head is shelterless. 
 His griefs unshared. The mother tends no more 
 Her daughter's dying slumbers, but surprised 
 With heaviness, and sunk upon her couch, 
 Dreams of her bridals. Even the hectic lull'd 
 On Death's lean arm to rest, in visions wrapt, 
 Crowning with Hope's bland wreath his shuddering nurse. 
 Poor victim ! smiles. — Silence and deep repose 
 Reign o'er the nations ; and the warning voice 
 Of Nature utters audibly within 
 The general moral ; — tells us that repose. 
 Deathlike as this, but of far loneer span. 
 
 347 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 23. 
 
 Is coming on us— that tlie weary crowds 
 Who now enjoy a temporary calm, 
 Shall soon taste lasting quiet, wrapt around 
 With grave-clothes ; and their aching restless 
 Mouldering in holes and corners unobserved 
 Till the last trump shall breik their sullen sleep. 
 
 THE SLUICE-HOUSE. 
 
 Ye who with rod and line aspire to catch 
 
 Leviathans that swim within the stream 
 
 Of this fam'd River, now no longer Netv, 
 
 Yet still so call'd, come hither to the Sluice-house . 
 
 Here, largest gudgeons live, and fattest roach 
 
 Resort, and even barbel have been found. 
 
 Here too doth sometimes prey the rav'ning shark 
 
 Of streams like this, tiiat is to say, a jack. 
 
 If fortune aid ye, ye perchance shall find 
 
 Upon an average within one day, 
 
 At least a fish, or two ; if ye do not. 
 
 This will I promise ye, that ye shall have 
 
 Most glorious nibbles : come then, haste ye here, 
 
 And with ye bring large stock of baits and patience. 
 
 From Canonbury tower onward by the 
 NewRiver,is a pleasant summer afternoon's 
 walk. Highbury barn, or, as it is now 
 railed, Highbury tavern, is the first place of 
 note beyond Canonbury. It was anciently 
 a barn belonging to the ecclesiastics of 
 Clerkenwell ; though it is at present only 
 known to the inhabitants of that suburb, 
 b) its capacity for filling them with good 
 things in return for the money they soend 
 
 there. Tlie " barn" itself is the assembly- 
 room, whereon the old roof still remains. 
 This house has stood in ilie way of all 
 passengers to the Sluice-house, and turned 
 many from their firm-set purpose of fish- 
 ing in the waters near it. Every man 
 who carries a rod and line is not an Isaac 
 Walton, whom neither blandishment nor 
 obstacle could swerve from his mighty 
 end, when he went forth to \M\ tiih. 
 
 348 
 
THE E VERY-DAY POOR.— MAY 23. 
 
 He was the great progenitor of all 
 
 That war upon the tenants of the stream, 
 
 He neither stumbled, stopt, nor had a fall 
 When he essay'd to war on dace, bleak, 
 
 bream, 
 Stone-loach or pike, or other fish, I deem. 
 
 Tlie Sluice-house is a small wooden 
 building, distant about half a mile be- 
 yond Highbury, just before the river 
 angles off towards Newington. With 
 London anglers it has always been a 
 house of celebrity, because it is the near- 
 est spot wherein they have hope of toler- 
 able sport. Within it is now placed a 
 machine for forcing water into the pipes 
 that supply the inhabitants of Holloway, 
 and other parts adjacent. Just beyond is 
 the Eel-pie house, which many who angle 
 thereabouts mistake for the Sluice-house. 
 To instruct the uninformed, and to gratify 
 the eye of some who remember the spot 
 they frequented in their youth, the pre- 
 ceding view, taken in May 1825, has 
 been engraved. If the artist had been 
 also a portrait painter, it would have 
 been well to have secured a sketch of the 
 present keeper of the Sluice-house ; his 
 manly mien, and mild expressive face, 
 are worthy of the pencil : if there be trjth. 
 in physiognomy, he is an honest, goorf* 
 hearted man. His dame, who tenders 
 Barcelona nuts and oranges at the Sluice- 
 house door for sale, with fishing-lines 
 from two-pence to six-pence, and rods at 
 a penny each, is somewhat stricken in 
 years, and wholly innocent of the metro- 
 polis and its manners. She seems of the 
 times — 
 
 " When our fathers pluck'd the blackberry 
 And sipp'd the silver tide." 
 
 An etching of the eccentric indi- 
 vidual, from whence the present engraving 
 is taken, was transmitted by a respect- 
 able " Cantab," for insertion in the Every- 
 Day Book, with the few particulars 
 ensuing : — 
 
 James Gordon was once a respectable 
 solicitor in Cambridge, till " love and 
 .iquor" 
 
 •' Robb'd him of that which once enriched 
 him. 
 And made him poor indeed 1" 
 
 He is well known to many resident and 
 non-resident sons of alma mater, as a 
 cUclamatetiT and for ready wit and re- 
 
 partee, wliich few can equal. One oi 
 two iiistances may somewhat depict 
 
 JEMMY GORDON. 
 
 Gordon meeting a gentleman in the 
 streets of Cambridge who had recently 
 received the honour of knighthood. Jemmy 
 approached him, and looking him full in 
 the face, exclaimed, 
 
 " The king, by merely laying sword on. 
 Could make a knight of Jemmy Gordon. * 
 
 At a late assize at Cambridge, a man 
 named Pilgrim was convicted of horse- 
 stealing, and sentenced to transportation. 
 Gordon seeing the prosecutor in the 
 street, loudly vociferated to him, " You, 
 sir, have done wh;it the pope of Rome 
 cannot do ; you have put a stop to Pil- 
 grims Progress r^ 
 
 Gordon was met one day by a person 
 of rather indifferent character, who pitied 
 Jemmy's forlorn condition, (he being 
 without shoes and stockings,) and said, 
 " Gordon, if you will call at my house, I 
 will give you a pair of shoes." Jemmy, 
 assu ning a contemptuous air, replied, 
 
 849 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 23 
 
 " No, sir ! excuse me, I would not stand 
 m your shoes for all the world !" 
 
 Some months ago, Jemmy had the 
 misfortune to fall from a hay-loft, wherein 
 he had retired for the night, and broke 
 his thigh ; since then he has reposed in a 
 workhouse. No man's life is more cal- 
 culated 
 " To adorn a moral, and to point a tale." 
 
 N. 
 
 These brief memoranda suffice to me- 
 moiializp a peculiar individual. James 
 Gordon at ore time possessed " fame, 
 wealth, and honours :" now — his " fame" 
 is a hapless notoriety ; all the " wealth'' 
 tliat remains to him is a form that might 
 have been less careworn had he been less 
 careless ; his honour is " air — thin air," 
 " his gibes, his jests, his flashes of mer- 
 riment, that were wont to set the table in 
 a roar," no longer enliven the plenteous 
 banquet : — 
 
 <' Deserted in his utmost need 
 By men his former bounty fed," 
 
 the bitter morsel for his life's support is 
 parish dole. " The gayest of the gay" is 
 forgotten in his age — in the darkness of 
 life ; when reflection on what loas, cannot 
 better what is. Brilliant circles of ac- 
 quaintance sparkle with frivolity, but 
 friendship has no place within them. 
 The prudence of sensuality is selfishness. 
 
 The Cambridge communication con- 
 cerning James Gordon is accompanied 
 by an amusing list of names derived from 
 " men and things." 
 
 Personages and their Callings at Cam- 
 bridge in 1825. 
 
 A King . .. is .... a brewer 
 
 A Bishop a tailor 
 
 A Baron a horse-dealer 
 
 A Knight a turf-dealer 
 
 A Proctor a tailor 
 
 A Marshall a cheesemonger 
 
 An Earl a laundress 
 
 A Butler a picture-frame maker 
 
 A Page a bookbinder 
 
 A Pope an old woman 
 
 An Abhott a bonnet-maker 
 
 A Monk a waterman 
 
 A Nun a horse-dealer 
 
 A Moor a poulterer 
 
 A Savag^e a carpenter 
 
 A Scott an Englishman 
 
 A Rose a fislunonger 
 
 A Lilly a brewer 
 
 A Crab a butcher 
 
 A Salmon a linendraper 
 
 A Leech a fruiterer 
 
 A Pike a milkman 
 
 A Sole a shoemaker 
 
 A Wood a grocer 
 
 A Field a confectioner 
 
 A Tunnell a baker 
 
 A Marsh a carrier 
 
 A Brook a turf dealer 
 
 A Greenwood . ..a baker 
 
 A Lee an innkeeper 
 
 A Bush a carpenter 
 
 A Grove a shoemaker 
 
 A Lane a carpenter 
 
 A Green a builder 
 
 A Hill a butcher 
 
 A Haycock a publican 
 
 A Barne a grocer 
 
 A Shed a butler 
 
 A Ilult a shoeblack 
 
 A Hovel a draper 
 
 A Hatt a bookseller 
 
 A Capp a gardener 
 
 A Spencer a butcher 
 
 A Bullock a baker 
 
 A Fox a brazier 
 
 A Lamb a sadler 
 
 A Lion a grocer 
 
 A Mole a to wn-cricr 
 
 A Roe an engraver 
 
 A Buck a college gyp. 
 
 A Hogg a gcntl.'jman 
 
 A Bond a grocer 
 
 A Binder a fruiterer 
 
 A Cock a shoemaker 
 
 A Hawk a paperhanger 
 
 A Drake a dissenting minister 
 
 A Swan a shoemaker 
 
 A Bird an innkeeper 
 
 A Peacock a lawyer 
 
 A Rook a tailor 
 
 A Wren a bricklayer's laboure? 
 
 A Falcon a gentleman 
 
 A Crow a builder 
 
 A Pearl a cook 
 
 A Stone a glazier 
 
 A Cross a boatwright 
 
 A Barefoot an innkeeper 
 
 A Leg a mantua-maker 
 
 Wliite a shoemaker 
 
 Green a carpenter 
 
 Brown a fi.shmongc^ 
 
 Grey a painter 
 
 Pink a publican 
 
 Till! a printer 
 
 Short a tailor 
 
 Long a shopkeeper 
 
 350 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 24, 25, 26 
 
 Christmas an ironmonjier 
 
 Summer a caipentcr 
 
 Sad a barber 
 
 Grief a glazier 
 
 Peace a. carpenter 
 
 Bacon a tobacconist. 
 
 A Hiird-man 
 A Wise-man 
 A Good-man 
 A Black-man 
 A Cliap-man 
 A Free -man 
 A New-man 
 A Bow-man 
 
 A Spear-man 
 A Hill-man 
 A Wood- mail 
 A Pack-man 
 A Pit-man 
 A Red-man 
 A True-man, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lilac. Syringa vulgaris. 
 Dedicated to St. Julia. 
 
 m^} 24. 
 
 St. Vincent of Lerins, a. d. 450. Sts. 
 Donatian and Rogatian, a. d. 287. 
 St. John de Prado. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Monkey Poppy. Papaver Orientale. 
 Dedicated to St. Finccnt. 
 
 i¥lap 25. 
 
 St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi, a. d. 1607. 
 St. Urban, Pope, a. d. 223. St. Ad- 
 helm, or Aldhelm. St. Gregory VII., 
 Pope, A. D. 1085. Sts. Maximus, or 
 Mau.ve, and Venerand, Martyrs in Nor- 
 mandy, 6th Cent. St. Dumhade, Abbot, 
 A. D. 717. 
 
 St. Aldhebn. 
 He founded the abbey of Malmesbury, 
 and was the first Englishman who culti- 
 vated Latin and English or Saxon poesy. 
 Among his other mortifications, he was ac- 
 customed to recite the psalter at night, 
 plunged up to the shoulders in a pond of 
 water. He was the first bishop of Sher- 
 borne, a see which was afterwards re- 
 moved to Salisbury, and died in 709.* 
 
 He turned a sunbeam into a clothes- 
 peg ; at least, so say his biographers : 
 this was at Rome. Saying mass there in 
 the church of St. John de Lateran, he put 
 off his vestment ; the servant neglecting 
 to take it, he hung it on a sunbeam, 
 whereon it remained, " to the wonderful 
 admiration of the beholders.'' f 
 
 * Buller. t Porter, Go'den Legf-nd. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Avens. Geum Urhanum. 
 Dedicated to St. Urban 
 
 i^flay 26. 
 
 St. Philip Ncri, a. d. 1595. St. Angus- 
 tine, Abp. of Canterbury, a. d. 604 
 St. Elcutherius, Pope, a. d. 192. St. 
 Quadratics, Bp. a.d. 125. St. Oduvald, 
 Abbot, A. D. 698. 
 
 St. Philip Neri. 
 
 He was born at Florence in 1515, be- 
 came recluse when a child, dedicated 
 himself to poverty, and became mira- 
 culously fervent. " The divine love," 
 says Alban Butler, " so much dilated 
 the breast of our saint, that the gristle 
 which joined the fourth and fifth ribs on 
 the left side was broken, which accident 
 allowed the heart and the larger vessels 
 more play ; in which condition he lived 
 fifty years." According to the same au- 
 thority, his body was sometimes raised 
 from the ground during his devotions 
 some yards high. Butler relates the same 
 of St. Dunstan, St. Edmund, and many 
 other saints, and says that " Calmet, an 
 author still living, assures us that he 
 knows a religious man who, in devout 
 prayer, is sometimes involuntarily raised 
 in the air, and remains hanging in it with- 
 out any support ; also that he is person- 
 ally acquainted with a devout nun to 
 whom the same had often happened." 
 Butler thinks it probable that they them- 
 selves would not determine whether 
 they were raised by angels, or by what 
 other supernatural operation. He savs_, 
 that Neri could detect hidden sins by the 
 smell of the sinners. He died in 1595 : 
 the body of such a saint of course worked 
 miracles. 
 
 St. Philip Neri founded the congrega- 
 tion or religious order of the Oratory, in 
 1551. The rules of this religious order 
 savour of no small severity. By the 
 " Institutions of the Oratory," (printed £ft 
 Oxford, 1687, 8vo. pp. 49.) they are re- 
 quired to mix corporal punishments with 
 their religious harmony : — " From the first 
 of November to the feast of the resur- 
 rection, their contemplation of celestial 
 things shall be heightened by a concert o' 
 music ; and it is also enjoined, that a\ 
 certain seasons of frequent occurrence, 
 they all whip themselves in the Oratory. 
 After half an hour's mental prayer, tha 
 officers distribute whips made of smab 
 
 351 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 26. 
 
 cords full of knots, put foitli the children, 
 if there be any, and carefully shutting the 
 doors and windows, extinguish the other 
 lights, except only a small candle so 
 placed in a dark lanthorn upon the altar, 
 that the crucifix may appear clear and 
 visible, but not reflecting any light, thus 
 making all the room dark: then the priest, 
 in a loud and doleful voice, pronounceth 
 the verse Jube Domine benedicere, and 
 going through an appointed service, 
 comes Apprehendite disciplinam, &c. ; at 
 which words, taking their whips, they 
 scourge their naked bodies during the 
 recital of the 50th Psalm, Miserere, and 
 the 129th, De profundis, with several 
 prayers ; at the conclusion of which, 
 upon a sign given, they end their whip- 
 ping, and put on their clothes in the dark 
 and in silence." 
 
 Oratorios. 
 
 Tlie Oratorio commenced with the 
 fathers of the Oratory. In order to draw 
 youth to church, they had hymns, psalms, 
 and spiritual songs, or cantatas, sung 
 either m chorus or by a single favourite 
 voice. These pieces were divided into 
 two parts, the one performed before the 
 sermon, and the other after it. Sacred 
 stories, or events from scripture, written 
 in verse, and by way of dialogue, were 
 set to music, and the first part being per- 
 formed, the sermon succeeded, which the 
 people were induced to stay and hear, 
 that they might be present at the per- 
 formance of the second part. The sub- 
 jects in early times were the good Sama- 
 ritan, the Prodigal Son, Tobit with the 
 angei, his father, and his wife, and similar 
 histories, which by the excellence of the 
 composition, the band of instruments, 
 and the performance, brought the Ora- 
 tory into great repute ; hence this spe- 
 cies of musical drama obtained the general 
 appellation of Oratorio. 
 
 St. Augustine. 
 
 This was the monk sent to England by 
 St. Gregory the Great, to convert the 
 English ; by favour of Ethelbert, he be- 
 ,;ame archbishop of Canterbury. Chris- 
 tianity, however, had long preceded Au- 
 gustine's arrival, for the queen of Ethel- 
 bert, previous to his coming, was accus- 
 tomed to pay her devotions in the church 
 of St. Martin just without Canterbury. 
 This most ancient edifice still exists. 
 Not ncticing more at present concerning 
 
 his historical character, it is tn be ob- 
 served that, according to his biographers, 
 he worked many miracles, whereof may 
 be observed this : — 
 
 St Augustine came to a certain to'"n, 
 inhabited by wicked people, who " re- 
 fused hys doctryne and prechyng uterly, 
 and drof hym out of the towne, castyng 
 on hym the tayles of thornback, or lyke 
 fysshes ; wherefore he besought Almyghty 
 God to shevve hys jugement on them ; 
 and God sent to them a shamefull token ; 
 for the chyldren that were born after in 
 the place, had tayles, as it is sayd, tyll 
 they had repented them. It is said 
 comynly that this fyll at Strode in Kente ; 
 but blyssed be Gode, at thys daye is no 
 such deformyte."* It is said, however, 
 that they were the natives of a village in 
 Dorsetshire who were thus tail-pieced.f 
 
 Another notable miracle is thus related. 
 When St. Augustine came toCompton, in 
 Oxfordshire, the curate complained, that 
 though he had often warned the lord of the 
 place to pay his tythes, yet they were with- 
 held, " and therefore I." said the curate, 
 " have cursed hym, and I fynde him the 
 more obstynate." Then St. Augustine 
 demanded why he did not pay his tythes 
 to God and the church; whereto the knight 
 answered, that as he tilled the ground, he 
 ought to have the tenth sheaf as well as 
 the ninth. Augustine, finding that he 
 could not bend this lord to his purpose, 
 then departed and went to mass ; but before 
 he began, he charged all those that were 
 accursed to go out of the church. Then 
 a dead body arose, and went out of the 
 church into the churchyard with a white 
 cloth on his head, and stood there till 
 mass was done ; whereupon St. Augustine 
 went to him, and demanded what he was ; 
 and the dead body said, " I was formerly 
 lord of this town, and because I would 
 not pay my tithes to my curate, he cursed 
 me, and then I died and went to hell." 
 Tlien Augustine bade the dead lord bring 
 him to where the curate was buried, 
 which accordingly he did, and Augustine 
 commanded the dead curate to arise, who 
 thereupon accordingly arose and stood 
 before all the people. Then Augustine 
 demanded of the dead curate if he knew 
 the dead lord, who answered, " Would 
 to God I had never known him, for he 
 was a withholder of his tythes, and, mor& 
 over, an evil-doer." Then Augustine 
 delivered to the said curate a rod. ano 
 
 • Golden Leccnd. 
 
 t Sorter's Flowei* 
 
 552 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MA\ 27. 
 
 then tne dead lord kneeling;, received 
 penance thereby ; which done, Augustine 
 commanded the dead lord to go again to 
 his grave, there to abide until the day of 
 judgment ; and forthwith the said lord 
 entered his grave, and fell to ashes. Then 
 Augustine asked the curate, how long he 
 nad been dead ; and he said, a hundred 
 and fifty years. And Augustine offered 
 to pray for him, that he miglit remain on 
 earth to confirm men in their belief; but 
 the cuiate refiised, because he was in the 
 place of rest. Then said Augustine, " Go 
 in peace, and pray for me and for holy 
 church ;" and immediately the curate re- 
 turned to his grave. At this sight, the 
 lord who had not paid the curate his 
 tythes was sore afraid, and came q.uaking 
 to St. Augustine, and to his curate, and 
 prayed forgiveness of his trespass, and 
 promised ever after to pay his tythes. 
 
 Chronology. 
 On the 26th of May, 1555, was a gay 
 May-game at St. Marttin's-in-the-fields, 
 with giants and hobby-horses, drums and 
 guns, morrice-dances, and other min- 
 strels.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Rhododendron. Rhododendrum Ponticum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Jitgiistine. 
 
 Yellow Azalea. Azalea pontica. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Philip Neri. 
 
 M^v V. 
 
 St. John, Pope, a. d. 526. St. Bede, a. d. 
 
 735. St. Julius, about a. d. 302. 
 St. John, Pope. 
 
 This pontiff' was imprisoned by Theo- 
 doric, king of the Goths, in Italy, and 
 died in confinement. This sovereign had 
 
 previously put to death the philosopher 
 Boetius, who, according to Ribadeneira, 
 after he was beheaded, was scoffingly 
 asked by one of the executioners, " who 
 hath put thee to death V' whereupon 
 Boetius answered, " wicked men," and 
 immediately taking up his head in his 
 own hands, walked away with it to the 
 adjoining church. 
 
 St. Bede 
 
 The life of " \'enerable Bede" in 
 Butler, is one of the best memoirs in his 
 biography of the saints. lie was an 
 Englishman, in priest's orders. It is said 
 of him that he was a prodigy of learning 
 in an unlearned age ; that he surpassed 
 Gregory the Great in eloquence and 
 copiousness of style, and that Europe 
 scarcely produced a greater scholar. He 
 was a teacher of youth, and, at one time 
 had six hundred pupils, yet he exercised 
 his clerical functions with punctuality, 
 and wrote an incredible number of works 
 in theology, science, and the polite arts. 
 It is true he fell into the prevailing cre- 
 dulity of the early age wherein he 
 flourished, but he enlightened it by his 
 erudition, and improved it by his un- 
 feigned piety and unwearied zeal. 
 
 Not to ridicule so great a man, but as 
 an instance of the desire to attribute 
 wonderful miracles to distinguished cha- 
 racters, the following silly anecdote con- 
 cerning Bede is extracted from the "Golden 
 Legend." He was blind, and desiring to 
 be led forth to preach, his servant carried 
 him to a heap of stones, to which, the 
 good father, believing himself preachir.g 
 to a sensible congregation, delivered a 
 noble discourse, whereunto, when he had 
 finished his sermon, the stones answered 
 and said " Amen !" 
 
 Methinks that to some vacant hermitage 
 
 JNIy feet would rather turn — to some dry nook 
 Scooped out of living rock, and near a brook 
 
 Hurled down a mountain cove from stage to stage, 
 
 Yet tempering, for my sight, its bustling rage 
 In the soft heaven of a translucent pool ; 
 Thence creeping under forest arches cool, 
 
 Fit haunt of shapes whose glorious equipage 
 
 Perchance would throng my dreams. A beechen bowl, 
 
 A Maple dish, my furniture should be ; 
 
 Crisp yellow leaves my bed ; the hooting f)wl 
 IMy nightwatch : nor should e'er the crested fowl 
 
 From thorp or vill his matins sound for me, 
 
 Tired of the world and all its industry. 
 
 But what if one, through grove or flowery mead. 
 Indulging thus at v/ill the creeping feet 
 Of a voluptuous indolence, should meet 
 
 * Strjpe's Memorials. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 353 
 
 2 A 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 28. 
 
 The hovering shade of venerable Bede, 
 The saint, the scliolar, from a circle freed 
 
 Of toil stupendous, in a hallowed seat 
 
 Of learning, where he heard the billows beat 
 On a wild coast — rough monitors to feed 
 
 Perpetual industry — sublime recluse ! 
 The recreant soul, that dares to shun the debt 
 Imposed on human kind, must first forget 
 
 Thy diligence, thy unrelaxing use 
 Of a long life, and, in the hour of death, 
 The last dear service of thy passing breath ! 
 
 IVordsworth. 
 
 THE SEASON. in the weather, and especially the winds. 
 
 E\ cry thing of good or evil, incident These have been borne with some philo- 
 
 to any period of the year, is to be regarded sophy, by the individual now holding the 
 
 seasonable; the present time of the year, pen; but, alas! the effects are too appa- 
 
 therefore, must not be quarrelled with, if rent, he apprehends, to many who have 
 
 it be not always agreeable to us. Many read what he has been scarcely able to 
 
 days of this month, in 1825, have been throw together. He hopes that these 
 
 most oppressive to the spirits, and inju- defaults will be placed to their proper 
 
 lious to the mental faculties, of persons account, and that cloudless skies and 
 
 ^ho are unhappily susceptible of changes genial breezes will enable him to do better. 
 
 May, ig25. 
 All hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning ! 
 
 How joyous thy steeds from the ocean have sprung ! 
 The clouds and the waves smile to see thee returning, 
 
 And young zephyrs laugh as they gambol along. 
 
 No more with the tempest the river is swelling. 
 
 No angry clouds frown, and no sky darkly lowers ; 
 
 The bee winds his horn, and the gay news is telling, 
 That spring is arrived with her sunshine and flowers. 
 
 From her home in the grass see the white primrose peeping. 
 While diamond dew-drops around her are spread. 
 
 She smiles through her tears, like an infant, whose weeping 
 To laughter is changed when its sorrows are fled. 
 
 In the pride of its beauty the j'oung year is shining. 
 And nature with blossoms is wreatiiing the trees, 
 
 The white and the green, in rich clusters entwining, 
 
 Are sprinkling their sweets on the wings of each breeze. 
 
 Tlien hail to thee, hail to thee, god of the morning ! 
 
 Triumphant ride on in thy chariot of light; 
 The earth, with thy bounties her forehead adorning, 
 
 Comes forth, like a bride, from the chamber of night. 
 
 E.C. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Buttercups. Ranunculus acri.r. 
 
 Dedicated to St. John, Pope. 
 
 Yellow Bachelor's Buttons. Ramuicnhis acris planus, 
 
 Pedicated to St. Bede. 
 
 JHap 28. Chronology. 
 
 ,Sr. Germanus, 3p. of Paris, a. d. r>76. 1546. Cardinal Beaton was on this 
 
 St. Cnranini.i, also Caranus and Caro, day assassinated in Scotland. He was 
 
 (iu French, C/icron.) primate of that kingdom, over which he 
 
 35i 
 
THE EVERY-DA\ BOOK— MAY 28. 
 
 exercised almost sovereign sway. Jujt 
 before his death he got into his power 
 George Wishart, a gentleman by birth, 
 who preached against Romish supersti- 
 tions, and caused him to be condemned 
 to the stake for heresy. The cardinal 
 refused the sacrament to his victim, on 
 the ground that it was not reasonable to 
 allow a spiritual benefit to an obstinate 
 heretic, condemned by the church. Wish- 
 art was tied to a tree in the castle-yard 
 of St. Andrew's, with bags of gunpowder 
 fastened about his body. The cardinal 
 and prelates were seated o.n rich cushions 
 with tapestry hangings before them, from 
 whence they viewed the execution of 
 their sentence. The gunpowder having 
 exploded without ending Wishart's bodily 
 sufferings, the inflexible reformer ex- 
 claimed from the fire, " This flame hath 
 scorched my body, yet hath it not daunted 
 my spirit : but he who from yonder high 
 place beholdeth me with such pride, shall 
 within a few days lie in the same as 
 ignominiously as now he is seen proudly 
 to rest himself." After these words, the 
 cord that went about his neck was drawn 
 by one of the executioneis to stop his 
 breath, the fire was increased, his body 
 was consumed to ashes, and the cardinal 
 caused proclamation to be made that 
 none should pray for the heretic under 
 pain of the heaviest ecclesiastical cen- 
 sures. If the church, said the priests, had 
 found such a protector in former times, 
 she had maintained her authority ; but 
 the cardinal's cruelty struck the people 
 with horror, and John Lesly, brother to 
 the earl of Rothes, with Normand Lesly, 
 the earl of Rothes' son, (who was dis- 
 gusted on account of some private quar- 
 rel,) and other persons of birth and 
 quality, openly vowed to avenge Wishart's 
 death. Early in the morning they en- 
 tered the cardinal's palace at St. An- 
 drews, which he had strongly fortified ; 
 though they were not above sixteen per- 
 sons, they thrust out a hundred trades- 
 men and fifty servants, whom they seized 
 separately, before any suspicion arose of 
 their intentions ; and having shut the 
 gates, they proceeded very deliberately to 
 execute their purpose on the cardinal. 
 Beaton alarmed with the noise which he 
 heard in the castle, barricadoed the door 
 of his chamber : but finding that they had 
 brought fire in order to force their way, 
 and havmg obtained, as is believed, a 
 promise of life, he opened the door; and 
 reminding them that he was a priest, he 
 
 conjured them to spare him. Two oJ 
 them rushed upon him with drawn 
 swords, but a third, James Melvil, 
 stopped their career, and bade them re- 
 flect that this work was the work and 
 judgment of God, and ought to be exe- 
 cuted with becoming deliberation and 
 gravity. Then turning the point of his 
 sword towards Beaton, he called to him, 
 " Repent thee, thou wicked cardinal, of 
 all thy sins and iniquities, especially of 
 the murder of Wishart, that instrument of 
 God for the conversion of these lands : it is 
 his death which now cries vengeance upon 
 thee: we are sent by God to inflict the 
 deserved punishment. For here, before 
 the Almighty, I protest, that it is neither 
 hatred or thy person, nor love of thy 
 riches, nor fear of thy power, which 
 moves me to seek thy death : but only 
 because thou hast been, and still remain- 
 est, an obstinate enemy to Christ Jesus, 
 and his holy gospel." Having spoken 
 these words, without giving Beaton time 
 to finish that repentance to which he ex- 
 horted him, he thrust him through the 
 body, and the cardinal fell dead at nis 
 feet. Upon a rumour that the castle was 
 taken, a great tumult arose in the city; 
 and several partisans of the cardinal 
 armed themselves with intent to scale the 
 walls. When they were told of his death, 
 they desisted, and the people insisting 
 upon a sight of the cardinal's body, hi.s 
 corpse was exposed to their view from the 
 very same place wherein he sat to behold 
 the execution of George Wishart. 
 
 The sanguinary spirit of these times has 
 disappeared, and we look upon what re- 
 mains to us of the individuals who suf- 
 fered, or acted under its influence, as 
 memorials of such crimes and criminals as 
 we in a milder age dare not imagine our 
 country can be again afflicted with. The 
 sight of cardinal Beaton's house in the 
 Cowgate, at Edinburgh, may have in- 
 duced useful reflections on past intoler- 
 ance, and increased charitable dispositions 
 in some whose persuasions widely differ. 
 If this be so, a representation of it in 
 this sheet may not be less agreeable to the 
 moralist than to the lover of antiquities. 
 The drawing from whence the engraving 
 on the next page is taken, was made on 
 the spot in 1824. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lurid Fleur-de-lis. Irid Lnrida 
 Dedicated to St. Germain. 
 
 355 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 CAEDINAL BEATON'S HOUSE AT EDINBURGH. 
 
 i^lap 29 
 
 St. Maximinus, Bp. of Friers, a. d. 349. 
 
 St. Cyril. St. Conon and his son, of 
 
 Iconia in Asia, about a. d. 275. Sts. 
 
 Sisinnius, Martyrius, and Alexander, 
 
 A D. 397. 
 
 Restoration Day. 
 
 This day is so called from its being 
 the anniversary of the day whereon king 
 Charles II. entered London, in 1660, and 
 re-established royalty, which had been 
 suspended from the death of his father. 
 It is usual with the vulgar people to 
 wear oak-leaves in their hats on this day, 
 and dress their horses' heads with them. 
 This is in commemoration of the shelter 
 afforded to Charles by an oak while 
 making his escape from England, after 
 his defeat at Worcester, by Cromwell. 
 
 The battle was fought on the 3d of Sep. 
 tember, 1651; Cromwell having utterly 
 routed his army, CharlRs left Worcester 
 at six o'clock in the afternoon, and with- 
 out halting, travelled about twenty-six 
 miles, in company with fifty or sixty of 
 his friends, from whom he separated, 
 without communicating his intentions to 
 any of them, and went to Boscobel. a 
 lone house in the borders of Staffordshire, 
 inhabited by one Penderell, a farmer, to 
 whom he intrusted himself. This man, 
 assisted by his four brothers, clothed the 
 king in a garb like their own, led him into 
 the neighbouring wood, put a bill into his 
 hand, and pretended to employ them- 
 selves in cutting faggots. Some nights 
 he lay upon straw in the house, and fed 
 on such homely fare as it afforded. For 
 better concealment, he mounted upon an 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 oaTc, where he sheltered himself among 
 the leaves and branches for twenty-four 
 hours. He saw several soldiers pass by. 
 All of them wpi-e intent in search of the 
 king ; and some expressed, in his hear- 
 ing, their earnest wishes of seizing him. 
 This tree was afterwards denominated 
 the Royal Oak ; and for many years was 
 regarded by the neighbourhood with 
 great veneration. Charles could neither 
 stay, nor stir, without imminent danger. 
 At length he and lord Wilmot, who 
 was concealed in the neighbourhood, 
 put themselves into the hands of colonel 
 Lane, a zealous royalist, who lived at 
 Bentley, not many miles distant. The 
 kmg's feet were so hurt by walking in 
 heavy boots or countrymen's shoes, w*hich 
 did not fit him, that he was obliged to 
 mount on horseback ; and he travelled in 
 this situation to Bentley, attended by the 
 Penderells. Lane formed a scheme for 
 his journey to Bristol, where, it was 
 hoped, he would find a ship, in which he 
 might transport himself. He had a near 
 kinswoman, Mrs. Norton, who lived 
 within three miles of that city, and he 
 obtained a pass (for, during those times 
 of confusion, this precaution was requi- 
 site) for his sister jane Lane and a ser- 
 vant to travel towards Bristol, under pre- 
 tence of visiting and attending her rela- 
 tion. Tlie king rode before the lady, and 
 personated the servant. When they ar- 
 rived at Norton's, Mrs. Lane pretended 
 that she had brouglit along as her servant 
 a poor lad, a neighbouring farmer's son, 
 who was ill of an ague ; and she begged 
 a private room for him where he might 
 be quiet. Though Charles kept himself 
 retired in this chamber, the butler, one 
 Pope, soon knew him : Charles was 
 alarmed, but made the butler promise 
 that he would keep the secret from every 
 mortal, even from his master; and he 
 was faithful to his engagement. No ship, 
 it was found, would, for a month, set sail 
 from Bristol, either for France or Spain ; 
 and the king was obliged to go to colonel 
 Windham of Dorsetshire, a partisan of 
 the royal family. During his jonrney he 
 often passed through *he hands of catho- 
 lics ; the Priest's Hole, as they called it, 
 the place where they were obliged to con- 
 ceal their persecuted priests, was some- 
 times employed to shelter him. He con- 
 tinued several days in Windham's house ; 
 and all his friends in Britain, and in 
 pvery part of Europe, remained in the 
 most anxious suspense with regard to hi? 
 
 fortunes : no one could conjecture whethpr 
 he were dead or alive ; and the report o< 
 his death being generally beiieveH, re 
 laxed the vigilant search of his enemies 
 Trials were made to procuie a vessel for 
 his escape ; but he still met virith disap- 
 pointments. Having left Windham's 
 house, he was obliged again to return to 
 it. He passed through many other ad- 
 ventures ; assumed different disguises ; in 
 every step was exposed to imminent 
 perils ; and received daily proofs of un- 
 corrupted fidelity and attachment. The 
 sagacity of a smith, who remarked that 
 his horse's shoes had been made in the 
 north, and not in the west, as he pretend- 
 ed, once detected him ; and he narrowly 
 escaped. At Shoreham, in Sussex, a vessel 
 was at last found, in which he embarked. 
 He had been known to so many, that if 
 he had not set sail in that critical mo- 
 ment it had been impossible for him to 
 escape. After one and forty days' con- 
 cealment, he arrived safely at Fescamp in 
 Normandy. No less than forty men and 
 women had at different times been privy 
 to his concealment and escape.* 
 
 Charles l\. himself wrote a narrative of 
 his remarkable " Escape." From this it 
 appears that while journeying with the 
 Penderells, " he wore a very greasy old 
 grey steeple-crowned hat, with the brims 
 turned up, without lining or hatband : a 
 green cloth coat, threadbare, even to the 
 threads being worn white, and breeches 
 of the same, with long knees down to the 
 garter ; with an old leathern doublet, 
 a pair of white flannel stockings next to 
 his legs, which the king said were his 
 boot stockings, their tops being cut 
 off to prevent their being discovered, 
 and upon them a pair of old green 
 yarn stockings, all worn and darned 
 at the knees, with their feet cut off; his 
 shoes were old, all slashed for the ease of 
 his feet, and full of gravel ; he had an 
 old coarse shirt, patched both at the neck 
 and hands ; he bad no gloves, but a long 
 thorn stick, not very strong, but creoked 
 three or four several ways, in his hand ; 
 his hair cut short up to his ears, and 
 hands coloured ; his majesty refusing tc 
 have any gloves, when father Hodlestone 
 offered him some, as also to change his 
 stick." 
 
 Charles's narrative is very minute in 
 many particulars; especially as regards 
 
 357 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— MAY 29. 
 
 his getting on shipboard, and his passage 
 across the channel. 
 
 " We went," he says, " towards Shore- 
 hm, four miles off a place called Bright- 
 ielmstone, taking the master of the ship 
 ivith us, on horseback, behind one of our 
 company, and came to the vessel's side, 
 which was not above sixty tons. But it 
 being low water, and the vessel lying 
 dry, I and my lord Wilmot got up with a 
 ladder into her, and went and lay down 
 in the little cabin, till the tide came to 
 fetch us off. 
 
 " But I was no sooner got into the 
 ship, and lain down upon the bed, but 
 the master came in to me, fell down upon 
 his knees, and kissed my hand ; telling 
 me, that he knew me very well, and 
 would venture life, and all that he had 
 in the world, to set me down safe in 
 France. 
 
 " So, about seven o'cloclc in the morn- 
 ing, it being high-water, we went out of 
 the port ; but the master being bound for 
 Pool, loaden with sea-coal, because he 
 would not have it seen from Shoreham 
 that he did not go his intended voyage, 
 but stood all the day, with a very easy 
 sail, towards the Isle of Wight (only my 
 lord Wilmot and myself, of my company, 
 on board.) And as we were sailing, the 
 master came to me, and desired me that 
 T would persuade his men to use their 
 endeavours with me to get him to set us 
 on shore in France, the better to cover 
 him from any suspicion thereof. Upon 
 which, I went to the men, which were 
 four and a boy, and told them, truly, 
 that we were two merchants that had 
 some misfortunes, and were a little in 
 debt ; that we had some money owing us 
 at Rouen, in France, and were afraid of 
 being arrested in England ; that if they 
 would persuade the master (the wind 
 being very fair) to give us a trip over to 
 Dieppe, or one of those ports near Rouen, 
 they would oblige us very much, and 
 with that I gave them twenty shillings to 
 drink. Upon which, they undertook to 
 second me, if I would propose it to the 
 master. So 1 went to the master, and 
 fold him our condition, and that if he 
 wotild give us a trip over to France, we 
 would give him some consideration for 
 it. Upon which he counterfeited diffi- 
 culties, saying, that it would liin4er his 
 voyage. But his men, as they had pro- 
 mised me, joining their persuasions to 
 ours, and, at last, he yielded to set us 
 over. 
 
 " So, about five o'clock in the after- 
 noon, as we were in sight of the Isle of 
 Wight, we stood diiectly over to the coast 
 of France, the wind being then full 
 north ; and the next morning, a little 
 before day, we saw the coast. But the 
 tide failing us, and the wind coming about 
 to the south-west, we were forced to 
 come to an anchor within two miles of 
 the shore, till the tide of flood was done. 
 
 " We found ourselves just before an 
 harbour in Fiance, called Fescamp; and 
 just as the tide of ebb was made, espied 
 a vessel to leeward of us, which, by her 
 nimble work.ng, I suspected to be an 
 Ustend privateer. Upon which, I went 
 to my lord Wiimot, and telling him my 
 opinion of that ship, proposed to him our 
 gcing ashore in the little cock-boat, for 
 fear they should prove so, as not knowing, 
 but finding us going into a port of 
 France, (there being then a war betwixt 
 France and Spain,) they might plunder 
 us, and possibly carry us away and set 
 us ashore in England; the master also 
 himself had the same opinion of her being 
 an Ostender, and came to me to tell me 
 so, which thought I made it my busi- 
 ness to dissuade him from, for fear it 
 should tempt him to set sail again with 
 us for the coast of England : yet so sen- 
 sible I was of it, that 1 and my lord 
 Wilmot went both on shore in the cock- 
 boat; and going up into the town of Fes 
 camp, staid there all day to provide 
 horses for Rouen. But the vessel which 
 had so affrighted us, proved afterwards 
 only a French hoy. 
 
 " The next day we got to Rouen, to an 
 inn, one of the best in the town, in the 
 fish-market, where they made difficulty 
 to receive us, taking us, by our clothes, 
 to be some thieves, or persons that had 
 been doing some very ill thing, until Mr. 
 Sandburne, a merchant, for whom I sent, 
 came and answered for us. 
 
 " One particular more there is obseiv- 
 able in relation to this our passage into 
 France ; that the vessel that brought us 
 over had no sooner landed me, and I 
 given her master a pass, for fear of meet- 
 ing with any of our Jersey frigates, but 
 the wind turned so l>appily for h«r, as to 
 carry her directly for Pool, without its 
 being known that she had ever been upon 
 the coast of France. 
 
 " We staid at Rouen one day, to pro- 
 vide ourselves better clothes, and give 
 notice to the queen, my mother, (whc 
 was *hen at Paris,) of my being safelv 
 
 358 
 
THE EVERY-DAV BuOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 anded. After whicli, setting out in a 
 hired coach, I was met by my mother, 
 with coaches, short of Paris; and by her 
 conducted thither, where I safely arrived.'' 
 An antiquary, a century ago, mentions 
 the " Royal Oak " as standing in his time. 
 " A bow-shoot from Boscobel-house, just 
 oy a horse-track passing through the 
 wood, stood the royal oak, into which the 
 king and his companion, colonel Carlos, 
 climbed by means of the hen-roost lad- 
 der, when they judged it no longer safe 
 to stay in the house; the family reaching 
 them victuals with the nut-hook. The 
 tree is now inclosed in with a brick wall, 
 the inside whereof is covered with laurel, 
 of which we may say, as Ovid did of that 
 before the Augustan palace, ' mediamque 
 tubere quercum.' Close by its side 
 grows a young thriving plant from one of 
 its acorns. (Jver the door of the inclo- 
 sure, I took this inscription in marble: — 
 ' Felicissimam arborem quam in asylum 
 potentissimi Regis Caroli II. Deus O. M. 
 per quem reges regnant hie crescere 
 voluit, tam in perpetuam rei tantae memo- 
 riam, quam specimen fermae in reges 
 fidei, muro cinctam posteris commendant 
 Basilius et Jana Fitzherbert 
 
 " ' Quercus arnica Jovi.' "* 
 
 A letter from an obliging correspond- 
 ent, whose initials are affixed, claims a 
 place here, in order to correct a literal 
 inaccuracy, and for the facts subsequently 
 mentioned. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 As the " Royal Oak day" will form 
 a prominent subject in your interesting 
 work, I beg to call your attention to the 
 fact, that colonel William Carlos was the 
 companion of his majesty, in his conceal- 
 ment in the tree in Boscobel wood, and 
 to hope that you will point out the right 
 mode of spelling his name ; Lord Cla- 
 rendon, and others who copy from 
 nim, always call him colonel Careless, 
 which is a vile misnomer. When a man 
 does an action worthy of record, it is 
 fiighly grievous to have his name spelt 
 Wrong : 
 
 " Thrice happy be whose name has been 
 
 well spelt 
 In the despatch. I knew a man whose loss 
 Was printed Grove, altho' his name was 
 
 Grose." Lord Byron. 
 
 * Stnkeley, Itiiiir. Curios. 17'i4. 
 
 A coat of arms and a grant of ballast- 
 age dues were made to the colonel ; but 
 the latter interfering with the rights of 
 the Trinity-house, was given up. A son 
 of the colonel is buried at Fulham church. 
 The book of " Boscobel," first printed 
 n 1660, contains accurate particulars of 
 the event I refer to : this little work you 
 have no doubt seen. I have seen a print 
 of W. Pendrill, in an oval, encircled 
 within the foliage of an oak tree, (as we 
 may still see king Charles's head on 
 some alehouse signs,) with a copy of 
 verses, in which the name of the colonel 
 is correctly spelt. 
 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 April \Q,^Q25. E. J. C. 
 
 The " Royal Oak'' at Boscobel perished 
 many years ago, but another tree has 
 been raised in its stead to mark the spot. 
 
 Another correspondent, "Amicus," who 
 writes to the editor under his real name, 
 favours the readers of this work with an 
 account of a usage still preserved, on 
 " Royal Oak day," in the west of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 At Tiverton Devon, on the 29th of 
 May, it is customary for a number of 
 young men, dressed in the style of the 
 17th century, and armed with swords, 
 to parade the streets, and gather contri- 
 butions from the inhabitants. At the 
 head of the procession walks a man 
 called " Oliver,'' dressed in black, with 
 his face and hands smeared over with 
 soot and grease, and his body bound by 
 a strong cord, the end of which is held 
 by one of the men to prevent his running 
 too far. After these come another troop, 
 dressed in the same style, each man 
 bearing a large branch of oak : four others, 
 carrying a kind of throne made of oaken 
 boughs on which a child is seated, briuT 
 up the rear. A great deal of meiriment 
 is excited among the boys, at the pranks 
 of master " Oliver," who capers about 
 in a most ludicrous manner. Some of 
 them amuse themselves by casting dirt, 
 whilst others, more mischievously in- 
 clined, throw stones at him ; but woe 
 betide the young urchin who is cauglit ; 
 his face assumes a most awful appear- 
 ance from the soot and grease with which 
 "Oliver" begrimes it, whilst his com- 
 panions, who have been lucky enough 
 to escape his clutches, testify their 
 
 359 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 pleasure by loud shouts and acclamations. 
 Jn the evening the whole party have a 
 feast, the expenses of which are defrayed 
 by the collection made in the morning. 
 I am, sir, yours, most obediently, 
 
 Amicus. 
 
 It has been customary on this day to 
 dress the statue of Charles II. in the 
 centre of the Royal Exchange with oaken 
 boughs. As the removal of this statue has 
 been contemplated, it may interest mer- 
 chants and persons connected with the 
 corporation, to be informed of the means 
 adopted for placing it there, A corres- 
 pondent, H. C. G., has enabled the editor 
 to do this, by favouring him with the 
 original precept issued by the court of 
 aldermen on the occasion. 
 
 SMITH, MAYOR. 
 " Martis Vndechno Die Novembr', 1684, 
 Annoque Regni Regis Caroli Secundi, 
 Angl', &c. Tricessimo Sexto. 
 
 " Whereas the statue of King Charles 
 the First (of Blessed Memory) is already 
 Set up on the Royal Exchange, And the 
 Company of Grocers have undertaken 
 to Set up the Statue of His present Ma- 
 jesty, And the Company of Clothworkers 
 that of King James, And the Companies 
 of Mercers and Fishmongers the Statues 
 of Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth, 
 And the Company of Drapers that of 
 Edward the Sixth, This Court doth 
 Recommend it to the several Companies 
 of this City hereafter named, (viz. The 
 Companies of Goldsmiths, Skinners, 
 Merchant-Taylors, Haberdashers, Salters, 
 Ironmongers, Vintners, Dyers, Brewers, 
 Leathersellers, Pewterers, Barber-Chi- 
 rurgeons. Cutlers, Bakers, Waxchandlers, 
 Tallowchandlers, Armourers, Girdlers, 
 Butchers, Sadlers,) to raise Money by 
 Contributions, or otherwise, for Setting 
 up the Statues of the rest of the Kings 
 of England (each Company One) be- 
 ginning at the Conqueror, as the Same 
 were There Set up before the Great Fire. 
 And for the better Order in Their pro- 
 ceeding herein, the Master and Wardens, 
 oi some Members of the said respective 
 Companies, are desired within some Con- 
 venient time to Appear before This Court, 
 and receive the further Directions of 
 This Court therein. 
 
 " And in regard of the Inability of the 
 Chamber of London to Advance Mo- 
 neys for the Carrying on and Finishing 
 the Conduit, begun to be Set un with 
 
 His Majesties Approbation, at the 
 Upper End of Cheapside, It is earnestly 
 Recommended from This Court to all 
 the Rest of the Companies of This City 
 (other than those before Named) to raise 
 Moneys likewise by Contributions, o\ 
 otherwise, for the Carrying on and 
 Finishing the said Work, so Necessary 
 to the Ornament of this City ; And to 
 Pay the Same into the Chamber, to be 
 Laid out and Imployed for the said 
 Purpose. " IFagstaffe." 
 
 It is affirmed of Charles II. that he was 
 mightily delighted with these beautiful 
 stanzas, 
 
 The glories of our blood and state 
 
 Are shadows, not substantial things; 
 There is no armour against fate , 
 Death lays his icy hands on kings : 
 Sceptre and crown 
 Must tumble down, 
 And in the dnst be equal made 
 With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 
 
 Some men with swords may reap the field, 
 And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 
 But their strong nerves at last must yield, 
 They tame but one another still. 
 Early or late, 
 They stoop to fate. 
 And must give up their murmuring breath. 
 When they pale captives creep to Death. 
 
 The garlands wither on your brow ; 
 
 Then boast no more your mighty deeds : 
 Upon Death's purple altar now 
 See where the victor victim bleeds; 
 All heads must come 
 To the cold tomb : 
 Only the actions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 
 
 If it be really true that this king admired 
 these sentiments, he is entitled to the 
 praise of having libelled himself by his 
 admiration of virtue. Waller in a letter 
 to St. Evremond, relates a dialogue be- 
 tween Charles and the earl of Rochester, 
 which shows the tenour of their manners. 
 Waller says, " Grammont once told 
 Rochester that if he could by any means 
 divest himself of one half of his wit, the 
 other half would make him the most 
 agreeable man in the world. This ob- 
 servation of the Count's did not strike 
 me much when I heard it, but I re- 
 marked the propriety of it since. Last 
 night I supped at lord Rochester's with 
 a select party ; on such occasions he is 
 not ambitious of shining; he is rather 
 pleasant than arch ; he is, comparatively, 
 reserved ; but you f nd something m that 
 
 3G0 
 
THE EVER\-DAY BOOK.— MAY 29. 
 
 restraint that is more ;igreeable than the 
 utmost exertion of talents in others. The 
 reserve of Rochester gives you the idea 
 of a copious river that tills its channel, 
 and seems as if it would easily overflow 
 its extensive banks, but is unwilling to 
 spoil the beauty and verdure of the 
 plains. The most perfect good humour 
 was supported through the whole even- 
 ing ; nor was it in the least disturbed 
 when, unexpectedly, towards the end of 
 it, the king came in (no unusual thins 
 with Charles II.) ' Something has vexed 
 him,' said Rochester; ' he never does 
 me this honour but when he is in an ill 
 humour.' The following dialogue, or 
 something very like it, then ensued : — 
 
 ' The King. — IIow the devil have I 
 got here ? The knaves have sold every 
 cloak in tlie wardrobe. 
 
 * Rochester. — Those knaves are fools. 
 That is a part of dress, which, for their 
 own sakes, your majesty ought never to 
 be without. 
 
 ' The King. — Pshaw ! I'm vexed ! 
 
 ' Rochester. — I hate still life — I'm 
 glad of it. Your majesty is never so 
 entertaining as when — 
 
 ' The King. — Ridiculous ! I bciieve 
 the English are the most intractable peo- 
 ple upon earth. 
 
 ' Rochester. — I must humbly beg your 
 majesty's pardon, if I presume in that 
 respect. 
 
 ' The King. — You would find them 
 so, were you in my place, and obliged to 
 govern. 
 
 ' Rochester. — Were I in your ma- 
 jesty's place, I would not govern at all. 
 
 < The King.— How then ? 
 
 * Rochester. — I would send for my 
 g-ood lord Rochester, and command him 
 to govern. 
 
 ' The King. — But the singular mo- 
 desty of that nobleman. 
 
 * Rochester. — He would certainly con- 
 form himself to your majesty's bright 
 example. How gloriously would the two 
 grand social virtues flourish under his 
 auspices ! 
 
 « The King.—O, prisca fides ! What 
 can these be ? 
 
 * Rochester. — The love of wine and 
 women ! 
 
 * The King. — God bless your ma- 
 iesty ! 
 
 'Rochester. — These attachments keep 
 the world in good humour, and therefore 
 I say they are social virtues. Let the 
 bishop of Salisbury deny it if he cav 
 
 ' TJie King.— lie died la t niglit 
 Have you a mind to succeed him? 
 
 ' Rochester. — On condition that 1 
 shall neither be called upon to preach on 
 the 30th of January nor the ^Qth of May. 
 
 ' The King. — Those conditions are 
 curious. You object to the first, I sup- 
 pose, because it would be a melancholy 
 subject ; but the other— 
 
 ' Rochester. — Would be a melancholy 
 subject too. 
 
 ' The King. — That is too much — 
 
 ' Rochester. — Nay, I only mean that 
 the business would be a little too grave 
 for the day. Nothing but the indulgence 
 of the two grand social virtues could be 
 a proper testimony for my joy upon that 
 occasion. 
 
 ' The King. — Thou art the happiest 
 fellow in my dominions. Let me perish 
 if I do not envy thee thy impudence ! ' 
 
 " It is in such strain of conversation, 
 generally, that this prince passes ofT his 
 chagrin ; and he never suffers his dignity 
 to stand in the way of his humour." 
 
 This showing is in favour of CharleSj 
 on whose character, as a king of England, 
 posterity has long since pronounced 
 judgment. A slave to his passions, and 
 a pensioner to France, he was unworthy 
 of the people's " precious diadem." He 
 broke his public faith, and disregarded 
 his private word. To the vessel of the 
 state he was a " sunk rock," whereon 
 it had nearly foundered. 
 
 Trinity Sunday. 
 
 In the Romish church this was a splendid 
 festival, with processions and services pe- 
 culiar to its celebration ; devotions were 
 daily addressed to every person of the 
 Trinity : as the other festivals comme- 
 morated the Unity in Trinity, so this 
 commemorated the Trinity in Unity.* 
 
 In the Lambeth accounts are church- 
 wardens' charges for garlands and drink 
 for the children, for garnishing-ribbons, 
 and for singing men in the procession on 
 Trinity-Sunday-even.f 
 
 It is still a custom of ancient usage for 
 the judges and great 'aw-officers of the 
 crown, together with the lord mayor, 
 aldermen, and common council, to attend 
 divine service at St. Paul's cathedral, and 
 hear a sermon which is always preached 
 there on Trinity Sunday by the lord 
 mayor's chaplain. At the first ensuing 
 meeting of the common council, it is 
 
 * S.iepherd. 
 
 t Lvsons in Brand. 
 
 361 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 3u 
 
 jsual for that court to pass a vote of 
 thanks to the chaplain for such sermon, 
 and order the same to be printed at the 
 expense of the corporation, unless, as 
 sometimes has Dccurred, it contained sen- 
 timents o moxious to their views. 
 
 In Curll's " Miscellanies, 1714," 8vo 
 is an account of Newnton, in North Wilt- 
 shire; where, to ptrpetuate the memory 
 of the donation of a oommon to that place 
 by king Athelstan and of a house for 
 the hayward, i. e. the person who looked 
 after the beasts that fed upon this com- 
 mon, the following ceremonies were 
 appointed : " Upon every Trinity Sun- 
 day, the parishioners being come to the 
 door of the hayward's house, the door 
 was struck thrice, in honour of the Holy 
 Trinity ; they then entered. The bell 
 was rung ; after which, silence being 
 ordered, they read their prayers aforesaid. 
 Then was a ghirland of flowers (about 
 the year 1660, one was killed striving to 
 take away the ghirland) made upon an 
 hoop, brought forth by a maid of the 
 town upon her neck, and a young man 
 (a bachelor) of another parish, first sa- 
 luted her three times, in honour of the 
 Trinity, in respect of God the Father. 
 Then she puts the ghirland upon his neck, 
 and kisses him three times, in honour of 
 the Trinity, particularly God the Son. 
 Then he puts the ghirland on her neck 
 again, and kisses her three times, in re- 
 spect of the Holy Trinity, and particu- 
 larly the Holy Ghost. Then he takes 
 the ghirland from her neck, and, by the 
 custom, must give her a penny at least, 
 which, as fancy leads, is now exceeded, as 
 2*. 6d. or &c. The method of giving 
 this ghirland is from house to house an- 
 nually, till it comes round. In the even- 
 ing every commoner sends his supper up 
 to this house, which is called the Eale- 
 house : and having before laid in there 
 equally a stock of malt, which was 
 brewed in the house, they sup together, 
 and what was left was given to the poor." 
 
 for a woman, as the second person of thf 
 Trinity.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Blue bottle. Ceiitanria montaua. 
 Dedicated to St. Cyril. 
 
 An old homily for Trinity Sunday de- 
 clares that the form of the Trinity was 
 found in man : that Adam, our forefather 
 of the earth, was the first person ; that 
 Eve, of Adam, was the second person; 
 and that of them both was the third per- 
 son : further, that at the death of a man 
 three bells were to be rung as his knell 
 m worship of the Trinity, and two bells 
 
 i^lap 30. 
 
 St. Felix I., Pope, a. d. '274. St. TFal- 
 stan. Confessor, a. d. 10)6. St. Ferdi- 
 nand III., Confessor, King of Castile 
 and Leon, a. d. VI52. St. Maguil, in 
 Latin, Madelgisilus, Recluse in Pi- 
 cardy, about a. v. 685. 
 
 Crinitj) iBoutrai)* 
 
 Deptford Fair. 
 Of late years a fair has been held at 
 Deptford on this day. It originated in 
 trifling pastimes for persons who assem- 
 bled to see the master and brethren of the 
 Trinity-house, on their annual visit to the 
 Trinity-house, at Deptford. First there 
 were jingling matches; then came a booth 
 or two ; afterwards a few shows ; and, in 
 1823, it was a very considerable fair 
 There were Richardson's, aiid other dra- 
 matic exhibitions ; the Crown and Anchor 
 booth, with a variety of dancing and 
 drinking booths, as at Greenwich fair this 
 year, before described, besides shows in 
 abundance. 
 
 Brethren of the Trinity-honse. 
 This maritime corporation, according to 
 their charter, meet annually on Trinity 
 Monday, in their hospital for decayed 
 sea-commanders and their widows at 
 Deptford, to choose and swear in a 
 master, wardens, and other ofiicers, for 
 the year ensuing. The importance or 
 ♦his institution to the naval interests of 
 the country, and the active duties re- 
 quired of its members, are of great mag- 
 nitude, and hence the master has usually 
 been a nobleman of distinguished rank 
 and statesman-like qualities, and his 
 associates are always experienced naval 
 officers : of late years lord Liverpool has 
 been master. The ceremony in 1825 was 
 thus conducted. The outer gates of the 
 hospital were closed against strangers, 
 and kept by a party of the hospital in- 
 habitants ; no person being allowed en- 
 trance without express permission. By 
 this means the large and pleasant 
 
 * Hone on Ancient My-.teries. 
 
 362 
 
rilE bVEIlY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 30. 
 
 court-yard formed by the quadrangle, 
 afforded ample accommodation to ladies 
 and atlier respectable persons. In the 
 mean time, the hall on the east side was 
 under preparation within, and the door 
 strictly guarded by constables stationed 
 without ; an assemblage of well-dressed 
 females and their friends, agreeably di- 
 versified the lawn. From eleven until 
 twelve o'clock, parlies of two or three 
 were so fortunate as to find favour in the 
 eyes of Mr. Snaggs, the gentleman who 
 conducted the arrangements, and gained 
 entrance. The hall is a spacious handsome 
 room, wherein divine seiviceis performed 
 Iwice a-week, and public business, as on 
 this occasion, transacted within a space 
 somewhat elevated, and railed off by 
 balustrades. On getting within the 
 doors, the eye was struck by the unex- 
 pected appearance of the boarded floor ; 
 it was strewed with green rushes, the use 
 of which by our ancestors, who lived 
 before floors were in existence, is well 
 known. The reason for continuing the 
 practice here, was not so apparent as the 
 look itself was pleasant, by bringing the 
 simple manners of other times to recol- 
 lection. At about one o'clock, the sound 
 of music having announced that lord 
 Liverpool and his associate brethren had 
 arrived within the outer gate, the hall 
 doors were thrown open, and the proces- 
 sion entered. His lordship wore the star 
 of the garter on a plain blue coat, with 
 scarlet collar and cuffs, which dress, being 
 the Windsor uniform, was also worn by 
 the other gentlemen. They were pre- 
 ceded by the rev. Dr. Spry, late of Bir- 
 mingham, now of Langham church, Port- 
 land-place, in full canonicals. After 
 taking their seats at the great table within 
 the balustrades, it was proclaimed, that 
 this being Trinity Monday, and therefore, 
 according to the charter, the day for 
 electing the master, deputy-master, and 
 elder brethren of the holy and undivided 
 Trinity, the brethren were required to 
 proceed to the election Lord Liverpool, 
 being thereupon nominated master, was 
 elected by a show of hands, as were his 
 coadjutors in like manner. The election 
 concluded, large silver and silver-gilt 
 oups, richly embossed and chased, filled 
 with cool drink, were handed round ; and 
 the doors bemg thrown open, and the 
 anxious expectants outside allowed to 
 enter, the hall was presently filled, and a 
 merry scene ensued. Large baskets filled 
 vxh biscuits were laid on the table before 
 
 the brethren ; Lord Liveipool tlien rose, 
 and throwing a biscuit into the middle ol 
 the hall, his example was followed by the 
 rest of the brethren. Shouts of laughter 
 arose, and a general scramble took place. 
 This scene continued about ten minutes, 
 successive baskets being brought in and 
 thrown among the assembly, until such as 
 chose to join in the scramble were su-p- 
 plied ; the banner-bearers of the Trinity- 
 house, in their rich scarlet dresses and 
 badges, who had accompanied the proces- 
 sion into the hall, increased the merri- 
 ment by their superior activity. A pro- 
 cession was afterwards formed, as before, 
 to Deptford old church, where divine 
 service was performed, and Dr. Spry 
 being appointed to preach before the 
 brethren, he delivered a sermon from 
 Psalm cxlv. 9. " The Lord is good to all, 
 and his tender mercies are over all his 
 works.'' The discourse being ended, the 
 master and brethren returned in proces- 
 sion to their state barges, which lay at the 
 stairs of Messrs. Gordon & Co , anchor- 
 smiths. Tliey were then rowed back to 
 the Tower, where they had embarked, m 
 order to return to the Trinity-house from 
 whence they had set out. Most of the 
 vessels in the river hoisted their colours 
 in honour of the corporation, and salutes 
 %vere fired from different parts on shore. 
 The Trinity-yacht, which lay off" St. 
 George's, near Deptford, was completely 
 hung with the colours of all nations, and 
 presented a beautiful appearance. Indeed 
 the whole scene was very delightful, and 
 created high feelings in those who recol- 
 lected that to the brethren of the Trinity 
 are confided some of the highest functions 
 that are exercised for the protection or 
 life and property on our coasts and seas. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 Though I have not the pleasure of a 
 personal acquaintance, I know enough to 
 persuade me that you are no every-day 
 body. The love of nature seems to form 
 so prominent a trait in your character, 
 that I, who am also one of her votaries, 
 can rest no longer without communicating 
 with you on the subject. I like, too, the 
 sober and solitary feeling with which yoj 
 ruminate over by-gone pleasures, and 
 scenes wherein your youth delighted : 
 for, though I am but young myself, I have 
 witnessed by far too many changes, and 
 
 363 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 30. 
 
 have had cause to indulge too frequently 
 iu such cogitations, 
 
 I am a " Surrey-man," as the worthy 
 'iuthor of the " Athense Oxon." would 
 say : and though born with a desire to 
 ramble, and a mind set on change, I have 
 
 of modern day. Give me the " mtisical 
 pyping" and " pleasaunte songes " o\ 
 olden tyme, and I care not whether any 
 more " ditees " of the kind are concocted 
 till doomsday. 
 
 But I must not leave the singing ot 
 
 never till lately had an opportunity of birds where I found it : I love to heai 
 
 strolling so far northward as " ould Isel- the fiightingales emulating each other, 
 
 ton," or " merry Islmgton :" — you may and forming, by their " sweet jug jug," a 
 
 take which reading you please, but I pre- means of communication from one skirt 
 
 fer the first But from the circumstance of the wood to the other, while every tree 
 
 seems joying in the sun's first rays. There 
 is such a wildness and variety in the note, 
 that I could listen to it, unwearied, for 
 hours. The dew still lies on the ground, 
 and there is a breezy freshness about us : 
 as our walk is continued, a " birde of 
 songe, and mynstrell of the woode," 
 holds the tenor of its way across the path : 
 — but it is no " noiseless tenor." " Sweet 
 
 of your " w»}k out of London " having 
 been directed that way, and having led 
 you into so pleasant a mood, I am in- 
 duced to look for similar enjoyment in 
 my rambling excursions through its 
 " town-like" and dim atmosphere. I 
 am not ashamed to declare, that my taste 
 in these matters differs widely from that 
 of the " great and good " Johnson ; who, 
 though entitled, as a constellation of no jug, jug, jug," says the olde balade : — 
 ordinary " brilliance," to the high sound- 
 ing name of " the Great Bear," (which I 
 am not the first to appropriate to him,) 
 seems to have set his whole soul on 
 " bookes olde," and " modern authors " 
 of every other description, while the book 
 of nature, which was schooling the negro- 
 wanderer of the desert, proffered nothing 
 to arrest his attention ! Day unto day 
 
 " Sweet jug, jugr, jusr, 
 The nightingale doth sing, 
 From morning until evening, 
 As they are hay -making." 
 
 Was this " songe" put into their throats 
 " aforen y* this balade ywritten was ?" 
 I doubt it, but in later day Wordsworth 
 was uttering speech, and night unto and Conder ha' e made use of it ; but they 
 night showing knowledge ; the sun was are both poets of nature, and might have 
 going forth in glory, and the placid moon fancied it in the song itself. 
 " walking in briglitness ;" and could he I look to my schoolboy days as the 
 close his ears, and revert his gaze ? — " De happiest I ever spent : but I was never 
 gustibus nil disputandum " I cannot say, a genius, and laboured under habitual 
 for I do most heartily protest against his laziness, and love of ease : " the which," 
 taste in such matters. as Andrew Borde says, " doth much 
 
 " The time of the singing of birds is comber young persones." I often rose 
 come," but, what is the worst of it, all for a " laik," but seldom with it, though 
 these " songsters" are not " feathered." I have more than once "cribbed out" 
 There is a noted "Dickey" bird, who betimes, and always found enough to 
 took it into his head, so long ago as the reward me for it. But these days are 
 25th of December last, to " sing through gone by, and you will find below all 1 
 the heavens,"* — but I will have nothing have to say of the matter " collected into 
 tc do with the " Christemasse Caroles " English metre :" — 
 
 Years of my boyhood ! have you passed away ? 
 
 Days of my youth and have you fled for ever ? 
 Can I but joy when o'er my fancy stray 
 
 Scenes of young hope, which time has failed to sever 
 From this fond heart : — for, the' all else decay, 
 
 The memory of those times will perish never. — 
 Time cannot blight it, norths tooth of care 
 Those wayward dreams of joyousness impair. 
 
 Still, with the bright May-dew, the grass is wet , 
 
 No human step the slumbering earth has prest : 
 Cheering as hope, the sun looks forth ; and yet 
 
 There is a weight of sorrow on my breast : 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY 30 
 
 Life, light, and joy, his smiling beams beget. 
 
 But yield they aught, to sootiie a mind distrest; 
 Can tlie heart, cross'd with cares, and born to sorrow, 
 From Nature's smiles one ray of comfort borrow 1 
 
 But I must syir.patliize with you in 
 your reflections, amid those haunts 
 which are endeared by many a tie, on 
 the decay wrought by time and events. 
 An old house is an old friend ; a dingy 
 " tenement " is a poor relation, who has 
 seen better days ; " it looks, as it would 
 look its last," on the surrounding inno 
 vations, and wakes feelings in my bosom 
 which have no vent in words. Its " im- 
 bowed windows," projecting each story 
 beyond the other, go to disprove Bacon's 
 notion, that " houses are made to live in, 
 and not to look on ;'' they give it a hroio- 
 beating air, though its days of " pomp 
 and circumstance'' are gone by, and have 
 left us cheerlessly to muse and mourn over 
 its ruins : — 
 
 Oh ! I can gaze, and think it quite a treat, 
 So they be OltJ, on buildings grin: and 
 shabby ; 
 T love within the church's walls to greet 
 Some " olde man " kneeling, bearded liKC a 
 rabbi, 
 Who never prayed himself, but has a v/him 
 That you'll " Oratt," that is—" prai)f " for 
 him. 
 
 But this has introduced me to another 
 and an equally pleasing employ ; that 
 of traversing the aisles of our country 
 churches, and " meditating among the 
 tombs." I dare not go farther, for I am 
 such an enthusiast, that I shall soon 
 write down your patience 
 
 You expressed a wish for my name 
 and address, on the cover of your third 
 part ; I enclose them : but I desire to 
 be known to the public by no other de- 
 signation than my old one. 
 
 I am, dear sir. 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Cambertcell. Lector. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1431. Joan of Arc, the maid of Or- 
 leans was burnt. This cruel death was 
 mflicted on her, in consequence of the 
 remarkable events hereafter narrated. 
 Her memory is revered by Frenchmen, 
 and rendered more popular, through a 
 poem by Voltaire, emment for its wit and 
 licentioiisness. One ot our own poets, 
 Mr. Southey, has an epic to her honour. 
 
 rOUNTAIN. 
 
 Erected in the old Market-place at Roven, 
 on the spot whereon 
 
 Soan of ^vt 
 
 WAS BURNT. 
 
 In the petty town of Neufchateau, on 
 the borders of Lorraine, there lived a 
 country girl of twenty-seven years of age, 
 called Joan d'Arc. She was servant in s 
 small inn, and in that station had been 
 accnstoTved to ride the horses of the 
 
 8G^ 
 
THE EVERY-UAY BOOR.— MAY 30 
 
 guests, without a saddle, to the watering- 
 plaee, and to perforin other offices, whicli, 
 in well-frequented inns, commonly fall to 
 the share of the men-servants. This girl 
 was of an irreproachable life, and had not 
 hitherto been remarked for any singu- 
 larity. The peculiar character of Charles, 
 so strongly inclined to friendship, and the 
 tender passions, naturally rendered him 
 the hero of that sex whose generous minds 
 know no bounds in their affections. Tiie 
 siege of Orleans, the progress of the Eng- 
 lish before that place, the great distress of 
 the garrison and inhabitants, the import- 
 ance of saving this city, and its brave de- 
 fenders, had turned thither the public 
 eye ; and Joan, inflamed by the general 
 sentiment, was seized with a wild desire 
 of bringing relief to her sovereign in his 
 present distresses. Her unexperienced 
 mind, working day and night on this fa- 
 vourite object, mistook the impulses of 
 passion for heavenly inspirations ; and 
 she fancied that she saw visions, and 
 heard voices, exhorting her to reestablish 
 the throne of France, and to expel the 
 foreign invaders. An uncommon intre- 
 pidity of temper, made her overlook all 
 the dangers which might attend her in 
 such a path ; and, thinking herself des- 
 tined by heaven to this office, she threw 
 aside all that bashfulness and timidity so 
 natural to her sex, her years, and her low 
 station. She went to Vaiicouleurs ; pro- 
 cured admission to Baudricourt, the go- 
 vernor; informed him of her inspirations 
 and intentions ; and conjured him not to 
 neglect the voice of God, who spoke 
 through her, but to second those heavenly 
 revelations which impelled her to this 
 glorious enterprise Baudricourt treated 
 her, at first, with some neglect ; but, on 
 her frequent returns to him, he gave her 
 some attendants, who conducted her to 
 the French court, which at that time re- 
 sided at Chinoi.. 
 
 It is pretended, that Joan, immediately 
 on her admission, knew the king, though 
 she had never seen his face before, and 
 though he purposely kept himself in the 
 crowd of courtiers, and had laid aside 
 every thing in his dress and apparel which 
 might distinguish him : that she offered 
 him, in the name « f the supreme Creator, 
 to raise the siege of Orleans, and conduct 
 him to Rheims, to be there crowned and 
 anointed ; and, on his expressing doubts 
 of her mission, revealed to him, before 
 some sworn confidants, a secret, which 
 was unknown to all the world beside 
 himself, and which nothing but a heavenly 
 
 inspiration could have discovered to her : 
 and that she demanded, as the instrument 
 of her future victories, a particular sword, 
 which was kept in the church of St. Ca- 
 therine of Fierbois, and which, though 
 she had never seen it, she described by all 
 its marks, and by the place in which it 
 had long lain neglected. This is certain, 
 that all these miraculous stories were 
 spread abroad, in order to captivate the 
 vulgar. The more the king and his 
 ministers were determined to give in to 
 the illusion, the more scruples they pre- 
 tended. An assembly of grave doctors 
 and theologians cautiously examined 
 Joan's mission, and pronounced it un- 
 doubted and supernatural. She was sent 
 to the parliament, then at Poictiers, who 
 became convinced of her inspiration. A 
 ray of hope began to break through that 
 despair in which the minds of all men 
 were before enveloped. She was armed 
 cap-a-pee, mounted on horseback, and 
 shown in that martial habiliment before 
 the whole people. 
 
 Joan was sent to Blois, where a large con- 
 voy was prepared for the supply of Or- 
 leans, and an army of ten thousand men, 
 under the command of St. Severe, assem- 
 bled to escort it ; she ordered all the 
 soldiei-s to confess themselves before they 
 set out on the enterprise ; and she displayed 
 in her hands a (;onsecrated banner, where- 
 on the Supi-eme Being was represented, 
 grasping tire globe of earth, and sur- 
 rounded with flower-de-luces. 
 
 The English afl'ected to speak with de- 
 rision of the maid, and of her heavenly 
 commission; and said, that the French 
 king was now indeed reduced to a sorry 
 pass, when he had recourse to such ridicu 
 lous expedients. As the convoy approached 
 the river, a sally was made by the garn- 
 .son on the side of Beausse, to prevent the 
 English general from sending any detach- 
 ment to the other side : the provisions 
 were peaceably embar-ked in boats, which 
 the inhabitants of Orleans had sent to 
 receive them : the maid covered with her 
 troops the embarkation : Suffolk did not 
 venture to attack her ; and Joan entered 
 the city of Orleans arrayed in her military 
 garb, and displaying her consecrated 
 standard. She was received as a celestial 
 deliverer by all the inhabitants, who now 
 believed themselves invincible under hei 
 influence. Victory followed upon victory, 
 and the spirit resulting from a long course 
 of uninterrupted success was on a sudden 
 transferred from the conquerors to the 
 conauered The maid called aloud, that 
 
 366 
 
THE FAERY-DAY 1300K.-MAY 30. 
 
 the garrison should remain no longer on 
 the defensive. The generals seconded her 
 ardour : an attack was made on the Eng- 
 lish intrenchments, and all were put to 
 the sword, or taken prisoners. Nothing, 
 after this success, seemed impossible to 
 the maid and her enthusiastic votaries ; 
 yet, in one attack, the French were re- 
 pulsed ; the maid was left almost alone ; 
 she was obliged to retreat ; but displaying 
 her sacred standard, she led them back to 
 the ch-i-ge, and overpowered the English 
 in tneir intrenchments. In the attack of 
 another fort, she was wounded in the 
 neck with an arrow ; she retreated a mo- 
 ment beliind the assailants; pulled out 
 the arrow with her own hands; had the 
 wound quickly dressed ; hastened back to 
 head the troops ; planted her victorious 
 banner on the ramparts of the enemy ; 
 returned triumphant over the bridge, and 
 was again received as the guardian angel 
 of the city. After performing such mi- 
 racles, it was in vain even for the English 
 generals to oppose with their soldiers the 
 prevailing opinion of supernatural influ- 
 ence : the utmost they dared to advance 
 was, that Joan was not an instrument of 
 God, but only the implement of the devil. 
 In the end the siege of Orleans was raised, 
 and the English thought of nothing but 
 of making their retreat, as soon as pos- 
 sible, into a place of safety ; while the 
 French esteemed the overtaking them 
 equivalent to a victory. So much had the 
 events which passed before this city 
 altered every thing between the two na- 
 tions ! The raising of the siege of Orleans 
 was one part of the maid's promise to 
 Charles : the crowning of him at Rheinis 
 was the other : and she now vehemently 
 insisted that he should forthwith set out 
 on that enterprise. A few weeks before, 
 such a proposal would have appeared the 
 most extravagant in the world. Rheims 
 lay in a distant quarter of the kingdom ; 
 was then in the hands of a victorious 
 enemy ; the whole road which led to it 
 was occupied by their garrisons ; and no 
 man could be so sanguine as to imagine 
 that such an attempt could so soon come 
 within the bounds of possibility. The 
 enthusiasm and influence of Joan pre- 
 vailed over all obstacles. Charles set out 
 for Rheims at the head of twelve thousand 
 men : ho passed Troye, which opened its 
 gates to him : Chalons imitated the ex- 
 ample: Rheims sent him a deputation with 
 its keys, before his approach to it ; and 
 the ceremony of his coronation was tliere 
 performed, with the maid of Orleans by 
 
 his side in complete armour, displaying 
 ht-r sacred banner, which had so often 
 dissipated and confounded his fiercest 
 enemies. The people shouted with un- 
 feigned joy on viewing such a complica- 
 tion of wonders, and after the completion 
 of the ceremony, the maid threw herself 
 at the king's feet, embraced his knees^ 
 and with a flood of tears, which pleasure 
 and tenderness extorted from her, she 
 congratulated him on this singular and 
 marvellous event. 
 
 The duke of Bedford, who was regent 
 during the minority of Henry VI., endea- 
 voured to revive the declining state of his 
 affairs by bringing over the young king of 
 England, and having him crowned and 
 anointed at Paris. The maid of Orleans, 
 after the coronation of Charles, declared to 
 the count of Dunois, that her wishes were 
 now fully gratified, and that she had no 
 farther desire than to return to her former 
 condition and to the occupation and 
 course of life which became her sex : but 
 that nobleman, sensible of the great ad- 
 vantages which might still be reaped from 
 her presence in the army, exhorted hei to 
 persevere, till, by the final expulsion of 
 the English, she had brought all her pro- 
 phecies to their full completion. In pur- 
 suance of this advice, she threw herself 
 into the town of Compiegne, which was 
 at that time besieged by the duke of Bur- 
 gundy, assisted by the earls of Arundel 
 and Suffolk ; and the garrison, on her ap- 
 pearance, believed themselves henceforth 
 invincible. But their joy w&s of short 
 duration. The maid, next day after her 
 arrival (25th of May,) headed a sally upon 
 the quarters of John of Luxembourg ; she 
 twice drove the enemy from their intrench- 
 ments; finding their numbers to increase 
 every moment, she ordered a retreat ; 
 when hard pressed by the pursuers, she 
 turned upon them, and made them again 
 recoil ; but being here deserted by her 
 friends, and surrounded by the enemy, 
 she was at last, after exerting the utmost 
 valour, taken prisoner by the Burgun- 
 dians. The common opinion was, that the 
 French oflScers, finding the merit of every 
 victory ascribed to her, had, in envy to 
 her renown, by which they themselves 
 were so much eclipsed, willingly exposed 
 her to this fatal accident. 
 
 A complete victory would not have 
 given more joy to the English and their 
 partisans. The service of Te Deum, 
 which has so often been profaned oy 
 princes, was publicly celebrated on this 
 fortunate event at Paris. The duke of 
 
 367 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— MAY, 31. 
 
 Bedford fancied, that, by the captivity 
 of that extraordinary woman, who had 
 blasted all his successes, he should again 
 recover his former ascendant over France ; 
 and, to push farther the present advan- 
 tage, he purchased the captive from John 
 of Luxembourg, and formed a prosecu- 
 tion against her, which, whether it pro- 
 ceeded from vengeance or policy, was 
 equally barbarous and dishonourable. It 
 was contrived, that the bishop of Beau- 
 vais, a man wholly devoted to the English 
 interest, should present a petition against 
 Joan, on pretence that she was taken 
 within the bounds of his diocese ; and he 
 desired to have her tried by an ecclesias- 
 tical court, for sorcery, impiety, idolatry, 
 and magic. The university of Paris was 
 so mean as to join in the same request : 
 several prelates, among whom the cardi- 
 nal of Winchester was the only English- 
 man, were appointed her judges : they 
 held their court at Rouen, where the 
 young king of England then resided : and 
 the maid, clothed in her former military 
 apparel, but loaded with irons, was pro- 
 duced before this tribunal. Surrounded by 
 inveterate enemies, and brow-beaten and 
 overawed by men of superior rank, and 
 men invested with the ensigns of a sacred 
 character, which she had been accustomed 
 to revere, felt her spirit at last subdued ; 
 Joan gave way to the terrors of that pu- 
 nishment to which she was sentenced. 
 She declared herself willing to recant ; 
 acknowledged the illusion of those reve- 
 lations which the church had rejected; 
 and promised never more to maintam 
 them. Iler sentence was mitigated : she 
 was condemned to perpetual imprison- 
 ment, and to be fed during life on 
 bread and water. But the barbarous ven- 
 geance of Joan's enemies was not satisfied 
 with this victory. Suspecting that the 
 female dress, which she had now consent- 
 ed to wear, was disagreeable to her, they 
 purposely placed in her apartment a suit 
 of men's apparel, and watched for the 
 effects of that temptation upon her. On 
 the si'^ht of a dress in which she had ac- 
 quired so much renown, and which, she 
 once believed, she wore by the particular 
 appointment of heaven, all her former 
 vdeas and passions revived ; and she 
 ventured in her solitude to clothe herself 
 again in the forbidden garment. Her 
 insidious enemies caught her in that situ- 
 ation : her fault was interpreted to be no 
 less than a relapse into heresy : no recan- 
 tation would now suffice, and no pardon 
 could be granted her. She was condemn- 
 
 ed to be burned in the maiket-place of 
 Rouen, and the infamous sentence was 
 accordingly executed. This admirable 
 heroine, to whom the more generous su- 
 perstition of the ancients would have 
 erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy 
 and magic, delivered over alive to the 
 flames, and expiated, by that dreadful 
 punishment, the signal services which she 
 had rendered to her native country. To 
 the eternal infamy of Charles and his 
 adherents, whom she had served and 
 saved, they made not a single effort, either 
 by force or negociation, to save this heroic 
 girl from the cruel death to which she had 
 been condemned. Hume says she was 
 burnt on the 14th of June. According 
 to Lingard she perished on the 30th of 
 May. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lesser Spearwort Ranunculus flam- 
 
 mula. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Ferdinand. 
 
 iilap 31. 
 
 5/. Petronilla, 1st Cent. St. Canthis and 
 Cantiunns, brothers, and Cantiani'llaj 
 their sister, a. d. 304. 
 
 St. Petronilla. 
 " Her name," says Butler, " is the fe- 
 minine, and diminutive of Peter, and she is 
 said to have been a daughter of the apostle 
 St. Peter, which tradition is confirmed by 
 certain writings, quoted by the Manichees, 
 m the time of St. Austin, which affirm, 
 that St. Peter had a daughter whom he 
 cured of the palsy ; but it seems not cer- 
 tain whether she was more than the spi- 
 ritual daughter of that apostle." Riba 
 deneira refers to these Manichsean writings, 
 by which, according to Butler, the " tradi- 
 tion is confirmed," and unluckily for But- 
 ler, he says, that St. Augustine calls these 
 writings apocryphal. Ribadeneira care- 
 fully adds though, that Augustine " doth 
 not therefore reprove it as false." Yet 
 it is curious to find this jesuit telling of 
 Augustine, that he teacheth, " that ivith- 
 out prejudice of charity we may chastise 
 the body of our enemy, the heretic, for 
 the salvation of his soul." This saying of 
 Augustine's is wholly uncalled for by any 
 thing that Ribadeneira says regarding Pe- 
 tronilla; it is a hot puff of a fiery spirit. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Tuikscap Lily. Lilixnn 
 ponicum flavum. 
 Dedicated to St. Petronilla. 
 
 Pom- 
 
 368 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JUNE. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 And after her came jolly June, array 'd 
 
 All in green leaves, as he a player were ; 
 Yet in his time he wrought as well as play'd, 
 
 That by his plough -irons mote right well appeare. 
 Upon a crab he rode, that him did bare 
 
 With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase, 
 And backward-yode, as bargemen wont to fare 
 
 Bending their force contrary to their face ; 
 
 Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest grace. 
 
 This IS the sixth month of the year. 
 According to an old author " unto June 
 the Saxons gave the name of JVeyd-monat, 
 because their beasts did then weyd in 
 the meddowes, that is to say, goe to feed 
 there, and hereof a medow is also in the 
 Tutonicke called a tceyd, and of weyd we 
 yet retaine our word wade, which we un- 
 derstand of going through watrie places, 
 such as medowes are wont to be.""* 
 Another author likewise says, that " weyd 
 is probably derived from weyden (Ger- 
 man), to go about as if to pasture ;" he 
 further says, they called it TVoedmoriath, 
 and that woed means " weed "; and that 
 
 SpeTistr, 
 
 they called it also by the following names i 
 Medemonath, Midsumormonath, and 
 Braeckmovath ; thought to be so named 
 from the breakirig up of the soil from 
 hrcccan (Saxon), to break : they also 
 named it Lida erra ; the word Lida, or 
 litha, signifying in Icelandic, " to move, 
 or pass over," may iiriply the sun's passing 
 its greatest height, and Lida erra conse- 
 quently mean the first month of the sun's 
 descent. Lida, it is added, has been 
 deemed to signify smooth-air.* 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt observes, in his 
 " Months," that " the name of June, 
 and indeed that of JNIay, gave rise to 
 
 * Vcnte^en. 
 
 * Dr. F. Say«rt. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 J69 
 
 2 B 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE. 
 
 various etymologies ; but the most pro- 
 bable one derives it from Juno, in honour 
 of whom a festival was celebrated at the 
 beginning of the month." He says, " it 
 is now complete summer :— > 
 
 ' Summer is yeomen in, 
 fx)ud sing cuckoo ; 
 
 Groweth seed, 
 
 And bloweth mead. 
 And spriugeth the weed new. 
 
 " Thus sings the oldest English song 
 extant, in a measure which is its own 
 music. — The temperature of the air, how- 
 ever, is still mild, and in our climate 
 sometimes too chilly ; but when the sea- 
 son is fine, this is, perhaps, the most de- 
 lightful month of the year. The hopes of 
 spring are realized, yet the enjoyment is 
 but commenced : we have all summer be- 
 fore us ; the cuckoo's two notes are now 
 at what may be called their ripest, — deep 
 and loud ; so is the hum of the bee ; 
 little clouds lie in lumps of silver about 
 the sky, and sometimes fall to complete 
 the growth of the herbage ; yet we may 
 now lie down on the grass, or the flower- 
 ing banks, to read or write ; the grass 
 hoppers click about us in the warming 
 verdure ; and the fields and hedges are in 
 full blossom with the clover, the still more 
 exquisite bean, the pea, the blue and yel- 
 low nightshade, the fox-glove, the mallow, 
 white briony, wild honeysuckle, and the 
 flower of the hip or wild rose, which 
 blushes through all the gradations of 
 delicate red and white. The leaves of 
 the hip, especially the young ones, are as 
 beautiful as those of any garden rose. 
 Towards evening, the bat and the owl 
 venture forth, flitting through the glim- 
 mering quiet ; and at night, the moon 
 looks silveriest, the sky at once darkest 
 and clearest ; and when the nightingale, 
 as well as the other birds have done sing- 
 ing, you may hear the undried brooks of 
 the spring running and panting through 
 their leafy channels. ' It ceased,' says 
 the poet, speakintr of a sound of heavenly 
 voices about a sliip,^ 
 
 It ceased , yet still the sails made on 
 
 A pleasant noise till noon, 
 
 A noise like of a hidden brook, 
 
 In the leafy month of June, 
 That to the sleeping woods ail night 
 
 Singeth a quiet tune. 
 
 Coieridge 
 
 " There is a greater accession ot flowers. 
 
 in this month than in any other. In ad- 
 dition to those of the last, the garden 
 sparkles with marygolds, golden-road, 
 larkspur, sun-flowers, amarynths, (which 
 Milton intermingles with sun-beams for 
 his angel's hair,) lupins, carnations, Chi- 
 nese pinks, holyhocks, ladies' slipper, 
 annual stocks, campanulas, or little bells 
 martagons, periwinkles, wall-flower, snap- 
 dragon, orchis, nasturtium, apocynum, 
 chrysanthemum, cornflower, gladiolus 
 and convolvulus. The reader who is 
 fond of poetry, and of the Greek fables, 
 and does not happen to be acquainted 
 with professor Martyn's notes upon Vir- 
 gil, should here be informed, that the 
 species of red lily, called the martagon 
 or Turk's-cap, has been proved by that 
 writer, at least to our satisfaction, to be 
 the real ancient hyacinth, into which the 
 youth of that name was turned by Apollo. 
 The hyacinth, commonly so called, has 
 nothing to show for its being the ancient 
 one, which should be of a blood colour, 
 and was said to be inscribed with the 
 Greek exclamation of sorrow AI, AI. 
 Now, we were struck with the sort of 
 literal black marks with which the Turk's- 
 cap is speckled, and on reading the pro- 
 fessor's notes, and turning to the flower 
 again, we could plainly see, that with 
 fome allowance, quite pardonable in a 
 superstition, the marks might now and 
 then fall together, so as to indicate those 
 characters. It is a most beautiful, glow- 
 ing flower ; and shoots gracefully forth iu 
 a vase or glass from among white lilies 
 and the double narcissus :^ 
 
 Nil*' vaKirde, AaXei ra aa ygafx/iara, Kut 
 ■nXeov At Ai 
 Aaixfiave aots TreraXodr*, 
 
 Hloschus 
 
 ' Now tell your story, Hyacinth ; and show 
 ^i Ai the more amidst your sanguine woe.* 
 
 " Tlie rural business of this month is 
 made up of two employments, as beauti- 
 ful to look at as they are useful,-^sheep- 
 shearing and hay-making. Something 
 like a holiday is still made of the former, 
 and in the south-west of England, the cus 
 tom, we believe, is still kept up, of throw- 
 ing flowers into the streams, an evident 
 relic of paganism ; but, altogether, the 
 holiday is but a gleam of the fianie merry 
 period in the cheap and rural time of c it 
 ancestors." 
 
 370 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 1, 2. 
 
 Sunt 1. 
 
 St Justin, Martyr, a. d. 167. St. Pam- 
 philiis, A.D. 309. 3i. Caprais, Abbot, 
 A. D. 430. St. Peter, of Pisa, a. d. 
 1435. St. TVistan, Prince of Mercia, 
 A. D. 849. 
 
 .S^ Nicomede. 
 
 This saint is in the English almanacs 
 of this day ; for what reason is unknown. 
 He was an ancient martyr in no way 
 distinguished from others who perished 
 during the persecution under Domitian. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1794 Lord Howe's memorable vic- 
 tory by sea over the French fleet. 
 
 1814. A newspaper of this day notices 
 that the Tuesday preceding was observed 
 at Burton, in Dorsetshire, as a great fes- 
 tival, in consequence of the arrival at 
 that place of a vat of Hambro' yarn, 
 from London, being the first that had 
 come into the town for many years. The 
 inhabitants met the waggon, took out the 
 horse, decorated the vat with ribands, 
 and various emblems of peace, plenty, 
 trade and commerce, and drew the same 
 through the village, preceded by a flag 
 and band of music, amidst the acclama- 
 tions of thousands, many of whom were 
 regaled with bread, cheese, and strong 
 beer: one loaf (among others) baked for 
 the occasion, claimed the admiration of 
 everyone present; its length being six 
 feet three inches, breadth twenty-one 
 inches, depth fourteen inches, and its 
 weight considerably above 100 lbs. To 
 explain the occasion of this rejoicing, it is 
 necessary to state that Burton, as a manu- 
 facturing place, had suffered under the 
 privation which was felt more or less 
 throughout the British dominions, by 
 Buonaparte declaring them to be in a 
 state of blockade. By this decree, from 
 the continent of Europe being within his 
 power, he was enabled to injure and de- 
 range the industry and commerce of our 
 artisans and merchants to an extent that 
 was not contemplated. They have hap- 
 pily been liberated by an unlooked-for, 
 and wonderful, combination of circum- 
 stances ; nor so long as good faith and 
 wise dispositions prevail, can they be 
 prevented from arriving to a height of 
 prosperity unparalleled in our annals. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Rose. Rosa lutea. 
 Dedicated to St. Justin 
 
 Sftnie 2. 
 
 Sts. Pothinns, Bp. Sanctus, Attains 
 Blandi)ia, &c., of Lyons, a. u. 177. Sts 
 Marcelltnns and Peter^ a. d. 304. St. 
 Erasmus, or Ermo, or Elmo, a. d. 303. 
 
 Corpus CI;rigti Bau, 
 
 and the performance of 
 
 This grand festival of the Romish 
 church is held on the Thursday next after 
 Trinity Sunday, in which order it also 
 stands in the church of England calendar, 
 and in the English almanacs. It celebrates 
 the doctrine of transubstantiation. In aK 
 Roman catholic countries it is observed 
 with music, lights, flowers strewed in the 
 street, rich tapestries hung upon the walls, 
 and with other demonstrations of re- 
 joicing :* this is the usage still. An- 
 ciently in this country, as well as abroad, 
 it was the custom to perform plays on 
 this day, representing scripture subjects. 
 From an author before cited, the follow- 
 ing verses relating to these manners are 
 extracted : — 
 
 " Then doth ensue the solemne feast 
 
 of Corpus Christi Day, 
 Who then can shewe their wicked use, 
 
 and fond and foolish play ? 
 The hallowed bread, with worship great, 
 
 in silver pix they beare 
 About the church, or in the citie 
 
 passing here and tlieare. 
 His armes that heares the same two of 
 
 the welthiest men do holde, 
 And over him a canopey 
 
 of silke and cloth of golde. 
 Christe's passion here derided is, 
 
 with stindrie viaakes aitd plat/es, 
 Faire Ursley, with hir maydens all, 
 
 doth passe amid the wayes : 
 And. valiant George, with speare thou killest 
 
 the dreadful! dragon here, 
 The Devil's house is draivne about, 
 
 wherein there doth oppere 
 A wondrous sort of damned sprites, 
 
 with fonlc and fearefull looke, 
 Great Christopher doth wade and passe 
 
 with Christ amid the brooke : 
 Sebastian full of feathred shaftes, 
 
 the dint of dart doth feele, 
 There walketh Kathren, with hir sworde 
 
 in hand, and cruel wheele : 
 The Challis and the singing Cake 
 
 with Barbara is led, 
 And siindrie other pageants plat/de, 
 
 in worship of this bred. 
 
 371 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY IJOOK.— JUNE 2 
 
 riie common ways with bowes are strawde, 
 
 and every streete beside, 
 And to the walles and windowes all 
 
 are bonghes and braunches tide. 
 The monkes in every place do roanie, 
 
 the uonnes abrode are sent, 
 The priestes and schoolmen lowd do rore, 
 
 some use the instrument. 
 The straunger passing through the Etreete, 
 
 upon his knees doc fall : 
 And earnestly upon this bread, 
 
 as on his God, doth call. 
 For why, they counte it for their Lorde, 
 
 and tiiat he dotli not take 
 Tlie form of flesh, but nature now 
 
 of breade that we do bake. 
 A number great of armed men 
 
 here all this while do stande, 
 To looke that no disorder be, 
 
 nor any filching hande : 
 For all the chiirch-goodes out are brought, 
 
 which certainly would bee 
 A bootie good, if every man 
 
 might have his libertie."* 
 
 The Religious Plays performed on 
 Corpus Christi Day, in the times of su- 
 perstition, were such as were represented 
 at other periods, though with less cere- 
 mony. From a volume on the subject, by 
 the editor of the Every- Day-book he, re- 
 lates so much as may set forth their origin 
 and the nature of the performances. 
 
 Origin of Religions Plays. 
 
 A Jewish play, of which fragments are 
 still preserved in Greek iambics, is the 
 first drama known to have been written 
 on a scripture subject. It is taken from 
 Exodus : a performer, in the character of 
 Moses, delivers the prologue in a speech 
 of sixty lines, and his rod is turned into a 
 serpent on the stage. The play is sup- 
 posed to have been written at the close 
 of the second century, by one Ezekiel, a 
 Jew, as a political spectacle to animate 
 his dispersed brethren with the hopes of a 
 future deliverance from their captivity. 
 
 The emperor Julian made a law that no 
 Christian should be taught in the heathen 
 schools, or make use of that learning ; but 
 there were two men livmg at that time, 
 who exerted their talents to supply the 
 deficiency of instruction and entertain- 
 ment that the Christians experienced 
 from Julian's edict : these were Apollina- 
 rius, bishop of Laodicea, and his father, a 
 priest of the same city ; they were both 
 scholars, well skilled in oratory and the 
 rules of composition, and of high literary 
 
 * Naogeorgus, by Googe. 
 
 renown. Apollinarius, the elder, a pro- 
 found philologer, translated the five books 
 of Moses into heroic verse, and in the 
 same manner composed the history of the 
 Israelites to the time of Saul, into a poem 
 of twenty-four books, in imitation of 
 Homer. He also wrote religious odes, 
 and turned particular histories and por- 
 tions of the Old and New Testament into 
 comedies and tragedies, after the manner 
 of Menander, Euripides, and Pindar. 
 His son the bishop, an eloquent rhetori- 
 cian, and already an antagonist of Ju- 
 lian's, anxious that the Christians might 
 not be ignorant of any species of Greek 
 composition, formed the writings of the 
 evangelists, and the works of the apostles, 
 into dialogues, in the manner of Plato. 
 
 About the same time, Gregory Nazian- 
 zen, patriarch and archbishop of Con- 
 stantinople, one of the fathers of the 
 church, and master to the celebrated Je- 
 rome, composed plays from the Old and 
 New Testament, which he substituted for 
 the plays of Sophocles and Euripides at 
 Constantinople, where the old Greek 
 stage had flourished until that time. The 
 ancient Greek tragedy was a religious 
 spectacle ; and the sacred dramas of 
 Gregory Nazianzen were formed on the 
 same model ; he transformed the choruses 
 into Christian hymns. Onf only of the arcli- 
 bishop's plays is extant : it is a tragedy 
 called " Christ's Passion ;" the prologue 
 rails it an imitation of Euripides; the 
 play is preserved in Gregory Nazianzen's 
 works. The remainder of his dramas 
 have not survived those inimitable com- 
 positions over which they triumphed for a 
 time. 
 
 It is not known whether the religious 
 dramas of the ApoUinarii perished so 
 early as some of their other writings, that 
 were ordered to be destroyed for, a crime 
 common in all ages, heresy ; but this is 
 certain, that the learning they endeavour- 
 ed to supply gradually disappeared before 
 the progress of Constantine's establish- 
 ment. Suddenly acquiring power, and 
 finally assuming infallibility, observing 
 pagan feasts as religious festivals, conse- 
 crating heathen rites into christian solem- 
 nities, and transforming the ncn-obser- 
 vances of primitive simplicity into prece- 
 dents for gorgeous ceremony, the church 
 blazed with a scorching splendour that 
 withered up the heart of man. Every 
 accession to the dominion of its ecclesias- 
 tics over his property and intellect induced 
 "'•l f-relaxation and sloth ; to the boldness 
 
 372 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- JUNE 2. 
 
 that seized a liberal supply for spiritual 
 support, succeeded the craft that extended 
 It to a boundless revenue for effeminate 
 indulgence. The miraculous powers of 
 the church wonderfully multiplied ; but 
 .mplicit belief in miracles was equivocal, 
 unless the act of faith was accompanied 
 by liberal contributions at the altar. The 
 purchase of pardons for sin, and the wor- 
 ship of the relics exhibited in sumptuous 
 shrines, were effectual ways of warring 
 with the powers of darkness, and tiie cof- 
 fers overflowed with contributions. These 
 active hostilities against Satan occasioned 
 him to ascend upon earth, and, to terrify 
 the devout, he often appeared to them in 
 the natural ugliness of his own proper 
 person. When put to flight, by masses 
 and holy water, he took lodgings incog. 
 in the bodies of careless people, nor 
 would he leave a tenement he occupied, 
 till he was forcibly turned out of posses- 
 sion by a priest acquainted with the forms 
 of ejectment. Dislike to clean linen was 
 a peculiar mark of piety, and dirty her- 
 mits emitted the odour of sanctity, 
 rhough their holinesses were so violently 
 hated by the devil, that he took the trou- 
 ble to assault and tempt them in the holee 
 of the earth and trunks of old trees where 
 they inhabited, yet it was rewarded with 
 visits to their chosen abodes from all the 
 orders of heaven ; and by long familiarity 
 with the powers of the other world, these 
 " tender-nosed saints could detect the 
 presence of invisible angels." They who 
 turn their backs upon the concerns of 
 life were especial favourites above. A 
 nun reported that Christ opened her side 
 with his corporal hands, took out her 
 heart, and then carefully placing his own 
 in the chasm, left it there and closed the 
 wound, at the same time doing her the 
 honour to wear her shift. Nor did the 
 faithful, who believed the former relation, 
 doubt for an instant that the Virgin de- 
 scended from heaven to visit the cells of 
 monasteries, and milk her breasts into 
 the mouths of monks. Doubts were ef- 
 fectually removed by burning doubters. 
 All who were privileged to snave the top 
 of the head in a circle, as a token of eman- 
 cipation from worldly superfluities, were 
 partners in the profitable trade of granting 
 licenses for unmolested existence at the 
 price of unconditional admission. Eccle- 
 siastical policy accomplished its purpose: 
 the human mind was in a delirium ; the 
 hierarchy at the summit of its ascendancy. 
 From the complete establishment of the 
 
 church until within a short tim^ Icfore 
 the reformation, darkness overspread the 
 world, and the great mass of the clergy 
 themselves were in a state of deplorable 
 ignorance. During this period, in order 
 to wean the people from the ancient spec- 
 tacles, particularly the Bacchanalian and 
 calendary solemnities, religious shows 
 were instituted partaking of the samp 
 spirit of licentiousness. 
 
 To these shows the clergy added the 
 acting of mysteries, or representing the 
 miraculous acts of saints circumstances 
 from apocryphal story, and subjects 
 from the Old and New Testament. 
 There are different opinions as to the 
 religious class by whom they were in- 
 troduced into Europe, though it seems 
 reasonable to suppose that they were 
 adopted by the Italians in the depth of 
 the dark ages from the spiritual dramas 
 of the ApoUinarii, father and son, and 
 Gregory Nazianzen ; but, however that 
 may be, there is no room for surprise that 
 all writers concur in attr-ibuting the per- 
 formance of mysteries, or religious plays, 
 to the clergy of the catholic church. 
 
 As mysteries arose with Gregory Na- 
 zianzen, it is not likely that his example 
 as a father of the church should be lost 
 sight of as soon as he had succeeded in 
 destroying the performance of the ancient 
 Greek plays ; yet English writers do not 
 appear to have traced sacred representa- 
 tions in a dramatic form until many cen- 
 turies after Gregory Nazianzen's death. 
 
 The first dramatic representation in 
 Italy was a spiritual comedy, performed 
 at Padua in 1'2-I3 ; and there was a cnm- 
 pany instituted at Rome in 1264, whose 
 chief employment was to represent the 
 sufferings of Christ in Passion week. The 
 rev. Mr. Croft, and the hon. Topham 
 Beauclerc, collected a great number of 
 these Italian plays or mysteries; and at 
 the sale of their libraries, Dr. Burney pur- 
 chased many of the most ancient, which 
 he speaks of as being evidently much ear- 
 lier than the discovery of printing, from 
 the gross manner in which the subjects 
 are treated, the coarseness of the dialogue, 
 and the ridiculous situation into which 
 most sacred persons and things are thrown. 
 
 In 1313, Philip the Fair gave the most 
 sumptuous entertainment at Paris ever 
 remembered in that city. Edward II. 
 and his queen Isabella, crossed over from 
 England with a large retinue of nobility 
 and partook of the magnihcent festivities 
 The pomp and profusion of the banquet- 
 
 373 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 2. 
 
 tings, the variety of the amusements, and 
 the splendour of the costume were unsur- 
 passed. On each of the eight days the 
 princes and nobles changed their dresses 
 three times; while the people were some- 
 times entertained with representations 
 of the Glory of the blessed, at other 
 times with the Torments of the damned, 
 and various other spectacles. In 1402, 
 by an edict of Charles VI. dated Dec. 4, 
 the mystery of the conception, passion, 
 and resurrection of Christ, was performed 
 at St. Maur, about five miles from Paris. 
 At the council at Constance, in the year 
 1417, the English fathers played the mys- 
 tery of the massacre of the Holy Inno- 
 cents. The mystery of the passion was 
 performed on the entrance of the kings of 
 France and England at Paris, on Decem- 
 ber 1. 1420, in the street Kalende, before 
 the palace, upon a raised scaffolding of 
 one hundred paces in length. 
 
 In the Royal Library of Paris, No. 
 4350, is Le Mystere de la 'passion Jesus 
 Christ ; Paris, printed by Antoine Ver- 
 ard, 1490, folio. This is a fine copy on 
 vellum with every page richly illuminat- 
 ed, and containing a MS. note in French, 
 purporting to be an extract from an old 
 chronicle, entitled, " Histoire de Metz 
 veritable," whence it appears that its per- 
 formance was attended by many foreign 
 lords and ladies whose names are specified, 
 and that there were lanthorns placed in 
 the windows during the whole time of the 
 plays : but the most curious part of the 
 MS. note is, that, " in the year 1437, on 
 the 3rd of July was represented the game 
 or play, de la Passion, N. S. in the plain 
 of Vexmiel, when the park was arranged 
 in a very noble manner, for there were 
 nine ranges of seats in height rising by 
 degrees ; all around and behind were 
 great and long seats for the lords and 
 ladies. On the stage was represented the 
 mouth of hell, it is described as having 
 been very well done, for that it opened and 
 shut when the devils required to enter and 
 come out, and had two large eyes of steel." 
 
 On the 27th of May, 1509, was per- 
 formed at Romans, in Dauphiny, before 
 theCordelier's church, the Mystery of the 
 Three Dons. In this religious play, which 
 lasted three days, there are emissaries who 
 undertake very long journeys, and must 
 come back before the play can he ended. 
 The scene, besmeared with the blood of 
 the three martyrs, the Dons, is sometimes 
 at Rome, sometimes at Vienna, soon after 
 at Lyons, and at other times in the Alps. 
 
 The stage constantly represents hell and 
 paradise ; and Europe, Asia, and Africa, 
 are cantoned in three towers. Some me- 
 taphysical beings are most curiously per- 
 sonified. Dame Silence, for instance, 
 speaks the prologue ; Human Succour, 
 Divine Grace, and Divine Comfort, are the 
 supporters of the heroes and heroines of 
 the piece, while hell exhibits monsters and 
 devils, to frighten the audience. They 
 are constantly abusing Proserpine, who 
 is introduced with all the trappings of 
 Tartarean pomp into this performance, 
 where there are no less than ninety-two 
 dramatis personce, among whom are the 
 Virgin and God the Father. 
 
 The story of Le Mystere du Chevalier 
 qui donne sa Femme an Diable, played by 
 ten persons in 1505, is of a dissipated 
 knight reduced by his profligacy to dis- 
 tress and wickedness. In his misfortunes 
 the devil appears, and proposes to make 
 him richer tlian ever, if he will assign his 
 wife, that the devil may have her in seven 
 years. After some discussion the knight 
 consents, his promise is written out, and 
 he signs it with his blood. The seducer 
 then stipulates that his victim shall deny 
 his God ; the knight stoutly resists for a 
 time, but in the end the devil gains his 
 point, and emboldened by success ven- 
 tures to propose that the knight shall deny 
 the Virgin Mary. This, however, being 
 a still greater sin, he refuses to commit it 
 with the utmost indignity and vehemence, 
 and the devil walks ofl' baffled. At the 
 end of seven years, the promise being 
 due, the devil presents it to the knight, 
 who, considering it a debt of honour, pre- 
 pares to discharge it immediately. He 
 orders his wife to follow him to a certain 
 spot, but on their way she perceives a 
 church, which after obtaining her hus- 
 band's permission she enters, for the pur- 
 pose of off'ering her devotion ; while thus 
 engaged, the Virgin Mary recollecting the 
 knight's unsullied allegiance to her, as- 
 sumes the semblance of his wife, and in 
 that character joins him. The moment 
 that they both appear before the devil, he 
 perceives who he has to deal with, and 
 upbraids the unconscious knight for at- 
 tempting to deceive him. The knight 
 protests his ignorance and astonishment, 
 which the Virgin corroborates, by telling 
 the devil that it was her own plan, for the 
 rescue of two souls from his power, and 
 she orders him to give up tlie knight's 
 promise. He of course obeys so high an 
 authority, and runs off" in great terror. 
 
 oU 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 2. 
 
 The Virgin exhorts the knight to better 
 loiiduct in future, restores his wife to him, 
 «nd the piece concludes. 
 
 In the reign of Francis I., 1541, the 
 perfornumce of a grand mystery of the 
 .4cls of the Apostles, was proclaimed with 
 ireat solemnity, and acted at Paris for 
 many successive days, before the nobility, 
 clergy, and a large assemblage in the 
 Hotel de Flandres. These plays written 
 in French rhyme, by the brothers Gre- 
 ban, were printed in 2 vols, folio, black 
 letter, under letters patent of the king to 
 William Alabat, a merchant of Bourges. 
 The dramatis personae, were a multitude 
 of celestial, terrestial, and infernal per- 
 sonages, amounting altogether to four 
 hundred and eighty-five characters. 
 Though the scenes of these plays were 
 chiefly scriptural, yet many were from 
 apocryphal story, and the whole exhibi- 
 tion was a strange mixture of sacred and 
 profane history. 
 
 Bayle calls the work entitled the Mys- 
 tsre des Antes Apostres, " a very rare and 
 uncommon work." He obtained the loan 
 of a copy from sir Hans Sloane in Eng- 
 land, and largely describes the volume. 
 It is, however, more curious than rare. 
 From the public instruments prefixed to 
 the work, and the circumstances related 
 by Bayle, it is evident that there was 
 much importance attached to these plays; 
 but it cannot so well be conceived from 
 perusing them, as from the remarkable 
 ceremonial of the public proclamation for 
 their performance, concerning which he 
 says nothing, probably from the extreme 
 rarity of the tract, he had not seen it. It 
 ordained, that the proclamation of this 
 play should be made by sound of trum- 
 pets, with the city officers and Serjeants 
 attending, and directed that the perform- 
 ance should take place " in the hall of 
 the Passion, the accustomed place for 
 rehearsals and repetitions of the Myste- 
 ries played in the said city of Paris; 
 which place, being well hung with rich 
 tapestry chairs and forms, is for the re- 
 ception of all persons of honest and vir- 
 tuous report, and of all qualities therein 
 assisting, as well as a great number of 
 citizens and merchants, and other persons, 
 as well as clergy and laity, in the pre- 
 sence of the commissaries and officers of 
 justice appointed and deputed to hear the 
 speeches of each personage ; and these 
 are to make report, according to the 
 merit of their well doing, as in such case 
 required, concerning which have a gra 
 
 cious reception ; and from day to day, 
 every day, so to continue to do, until the 
 perfection of the said Mystery." It is not 
 necessary to trace these plays abroad ; 
 they continue to be represented there to 
 the present hour. At Berlin, 1804 and 5, 
 the grand sacred comedy of " David," in 
 five acts, with battles and choruses, was 
 performed by the comedians in the Na. 
 tional Theatre. Throughout March, April, 
 and May, 1810, the same play was re- 
 presented at \'ienna ; and while the Con- 
 gress was held therein 1815, it was again 
 performed with the utmost possible splen- 
 dour. The back of the stage, extending 
 into the open air, gradually ascended to 
 a distance sufficient to admit carriages 
 and horses, and to allow the evolutions 
 of at least five hundred Austrian soldiers, 
 infantry and cavalry, who, habited in the 
 characters of Jews and Philistines, carried 
 muskets and carbines, defiled and de- 
 ployed, charged with the bayonet, let ofl 
 their fire-arms, and played artillery, to 
 represent the battles described in the 
 Book of Rings. The emperor Alexander 
 of Russia, the king of Prussia, and other 
 monarchs, with their ministers, and the 
 representatives of different courts, at the 
 Congress, attended these plays, which 
 were exhibited at the great theatre (An 
 der Wien) to crowded audiences, at the 
 usual prices of admission. 
 
 The first trace of theatrical representa- 
 tion in this country is recorded by Matthew 
 Paris, who wrote about 1240, and relates, 
 that Geoffrey, a learned Norman, master 
 of the school of the abbey of Dunstable, 
 composed the play of -S^ Catharine, which 
 was acted by his scholars. Geoffrey's 
 performance took place in the year 1110, 
 and he borrowed copes from the sacrist 
 of the neighbouring abbey of St. Albans, 
 to dress his characters. Fitzstephen writ- 
 ing in 1174, says that, " London, for its 
 theatrical exhibitions, has religious plays, 
 either the representations of miracles 
 wrouglit by holy confessors, or the suffer- 
 ings of martyrs." Besides those of Co- 
 ventry, there are MSS. of the Chester 
 mysteries, ascribed to Ranulph Higden, 
 compiler of the Polychronicon, and a 
 Benedictine monk of that city, where they 
 were performed at the expense of the in 
 corporated trades, with a thousand days 
 of pardon from the pope, and forty days 
 of pardon from the bishop of Chester 
 to all who attended the representation, 
 which is supposed to have been first had 
 in the year 1328. 
 
 575 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 2, 
 
 It is related in the Museum MS., of 
 these Chester plays, that the author, 
 " was thrice at Rome before he could 
 obtain leave of the pope to have them in 
 the English tongue." The subjects of 
 these plays being " from the Old and 
 New Testament," seem to supply the 
 reasons for the difficulty in obtaining the 
 pope's consent. Scripture in English 
 had been scrupulously withheld from the 
 people, and the pope probably anticipated, 
 that if they were made acquainted with a 
 portion of it, the remainder would be 
 demanded ; while the author of the plays, 
 better acquainted than the pope with the 
 more immediate difficulty of altogether 
 repressing the curiosity that had been 
 excited towards it, conceived, perhaps, 
 that the growing desire might be delayed, 
 by distorted and confusing representations 
 of certain portions. Perhaps such cor- 
 ruptions and absurdities, as are in these 
 plays, seconded by the eloquence of their 
 author, abated the papal fears concerning 
 the appearance of these scriptural inter- 
 ludes in English, and finally obtained the 
 sanction for their performance. 
 
 It may be supposed, that the Chester 
 plays, written in an early and dark age, 
 would contain a great mass of apocryphal 
 interpolation, and that the Coventry 
 plays, written much later, would contain 
 less ; yet the contrary is the fact. Among 
 the Chester mysteries, the " Descent into 
 Hell" is the only one not founded on scrip- 
 ture, and that even has a colourable au- 
 thority by implication ; while among the 
 Coventry mysteries, which were produced 
 ninety years afterwards, there are, be- 
 sides the " Descent," no less than eight 
 founded on apocryphal Testament story. 
 This remarkable diflfeience of feature, 
 may probably be accounted for. From 
 the fourth century, when Gregory Na- 
 zianzen, and the Apollonarii, turned por- 
 tions of the bible into tragedies and 
 comedies, the clergy of the continent 
 must have done m.uch in the same W3y, 
 and with much of apociyphal engraft- 
 ment; and though "religious plays" 
 prevailed m England, yet scriptural sub- 
 jects were new to the people, and the 
 Chester mystery-maker of 1328, foun-- 
 these so numerous, as to render recourse 
 to the New Testament Apocrypha unne- 
 cessary. But the Coventry mystery- 
 maker of 1416, was under circumstances 
 that would suggest powerful motives to 
 the cunning of a monkish mind for apo- 
 cryphal adoption. He was likelv to 
 
 conceive that a false glare might obscure 
 the dawnings of the human mind. The 
 rising day of the Reformation had been 
 foretold by the appearance of its " morn 
 ing star," in the person of the intrepid 
 Wycliffe, who exercised the right of pri- 
 vate judgment in England, a century and 
 a half before Luther taught it as a prin- 
 ciple in Germany. It was a period o' 
 fearful foreboding to the church. In 1404 
 Henry IV. held a parliament at Coventry 
 which, from its desire to compel thp 
 clergy to contribute largely to the exi- 
 gencies of the state, was called the Lay- 
 men's Parliament. The country was in 
 imminent danger; an abundant supply of 
 money was immediately necessary ; the 
 church property and income were enor- 
 mous ; the parliament knew that this 
 profusion of ecclesiastical wealth could 
 only have been acquired from the industry 
 of the laity ; and they represented that the 
 clergy had been of little service to the 
 king, while the laity had served in his 
 wars with their persons, and by contri- 
 butions for the same purpose had im- 
 poverished their estates. The archbishop 
 of Canterbury said, that if the clergy did 
 not fight in person their tenants fought 
 for them, that their contributions had 
 been in proportion to their property, and 
 that the church had offered prayers and 
 masses day and night for God's blessing 
 on the king and the army. The speaker, 
 sir John Cheyne, answered, that the pray- 
 ers of the church were a very slender 
 supply. To this the archbishop replied, 
 that it might easily be seen what would 
 become of the kingdom when such devout 
 addresses were so slighted. The persist- 
 ence of the archbishop saved the church 
 at that time from the impending storm ; 
 but the priests saw that their exactions 
 and their worship were only tolerated, 
 Wycliffe had then been dead about twenty 
 years. After a life wonderfully preserved 
 from the unsparing cruelty of ecclesiastical 
 power, by the protection of Edward III., 
 his memory was affectionately revered, 
 and, as printing had not been discovered, 
 his writintjs were scarce, and earnestly 
 sought. The good seed of dissent had 
 germinated, and the appearance of dis- 
 senters at intervals, was a specimen of 
 the harvest that had not yet come. No- 
 thing more fearfully alarmed the estab- 
 lishment than Wycliffe's translation of the 
 New Testament into English. All arts 
 were used to suppress it. and to enliven 
 the slumbering attachment of the people 
 
 37G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUTVR -2. 
 
 to thfj " good old customs " of the church. 
 Tliere is abundant evidence of studious 
 endeavours to both these ends in the Co- 
 ventry mysteries. The priests indus- 
 triously reported, that Wyclifle's Testa- 
 ment was a folse one; that he had dis- 
 torted the language, and concealed facts. 
 There was no printing press to multiply 
 co.pies of his book ; biblical criticism was 
 scarcely known but by being denounced ; 
 the ecclesiastics anathematized scriptural 
 inquiry as damnable heresy from their 
 confessionals and pulpits ; and as " the 
 churches served as theatres for holy 
 farces," the Franciscan friars of Coventry, 
 shortly after the meeting of the Laymen's 
 Parliament in that city, craftily engrafting 
 stories from the pseudo-gospels upon 
 narratives in the New Testament, com- 
 posed and performed the plays called the 
 Coventry mysteries. These fraudful pro- 
 ductions were calculated to postpone the 
 period of illumination, and to stigmatize, 
 by implication, the labours of Wycliffe. 
 Yet, if the simulation succeeded for a 
 while with the vulgar, it reinvigorated 
 the honest and the persevering; and as 
 the sun breaks forth after a season of cold 
 and darkness, so truth, finally emerging 
 fiom the gulph of the papal hierarchy, 
 animated the torpid intellect, and cheered 
 the " long abused sight." 
 
 But to return. In 1538, Ralph Radclifle, 
 a scholar and a lover of graceful erudition, 
 wrote plays in Latin and English, which 
 were exhibited by his pupils. Among his 
 comedies, were " Dives and Lazarus," 
 the " Delivering of Susannah," "Job's suf- 
 ferings," the " Burning of John Huss," 
 &c. The scholars of St. Paul's school 
 in London, were, till a comparatively late 
 period, in great celebrity for their theatri- 
 cal talent, which it appears was in full 
 exercise upon the mysteries so early as 
 the reign of Richard IL ; for in that year, 
 1378, they presented a petition to his 
 majesty, praying him " to prohibit some 
 iinexpert people from presenting the his- 
 tory of the Old and New Testament, to 
 the great prejudice of the said clergy, who 
 have been at great expense in order to 
 represent it publicly at Christmas." 
 
 But the more eminent performers of 
 mysteries in London, were the society of 
 parish clerks. On the 18tli, 19th, and 
 20th of July, 1390, they played interlude', 
 at the Skinner's-well, as the usual place 
 of their performance, before king Richard 
 IL, his queen, and their court; and at the 
 same place, in 1490, they played the 
 
 " Creation of the World," and subjects ol 
 the like kind, for eigiit successive days, 
 to splendid audiences of the nobility and 
 gentry from all parts of England. The 
 parish-clerks' ancient performances is 
 memorialized in raised letters of iron, 
 upon a pump on the east side of Rag- 
 street, now called Ray-street, beyond the 
 Sessions-house, Clerkenwell. 
 
 The pump of the Skinner's-well is let 
 mto a low dead wall. On its north side 
 is an earthenware shop ; and on the 
 south a humble tenement occupied by a 
 bird-seller, whose cages with their chirp- 
 ing tenants, hang over and around the 
 inscription. The passing admirer of 
 linnets and redpoles, now and then stops 
 awhile to listen to the melody, and re- 
 fiesh his eye with a few green clover 
 turfs, that stand on a low table for sale 
 by the side of the door ; while the monu- 
 ment, denoting the histrionic fame of the 
 place, and alluding to the miraculous 
 powers of the water for healing incurable 
 diseases, which formerly attracted multi- 
 tudes to the spot, remains unobserved 
 beneath its living attractions. The pre- 
 sent simplicity of the scene powerfully 
 contrasts with the recollection of its for- 
 mer splendour. The choral chant of the 
 Benedictine nuns accompanying the peal 
 of the deep-toned organ through their 
 cloisters, and the frankincense curling its 
 perfume from priestly censers at the altar, 
 are succeeded by the stunning sounds of 
 numerous quickly plied-hammers, and 
 the smith's bellows flashing the fires of 
 Mr. Bond's iron-foundry, erected u{>on 
 the unrecognised site of the convent. 
 This religious house stood about half-way 
 down the declivity of the hill, which 
 commencing near the church on Clerk- 
 enwell-green, terminates at the river Fleet. 
 The prospect then, was uninterrupted by 
 houses, and the people upon the ris'ng 
 grounds could have had an uninterrupted 
 view of the performances at the well. 
 About pistol-sh(>t from thence, on th? 
 N. N. E. part of the hill, there was a Bear 
 garden ; and scarcely so far from the 
 well, at the bottom of the hill westward, 
 and a little to the north, in the hollow of 
 Air-street, lies Hockley-in the-IIole, where 
 diffi='rent rude sports, which probably 
 arose with the discontinuance of the pa- 
 rish clerks' acting, were carried on, witliin 
 the recollection of persons still living, to 
 the great annoyance of this suburb. 
 
 The religious guild, or fraternity of 
 Corpus Christi at York, was obliged an- 
 
 377 
 
THE EVERYDAY BOOK.— JUNE 2. 
 
 nually to perform a Corpus Christi play. 
 Drake says, that this ceremony must have 
 been in its time one of the most extra- 
 ordinary entertainments the city could ex- 
 hibit. It was acted in that city till the 
 twenty-sixth year of queen Elizabeth, 
 1,584. 
 
 Corpus Christi day, at Newcastle-upon- 
 Tyne, was celebrated with similar exhibi- 
 tions by the incorporated trades. The 
 earliest mention of the performance of 
 mysteries there, is in the ordinary of the 
 coopers for 1426. In 1437, the barbers 
 played the " Baptizing of Christ," In 1 568, 
 the " Offering of Abraham and Isaac " was 
 exhibited by the slaters. About 1578, 
 the Corpus Christi plays were on the de- 
 cline, and never acted but by a special 
 command of the magistrates of Newcastle. 
 They are spoken of as the general plays 
 of the town of Newcastle, and when 
 thought necessary by the mayor to be set 
 forth and played, the millers were to per- 
 form the "Deliverarice of Israel ;" the house- 
 carpenters, the "Burial of Christ;" the ma- 
 sons, the " Burial of our lady Saint Mary 
 the Virgin." Between the first and last 
 mentioned periods, there are many mi- 
 nutes in the trades' books of the acting in 
 different years. 
 
 In the reign of Henry VII., 1487, that 
 king, in his castle of Winchester, was en- 
 tertained on a Sunday, while at dinner, 
 with the performance of Christ's " Descent 
 mto Hell/' by the choir boys of Hyde 
 abbey and St. Swithin's priory, two large 
 monasteries there ; and in the same reign, 
 1489, there were shows and ceremonies, 
 and (religious) plays, exhibited in the 
 palace at Westminster. 
 
 On the feast of St. Margaret, in 1511, 
 the miracle play of the " Holy Martyr St. 
 George," was acted on a stage in an open 
 field at Bassingborne, in Cambridge.shire, 
 at which were a minstrel and three waits 
 hired from Cambridge, with a property- 
 man and a painter. 
 
 It appears from the Earl of Northum- 
 berland's Household-hook, (1512,) that 
 the children of his chapel performed 
 mysteries during the twelve days of 
 Christmas, and at Easter, under the di- 
 rection of his master of the revels. Bishop 
 Percy cites several particulars of the regu- 
 lated sums payable to " parsones" and 
 others for these performances. The exhi- 
 jiting scripture dramas on the great fes- 
 tivals entered into the regular establish- 
 r.'.pnt, and formed part of the domestic 
 r ■■'■"il;iiK'r.« of our ancient nobility; and 
 
 what is more remarkable, it was as mucn 
 the business of the chaplain in those days 
 to compose plays for the family, as it is 
 now for him to make sermons. 
 
 At London, in the year 1556, the " Pas- 
 sion of Christ' was performed at the Grey 
 Friars, before the lord mayor, the privy- 
 council, and many great estates of the 
 realm. In 1577, the same play was per- 
 formed at the same place, on the day that 
 war was proclaimed in London against 
 France ; and in that year, the holiday of 
 St. Olave, the patron of the church in 
 Silver-street, dedicated to that saint, 
 being celebrated with great solemnity, a* 
 eight o'clock at night, a play of the " mira- 
 culous Life of St. Olave," was performed 
 for four hours, and concluded with many 
 religious plays. The acting of religious 
 plays experienced interruption during the 
 reign of Elizabeth, and occasionally at 
 other periods. Malone thinks that tiie 
 last mystery represented in England, was 
 that of "Christ's Passim.," in the reign of 
 king James I. Prynne relates that it was 
 performed at Ely-house, in Holborn, 
 whenGondomar, the Spanish ambassador, 
 lay there, on Good Friday, at night, and 
 that thousands were present. 
 
 Concerning the Coventry mysteries, 
 Dugdale relates, in his " History of War- 
 wickshire," published in 1656, that, "Be- 
 fore the suppression of the monasteries, 
 this city was very famous for the pageants 
 that were played therein, upon Corpus 
 Christi day (one of their ancient faires,) 
 which occasioning very great confluence 
 of people thither from far and near, was 
 of no small benefit thereto : which pa- 
 geants being acted with mighty state 
 and reverence by the Grey Friars, had 
 theatres for the several scenes, very 
 large and high, placed upon wheels, 
 and drawn to all the eminent parts 
 of the city, for the better advantagw 
 of spectators, and contained the story ot 
 the ()ld and New Testament, composed ii 
 the Old Englishe rithme, as appeareth cy 
 an ancient MS. (in Bibl. Cotton. Vesp. 
 D. VIII.) intituled, Ludus Corporis 
 Christi, or Ludus CoventricB. * I have 
 been told,' says Dugdale, ' by some old 
 people, who in their younger years were 
 eye-witnesses of these pageants so acted, 
 that the yearly confluence of people to 
 see that shew was extraordinary great, 
 and yielded no small advantage to this 
 city.' The celebrity of the performances 
 mny be inferred from the rank of the 
 audiences; for, at the festival of Corpus 
 
 178 
 
THE EVERY JAY BOOK— JUNE 3. 
 
 Christi, in 1483, Richard IIL visited Co- 
 ventry to see the plays, and at the same 
 season in 1492, they were attended by 
 Henry VH.and his queen, by whom they 
 Were highly commended." 
 
 The mysteries were acted at Chester, 
 by the trading companies of the city. 
 " Every company had his pagiante, or 
 parte, which pagiantes were a highe 
 scafolde with two rowmes, a higher and 
 a lower upon four wheeles. In the lower 
 they apparelled themselves, in the higher 
 rowme they played, being all open on the 
 tope, that all behoulders might hear and 
 see them. The places where they played 
 them was in every streete. They begane 
 first at the A bay gates, and when the pa- 
 giante was played, it was wheeled to the 
 High-cross before the mayor, and so to 
 every streete ; and so every streete had a 
 pagiante playing before them, till all the 
 pagiantes for the daye appointed were 
 played, and when one pagiante was neer 
 ended, worde wasbroughte from streete to 
 streete, that soe the mighte come in place 
 thereof, excedinge orderlye, and all the 
 streetes had their pagiante afore them, all 
 at one time, playing togetlier, to se which 
 playes was great resorte, and also sca- 
 foldes, and stages made in the streetes, in 
 those places where they determined to 
 playe their pagiantes." 
 
 In Cornwall they had interludes in the 
 Cornish language from scripture history. 
 These were called the Unary Miracle 
 plays, and were sometimes performed in 
 the open fields, at the bottom of earthen 
 amphitheatres, the people standing around 
 on the inclined plane, which was usually 
 forty or fifty feet diameter. Two MSS. in 
 the Bodleian Library contains the Cornish 
 plays of the " Deluge," the " Passion," 
 and the " Resurrection." 
 
 According to Strutt, when mysteries 
 were the only plays, the stage consisted 
 of three platforms, one above another. 
 On the uppermost sat God the Father, 
 surrounded by his angels; on the second, 
 the glorified saints, and on the last and 
 lowest, men who had not yet passed from 
 this life. On one side of the lowest plat- 
 form was the resemblance of a dark pitchy 
 cavern, from whence issued the appear- 
 ance of fire and flames ; and when it was 
 necessary, the audience was treated with 
 nideous yellings and noises in imitation 
 of the bowlings and cries of wretched souls 
 tormented by relentless demons. From 
 this yawning cave the devils themselvas 
 
 constantly ascended to delight, and to in- 
 struct the spectators.* 
 
 Cat JForship on Corpus Christi Day. 
 
 In the middle ages, animals formed as 
 prominent a part in the worship of the 
 time as they had done in the old religion 
 of Egypt. The cat was a very important 
 personage in religions festivals. At Aix, 
 in Provence, on the festival of Corpus 
 Christi, the finest Tom cat of the country, 
 wrapt in swaddling clothes like a child, 
 was exhibited in a magnificent shrine to 
 public admiration. Every knee w:;.s 
 bent, every hand strewed flowers or pour- 
 ed incense, and Grimalkin was treated in 
 all respects as the god of the day. But 
 on the festival of St. John, poor Tom's 
 fate was reversed. A number of the 
 tabby tribe were put into a wicker basket 
 and thrown alive into the midst of an 
 immense fire, kindled in the public 
 square by the bishop and his clergy. 
 Hymns and anthems were sung, and pro- 
 cessions were made by the priests and 
 people in honour of the sacrifice.f 
 
 FLOUAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Pimpernal. AnagaUis arvensis. 
 Dedicated to St. Erasmus. 
 
 Bune 3. 
 
 St. Ceeilius, a. d. 211. St. Clotildis, or 
 Clotilda, Queen of France, a. d. 545. 
 St. Coemgen, or Keivin, a. d. 618. St 
 Lifard, Abbot, about the middle of 
 the 6th Cent. St. Genesis, in French, 
 Genes, Bp. about a. d. 662. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1817, June 3, Paris. — Yesterday the 
 ladies of the market of St. Germain, hav- 
 ing invited the rector of St. Suipice ta 
 bless their new market-place, that pastor 
 accompanied by the clergy of the parish, 
 repaired there at five o'clock, and sung 
 the hymn, Veni Creator. A procession 
 took place inside the edifice, and the 
 market was formally blessed. The whole 
 concluded with Domine, Salvuyn fac Re- 
 gent. The market was to open the next 
 morning. — Moniteur. 
 
 * Hone on Mysteries, 
 t Mill's Hist. Crusades. 
 
 o79 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 3. 
 
 HOENSEY-WOOD HOUSE. 
 
 A house of entertainment — in a plao^i 
 
 So ruial, that it almost doth deface 
 
 The lovely scene : for like a beauty-spot, 
 
 Upon a charming cheek that needs it not, 
 
 So Hornsey Tavern seems to me. And yet, 
 
 Tho' nature be forgotten, to forget 
 
 The nrtificai wants of the forgetters. 
 
 Is setting up oneself to be their betters. 
 
 This is unwise ; for they are passing wise, 
 
 Who have no eyes for scenery, and despise 
 
 Persons like me, who sometimes have sensations 
 
 Tlirough too much sight, and fall in contemplations. 
 
 Which, as cold waters cramp and drown a swimmer, 
 
 Chill and o'erwhelm me. Pleasant is that glimmer, 
 
 Whereby trees seftn but wood : — The men who know 
 
 No qualities but forms and uses, go 
 
 Through life for happy people : — they are so. 
 
 Tloinspy-wood house is beyond the 
 Sluice-house, from whence anglers and 
 other visitors pass to it through an upland 
 meadow, along a straight gravel-j)ath, 
 aTigle-wise. It is a good, "plain,, brown 
 brick," respectable, modern, London look- 
 ing building. Within the entrance to the 
 left, is a light and spacious room of ample 
 accommodation, and of which more care 
 
 has been taken,than of its fine leather-fold- 
 ing screen in ruins — an unseemly sight for 
 him, who respects old requisites for their 
 former beauty and convenience. This once 
 partook af botli, but disuse hath abused 
 and " time hath written strange defea- 
 tures" on its face, which in its early day? 
 was handsome. It still bears some re- 
 mains of a spirited painting, spread all 
 
 o8U 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —JUNE 3 
 
 over its loaves, to represent tlie amuse- 
 ments and humours of a fair in the low 
 countries. At the top of a pole, which 
 may have been the village May-pole, is 
 a monkey with a cat on his back ; tlien 
 there is a sturdy bear-ward, in scarlet, with 
 a wooden leg, exhibiting his bruin ; an 
 old woman telling fortunes to the rustics; 
 a showman's drummer on a stage before 
 a booth, beating up for spectators to the 
 performan.e within, which the show-cloth 
 represents to be a dancer on the tight- 
 lope; a well set-out stall of toys, with a 
 woman displaying their attractions ; be- 
 sides other really interesting " bits " of a 
 
 crowded scene, depicted by no mean 
 hand, especially a group coming fioin 
 a church in the distance, apparently a 
 wedding procession, the females well- 
 looking and well dressed, bearing ribbons 
 or scarfs below their waists in festoons. 
 The destruction of this really interesting 
 screen by worse than careless keeping, is 
 to be lamented. This luin of art is 
 within a ruin of nature. Hornsey-taveiu 
 and its grounds have displaced a romantic 
 portion of the wood, the remains of which, 
 however, skirt a large and pleasant piece 
 of water, formed at a considerable ex- 
 pens*:. 
 
 LAKE OF HORNSEY-WOOD HOUSE. 
 
 to this water, which is well stored 
 with fish, anglers resort with better pros- 
 pect of success than to the New River ; 
 the walk around it, and the prospect, are 
 very agreeable. 
 
 The old Hornsey-wood house well be- 
 came its situation ; it was embowered, 
 and seemed a part of the wood. Two 
 sisters, Mrs. Lloyd and Mrs. Collier, kept 
 the house; they were ancient women; 
 jarge in size, and usually sat before tlieir 
 door, on a seat fixed between two vener- 
 able oaks, wherein swarms of bees hived 
 themselves. Here the venerable and 
 cheerful dames tasted many a refreshing 
 cup, with their good-natured customers, 
 and told tales of by-gone days, till, in 
 very old age, one of them passed to her 
 grave, and the other followed in a few 
 months. Each died regretted by the fre- 
 quenters of the rural dwelling, which was 
 
 soon afterwards pulled down, and the 
 old oaks felled, to make room for the pre- 
 sent roomy and more fashionable build- 
 ing. To those who were acquainted with 
 it in its former rusticity, when it was an 
 unassuming " calm retreat," it is indeed 
 an altered spot. To produce the altera- 
 tion, a sum of ten thousand pounds was 
 expended by the piesent ])roprietor, and 
 Hornsey-wood tavern is now a well-fre- 
 quented house. The pleasantness of its 
 situation is a great attraction in fine wea- 
 ther. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1802. On the 3d of June, madame 
 Mara, the celebrated singer, took leave 
 of the English public. The Dictionary 
 of Musicians, in recording the perform- 
 ance, observes, that never certainly was 
 such a transcendent exercise ot ability uj 
 
 881 
 
TIIE EVERY-DaY book.— JUNE 3. 
 
 a duet composed to display the mutual 
 accomplishments of madame Mara ind 
 Mrs. Billington, which they sung with 
 mutual excitement to the highest pitch of 
 scientific expression. 
 
 Madame Mara was born at Cassel, in 
 Germany, in 1750. Her paternal name 
 was Schmelling. Her early years were 
 devoted to the study of the violin, which, 
 as a child, she played in England, but 
 quitted that instrument, and became a 
 singer, by the advice of the English la- 
 dies, who disliked a " female fiddler." 
 To this, perhaps, we owe the delight expe- 
 rienced from the various excellencies of 
 the most sublime singer the world ever 
 saw. Her first efforts were in songs of 
 agility, yet her intonation was fixed by 
 the incessant practice of plain notes. To 
 confirm the true foundation of all good 
 singing, by the purest enunciation, and 
 the most precise intonation of the scale, 
 was the study of her life, and the part of 
 her voicing upon which she most valued 
 herself. The late Dr. Arnold saw Mara 
 dance, by way of experiment, and assume 
 the most violent gesticulations, while 
 going up and down the scale ; yet such 
 was her power of chest, that the tone was 
 as undisturbed and free as if she had 
 stood in the customary quiet position of 
 the orchestra. The Italians say, that " of 
 the hundred requisites to make a singer, 
 he who has a fine voice has ninety-nine." 
 Mara had certainly the ninety-nine in 
 one. Her voice was in compass from 
 G to E in altissimo, and all its notes 
 were alike even and strong ; but she had 
 the hundredth also in a supereminent 
 degree, in the grandest and most sublime 
 conception. At the early age of twenty- 
 four, when she was at Berlin, in the im- 
 maturity of her judgment and her voice, 
 the best critics admitted her to have ex- 
 ceeded Cuzzoni, Faustina, and indeed all 
 those who preceded her. Our age has 
 since seen Billington and Catalani, yet in 
 majesty and truth of expression fa term 
 comprehending the most exalted gifts and 
 requisites of vocal science,) Mara retains 
 her su])eriority. From her we deduce all 
 that has been learned concerning the 
 great style of singing. The memory of 
 her performance of Handel's sublime 
 work, ' I know that my Redeemer liveth,' 
 is immortalized, together with the air 
 itself. Often as we have since heard it, 
 we have never witnessed even an ap- 
 proach to the simple majesty of Mara: it 
 is to this air alone that she owes her 
 
 highest preeminence ; and tney who, not 
 having heard her, would picture to them- 
 selves a just portraiture of her perform- 
 ance, must image a singer who is fully 
 equal to the truest expression of the in- 
 spired words, and the scarcely less inspired 
 music of the loftiest of all possible com- 
 positions. She was the child of sensibi- 
 lity : every thing she did was directed to 
 the heart; her tone, in itself pure, sweet, 
 rich, and powerful, took all its various 
 colourings from the passion of the words; 
 and she was )iot less true to nature and 
 feeling in ' The Soldier tir'd,' and in the 
 more exquisite, ' Hope told a flattering 
 tale,' than in ' I know that my Redeemer 
 liveth.' Her tone, perhaps, was neither 
 so sweet nor so clear as Billington's, nor 
 so rich and powerful as Catalani's, but it 
 was the most touching language of the 
 soul. It was on the mastery of the feel- 
 ings of her audience that Mara set her 
 claims to fame. She left surprise to 
 others, and was wisely content with an 
 apparently, but not really humbler, style ; 
 and she thus chose the part of .genuine 
 greatness." Her elocution must be taken 
 rather as universal than as national ; for 
 although she passed some time in Eng- 
 land when a child, and retained some 
 knowledge of the language, her pronun- 
 ciation was continually marred by a fo- 
 reign accent, and those mutilations of our 
 words which are inseparable from the 
 constant use of foreign languages, during 
 a long residence abroad. Notwithstand- 
 ingthisdrawback,the impression she made, 
 even upon uneducated persons, always 
 extremely alive to the ridiculous effects of 
 mispronunciation, and upon the unskilled 
 in music, was irresistible. The fire, dig- 
 nity, and tenderness of her vocal appeal 
 could never be misunderstood ; it spoke 
 the language of all nations, for it spoke 
 to the feelings of the human heart. Mrs. 
 Billington, with a modesty becoming her 
 great acquirements, voluntarily declared, 
 that she considered Mara's execution to 
 be superior to her own in genuine effect, 
 though not in extent, compass, rapidity, 
 and complication. Mara's divisions al- 
 ways seemed to convey a meaning ; they 
 were vocal, not instrumental ; they had 
 light and shade, and variety of tone ; they 
 relaxed from or increasf^d upon the time, 
 according to the sentiment of which they 
 always appeared to partake : these attri- 
 butes were always remarkable in her 
 open, true, and liquid shake, which was 
 certainly full of expression. Neither in 
 
 382 
 
THE EVERY-DaY BOOK.— JUNE 4, 5 
 
 ornaments, learned and graceful as they 
 were, nor in her cadences, did she ever 
 lose sight of the appropriate characteristics 
 of the sense of melody. She was, by 
 turns, majestic, tender, pathetic, and ele- 
 gant, but in the one or the other not a 
 note was breathed in vain. She justly 
 held every species of ornamental execution, 
 to be subordinate to the grand end of 
 uniting the effects of sound sense, in their 
 operations upon the feelings of her hear- 
 ers. True to this spirit, if any one com- 
 mended the agility of a singer, Mara 
 would ask, " Can she sing six plain 
 notes?" In majesty and simplicity, in 
 grace, tenderness, and pathos, in the lof- 
 tiest attributes of art, in the elements of 
 the great style, she far transcended all her 
 competitors in the list of fame. She gave 
 to Handel's compositions their natural 
 grandeur and effect, which is, in our 
 minds, the very highest degree of praise 
 that we can bestow. Handel is heavy, say 
 the musical fashion-mongers of the day. 
 Milton would be heavy beyond endurance, 
 from the mouth of a reader of talents even 
 above mediocrity. The fact is, that to 
 wield such arms, demands the strength of 
 giants. Mara possessed this heaven- 
 gifted strength. It was in the perform- 
 ance of Handel that her finer mind fixed 
 its expression, and called to its aid all 
 the powers of her voice, and all the ac- 
 quisitions of her science. From the time 
 of her retirement from England, Mara 
 chiefly resided in Russia ; yet as the 
 conflagration of Moscow destroyed great 
 part of her property, towards the close of 
 the year 1819, or the beginning of 1820, 
 she returned to London, and determined 
 on presenting herself once more to the 
 judgment of the English public, who had 
 reverenced her name so highly and so 
 long. She, consequently, had a concert 
 at the Opera-house, but her powers were 
 so diminished that it proved unsuccessful. 
 Justice to the channel which supplies 
 these particulars concerning madame 
 Mara requires it to be observed, that they 
 are almost verbatim from a book of 
 great merit and extensive usefulness. 
 The Dictionary of Musicians. Its inform- 
 ation obviously results from extensive 
 research concerning the deceased, and 
 personal acquaintance with many of the 
 living individuals whose memoirs it con- 
 tains. The work has experienced the 
 fate of originality and excellence — it has 
 been pillaged without acknowledgment ; 
 and the discovery of an error or two, 
 
 which the pillagers themselves were too 
 ignorant to detect, have enabled them to 
 abuse it. Although written by scientific 
 hands, it is exempt from the meanness of 
 envy, and honestly renders honour to 
 whom honour is due. It is a book full 
 of facts, with interspersions of anecdote 
 so eloquently related, that it is one of the 
 pleasantest works a lover of literature can 
 take up, and is therefore not only a valu- 
 able accession to our biographical collec- 
 tions, but to our stores of amusement. 
 
 FLOnAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Rosa de meaux. Rosa provincialis. 
 Dedicated to St. Cccilius. 
 
 Suae 4. 
 
 St.Q.uirimis, Bp. a.d. 304. St. Optafnx, 
 Bp. 4th Cent. St. JFalter, Abbot, 
 13th Cent. St. Petroc, or Perrense, 
 Abbot, 6th Cent. St.Breaca, or Breagne. 
 St. Burian. St. Nenooc, or Nennoca, 
 h. D. 467. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1738. King George III. born : he be- 
 gan his reign, October 25, 1760, and died, 
 January 29, 1820. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Indian Pink. Diant/ms Chinensis. 
 Dedicated to St. Quirinus, 
 
 Suite 5. 
 
 St. Boniface, 8th Cent. St. Dorotheus, 
 of Tyre St. Dorotheus, Abbot, 4th 
 Cent. St. lUidins, Bp. 4th Cent. 
 
 St. Boniface, 
 
 Tliis saint is in the church of England 
 calendar. His name was Winfred. He 
 was born at Crediton in Devonshire, 
 educated in a Benedictine monastery at 
 Exeter, sent to Friesland as a missionary, 
 became archbishop of Mentz and primate 
 of Germany and Belgium, and obtained 
 the appellation of apostle of the Germans. 
 His conversions were extensive, but many 
 of them were effected by pious frauds ; 
 he was murdered in East Friesland by 
 the peasantry, while holding a confirm- 
 ation, in 755. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1814. From a newspaper of June the 
 5th in that year it appears, thai on the 
 
 383 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 6, 7, 8. 
 
 preceding Sunday morning, while the sex- 
 ton of All Saints' church, at Stamford, 
 was engaged in ringing the bells, two 
 youths, named King and Richards, through 
 mere emulation, ascended the steeple by 
 means of the crotchets, or projecting 
 stones on the outside of that beautiful 
 and lofty spire. The projecting stones 
 on which they stepped in the ascent are 
 twenty-six in number, three feet asunder, 
 and the summit of the spire 132 feet from 
 the ground. In ten or twelve minutes 
 the feat was performed, and the adven- 
 turers had safely descended ; one of them 
 (Richards) having hung his waistcoal on 
 the weathercock as a memento. 
 
 the two postillions being m their shirts. 
 Is tliis outrage to be suffered in Eng- 
 land ?" 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Three-leaved Rose. Rosa Sinica. 
 Dedicated to St. Boniface 
 
 Suite 6. 
 
 St. Norbert, a. d. 1134. St. Philip the 
 Deacon, a. d. 58. St. Gudwall, Bp. 
 6th Cent. St. Claude, Abp. a. d. 696 
 or 703. 
 
 Chronology 
 1762. George lord Anson, the circura- 
 navigator of the world, died, at Moor- 
 park, near Rickmansworth, Herts ; he 
 was born at Shuckborough, in Stafford- 
 shire, in 1700. 
 
 Abduction. 
 This offence was by no means uncom- 
 mon in England some years ago. In the 
 London Clironicle for 1762, there is an 
 extract from a letter, dated " Sunday, 
 Highgate, June 6," from whence it ap- 
 pears, that on that morning, between 
 twelve and one, a postchaise, in which 
 was a lady, was driven through that 
 place very furiously by two postillions, 
 and attended by three persons who had 
 the appearance of gentlemen, from which 
 she cried out, " Murder ! save ine ! Oh, 
 save me!" Her voice subsided from weak- 
 ness into faint efforts of the same cries of 
 distress ; but as there was at that time no 
 possibility of relief, they hastily drove 
 towards Finchley Common. " Fron an- 
 other quarter," says tlie Loudon Chronicle, 
 " we have undoubted intelligence of the 
 same carriage being seen, and the same 
 outcries heard, as it passed through Isling- 
 ton, with the additional circumstance of 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Pink. Dianthus deltoides. 
 Dedicated to St. Norbert. 
 
 Suae 7. 
 
 St. Paul, Bp. of Constantinople, a. d. 350, 
 or 351. St. Robert, Abbot, a. d. 1159: 
 St. Colman, Bp. of Dromore, a. d. 610. 
 St. Godeschalc, Prince of the Western 
 Vandals, and his companions. St. 
 Meriadec, Bp. a.d. 1302. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1779. William Warburton, bishop of 
 Gloucester, died. He was born at New- 
 ark-upon-Trent, in 1698, followed the 
 profession of an attorney, relinquished it 
 for the church, and became an eminently 
 able and learned prelate. His writings are 
 distinguished by genius, but deformed by 
 a haughty and vindictive spirit. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Red Centaury. Chironia centaureum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Paul. 
 
 3nm 8. 
 
 St Medard, Bp. 6th Cent. St. Gildard, 
 or Godard, Bp. a.d. 511. iS^ Maxi- 
 minus, 1st Cent. St. JVilliam, Abp. of 
 York, A. o. 1154. St. Clou, or Clodul- 
 phns, Bp. A. D. 696. iS^ Syra, 7th 
 Cent. 
 
 Thimble and Pea. 
 On the 8th of June, 1825, a publican 
 in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel was 
 charged at the Public Office, Bow-street, 
 by Mr. John Francis Panchaud, a fo- 
 reigner, with having, in conjunction with 
 several other persons, defrauded him of a 
 10/. note, at Ascot Heath race-course, on 
 the Thursday preceding. The alleged 
 fraud, or robbery, was effected by means 
 of an unfair game known among the fre- 
 quenters of races and fairs by the name of 
 " the thimble rig," of which J. Smith, the 
 officer, this day gave the following de- 
 scription to Mr. MinshuU, in order that 
 the worthy magistrate might pverfectly 
 understand the case : — A gang of seveu 
 or eight, or more, set up a table, but they 
 
 384 
 
THE EVERY-DAY COOK.— JUNE 8. 
 
 a!l appear strangers to each other, and 
 anconnected with the game, except one 
 Kho conducts it,and who appears to be the 
 !ole proprietor. This master of the cere- 
 monies has three thimbles, and is provided 
 with a number of peas, or pepper-corns. 
 lie puts one under eacli thimble, c: per- 
 haps only under one or two, as ll)« case 
 may be. lie then offers a bet as to 
 which thimole a pepper-corn is or is not 
 under, and ofi'ers at first such a wager as 
 is eagerly taken by those round the table, 
 and he loses. He pays the losings freely, 
 and the other members of this joint-stock 
 company affect to laugh at him, as what 
 they call a " good flat." Having thus 
 drawn the attention, and probably excited 
 the cupidity of a stranger, who appears to 
 have money, they suffer him to win a 
 stake or two, and get him to increase his 
 bets. When he seems thoroughly in the 
 humour, the master of the table lifts a 
 thimble, under which is a pepper-corn, 
 and turning his head aside to speak to 
 some one, he suffers the corn to roll off; 
 and, seeming to be unconscious of this, 
 he replaces the thimble, and oflers bets 
 to any amount that there is a corn under- 
 neath that particular thimble. The stran- 
 ger having seen the corn roll off " with 
 his own eyes," as the phrase is, chuckles 
 to himself, and eagerly takes the bet ; the 
 thimble is removed, and behold ! — there 
 is a pepper-corn under it still, the fellow 
 "having dexterously slipped another under 
 it wnen the first rolled off the table. " So 
 that the plain fact is, sir," continued 
 Smith, " that the stranger, fancying he is 
 taking in the master of the table, cheer- 
 fully stakes his money with a dead cer- 
 tainty, as he supposes, of winning, and 
 be finds that he has been taken in him- 
 self." Smith said, he had known in- 
 stances of gentlemen getting from their 
 carriages, and in a few moments ridding 
 themselves of 20/. or 30/., or perhaps 
 more, and going off wondering at their 
 folly, and looking uncommon silly. 
 
 It appeared that Mr. Panchaud went 
 up to one of these tables, at which the de- 
 fendant and many others were playing, 
 and after winning two or three times, the 
 trick above described was commenced. 
 The conductor of the game offered a bet 
 of 5/., and Mr. Panchaud having seen 
 the pepper-corn roll off, took the wager, 
 and put down a 10/. note. In a moment 
 after there was a general hustling, the 
 table was upset, and the whole party 
 bpeetlil)' disappeared, together with the 
 
 10/. note. When the bet was oflered, the 
 defendant, who stood next to him, joggec 
 Ills elbow, and said eagerly, " Bet him. 
 bet him ; you must win, the hall is under 
 our feet." Mr. Panchaud had no doubt, 
 from his whole manner, that tlie defendant 
 was concerned with the others in the 
 trick. The case stood over for further 
 investigation. It is only mentioned here 
 for the purpose of showing a species of 
 slight of hand continued in our own 
 times to defraud the unwary. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Moneywort. Lyshnachia mtmmnlnria 
 Dedicated to St. Mclard. 
 
 PASSION FLOWER. 
 
 This flower, says the elegant author of 
 the Flora Domestica, derives its name 
 from an idea, that all the instruments of 
 Christ's passion are represented in it. 
 
 The above engraving from an ancient 
 print, shows the curious distortion of the 
 flower in those parts whereon the imagina- 
 tion has indulged. The original print bears 
 an inscription to this efiect ; that nature 
 itself grieves at the crucifixion, as is de- 
 noted by the flower representing the five 
 wounds, and the column or pillar of 
 scourging, besides the three nails, tho 
 crown of thorns, &c. 
 
 Most of the passion-flowers are natives 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 585 
 
 2 C 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK^JUNE 9, 10, 11, 12. 
 
 of the hottest parts of America. Tlie 
 rose coloured passion-flower is a native of 
 Virginia, and is the species which was 
 first known in Europe. It has since been, 
 in a great measure, superseded by the blue 
 passion-flower, which is hardy enough to 
 flower in the open air, and makes an ele- 
 gant tapestry for an unsightly wall. The 
 leaves of this, in the autumn, are of the 
 Jnost brilliant crimson ; and, when the 
 sun is shining upon them, seem to trans- 
 port one to the gardens of Pluto.* 
 
 Bunt 9. 
 
 Stg. Primus and Feliciann/f, a. d. 286. 
 
 St. Columba, or Cohimkille, a. d. 597. 
 
 St. Pelagia, a. d. 311. St. Fincent, 
 
 3d Cent. St. Richard, Bp. of Andria, 
 
 5th Cent. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1760. Nicholas Lewes, count Zinzen- 
 dorf, a native of Saxony, and founder of 
 the religious society called Moravians, 
 died at Chelsea. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Barberry. Barberis vulgaris. 
 Dedicated to St. Columba. 
 
 Sune 10. 
 
 St. Margaret, Queen of Scotland, a.d. 
 1093. St. Getulius and companions, 
 2d Cent. St. Landry, or Landericus, 
 Bp. A. D. 650. B. Henry of Treviso, 
 A.D. 1315. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1735. Thomas Hearne, the learned 
 antiquary, died at Oxford : he was born 
 at White Waltham, in Berkshire, in 1680. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Fleur-de-lis. Iris Psetidacorns, 
 Dedicated to St. Margaret. 
 
 3\int 11. 
 
 St. Barnabas, Apostle, 1st Cent. St. 
 Tochumra, of Tochumrach in Ireland. 
 Another St. Tochumra, diocese cf Kil- 
 more. 
 
 * Flora Domeitica. 
 
 St. Barnabas the Apostle. 
 He was of the tribe of Levi, and coad- 
 jutor with the apostle Paul for several 
 years. Though denominated an apostle, 
 it seems agreed that he was not entitled 
 to that character ; if he were, his extant 
 epistle would have equal claim with the 
 writings of the other apostles to a place 
 among the books in the New Testament. 
 He is said to have been martyred, but of 
 this there is not sufficient evidence. 
 
 St. Barnabas' Day. 
 
 This was a high festival in England 
 formerly. 
 
 Besides the holy thorn, there grew in 
 the abbey churchyard of Glastonbury, on 
 the north side of St. Joseph's chapel, a 
 miraculous walnut-tree, which never 
 budded forth before the feast of St. Bar- 
 nabas, viz. the eleventh of June, and on 
 that very day shot forth leaves, and flou- 
 rished like its usual species. This tree is 
 gone, and in the place thereof stands a 
 very fine walnut-tree of the common sort. 
 It is strange to say how much this tree 
 was sought after by the credulous ; and, 
 though not an uncommon walnut, queen 
 Anne, king James, and many of the nobi- 
 lity of the realm, even when the times of 
 monkish superstition had ceased, gave 
 large sums of money for small cuttings 
 from the original.* 
 
 Midsummer, or nightless days, now 
 begin and continue until the 2d of July.f 
 Tliere is still this saying among country 
 people, — 
 
 " Barnaby Bright, Barnaby Bright, 
 The longest day and the shortest night." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORV. 
 
 Midsummer Daisy. Chrysanthemum Leu- 
 
 canthemum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Barnabas 
 
 Suite 12. 
 
 St. John, Hermit, a. d. 1479. St. Basi- 
 lides, Qnirinus, or Cyrinns, Nabor, and 
 Nazarius. St. Esk'tll, Bp. St. Ohu- 
 pkrius, Hermit. St. Ternan, Bp. of 
 the Picts. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1734. The duke of Berwiclc, ille 
 
 gitimate son of James II., by Arabella 
 
 * Collinson's Somersetshire. 
 
 t Dr. Forster's Fereuuial Caleudu 
 
 38G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 13, 14, 15. 
 
 (^hnrchill, sister to the great duke of 
 Marlborough, was killed by a cannon 
 Dall, at the siege of Phillipsburgh, in 
 Germany, in the 64th year of his age. 
 He was only excelled in the art of war by 
 the duke of Marlborough himself. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 White Dog Rose. Rosa arvensis. 
 Dedicated to St. John. 
 
 %\\m 13. 
 
 1231. St. 
 
 St. Antony of Padua, a. d. 
 Damhanade. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1625. Henrietta Maria, youngest 
 daughter to Henry IV. of France, landed 
 at Dover, and was married to Charles I., 
 at Canterbury, on the same day; her 
 portraits represent her to have been beau- 
 tiful. She was cerKanly a woman of 
 ability, but faithless to her unfortunate 
 consort, after whose death on the scaffold 
 she lived in France, and privately mar- 
 ried her favourite, the lord Jermyn, a 
 descendant of whom, with that name, is 
 (in 1825,) a grocer in Chiswell-street, 
 and a member of the society of friends. 
 Henrietta Maria, though a Bourbon, was 
 so little regarded in the court of the 
 Bourbons, and reduced to so great ex- 
 tremity, that she was without fuel for her 
 fire-place during the depth of winter, in 
 the palace assigned to her by the French 
 monarch. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Garden Ranunculus. Eanuncuhis Asi- 
 
 uticus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Antony. 
 
 iune 14. 
 
 St. Basil, Abp. a. d. 379. Sts. Btifimn, 
 and Valerius, 3d Age. St. Methodius, 
 Patriarch of Constantinople, a. d. 846. 
 St. Docmacl, 6th Cent. St. Nenmis, 
 or Nehemias, Abbot, a. d. 654. St. 
 Psalmodius, A. n. 630. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1645. The battle of Naseby, between 
 the royalists under Charles I., and the 
 parliament troops under Fairfax, was de- 
 cided this day by the entire rout of the 
 king's army, and the seizure of all hi* 
 
 artillery and ammunition. Among the 
 spoil was the king's cabinet with his 
 letters, which the parliament afterwards 
 published. Hume says, " they give an 
 advantageous idea both of the king's 
 genius and morals." Yet it is a fact, 
 which every person who reads the corres- 
 pondence must inevitably arrive at, that 
 the king purposed deception, when he 
 professed good faith, and that, as true 
 genius never exists with fraud, these let- 
 ters do not entitle him to reputation for 
 common honesty, or real ability. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Sweet Basil. Oscimnm Basilicum. 
 Dedicated to St. Basil. 
 
 Sum 15. 
 
 Sts. Vitus, or Guy, Crescentia, and Mo- 
 destus, 4th Cent. St. Landelin, Abbot, 
 A. D. 686. B. Bernard, of Menthon, 
 A. D. 1008. St. Vauge, Hermit, a. d. 
 585. Ji. Gregory Lewis Barbadigo, 
 Cardinal Bp. a. d*. 1697. 
 
 St. Vitus. 
 
 This saint was a Sicilian martyr, under 
 Dioclesian. Why the disease called St. 
 Vitus's dance was so denominated, is not 
 known. Dr. Forster describes it as an 
 affection of the limbs, resulting from ner- 
 vous irritation, closely connected with 
 a disordered state of the stomach and 
 bowels, and other organs of the abdomen. 
 In papal times, fowls were ofi'ered on the 
 festival of this saint, to avert the disease. 
 It is a v-ulgar belief, that rain on St. 
 Vitus's day, as on St. Swithin's day, indi- 
 cates rain for a certain number of days 
 following. 
 
 It is related, that after St. Vitus and 
 his companions were martyred, their 
 heads were enclosed in a church wall, 
 and forgotten, so that no one knew where 
 they were, until the church was repaired, 
 when the heads were found, and the 
 church bells began to sound of themselves, 
 which causing inquiry, a writing was 
 found, authenticating the heads; they 
 consequently received due honour, and 
 worked miracles in due form. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Sensitive Plant. Mimosa sensit. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Vntu. 
 
 387 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK— JUNE 15. 
 
 CEREMONY OF LAYING 
 
 THE 
 FIRST STONE OF THE NEW LONDON-BRIDGE, 
 
 ON WEDNESDAY, THE 15th OF JUNE, 1825. 
 
 NEW LONDON-BRIDGE. 
 
 London, like famous old Briareus, 
 
 With fifty heads and twice told fifty arms, 
 
 Laid one strong arm across yon noble flood, 
 
 For free communication with each shore ; 
 
 Hence, though the thews and sinews sink and shrink, 
 
 And we so manifold and strong have grown, 
 
 That a renewal of the limb for purposes 
 
 Of national and private weal be requisite. 
 
 It is to be regarded as a friend 
 
 That oft hath served us in our utmost need, 
 
 With all its strength. Be ye then merciful. 
 
 Good citizens, to this our ancient " sib," 
 
 Operate on it tenderly, and keep 
 
 Some fragments of it, as memorials 
 
 Of its former worth : for our posterity 
 
 Will to their ancestors do reverence, 
 
 As we, ourselves, do reverence to ours. — 
 
 The present engraving is from the de- 
 sign at the head of the admission tickets, 
 and is exactly of the same form and 
 dimensions ; the tickets themselves were 
 
 large cards of about the size that the pro- 
 sent leaf will present when bound in the 
 volume, and cut round the edges. 
 
 38S 
 
TIIE F-VERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 15. 
 
 COPY OF THE TICKET 
 
 Admit the Bearer 
 
 lo witness The Ceremony of laying 
 
 THE FIRST STONE 
 
 of the 
 
 ^tiu Eon'Bon-brilJgf, 
 
 on Wednesday, the 15th day of June, 1825. 
 
 (Signed) Hens' Woodthohpe, Jud. 
 
 Clerk of the Committee. 
 
 Seal 
 
 nf the 
 
 tit/ Armt. 
 
 iV. n. The access is from the present bridge, 
 ind the time of admission will be between 
 the hours of twelve and two. 
 
 N»28I. 
 
 Width of the bridge, from outside to 
 outside of the parapets, 55 feet ; carriage- 
 way, 33 feet 4 inches. 
 
 It has been truly observed of the design 
 foi the new bridge, that it is striking for 
 its contrast with the present gothic edi- 
 fice, whose place it is so soon to supply. 
 It consists but of five elliptical arches, 
 which embrace the whole span of the 
 river, with the exception of a double pier 
 on either side, and between each arch a 
 single pier of corresponding design: the 
 whole is more remarkable for its simpli- 
 city than its magnificence ; so much, in- 
 deed, does the former quality appear to 
 have been consulted, that it has not a 
 single balustrade from beginning to end. 
 
 New London-bridge is the symbol of an 
 honourable British merchant : it unites 
 plainness with strength and capacity, and 
 will be found to be more expansive and 
 ornamental, the more its uses and purposes 
 are considered. 
 
 " Go and set London-biidge on fire," 
 said Jack Cade, at least so Shakspeare 
 makes him say, to " the rest " of the in- 
 surgents, who, in the reign of Henry VI., 
 came out of Kent, took the city itself, and 
 there raised a standard of revolt against 
 the royal authority. " Sooner said than 
 done, master Cade," may have been the 
 answer; and now, when we are about to 
 erect a new one, let us " remember the 
 bridge that has carried safe over." 
 Though its feet were manifold as a cen- 
 tipede's, and though, in ghding between 
 its legs, as it 
 
 " doth bestride the Thames," 
 
 some have, ever and anon, passed Xr 
 the bottom, and craft of men, and craft 
 with goods, so perished, yet the health 
 and wealth of ourselves, and those from 
 whom we sprung, have been increased by 
 safe and uninterrupted intercourse above. 
 
 The following are to be the dimensions 
 of the new bridge : — 
 
 Centre arch — span, 150 feet; rise, 32 
 feet ; piers, 24 feet. 
 
 Arches next the centre arch — span, 140 
 feet ; rise, 30 feet ; piers 22 feet. 
 
 Abutment arches — span, 130 feet ; rise, 
 25 feet ; abutment, 74 feet. 
 
 Total width, from water-side to water- 
 side, 690 feet. 
 
 Length of the bridge, including the 
 abutments, 950 feet ; without the abut- 
 ments, 782 feet. 
 
 By admission to the entire ceremony 
 of laying the first stone of the new Lon- 
 don-bridge, the editor of the Every-Day 
 Book is enabled to give an authentic ac- 
 count of the proceedings from his own 
 close observation ; and therefore, collat- 
 ing the narratives in every public journal 
 of the following day, by his own notes, 
 he relates the ceremonial he witnessed, 
 from a chosen situation within the coffer- 
 dam. 
 
 At an early hour of the morning the 
 vicinity of the new and old bridges pre- 
 sented an appearance of activity, bustle, 
 and preparation ; and every spot that 
 could command even a bird's-eye view of 
 the scene, was eagerly and early occupied 
 by persons desirous of becoming specta- 
 tors of the intended spectacle, which, it 
 was confidently expected, would be ex- 
 tremely magnificent and striking; these 
 anticipations were in no way disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 So early as twelve o'clock, the avenues 
 leading to the old bridge vere filled with 
 individuals, anxious to behold the ap- 
 proaching ceremony, and shortly after- 
 wards the various houses, whifh form the 
 streets through which the procession was 
 
 5S9 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE i5. 
 
 to pass, had iheir windows graced with 
 numerous parties of well-dressed people. 
 St. Magnus' on the bridge, St. Saviour's 
 church in the Borough, Fishmongers'-hall, 
 and the different warehouses in the vi- 
 cinity, had their roofs covered with spec- 
 tators ; platforms were erected in every 
 nook from whence a sight could be ob- 
 tained, and several individuals took their 
 seais on the Monument, to catch a bird's- 
 eye view of the whole proceedings. The 
 buildings, public or private, that at all 
 overlooked the scene, were literally roofed 
 and walled with human figures, clinging 
 to them in all sorts of possible and im- 
 probable attitudes. Happy were they 
 who could purchase seats, at from half a 
 crown to fifteen shillings each, for so the 
 charge varied, according to the degree of 
 accommodation afforded. As the day ad- 
 vanced, the multitude increased in the 
 street ; the windows of the shops were 
 closed, or otherwise secured, and those of 
 the upper floors became occupied with 
 such of the youth and beauty of the city 
 as has not already repaired to the river: 
 and delightfully occupied they were : and 
 were the sun down, as it was not, it had 
 scarcely been missed — for there — • 
 
 " From every casement came the light. 
 Of women's eyes, so soft and bright, 
 Peeping between the trelliced bars, 
 A nearer, dearer heaven of stars !" 
 
 The wharfs on the banks of the river, 
 between London-bridge and Southwark- 
 bridge, were occupied by an immense 
 multitude. Southwark-bridge itself was 
 clustered over like a bee-hive ; and the 
 river from thence to London-bridge pre- 
 sented the appearance of an immense 
 dock covered with vessels of various des- 
 criptions ; or, perhaps, it more closely 
 re?emb)ed a vast country fair, so com- 
 pletely was the water concealed by multi- 
 tudes of boats and barges, and the latter 
 again hidden by thousands of spectators, 
 and canvass awnings, which, with the gay 
 holiday company within, made them not 
 unlike booths and tents, and contributed 
 to strengthen the fanciful similitude. The 
 tops of the houses had many of them also 
 their flags and awnings ; and, from the ap- 
 pearance ol them and the river, one might 
 almost suppose the dry and level ground 
 altogether deserted, for this aquatic fete, 
 worthy of Venice at her best of times. 
 All the vessels in the pool hoisted their 
 flags top-mast-high, in honour of the oc- 
 casion, and many of them sent out their 
 
 boats manned, to increase the bustle and 
 interest of the scene. 
 
 At eleven o'clock London-bridge was 
 wholly closed, and at the same hour 
 Southwark-bridge was thrown open, free 
 of toll. At each end of London-bridge 
 barriers were formed, and no persons 
 were allowed to pass, unless provided 
 with tickets, and these only were used 
 for the purpose of arriving at the coffer- 
 dam. There was a feeling of awful so- 
 lemnity at the appearance of this, the 
 greatest thoroughfare of the metropolis, 
 now completely vacated of all its foot- 
 passengers and noisy vehicles. 
 
 At one o'clock the lord mayor and 
 sheriffs arrived at Guildhall, the persons 
 engaged in the procession having met at 
 a much earlier hour. 
 
 The lady mayoress and a select party 
 went to the coffer-dam in the lord 
 mayor's private state carriage, and ar- 
 rived at the bridge about half-past two 
 o'clock. 
 
 The Royal Artillery Company arrived 
 in the court-yard of the Guildhall at two 
 o'clock. 
 
 The carriages of the members of par- 
 liament and other gentlemen, forming 
 part of theprocession, mustered in Queen- 
 street and the Old Jewry. 
 
 At twelve o'clock, the barrier at the 
 foot of the bridge on the city side of the 
 river was thrown open, and the company, 
 who were provided with tickets for the 
 coffer-dam, were admitted within it, and 
 kept arriving till two o'clock in quick suc- 
 cession. At that time the barriers were 
 again closed, and no person was admitted 
 till the arrival of the chief procession. By 
 one o'clock, however, most of the seats 
 within the coff"er-dam were occupied, with 
 the exception of those reserved for the 
 perspns connected with the procession. 
 
 The tickets of admission issued by the 
 committee, consisting of members of the 
 court of common council, were in great 
 request. By their number being judici- 
 ously limited, and by other arrangements, 
 there was ample accommodation for all 
 the company. At the bottom of each 
 ticket, there was a notice to signify that 
 the hours of admission were between 
 twelve and two, and not a few of the for- 
 tunate holders were extremely punctual 
 in attending at the first mentioned hour, 
 for the purpose of securing the best places. 
 They were admitted at either end of the 
 
 500 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 15. 
 
 bridge, and passed on till they came to 
 an opening that had been made in the 
 balustrade, leading to the platform that 
 burrounded the area of the proposed ce- 
 remony. This was the coffer-dam formed 
 in the bed of the river, for the building of 
 the first pier, at the Southwark side. The 
 greatest care had been taken to render 
 the dam water-tight, and during the whole 
 of the day, from twelve till six^ it was 
 scarcely found necessary to work the 
 steam-engine a single stroke. On passing 
 the aperture in the balustrade, already 
 mentioned, the company immediately ar- 
 rived on a most extensive platform, from 
 which two staircases divided — the one 
 for the phik tickets, which introduced the 
 possessor to the lowest stage of the works, 
 and the other for the white ones, of less 
 privilege, and which were therefore more 
 numerous. The interior of the works was 
 highly creditable to the committee. Not 
 only were the timbers, whether horizontal 
 or upright, of immense thickness, but 
 they were so securely and judiciously 
 bolted and pinned together, that the 
 liability of any danger or accident was en- 
 tirely done away with. The very awning 
 which covered the whole coffer-dam, to 
 ensure protection from the sun or rain, 
 had there been any, was raised on a little 
 forest of scaffolding poles, which, any 
 where but by the side of the huge blocks 
 of timber introduced immediately beneath, 
 would have appeared of an unusual sta- 
 bility. In fact, the whole was arranged 
 as securely and as comfortably as though 
 it had been intended to serve the time of 
 all the lord mayors for the next century 
 to come, while on the outside, in the 
 river, every necessary precaution was 
 taken to keep off boats, by stationing offi- 
 cers there for that purpose. With the 
 exception of the lower floor, which, as al- 
 ready mentioned, was only attainable by 
 the possession of pink tickets, and a small 
 portion of the floor next above it, the 
 whole was thrown open without reserva- 
 tion, and the visitors took possession of 
 the unoccupied places they liked best. 
 
 The entire coffer-dam was ornamented 
 with as much taste and beauty as the 
 purposes for which it was intended would 
 possibly admit. The entrance to the plat- 
 form from the bridge, was fitted up with 
 crimson drapery, tastefully festooned. 
 The coffer-dam itself was divided into 
 four tiers of galleries, along which several 
 lows of benches, covered with scarlet cloth, 
 were arranged for the benefit of the spec- 
 
 tators. It was covced with canvass to 
 keep out the rays of the sun, and from 
 the transverse beams erected to support 
 it, which were decked with rosettes of 
 different colours, wer« suspended flags 
 and ensigns of various descriptions 
 brought from Woolwich yard ; which by 
 the constant motion in which they were 
 kept, created a current of air, which was 
 very refreshing. The floor of the dam, 
 which is 45 feet below the high water 
 mark, was covered, like the galleries, with 
 scarlet cloth, except in that part of it 
 where the first stone was to be laid. The 
 floor is 95 feet in length, and 36 in 
 breadth ; is formed of beech pl-anks, four 
 inches in thickness, and rests upon amass 
 of piles, which are shod at the top with 
 iron, and are crossed by immense beams 
 of solid timber. By two o'clock all the 
 galleries were completely filled with well- 
 dressed company, and an eager impa- 
 tience for the arrival of the procession 
 was visible in every countenance. The 
 bands of the Horse Guards, red and blue, 
 and also that of the Artillery Company, 
 played different tunes, to render the in- 
 terval of expectation as little tedious as 
 possible ; but, in spite of all their endea- 
 vours, a feeling of iistlessness appeared 
 to pervade the spectators. — In the mean 
 time the arrangements at Guildhall being 
 completed, the procession moved from the 
 court-yard, in the following order :— 
 
 A body of tlie Artillery Oompany. 
 
 Band of Music. 
 
 Marshalmen. 
 
 Mr. Cope, the City Marshal, mounted, and in th 
 
 full uniform of his Ottice. 
 The private can iage of — Saunders, Esq., the Water 
 Huiliff, containing the Water-Bailiff, and Nelson, 
 liis Assistant. 
 
 Carriage containing the Barpe-masters. 
 
 City Watermen bearing Colours. 
 
 A party of City Watermen without Colours. 
 
 Carriage containing Messrs. Lewis and Gillman, the 
 
 Bridge-masters, and the Clerk of the Bridge-house 
 
 Estate. 
 
 Another parly of the City Waterman. 
 Carriage containing Messrs. JoUifle and Sir E. Bankt, 
 the Contractors for the BuiWing of the 
 New Bridge. 
 Model of the New Bridge. 
 Carriages containing Members of the Royal Society 
 Carriage containing John Holmes, Esq., the Baililf 
 of Southwark. 
 Carriage containing the Under-Sherifts. 
 Carriages containing Thomas Slielton, Esq., Clerk 
 of the Peace for the City of London ; W. L. New- 
 man, Esq., the City Stlicitor; Timothy Tyrrell, 
 E-q., the Remembrancer; Samuel Collingridge, 
 Esq., and P. W. Crowther, Esq., the Secondaries; 
 J. Boudon, Esq., Clerk of the Chamber ; W. Hol- 
 land, Esq., and George Bernard, Esq., the Com- 
 mon Pleaders; Henry Woodthorpe, Esq., the 
 Town Clerk ; Thomas Deiinian, Esq., the Common 
 Sergeant; K. Clarke, Esq., the Chamberlain. 
 These Carriages were followed by those of severa. 
 Members of Parliament. 
 Carriages of Members of the Piivy Council. 
 Band of Music and Colours, supported by City 
 Whtermtn 
 
 391 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOR.— JUNE 15. 
 
 Meuibers of t)ie Goldsmilhs' (the Lord Mayors) 
 
 Ciinip.'iriy. 
 
 Marslialnieii. 
 
 Lord Mayor's Servfants in tlieir State Liveries. 
 
 Mr. Brown, the City Marslial, mounted on horseback, 
 
 and in tlie lull nniforni of his Ortice. 
 Tl'.e Lord Mayor's State Carriage, drawn by six bay 
 horses, beautifully capar'soned, in which were his 
 Lordship and ihe Dnke of York. 
 
 Tlie Sheriffs, in their Slate Carriages. 
 
 Carriages of several Aldermen who have passed the 
 
 Chair. 
 
 Another body of the Royal Artillery Company, 
 
 The procession moved up Cornhill and 
 down Gracecliuvch-street, to London- 
 bridge. While awaiting the arrival of 
 the procession, wishes were wafted from 
 many a fair hp, that the lord of the day, 
 as well as of the city, would make his ap- 
 pearance. Small-talk had been exhausted, 
 and the merits of each particular timber 
 canvassed for the hundredth time, when, 
 at about a quarter to three, the lady 
 mayoress made her appearance, and re- 
 novated the hopes of the company. They 
 argued that his lordship as a family man, 
 would not be long absent from his lady. 
 The clock tolled three, and no lord mayor 
 had made his appearance. At this cri- 
 tical juncture a small gun made its re- 
 port ; but, except the noise and smoke, it 
 produced nothing. More than an hour 
 elapsed before the eventful moment ar- 
 rived ; a flourish of trumpets in the dis- 
 tance gave hope to many hearts, and 
 finally two six-pounders of the Artillery 
 Company, discharged from the wharf at 
 Old Swan Stairs, at about a quarter-past 
 four o'clock, announced the arrival of the 
 cavalcade. Every one stood up, and in a 
 very few minutes the city watermen, 
 bearing their colours flying, made their 
 appearance at the head of the coffer-dam, 
 and would, if they could, have done the 
 same thing at the bottom of it; but owing 
 to the unaccommodating narrowness of 
 the staircase, they found it inconvenient 
 to convey their flags by the same route 
 that they intended to convey themselves. 
 Necessity, however, has long been cele- 
 brated as the mother of invention,and a plan 
 was hit upon to wind the flags over this 
 timber and under that, till after a very ser- 
 pentine proceeding, they arrived in safety 
 at the bottom. After this had been accom- 
 plished, there was a sort of pause, and 
 every body seemed to be thinking of 
 what would come next, when some one in 
 authority hinted, that as the descent of 
 the flags had been performed so dex- 
 terously, or for some other reason that did 
 not express itself, they might as easily be 
 conveyed back, so that the company. 
 
 whose patience, by the bye, was exem- 
 plary, were gratified bj the ceremony of 
 those poles returning, till the arrival cf 
 the expected personages, satisfied every 
 desire. A sweeping train of aldermen 
 were seen winding in their scarlet robes 
 through the mazes of the pink-tickel- 
 ted staircase, and in a very few minutes 
 a great portion of these dignified elders 
 of the city made their appearance on the 
 floor below, the band above having pre- 
 viously struck up the " Hunter's Chorus" 
 from Der Freischidz. Next in order en- 
 tered a Strong body of the common-coun- 
 cilmen, who had gone to meet the pro- 
 cession on its arrival at the barriers. In- 
 dependently of those that made their ap 
 pearance on the lower platform, glimpses 
 of their purple robes with fur-trimmings, 
 were to be caught on every stage of the 
 scafi'olding, where many of them had been 
 stationed throughout the day. After these 
 entered the recorder, the common ser- 
 geant, the city solicitor, the city clerk, the 
 city chamberlain, and a thousand other 
 city officers, " all gracious in the city's 
 eyes." These were followed by the duke 
 of York and the lord mayor, advancing 
 together, the duke being on his lordship's 
 right hand. His royal highness was 
 dressed in a plain blue coat with star, 
 and wore at his knee the gaiter. They 
 were received with great cheering, and 
 proceeded immediately up the floor of the 
 platform, till they arrived opposite the 
 place where the first stone was suspended 
 by a tackle, ready to be swung into the 
 place that it is destined to occupy for 
 centuries. Opposite the stone, an elbowed 
 seat had been introduced into the line of 
 bench, so as to afford a marked place for 
 the chief magistrate, without breaking in 
 upon the direct course of the seats. His 
 lordship, who was in his full robes, offered 
 the chair to his ro^al highness, which was 
 positively declined on his part. The lord 
 mayor therefore seated himself, and was 
 supported on the right by his royal high- 
 ness, and on the left by Mr. Alderman 
 Wood. The lady mayoress, with her 
 daughters in elegant dresses, sat near his 
 lordship, accompanied by two fine-looking 
 intelligent boys her sons ; near them were 
 the two lovely daughters of lord Suffolk, 
 and many other fashionable and elegantly 
 dressed ladies. In the train which arrived 
 with the lord mayor and his royal highness 
 were the earl of Darnley, lord J. Stewart, 
 the right hon. C. W. Wynn, M. P., sir G. 
 Warrender, M. P., sir I. Coffin, M. P., sii 
 
 392 
 
THE KVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— JU^E 15. 
 
 G.Cockburn, M.P., sir Il.Wilson, M.P., 
 Mr. T.Wilson, M.P., Mr. W. Williams, 
 M.P., Mr. Davies Gilbert, M. P., Mr.W. 
 Smith, M. P., Mr. Holme Sumner, M.P., 
 with several other persons of distinction, 
 and the common sergeant, the city pleaders, 
 and other city officers. 
 
 The lord mayor took his station by the 
 side of the stone, attended by four gentle- 
 men of the committee, bearing, one, the 
 glasscut bottle to contain the coins of the 
 present reign, another, an English inscrip- 
 tion incrusted in glass, another, the mallet, 
 and another, the level. 
 
 The sub-chairman of the committee, 
 bearing the golden trowel, took his station 
 on the side of the stone opposite the lord 
 mayor. 
 
 The engineer, John Rennie, esq., took 
 his place on another side of the stone, 
 and exhibited to the lord mayor the plans 
 and drawings of the bridge. 
 
 The members of the committee of 
 management, presented to the lord mayor 
 the cut glass bottle which was intended 
 to contain the several coins. 
 
 The ceremony commenced by the chil- 
 dren belonging to the wards' schools, Can- 
 dlewick, Bridge, and Dowgate, singing 
 " God save the King." They were sta- 
 tioned in the highest eastern gallery for 
 that purpose ; the effect produced by their 
 voices, stealing through the windings 
 ca ised by the intervening timbers to the 
 depth below, was very striking and pecu- 
 liar. 
 
 The chamberlain delivered to his lord- 
 ship the several pieces of coin : his lord- 
 ship put them into the bottle, and de- 
 posited the bottle in the place whereon 
 the foundation stone was to be laid. 
 
 The members of the committee, bearing 
 the English inscription incrusted on 
 glasses, presented it to the lord mayor. 
 His lordship deposited it in the subjacent 
 stone. 
 
 Mr. Jones, sub-chairman of the Bridge 
 Committee, who attended in purple 
 gowns and with staves, presented the 
 lord mayor, on behalf of the committee, 
 with an elegant silver-gilt trowel, em- 
 bossed with the combined arms of the 
 " Bridge House Estate and the City of 
 London," and bearing on the reverse an 
 inscription of the date, and design of its 
 presentation to the right hon. the lord 
 mayor, who was born in the ward, and is 
 a member of the guild wherein the new 
 bridge is situated. Tliis trowel was de- 
 signed by Mr. John Green, of Ludgatp- 
 
 hill, and executed by Messrs. Green, 
 Ward, and Green, in which firm ne is 
 partner. Mr. Jones, on presenting it to the 
 lord mayor, thus addressed his lordship* 
 " My lord, I have the honour to inform 
 you, that the committee of management 
 has appointed your lordship, in your cha- 
 racter of lord mayor of London, to lay the 
 first stone of the new London-bridge, and 
 that they have directed me to present to 
 your lordship this trowel as a means of 
 assistance to your lordship in accomplish 
 ing that object." 
 
 The lord mayor having signified his 
 consent to perform the ceremony, Henry 
 Woodthorpe, esq., the town clerk, who 
 has lately obtained the degree of L. L. D., 
 held the copper plate about to be placed 
 beneath the stone with the following in- 
 scription upon it, composed by Dr. Cople- 
 stone, master of Oriel-college, Oxford : — 
 
 Pontis vetvsti 
 
 qvvm propter crebras niniis interiectas mules 
 
 impedito cvrsv flvininis 
 
 navicvlae et rates 
 
 non levi saepe iactvra et vitac pericvlo 
 
 per angvstas favces 
 
 praccipiti aqvsrvm impetv ferri solercnt 
 
 Civitas Loniiinensis 
 
 his incommndis remidivm adhibere volens 
 
 et celeberrimi simvl in terris emponi 
 
 vtilitatibvs consvlens 
 
 regni insvper senatvs avctoritate 
 
 ac mvnificentia adivla 
 
 pontem 
 
 sitv prorsvs novo 
 
 amplioribvs spatiis constrvendvm decrevit 
 
 ea scilicet (orma ac iiiagnitvdine 
 
 qvae regiae vrbis maiestaii 
 
 tandem responderot. 
 
 Neqve alio magis tempore 
 
 tantiim opvs inclmandvm dvxit 
 
 qvam cvm pacato ferme t<ito lerrarvm orbe 
 
 Imperivm Britannicvm 
 
 famaopibus mvltitvdinc civivm et concordiapollep« 
 
 principe 
 
 item eavderet 
 
 h.rtivm favtore ac patrono 
 
 cvivs svb avspiciis 
 
 novv3 indies aedificiorvm splendor vrbi accederet. 
 
 Primum operis lapidem 
 
 pnsvit 
 
 loannes Garratt armiger 
 
 praetor 
 
 XV. die Ivnii 
 
 anno regis Georgii Quart! sexto 
 
 a. 3. m.d.ccc.xxv. 
 
 loanne Rennie S. R. S. architecto. 
 
 Cranslatioit. 
 
 The free cou'se of the river 
 
 being obstructed by the numerous piers 
 
 of the ancient bridae, 
 
 and the passage of boats and vessels 
 
 through its narrow clianncls 
 
 being often attended with danger and loss of lift 
 
 by reason of tlie force and rapidity of the current, 
 
 tlie Ciiy of London, 
 
 desirous of p-e-iding a remedy for this tvil, 
 
 and at ;l e same time consulting 
 
 the c'./.ve lience of commerce 
 
 in this vast emporium of all nations, 
 
 under tl;e sanction and with the liberal a'd of 
 
 parliament. 
 
 593 
 
THE EVEflY'-DAY BOOK— JUNE 15. 
 
 resolved to erect a bridge 
 upon a foiiiuiaticn aU(igctlier new, 
 
 with arches of wider span, 
 
 and of a ciiarartcr corresponding 
 
 to the dignity and importance 
 
 of tliis royal city : 
 
 nor does any otiier time seem to be more suitable 
 
 for sucli an undertaking 
 
 than when in a period of universal peace 
 
 the British empire, 
 
 flourishing in glory, wealth, population, and 
 
 domestic union, 
 
 is governed by a prince, 
 
 the patron and encourager of the arts, 
 
 under whose auspices 
 
 the metrcpolis has been daily advancing in 
 
 elegance and splendour. 
 
 The first stone of this work 
 
 was laid 
 
 by John Garratt, esquire, 
 
 lord may^r, 
 
 on the ISth day of June, 
 
 in tlie sixth year of king George the Fourth, 
 
 and in the year of our Lord 
 
 m.d.ccc.xxv. 
 
 John Rennie, F. R.S. architect. 
 
 Dr. Woodtliorpe read the Latin in- 
 scription aloud, and the lord mayor, turn- 
 ing to the duke of York, addressed his 
 royal highness and the rest of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Lord Mayor's Speech. 
 
 " It is unnecessary for me to say much 
 upon the purpose for which we are assem- 
 bled this day, for its importance to this 
 great commercial city must be evident ; 
 but I cannot refrain from offering a few 
 observations, feeling as I do more than 
 ordinary interest in the accomplishment 
 of the undertaking, of which this day's 
 ceremony is the primary step. I should 
 not consider the present a favourable 
 moment to enter into the chronology or 
 detailed history of the present venerable 
 structure, which is now, from the increased 
 commerce of the country, and the rapid 
 strides made by the sciences in this king- 
 dom, found inadequate to its purposes, 
 but would rather advert to the great ad- 
 vantages which will necessarily result 
 from the execution of this national work. 
 Whether there be taken into consideration, 
 the rapid and consequently dangerous 
 currents arising from the obstructions oc- 
 casioned by the defects of this ancient 
 edifice, which have proved destructive to 
 human life and to property, or its difficult 
 and incommodious ap])roaches and accli- 
 vity, it must be a matter of sincere con- 
 gratulation that we are living in times 
 when tlie resources of this highly favoured 
 country are competent to a work of such 
 great public utility. If ever there was a 
 period more suitable than another for em- 
 
 barking in national improvements, it must 
 be the present, governed as we are by a 
 sovereign, patron of the arts, under whose 
 mild and paternal sway (by the blessing 
 of divine providence) we now enjoy pro- 
 found peace; living under a goveinment 
 by whose enlightened and liberal policy 
 our trade and manufactures are in a flou- 
 rishing state ; represented by a parliament 
 whose acts of munificence shed a lustre 
 upon their proceedings : thus happily- 
 situated, it is impossible not to hail such 
 advantages with other feelings than those 
 of gratitude and delight. I cannot con- 
 clude these remarks without acknowledg- 
 ing how highly complimentary I feel it to 
 the honourable office I now fill, to view 
 such an auditory as surrounds me, among 
 whom are his majesty's ministers, several 
 distinguished nobles of the land, the ma- 
 gistrates and commonalty of this ancient 
 and loyal city, and above all, (that which 
 must ever enlighten and give splendour 
 to any scene,) a brilliant assembly of the 
 other sex, all of whom, I feel assured, 
 will concur with me in expressing an 
 earnest wish that the new London-bridge, 
 when completed, may reflect credit upon 
 the architects, prove an ornament to the 
 metropolis, and redound to the honour of 
 its corporation. I offer up a sincere and 
 fervent prayer, that in executing this great 
 work, there may occur no calamity ; that 
 in performing that which is most parti- 
 cularly intended as a prevention of future 
 danger, no mischief may occur with the 
 general admiration of the undertaking." 
 
 The lord mayor's address was received 
 with cheers. His lordship then spread 
 the mortar, and the stone was gradually 
 lowered by two men at a windlass. When 
 finally adjusted, the lord mayor struck it 
 on the surface several times with a long- 
 handled mallet, and proceeded to as- 
 certain the accuracy of its position, by 
 placing a level on the top of the east end, 
 and then to the north, west, and south ; 
 his lordship passing to each side of the 
 stone for that purpose, and in that order. 
 The city sword and mace were then placed 
 on it crossways ; the foundation of the 
 new London-bridge was declared to be 
 laid ; the music struck up "God save the 
 King;" and three times three excessive 
 cheers, broke forth from the company ; 
 the guns of the honourable Artillery Com- 
 pany, on the Old Swan Whari, nred a 
 salute by signal, and every face wore 
 smiles of gratulation. Three cheers were 
 afterwards given for the duke of York ; 
 
 394 
 
IHE EVER\-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 15. 
 
 three for Old England ; and three for the 
 architect, Mr. Rennie. 
 
 It was observed in the coffer-dam, 
 as a remarkable circumstance, that 
 as the day advanced, a splendid sun- 
 beam, which had penetrated through an 
 accidental space in the awning above, 
 gradually approached towards the stone 
 as the hour for laying it advanced, and 
 during the ceremony, shone upon it with 
 dazzling lustre. 
 
 At the conclusion of the proceedings, 
 the lord mayor, with the duke of York, 
 and tlie other visitors admitted to the 
 floor of the coffer-dam, retired ; after 
 which, many of the company in the gal- 
 leries came down to view the stone, and 
 several of the younsjer ones were allowed 
 to ascend and walk over it. Some ladies 
 were handed up, and all who were so in- 
 dulged, departed with the satisfaction of 
 being enabled to relate an achievement 
 honourable to their feelings. 
 
 Among the candidates for a place upon 
 the stone, was a gentleman who had wit- 
 nessed the scene with great interest, and 
 seemed to wait with considerable anxiety 
 for an opportunity of joining in the plea- 
 sure of its transient occupants. This gen- 
 tleman was P. T. W., by which initials he 
 is known to the readers of the Morning 
 Herald, and other journals. The light- 
 ness and agility of his person, favoured 
 the enthusiasm of his purpose; he leapt 
 on the stone, and there 
 
 -toeing it and heeling it, 
 
 With ball-room grace, and merry face, 
 Kept livelily quadrilling it, 
 
 till three cheers from the spectators an- 
 nounced their participation in his merri- 
 ment ; he then tripped off with a graceful 
 bow, amidst the clapping of hands and 
 other testimonials of satisfaction at a per- 
 formance wholly singular, because unpre- 
 cedented, unimitated, and inimitable. 
 
 Tlie lord mayor gave a grand dinner 
 in the Egyptian-hall, at the Mansion- 
 house, to 376 guests ; the duke of York, 
 being engaged to dine with the king, 
 could not attend. The present lord mayor 
 has won his way to the hearts of good 
 livers, by his entertainments, and the 
 court of common council commenced 
 its proceedings on the following day by 
 honourable mention of him for this enter- 
 tainment especially, and complacently re- 
 
 ceived a notice to do him further nonour 
 for the general festivity of his mayoralty. 
 
 His lordship's name is Garratt; he is a 
 tea-dealer. Stow mentions that one of 
 similar name, and a grocer, was comme- 
 morated by an epitaph in our lady's 
 chapel, in the church of St. Saviour's, 
 Southwark ; which church the first pier 
 of the proposed bridge adjoins. He says. 
 
 Upon a faire stone under the Grocers' 
 arms, is this inscription : — 
 
 Garret some cal'd him, 
 
 but that was too hye. 
 His name is Garrard, 
 
 who now here doth lye ; 
 Weppe not for liim 
 
 since lie is gone before 
 To heaven, where Grocers 
 
 there are many more.* 
 
 It is supposed that the first bridge of 
 London was built between the years 993 
 and 1016 ; it was of wood. There is a 
 vulgar tradition, that the foundation of 
 the old stone bridge was laid upon wool- 
 packs : this report is imagined to have 
 arisen from a tax laid upon wool towards 
 Its construction. The first stone-bridge 
 began in 1176, and finished in 1209, 
 was much injured by a fire in the 
 Borough, in 1212, and three thousand 
 people perished. On St. George's day, 
 1395, there was a great justing upon it, 
 between David, earl of Crawford, of Scot- 
 land, and lord Wells of England. It had 
 a drawbridge for the passage of ships with 
 provisions to Queenhitlie,with houses upon 
 it, mostly tenanted by p n and needle- 
 makers : there was a chapel on the bridge, 
 and a tower, whereon the heads of un- 
 fortunate partisans were placed : an old 
 map of the city, in 1597, represents a ter- 
 rible cluster ; in 1598, Ilentzner the Ger- 
 man traveller, counted above thirty poles 
 with heads. Upon this bridge was placed 
 the head of the great chancellor, sir 
 Thomas More, which was blown off the 
 pole into the Thames and found by a wa- 
 terman, who gave it to his daughter; she 
 kept it during life as a relic, and directed 
 at her death it should be placed in her 
 arms and buried with her. 
 
 Howel, the author of " Londinc polls,'' 
 in a paraphrase of some lines by San- 
 nazaiius, has this — 
 
 * Stow'i Survey, 1633, page 9Sfl. 
 
 395 
 
THE EVERY-DAY POOK.— JUNE 15. 
 
 Eticomiinn on London-bridge. 
 
 When Neptune from his billows London spVJ, 
 Urought proudly thither by a high spring-tiii«, 
 As thro' a floating wood he steer'd along. 
 And dancing castles cluster'd in a throng ; 
 When be beheld a mighty bridge give law 
 Unto his surges, and their fury awe ; 
 When such a shelf of cataracts did roar. 
 As if the Thames with Nile had chang'd her shore; 
 When he such massy walls, such towers did eye. 
 Such posts, such irons, upon his back to lye ; 
 When such vast arches he observ'd, that might 
 Nineteen Rialtos make for depth and height ; 
 When the Cerulean god these things survey 'd, 
 He shook his trident, and, astonish'd, said, 
 " Let the whole earth now all the wonders count. 
 This bridge of wonders is the paramount." 
 
 Thus has commenced, under the most 
 favourable auspices, a structure which is 
 calculated to secure from danger the do- 
 mestic commerce of the port of London. 
 That such a work has not long since been 
 executed, is attributable moie to the 
 financial difficulties under which the cor- 
 poration of London has been labour- 
 ing for the last quarter of a century, 
 than to any doubts of its being either 
 expedient or necessary. A similar de- 
 sign to that which is now in course of 
 execution, was in contemplation more 
 than thirty years ago ; and we believe 
 that many of the first architects of the day 
 sent in plans for the removal of the old 
 bridge, and the construction of a new 
 Dridge in its place. A want of fund-* to 
 complete such an undertaking compelled 
 the projectors of it, to abandon it for a 
 time ; but the improved condition of the 
 finances of the corporation, the increasing 
 commerce of the city of London with the 
 internal parts of the country, the growing 
 prosperity of the nation at large, and we 
 may also add, a more general conviction 
 derived from longer experience, that the 
 present bridge was a nuisance which de- 
 served to be abated, induced them to re- 
 sume it, and to resume it with a zeal pro- 
 portionate to the magnitude of the object 
 which they had in view. Application 
 was made to parliament for the grant of 
 a sum of money to a purpose which, when 
 considered with regard either to local or 
 to national interests, was of great import- 
 ance. That application was met with a 
 spirit of liberal 'ty which conferred as 
 much honour upon the party who re- 
 ceived, as upon the party who gave, the 
 bounty. The first results of it were be- 
 
 held in the operations of to-day ; the fur 
 ther results are in the bosom of time; but 
 from the spirit with which the work has 
 been commenced, we have no doubt but 
 they will tend no less to the benefit, than 
 the glory, of the citizens of London.* 
 
 There is something peculiarly impos- 
 ing and impressive in ceremonies of this 
 description, as they are usually conducted, 
 and we certainly do not recollect any pre- 
 vious spectacle of a similar nature, which 
 can be said to have surpassed in general 
 interest, grandeur of purpose, or splendid 
 effect, than that just recorded. 
 
 It is at all times agreeable to a philo- 
 sopliical mind, and an understanding 
 which busies itself, not only with the sur- 
 face and present state of things, but also 
 with their substance and remote tenden- 
 cies, to contemplate the exercise of hu- 
 man power, and the triumphs of human 
 ingenuity, whether developed in physical 
 or mental efforts, in the pursuit of ob- 
 jects which comprehend a mixture of 
 both. And perhaps, it is in a good de- 
 gree attributable to this secret impulse of 
 our nature, which operates in some de- 
 gree upon all, however silent and imper- 
 ceptible in its operation, that the mass of 
 mankind are accustomed to take such an 
 eager interest in ceremonials like the pre- 
 sent. It is true, that show, and prepara- 
 tion, and bustle, and the excitement con- 
 sequent upon these, are the immediate 
 and apparent motives ; but it does not 
 therefore follow that the other reasons 
 are inefficient, or that because they are 
 less prominent and apparent, they are 
 therefoie inoperative. The ereriion of a 
 
 * The Timti. 
 
 396 
 
THR EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 15. 
 
 bridge, witliout reference to the immediate 
 object or the extent of its design, is per 
 se a tiiumph of art over nature — a con- 
 quering of one of these obstacles, which 
 the latter, even in lier most bountiful and 
 propitious designs, delights to present to 
 man, as if for the purpose of calling his 
 powers into exercise, and aflbrdmg him 
 the quantity of excitement necessary to 
 the happiness of a sentient being. But 
 ifwedonot entertain these sentiments, 
 and give them utter;mce in so many words, 
 we nevertheless feel and act upon them. 
 We delight to attend spectacles like the 
 present, where the first germ of a stu- 
 pendous work is to be prepared. We 
 look round on the complicated apparatus, 
 and the seemingly discordant and unor- 
 ganized beams and blocks of wood and 
 granite, and then we think of the simple 
 structure, the harmonious and complete 
 whole to which these confused elements 
 will give birth. Such a structure is preg- 
 nant with a multitude of almost indefin- 
 able thoughts and anticipations. We be- 
 think ourselves of the stream of human 
 life, which, some five years hence, will 
 flow over the new London-bridge as 
 thickly, and almost with as little cessa- 
 tion, as the waters of the Thames below : 
 and then we reflect upon the tide of hopes 
 and fears which that human stream will 
 carry in its bosom ! C)ne of our first re- 
 flections will necessarily be of its adap- 
 tation to trade and commerce, of which it 
 will then constitute a new and immense 
 conduit. Trade, and science, and learn- 
 ing, and war, (Providence long avert it !) 
 will at various periods pass across it. 
 Next we consider what will be the imme- 
 diate and individual destiny of the struc- 
 ture : — is it to moulder away after the 
 lapse of many ages, under the slow but 
 effectual influence of time, or to sufier 
 dilapidation suddenly from the operation 
 of some natural convulsion? Will it fall 
 before the wrath or wilfulness of man, or is 
 it to be displaced by new improvements 
 and discoveries, in like manner as its old 
 and many-arched neighbour makes way 
 for it — and as that once superseded its 
 narrower and shop-covered predecessor ? 
 Tiiese are questions which the imagi- 
 native man may ask himself; but who is 
 to answer ? However, even the man of 
 business may be well excused in indulg- 
 ing some speculations such as these, upon 
 the occasion of the erection of a structure, 
 which is to constitute a new artery to and 
 fro in the mighty heart of London — a 
 
 fresh vein through which that commerce, 
 which is the life-blood of our national 
 prosperity and greatness will have to 
 flow.* 
 
 This is one of those public occurrences 
 which may be considered as an event in a 
 man's life, and an epoch in the city's his- 
 tory — a sort of station in one's worldly 
 journey, from which we measure our dis- 
 tances and dates. To witness the man- 
 ner and the moment, in which is laid 
 the first single resting stone of a grand 
 national structure — the very origin of the 
 existence of a massive and magnificent 
 pile, which will require years lo complete, 
 and ages to destroy, has an elevating and 
 sublime effect on the mind. 
 
 Great public works are the truest signs 
 of a nation's prosperity and power; ori- 
 ginally its grandest ornaments, and ulti- 
 mately the strongest proofs of its exis- 
 tence. Its religion, language, arts, sci- 
 ences, government, and history, may be 
 swept into nothingness; but yet its na- 
 tional buildings will remain entire through 
 the lapse of successive ages — after their 
 very founders are forgotten — after their 
 local history has become a mere matter 
 of conjecture The columns of Palmyra 
 stand over the ashes of their framers, in a 
 desert as well of history as of sand. The 
 palacpsof imperial Rome aie still existing, 
 though her religion, her very language, is 
 dead ; and the history of the man-wrought 
 niiracles of Egypt, had been looked at 
 but as the veiy dreamings of philosophy 
 long before Napoleon said to his Egyp- 
 tian army — " From the summits of these 
 pyiamids, forty centuries are looking 
 down upon you." 
 
 Of all public edifices, a bridge is the 
 most necessary, the most generally and 
 frequently useful — open at all hours and 
 to all persons. It was probably the very 
 first public building. Some conjecture, 
 that the first hint of it was taken from an 
 uprooted tree lying across a narrow cur- 
 rent. What a difference between that 
 first natural bridge, and the perfection of 
 pontifical architecture — the vast, solid, 
 and splendid Waterloo — the monnmenttim 
 si qnceras of John Rennie. We feel plea- 
 sure in learning, that the new London- 
 bridge has been designed by the same 
 distinguished architect. It falls to the 
 lot of the son to consummate the plans of 
 the father — we hope with ecaal success 
 
 * Bniiih Preis. 
 
 897 
 
TPIE P:VERY-DAY book.— JUNE 15. 
 
 and with similar benefits, as well to the 
 conductor as to the public. 
 
 Old London-bridge, for which the new 
 one is intended as a more commodious 
 substitute, was the first that connected 
 the Surrey and Middlesex banks. It was 
 built originally of wood, about 800 years 
 ago, and rebuilt of stone in the reign of 
 king John, 1209, just two years after the 
 chief civic officer assumed the name of 
 mayor. Until the middle of the last cen- 
 tury, it was crowded with houses, which 
 made it very inconvenient to the passen- 
 gers- The narrowness and inequality of 
 its arches, have caused it to be compared 
 to " a thick wall, pierced with small uneven 
 holes, through which the water, dammed 
 up by this clumsy fabric, rushes, or rather 
 leaps, with a velocity extremely danger- 
 ous to boats and barges." Of its nine- 
 teen arches, none except the centre, which 
 was formed by throwing two into one, is 
 more than twenty feet wide. This is but 
 the width of each of the piers of Water- 
 loo-bridge. It is the most crowded 
 thoroughfare in London, and, in this point, 
 exceeds Charing-cross, which, according 
 to Dr. Johnson, was overflowed by the 
 full tide of human existence. It has 
 been calculated, that there daily pass over 
 London-bridge 90,000 foot passengers ; 
 800 waggons ; 300 carts and drays; 1,300 
 coaches; 500 gigs and tax carts; and 800 
 saddle horses. The impo-rtance of this 
 great point of communication, and the 
 necessity of rendering it adequate to the 
 purposes of its construction, are proved, 
 by the numbers to whom it affords a daily 
 passage at present, and, still more, by the 
 probable increase of the numbers here- 
 after. The present bridge having been 
 for some years considered destitute of the 
 proper facilities of transition for passen- 
 gers as well as for vessels, an Act of Par- 
 liament, passed in 1823, for building a 
 new one, on a scale and plan equal to 
 the other modern improvements of the 
 metropolis. The first pile of the works 
 was driven on the west side of the pre- 
 sent bridge, in March, 1824, and the first 
 coffer-dam having been lately finished, 
 the ceremony of laying the first stone of 
 the nevv bridge, has been happily and 
 auspiciously completed.* 
 
 Mrs. BAnnAULD 
 The decease of this literary and excel 
 
 * New Times. 
 
 lent lady in the spring of 1825, occasioned 
 a friend to the Every-Day Book to trans- 
 mit the following fugitive poem for in- 
 sertion. It is not collected in any of the 
 works published by Mrs. Barbauld during 
 lier lifetime; this, and the rectitude of 
 spirit in the production itself, may justify 
 its being recorded within these pages. 
 
 To her lionoured Friends 
 
 of the families of 
 
 Martineau anu Taylor 
 
 These lines are inscribed 
 
 By their affectionate 
 
 A. L. B.4RBAULD 
 
 (©It tlje ©cat!; 
 
 OF 
 
 iMRS- MARTINEAU. 
 
 Ye who around this venerated bier 
 111 pious anguish pour the tender tear, 
 Mourn not ! — 'Tis Virtue's triumph. Nature's 
 
 doom. 
 When honoured Age, slow bending to the 
 
 tomb. 
 Earth's a ain enjoyments past, her transient 
 
 woes, 
 Tastes the long sabbath of well-earned 
 
 repose. 
 No blossom here, in vernal beauty shed, 
 No lover lies, warm from the nuptial bed ; 
 Here rests the full of days, — each task ful- 
 filled, 
 Each wish accomplished, and each passion 
 
 stilled. 
 Vou raised her languid head, caught her last 
 
 breath, 
 And cheered with looks of love the couck 
 
 of death. 
 
 Yit mourn! — for sweet the filial sorrows 
 
 flow. 
 When fond affection prompts the gush o/ 
 
 woe ; 
 No hitter drop, 'midst Nature's kind relix'f, 
 Sheds gall into the fountain of your grief; 
 No tears you shed for patient love abused. 
 And counsel scorned, and kind restraints 
 
 refused. 
 Not yours the pang the conscious bosom 
 
 wrings, 
 When late remorse inflicts her fruitless 
 
 stings. 
 Living you honoured her, you mourn for 
 
 dead ; 
 Her God you worship, and her path you 
 
 tread . 
 
 398 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 16. 
 
 Your siglis shall aid reflection's serious 
 hour. 
 
 And cherished virtues bless the kindly 
 shower : 
 
 On the loved theme your lips unblamed 
 shall dwell ; 
 
 Your lives, more eloquent, her worth shall 
 tell. 
 
 — Long may that worth, fair Virtue's herit- 
 age, 
 
 From race to race descend, from age to age ! 
 
 Still purer with transmitted lustre shine 
 
 The treasured birthright of the spreading 
 line ! 
 
 For me, as o'er the frequent grave I bend, 
 And pensive down the vale of years descend ; 
 Companions, Parents, Kindred called to 
 
 mourn, 
 Dropt from my side, or from my bosom torn; 
 A boding voice, metliinks, in Fancy's ear 
 Speaks from the tomb, and cries " Tiiy 
 
 friends are here '" 
 
 Summer Hveuing's Adventure in fVales. 
 
 Mr. Proger of Werndee, riding in the 
 evening from Monmouth, with a friend 
 who was on a visit to him, heavy rain 
 came on, and they turned their horses a 
 little out of the road towards Perthyer. 
 " My cousin Powell," said Mr. Proger, 
 " will, I am sure, be ready to give us a 
 niglit's lodging." At Perthyer all was 
 still; the family were abed. Mr. Proger 
 shouted aloud under his cousin Powell's 
 chamber-window. Mr. Powell soon heard 
 him ; and putting his head out, inquired, 
 " In the name of wonder what means all 
 this noise ? Who is there ?" " It is only 
 your cousin Proger of Werndee, who is 
 come to your hospitable door for shelter 
 from the inclemency of the weather ; and 
 hopes you will be so kind as to give him, 
 and a friend of his, a night's lodging." 
 " What is it you, cousin Proger ? You, 
 and your friend shall be instantly ad- 
 mitted ; but upon one condition, namely, 
 that you will admit now, and never here- 
 after dispute, that I am the head of your 
 family." " What was that you said?" re- 
 plied Mr. Proger. " Why, I say, that 
 if you expect to pass the night in my 
 house, you must admit that I am the hea<l 
 of your family." "No, sir, I never will 
 admit that — were it to rain swords and 
 daggers, I would ride through them this 
 night to Werndee, sooner than let do'/ni 
 the consequence of my family by submit- 
 ting to such an ignominious condition. 
 Come up, Bald ! come up 1" " Stop a 
 moment, cousin Proger ; have you not 
 
 often admitted, that the first earl of Pern- 
 broke (of the name of Herbert) was a 
 younger son of Perthyer ; and will you 
 set yourself up above the earls of Pem- 
 broke .'" "True it is I must give place 
 to the earl of Pembroke, because he is a 
 peer of the realm ; but still, though a 
 peer, he is of the youngest branch of my 
 family, being descended from the fourtli 
 son of Werndee, who was your ancestor, 
 and settled at Perthyer, whereas I am 
 descended from the eldest son. Indeed, 
 my cousin Jones of Lanarth is of a branch 
 of the family elder than you are ; and yet 
 he never disputes my being the head of 
 the family." " Well, cousin Proger, I 
 have nothing more to say : good night to 
 you." — " Stop a moment, Mr. Powell," 
 cried the stranger, " you see how it 
 pours ; do let me in at least ; / will not 
 dispute with yon about our families.'' 
 " Pray, sir, what is your name, and 
 where do you come from ?" " My name 
 is so and so ; and I come from such a 
 county." " A Saxon of course; it would 
 indeed be very curious, sir, were I to dis- 
 pute with a Saxon about family. No, 
 sir, you must suffer for the obstinacy ol 
 your friend, so good night to you both "*' 
 
 3ime 16. 
 
 Sts. Quirius, or Ci/r and Julitta, Martyrs 
 A. D. 304. St. John Francis Regis, 
 A. D. 1640. Sts. Ferreolus, or Far- 
 geaii, and Ferrntius, a. d. 211 or 212 
 St. Aurelian, Abp. a.d. 552. 
 
 Chronology. 
 1722. John Churchill, the great duke 
 of Marlborough, died at Windsor-lodge, 
 in a state of idiocy. He was son of sir 
 Winston Churchill, an English historian, 
 and born at Ashe, in Devonshire, 1650 
 At twelve years of age he became page 
 to the duke of York, afterwards James II.; 
 at sixteen he entered the guards, and 
 distinguished himself under Turenne. H<3 
 was called the handsome Englishman, 
 married ILIiss Jennings, (the celebrated 
 duchess of IMarlborouijh,) obtained dis- 
 tinguished rank and otfices, suppresses 
 the duke of Monmouth's rebellion, ami 
 serve<l king James with apparent fidelity 
 in the wane of his fortime, while he faith- 
 lesnly made court to the prince of 
 Oran^^e. Jlia great military achieve- 
 
 * ^^ illiams's Monmouth. App. 16rt. 
 
 J99 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 16. 
 
 ments, under king William and queen 
 Anne, were rewarded by munificent pub- 
 lic grants, and a public funeral in West- 
 minster-abbey. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Moss Privince Rose. Rosa mnscosa. 
 Dedicated to St. Julitta. 
 
 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book, 
 Dear Sir, 
 A great deal has been lately attempt- 
 ed, by men of feeling minds, to prevent 
 wanton cruelty towards animals; which 
 (unhappily even in this enlightened age,) 
 is but too prevalent. 
 
 The lower class of pei'sons, to whom the 
 care of the horse is intrusted, frequently 
 possess less sense than those noble ani- 
 mals, which groan under their tyranny ; 
 we constantly find ignorant farriers, who 
 think that a cure can only be effected, by 
 most violent and painful remedies. It is 
 to these brutal men, that the lameness of 
 so many horses may be attributed ; for, 
 not understanding tlie beautiful and sin- 
 gular construction of the interior of a 
 horse's foot, by cutting away the hoof 
 they contract the foot, and gradually pre- 
 vent the elasticity so necessary: thus by 
 repeated shoeing, the foot is cramped, as 
 much so, as a man's who would attempt 
 to walk in a shoe considerably too tight 
 for him. Lameness ensues, and these 
 farriers pronounce the seat of lameness 
 any where but where it actually exists ; 
 then comes firing and blistering, and 
 every possible torture, and the poor ani- 
 mal lamed for life, long before his time, 
 is consigned to the lowest drudgery, and 
 subsequently to the dogs. 
 
 The inhuman rate at which horses are 
 driven in stage coaches, conduces greatly 
 to mortality; this consumption of animal 
 life is, in some instances, one in three 
 annually. 
 
 Soame Jenyns, whose works are well 
 known, and who was himself a man of the 
 finest feelings, in a paper On' Cruelty to 
 Animals, adverts to the disciples of Py- 
 thagoras, who held that the souls of men, 
 and all other animals, existed in a state 
 of perpetual transmigratioi., and that 
 when by death they were dislodged from 
 one corporeal habitation, they were im- 
 mediately reinstated in another, happier 
 t r more miserablej according to their be- 
 
 haviour in the former. Scam.e Jenyns 
 favours this doctrine of transmigration, 
 " first, from its justice; secondly, from its 
 utility ; and lastly, from the diflficulty we 
 lie under to account for the sufferings of 
 many innocent creatures without it." He 
 says, " If we look around us, we cannot 
 but observe a great and wretched variety 
 of this kind ; numberless animals subjected 
 by their own natures to many miseries, 
 and by our cruelties to many more, inca- 
 pable of crimes, and consequently incapa- 
 ble of deserving them, called into being, 
 as far as we can discover, only to be mi- 
 serable for the service or diversion of 
 others less meritorious than themselves, 
 wifhout any possibility of preventing, de- 
 serving, or receivmg recompense for their 
 unhappy lot, if their whole existence is 
 comprehended in the narrow and wretch- 
 ed circle of their present life." He then 
 proceeds to observe, that " the theory 
 here inculcated, removes all the:|2 difficul- 
 ties, and reconciles all these seemingly 
 unjust dispensations, whh the strictest 
 justice. It informs us, that their suffer- 
 ings may by no means be understood, but 
 as the just punis-hments of tlieir former 
 behaviour, in a state, where by means of 
 their vices, they may have escaped them. 
 It teaches us, that the pursued and per- 
 secuted fox, was once probably some 
 crafty and rapacious minister, who had 
 purchased by his ill acquired wealth, that 
 safety, which he cannot now procure by 
 his flight ; that the bull, baited with all 
 the cruelties that human ingenuity, or 
 human malevolence can invent, was once 
 some relentless tyrant, who had inflicted 
 all the tortures which he endures ; that 
 the poor bird, blinded, imprisoned, and 
 at last starved to death in a cage, may 
 have been some unforgiving creditor ; and 
 the widowed turtle, pining away life for 
 the loss of her mate, some fashionable 
 wife, rejoicing at the death of her hus- 
 band, which her own ill-usage had occa- 
 sioned. Never can the delicious repast 
 of roasted lobsters excite my appetite, 
 whilst the ideas of the tortures in which 
 those innocent creatures have expired 
 present themselves to my imagination. 
 But when I consider that they must have 
 once probably been Spaniards at Mexico, 
 or Dutchmen at Amboyna, I fall too, 
 with a good stomach and a good con- 
 science. Never can I repose myself with 
 satisfaction in a post chaise, whilst I look 
 upon the starved, foundered, accelerated, 
 and excoriated animals which draw it, as 
 
 400 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 16. 
 
 mere horses, condemned to such unme- 
 rited torments for my convenience, but I 
 reflect, they must have undoubtedly ex- 
 isted in the fathers of the holy inquisi- 
 tion. I very well know that these senti- 
 ments will be treated as ludicrous by 
 many of my readers, but they are in them- 
 selves just and serious, and carry with 
 them the strongest probability of their 
 truth. So strong is it, that I cannot but 
 hope it will have some good effect on the 
 conduct of those polite people, who are 
 too sagacious, learned, and courageous to 
 be kept in awe by the threats of hell and 
 damnation ; and I exhort every fine lady 
 to consider, how wretched will be her 
 condition, if after twenty or thirty years 
 spent at cards, in elegant rooms, kept 
 warm by good fires and soft carpets, she 
 should at last be obliged to change places 
 with one of her coach horses ; and every 
 fine gentleman to reflect, how much more 
 wretched would be his, if after wasting 
 his estate, his health, and his life in ex- 
 travagance, indolence, and luxury, he 
 should again revive in the situation of 
 one of his creditors." 
 
 Besides Jenyns's suppositions, allow me 
 to notice the crimping of fish, the skinning 
 of eels alive, the whipping of pigs to death, 
 to make them tender, the boiling of live 
 crabs, having first put them in cold water 
 to make them lively ; together with the 
 preference given to hunted haies, on ac- 
 count of their delicacy of muscles, softened 
 by worry and exertion. These are but 
 too common instances of a barbarous 
 taste. 
 
 At this season of enjoyment and leisure, 
 when we derive pleasure from contem- 
 plating the beautiful forms and appear- 
 ances of nature, and are grateful for an- 
 nual abundance, let us reflect on the cri- 
 minal heedlessness wherewith we allow 
 our appetites and pleasures to be indulg- 
 ed, by needless suflerings in the ani- 
 mals we subdue to our wants and whims. 
 While we endeavour to inculcate kind- 
 ness m our children towards one another, 
 let us teach them kindness to the mean- 
 est of created beings. I know that the 
 Every-Day ^oo^ widely circulates in fami- 
 lies ; the humane sentiments that pervade 
 it, must therefore have considerable in- 
 fluence, and for this reason I select i as 
 a channel for conveying a humane rug- 
 gestion. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 J. B 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book, 
 Sir, 
 
 The perusal of your remarks on the sea- 
 son and the winds, in the Every-Day 
 Book, page 707, reminded me of some 
 lines I wrote at Ramsgate. If you know 
 Wellington-crescent, where they were 
 composed, you know a very pretty place, 
 for either summer or winter residence. 
 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 June a, 1825. J S. 
 
 THE EAST WIND. 
 
 A summer sun in brightness glows , 
 But, ah ! the blighting east wind blows. 
 
 And weighs the spirit down ' 
 All smiling is th' enlivening ray, 
 That tips with silvery tinge the spray. 
 
 O'er ocean's bosom thrown I 
 
 Yet, all inviting though it seems, 
 
 And tempts one forth to court its beams 
 
 I tremblingly retire : 
 For I am one who hate and dread 
 That eastern blast, and oft have fled 
 
 Its pestilences dire I 
 
 But the young shoots that round me rise 
 And make me old, — (though still unwise} 
 
 Feel no such fear as I 
 Brimful of joy they venture forth 
 Wind blowing west, south, east, or north. 
 
 If cloudless be the sky! 
 
 They tripping lightly o'er the path, 
 To them yet free from grief or scath. 
 
 Press on — and onward still. 
 With brow unwrinkled yet by care. 
 With spirit buoyant as the air — 
 
 They breathe at freedom's will. 
 
 Where shipwreck'd seamen oft deplore 
 The loss of all their scaaty store, 
 
 They rove at ebb of tide 
 In quest of sliells, or various weed. 
 That, from the bed of ocean freed, 
 
 Their anxious search abide. 
 
 Proud and elated with their prize, 
 (All eagerness with sparkling eyes. 
 
 The treasures home are brought 
 To me, who plunged in gloom the while,, 
 At home have watch'd the sea bird's guile : — 
 
 Or, in a sea of thought. 
 
 Have sent my spirit forth to find 
 Fit food for an immortal mind, 
 
 Else of itself the prey J 
 And in th' abstraction ot that mood* 
 Full oft I've realized the good. 
 
 We boast not every day. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 401 
 
 2D 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 17, 18. 
 
 Sometimes tho*, with a courage bold. 
 As ever faced the arctic's cold, 
 
 I pace the Colonnade ;* 
 And then am soon compelled to beat, 
 And seek a cowardly retreat. 
 
 Within the parlour's shade ! 
 
 Sometimes the place, f warm shelter' d close, 
 ■Where Sharwood's decorated house. 
 
 From roof to step all flowers, 
 Shines forth as Flora's temple, where 
 Dominion falls to sea and air ; — 
 
 Napoleonic potoers ! 
 
 There, snugly shelter'd from the blast, 
 My eyes right pensively I cast 
 
 Where famed sir Williams's bark 
 Lies moor'd, awaiting the time wherv 
 That Noah of citizens again 
 
 Shall venture on such ark : 
 
 But, ah \ still round the corner creeps. 
 That tieach'rous wind ! and still it sweeps 
 
 Too clean the path I tread : 
 Arm'd as with numerous needle points. 
 Its painful searchings pierce my joints, 
 
 And then capsize my head ! 
 
 So home again full trot I speed. 
 As, after wound, the warrior's steed ; 
 
 And sit nie down, and sigh 
 O'er the hard-hearted fate of those 
 Wiio feel like me these east-wind woes 
 
 That biain and marrow try ! 
 
 Again upon the sea I look. 
 
 Of nature that exhaustless book 
 
 With endless wonder fraught : — 
 How oft upon that sea Fve gazed. 
 Whose world of waters has amazed 
 
 Man — social or untaught. 
 
 And, spite of all that some may say, 
 It is the place from day to day, 
 
 Whereon tlie soul can dwell ! 
 My soul enkindles at the sight 
 Of such accumulated might ; 
 
 And loves such grandeur well ! 
 J. S, 
 
 Sune 17. 
 
 Sts. Nicandeo and Marcian, about a. t». 
 303. St. Botulph, Abbot, a. d. 655. 
 St. Avitus, or Avy, a.d. 530. St. Mo- 
 Ungus, or Dairch'illa, Bp. a. d. 697. 
 St. Prior, Hermit, 4th Cent. 
 
 St. Alban. 
 
 This saint, the proto-martyr of Britain, 
 is in the church of England calendar and 
 
 * Wellington-crescent. 
 t Albion-ptace. 
 
 almanacs on this day, but he stands in 
 the Romish calendar, on the 22d of the 
 month. 
 
 St. Alban was born at Verulam, in 
 Hertfordshire, in the third century, and 
 went to Rome, where he served seven 
 years as a soldier under Diociesian. He 
 afterwards returned to England, became 
 a Christian, and suffered martyrdom in 
 303, during the dreadful persecution 
 raised by Diociesian. Several miracles 
 are said by Bede to have been wrought at 
 his martyrdom.* 
 
 The fame of Alban, recorded as it was 
 by Bede, made a deep impression on the 
 minds of the superstitious. " The Ecclesi- 
 astical History" of that author, was pub- 
 lished in 731 ; and in the year 795, Offa, 
 king of the Mercians, built a monastery 
 to the honour of Alban, on the place 
 where he had suffered, then called by the 
 Anglo-Saxons, Holmhurst, but smce, in 
 honour of th-^ martyr, named St. Alban's. 
 The town built near the abbey still retains 
 the latter appellation ; and the abbey- 
 church is even yet in existence, having, at 
 the suppression of the monasteries by 
 Henry the Eighth, been purchased by a rich 
 clothier of the name of Stump, for 400/., 
 and converted by him into a parochial 
 churchjfor the use of the inhabitants. In the 
 year 1257, some workmen repairing this 
 ancient church, found the remains of some 
 sheets of lead, containing relics, with a 
 thick plate of lead over them, upon which 
 was cut the following inscription :— 
 
 " In hoc Mausoleo inventum est 
 Venerabile corpus Sancti Albani, Proto 
 Martyris Angloruiny\ 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTOR r. 
 
 Monkey Flower. Mhnulus lufeus 
 Dedicated to St. Nicandeo. 
 
 3i\nt 18. 
 
 Sts. Marcus and Marcelliamis, a.ti. 286. 
 St. Marina, 8th. Cent. St. Elizabeth 
 of Sconage, Abbess, a.d. 1165. St 
 Amand, Bp. of Bourdeaux. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1815. The battle of Waterloo, which 
 terminated the personal power of Napo- 
 lean, was fougnt on this day. 
 
 Audley. t Brady's Clavt*. 
 
 402 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 18. 
 
 BATTLE OF WATERLOO 
 
 rbcrc was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
 Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; 
 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell. 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again. 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! 
 
 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind. 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 
 On with the dance ! let j«y be unconfined ; 
 No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying fleet- 
 But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
 And nearer, nearer, deadlier than before. 
 Arm! arm! it is '.—it is— the cannon's opening rear ' 
 
 Ah ! then and there was hur~ying to and fro, 
 And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress. 
 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
 Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
 Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess 
 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
 Since upon nights so sweet such awful moru could rise? 
 
 And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattermg car, 
 Went pouring forward with impetuous speed. 
 And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
 And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused by the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. 
 Or whispering, with white lips — " The foe ! they come i they conia i' 
 
 And wild, and high, the " (Jameron's gathering rose 1" 
 The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn s hills 
 Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : 
 How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, 
 Savage and shrill ! but with the breath which fills 
 Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers 
 With the fierce native daring which instils 
 The stirring memory of a thousand years, 
 And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears 
 
 And Ardennes waves above them h^r g^een leaves. 
 Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
 Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
 Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
 Of living valour, rolling on the foe 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and law. 
 
 403 
 
EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 18. 
 
 Last noon oeheld them full of lusty life. 
 Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay ; 
 The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, 
 The morn the marshalling in arms,— the day 
 Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
 The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent 
 The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
 Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
 Rider and horse,— friend,— foe,- —in one red burial blent ! 
 
 Byron.. 
 
 iJn the 18th of June, 1817, the Strand- 
 bridge, a noble structure, erected at the 
 expense of private individuals, was opened 
 
 for the public accommodation, under the 
 denomination of Waterloo-bridge, with 
 military and other ceremonies. 
 
 4Me&.^ 
 
 "BUY A BROOM?" 
 
 These poor " Buy-a-Broom girls exactly dress now, 
 
 As Hollar etch'd such girls two cent'ries ago ; 
 
 All formal and stiff, with legs, only, at ease — 
 
 Yet, pray, judge for yourself; and don't, if you please, 
 
 Like Matthews's " Chyle," in his Monolo-Play, 
 
 Cry " The Evry-Day Book is quite right, I dare say ;" 
 
 But ask for the print, at old print shops, (they'll show it,) 
 
 And look at it, " with your own eyes," and you'll " huiw it," 
 
 4C4 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- JUNE 18. 
 
 Tlifise girls are Fleniinj^s. Tliey come to 
 England from the Netherlands in the 
 spring, and take their departure with tiie 
 summer. They have only one low, shrill, 
 twittering note, " Buy a broom ?" some- 
 times varying into the singular plural, 
 " Buy a brooms ?" It is a domestic cry; two 
 or three go together, and utter it in com- 
 pany with each other ; not in concert, nor 
 to a neighbourhood, and scarcely louder 
 than will attract the notice of an inmate 
 seen at a parlour window, or an open 
 street-door, or a lady or two passing in 
 the street. Their hair is tightened up in 
 front, and at the sides, and behind, and 
 the ends brought together, and so se- 
 cured, or skewered, at the top of the head, 
 as if it were constricted by a tourniquet : 
 the little close cap, not larger than an in- 
 fant's, seems to be put on and tied 
 down by strings fastened beneath the 
 chin, merely as a concealment ot the ma- 
 chinery. Without a single inflexion of 
 the body, and for any thing that appears 
 to the contrary, it may be incased in tin. 
 From the waist, the form abruptly and 
 boldly bows out like a large beenive, or 
 an arch of carpentry, built downward from 
 above the hips, for the purpose of opening 
 and distending the enormous petticoat 
 into numerous plaits and folds, and there- 
 by allowing the legs to walk without in- 
 cumbrance. Their figures are exactly mi- 
 niatured in an unpainted penny doll of 
 turnery ware, made all round, before and 
 behind, and sold in the toyshops for the 
 amusement of infancy. 
 
 These Flemish girls are o*" low sta- 
 ture, with features as formai and old 
 fashioned as their dress. Their gait 
 and manner answer to both. They 
 carry their brooms, not under the left 
 arm, but upon it, as they would children, 
 upright between the arm and the side, 
 with the heads in front of the shoulder. 
 One, and one only, of the brooms is in- 
 variably held in the right hand, and this 
 is elevated with the sharp cry " Buy a 
 broom ?" or " Buy a brooms ?" to any one 
 likely to become a purchaser, till it is 
 either bought or wholly declined. The 
 sale of their brooms is the sole purpose 
 for which they cross the seas to us ; and 
 they suffer nothing to divert them from 
 their avocation. A broom girl's counte- 
 nance, so wearisomely indicates unwea- 
 ried attention to the " main chance," and 
 is so inflexibly solemn, that you doubt 
 whether she ever did or can smile ; yet 
 when she does, you are astonished that 
 
 she does not always : her face does nol 
 relax by degrees, but breaks suddenly 
 into an arch laugh. This appearance 
 may be extorted by a joke, while driving 
 a bargain, but not afterwards : she as- 
 sumes it, perhaps, as a sort of " turn" to 
 hasten the " business transaction ;" for 
 when that is concluded, the intercourse 
 ends immediately. Neither lingering nor 
 loitermg, they keep constantly walking 
 on, and looking out for customers. Thev 
 sefdom speak to each other ; nor when 
 then' brooms are disposed of, do they stop 
 and rejoice upon it as an end to their la- 
 bours ; but go homewards reflectively, 
 with the hand every now and then dip- 
 ping into the pocket of the huge petti- 
 coat, and remaining there for a while, as 
 if counting the receipts of the day while 
 they walk, and reckoning what the 
 before accumulated riches will total to, 
 with the new addition. They seem in- 
 fluenced by this admonition, " get all you 
 can, and keep all you get." 
 
 Rather late in an autumn afternoon, in 
 Batteisea-helds, I saw one of these girls 
 by herself; she was seated, with her 
 brooms on her lap, in a bit of scenery, 
 which, from Weirottei's etcliings and other 
 prints, I have always fancied resembled a 
 view in the Low Countries : it is an old 
 windmill, near the " Red-house," with 
 some low buildings among willows, on 
 the bank of the Thames, thrown up to 
 keep the river from overflowing a marshy 
 flat. To my imagination, she was fixed 
 to that spot in a reverie on her " vader- 
 land.*" She gazed on the strait line of 
 stunted trees, as if it were the line of 
 beauty ; and from the motion of her lips, 
 and the enthusiasm of her look, I deemed 
 she was reciting a passage from a poet of 
 her native country. Elevation of feeling, 
 in one of these poor girls, was hardly to 
 be looked for ; and yet I know not why I 
 should have excluded it, as not apper- 
 taining to their character, except from 
 their seeming intentness on thrift alone. 
 They are cleanly, frugal, and no waiters 
 of time ; and that they are capable of sen- 
 timent, I state on the authority of my 
 imagining concerning this poor girl ; 
 whereon, too, I pledge myself not to have 
 been mistaken, for the language of the 
 heart is universal — and hers discoursed to 
 mine ; though from the situation wherein 
 
 * J'ader-land, a word signifying country, but in- 
 finitely more expressive; it was first auuptrd by 
 Lord iiyr<in into our language; be englishfiit " Jt- 
 tlierland." 
 
 405 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JUNE 19, 20 
 
 i stood, slie saw me not. I was not, nor 
 could I be, in love with her — I was in 
 'ove with human nature. 
 
 The " brooms " are one entire piece of 
 wood ; the sweeping part being slivered 
 from the handle, and the shavings neatly 
 turned over and bound round into the 
 form of a besom. They are bought to 
 dust curtains and hangings with ; but 
 good housewives have another use for 
 them'; one of them dipt in fair water, 
 sprinkles the dried clothes in the laundry, 
 for the process of ironing, infinitely better 
 than the hand ; it distributes the water 
 more equally and more quickly. 
 
 " Buy a Broom ? ! !" 
 
 'Hiere is a print with this inscription. 
 It is a caricature representation of Mr. 
 Brougham, with his barrister's wig, in the 
 , dress of a broom girl, and for its likeness 
 of that gentleman, and the play on his 
 name, it is amazingly popular ; especially 
 since he contended for a man's right to 
 his own personal appearance, in the case 
 of Abernetlnj v The Lancet, before 
 the chancellor. Mr. Brougham's good- 
 humoured allusion to his own counte- 
 nance, was taken by the auditors in 
 court, to relate particularly to his 
 portrait in this print, called " Buy a 
 Broom ?" It is certainly as good as 
 " Tlie Great Bell of Lincoln's-inn," 
 and two or three other prints of 
 gentlemen eminent at the chancery-bar, 
 sketched and etched, apparently, by the 
 same happy hand at a thorough likeness. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Horned Poppy CheUdonhim glaucum. 
 Dedicated to St. Marina. 
 
 Sunt 19. 
 
 Sts. Gervasius and Protashm. St. Boni- 
 face, Abp., Apostle of Russia, a. d. 
 1009. St. Juliana Falconieri, a. d. 
 1340. St. Die, or Deodatus, Bp. a. d. 
 670 or 680. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1215. Magna Charta was signed, on 
 compulsion, by king John, at Runny- 
 mead, near Windsor. 
 
 1820. Sir Joseph Banks, president of 
 the royal society, died, aged 77. 
 
 The Summer Midnight. 
 
 The breeze of night has sunk to rest, 
 Upon the river's tranquil breast. 
 And every bird has sought her nest, 
 
 Where silent is her minstrelsy; 
 Tlie queen of heaven is sailing high, 
 A pale bark on the azure sky, 
 Where not a breath is heard to sigh — 
 
 So deep the soft tranquillity. 
 
 Forgotten now the heat of day 
 That on the burning waters lay, 
 The noon of night her mantle gray. 
 
 Spreads, from the sun's high blazonry ; 
 But glittering in that gentle night 
 There gleams a line of silvery light, 
 As tremulous on the shores of white 
 
 It hovers sweet and playfully. 
 
 At peace the distant shallop rides ; 
 Not as when dashing o'er her sides 
 'flie roaring bay's unruly tides 
 
 Were beating round her gloriously ; 
 But every sail is furl'd and still, 
 Silent the seaman's whistle shrill, 
 While dreamy slumbers seem to thrill 
 
 With parted hours of ecstacy. 
 
 Stars of the many spangled heaven ! 
 Faintly this night your beams are given, 
 Tho' proudly where your hosts are driven 
 
 Ye rear your dazzling galaxy; 
 Since far and wide a softer hue 
 Is spread across the plains of blue, 
 Where in bright chorus ever true 
 
 For ever swells your harmony. 
 
 O ! for some sadly dying note 
 Upon this silent hour to float. 
 Where from the bustling world remote, 
 
 The lyre might wake its melody; 
 One feeble strain is all can swell 
 From mine almost deserted shell. 
 In mournful accents yet to tell 
 
 That slumbers not its minstrelsy. 
 
 There is an hour of deep repose 
 
 That yet upon my heart shall close, 
 
 \\ hen all that nature dreads and kno^vt 
 
 Shall burst upon me wond'rously; 
 O may, I then awake for ever 
 My harp to rapture's high endeavour. 
 And as from earth's vain scene I sever, 
 
 Be lost ic Immortality ! 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 La Julienne de Nuit. Hesperis tristin. 
 Dedicated to St. Juliana. 
 
 Suae i^o. 
 
 St. Silverius, Pope, a. d. 538. St. Gohian, 
 Priest and Martyr, about 656. St. Ida- 
 
 403 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 20 
 
 Inrga, or Edlmrge. St. Bain, Bp. of 
 Terouanne (now St Omer,) and Abbot, 
 about A. D. 711. 
 
 Translation of Edward 
 
 This day is so distinguished in the 
 church of England calendar. Edward 
 was the king of the West Saxons, mur- 
 dered by order of Elfrida. He had not 
 only an anniversary on the 18th of March, 
 in commemoration of his sufferings, or 
 rather of the silly and absurd miracles 
 alleged to have been wrought at his tomb ; 
 but he was even honoured by our weak 
 forefathers with another festival on the 
 20th of June, in each year, in remembrance 
 of the removal, or translation, as it is 
 termed, of his relics at Wareham, where 
 they were inhumed, to the minster at 
 Salisbury, three years after his decease. 
 
 It is observed by Mr. Brady, on the 
 translation of St. Edward, as follows: — 
 
 " At the period this solemn act of ab- 
 surd pomp took place, all Europe was 
 plunged in a state of profound ignorance 
 and mental darkness ; no marvel, there- 
 fore, tiiat great importance should have 
 been attached to such superstitious usage; 
 but for what reason our reformers chose 
 to keep up a recollection of that folly, 
 cannot readily be ascertained. 
 
 " Of the origin of translations of this 
 kind, much has been written ; and if we 
 are to credit the assertions of those 
 monkish writers, whose works are yet 
 found in catholic countries, though they 
 have themselves long passed to the silent 
 tomb, we must believe not only that they 
 had their source fiom a principle of de- 
 votion, but that peculiar advantages ac- 
 crued to those who encouraged their in- 
 crease. In the year 359, the eniperor 
 Constantius, out of a presumed and, per- 
 haps, not inconsistent respect, caused the 
 remains of St. Andrew and St. Luke to 
 be removed from their ancient place of 
 interment to the temple of the twelve 
 apostles, at Constantinople; and from 
 that example, the practice of searching 
 for the bodies of saints and martyrs in- 
 creased so rapidly, that in the year 386, 
 we find almost the whole of the devotees 
 engaged in that pursuit. Relics, of 
 course, speedily became of considerable 
 value ; and as they were all alleged to 
 possess peculiar virtues, no expense or 
 labour were spared to provide such trea- 
 sures for every public religious founda- 
 tion. Hence translations innumerable took 
 place of the decayed members of persons 
 
 reputed saints; and where the entire 
 bodies could not be collected, the pious 
 contented themselves with posstissing 
 such parts alone as ' Providence chose to 
 bless them with.' Without these sacred 
 relics, no establishments could expect to 
 thrive ; and so provident had the persons 
 been who laboured in their collection, 
 that not a single religious house but could 
 produce one or more of those invaluable 
 remains ; though, unless we are to believe 
 that most relics, like the holy cross itself, 
 possessed the power of self-augmentation, 
 we must either admit, that some of our 
 circumspect forefathers were imposed 
 upon, or that St. John the Baptist had 
 more heads than that of which he was so 
 cruelly deprived, as well as several of their 
 favourite saints having each kindly afford- 
 ed them two or three skeletons of their 
 precious bodies ; circumstances that fre- 
 quently occuired, ' because,' says Father 
 John Ferand, of Anecy, ' God was 
 pleased so to multiply and re-produce 
 them, for the devotion of the faithful !' 
 
 " Of the number of these relics that 
 have been preserved, it is useless to 
 attempt a description, nor, indeed, could 
 they be detailed in many volumes ; yet 
 it may gratify curiosity to afford some 
 brief account of such as, in addition to 
 the heads of St. John the Baptist, were 
 held in the greatest repute, were it for no 
 other reason than to show how the igno- 
 rance and credulity of the commonalty 
 have, in former ages, been imposed upon, 
 viz. : — 
 
 " A finger of St. Andrew ; 
 " A finger of St. John the Baptist ; 
 " The thumb of St. Thomas ; 
 " A tooth of our Lord ; 
 " A rib of our Lord, or, as it is prof;ineIy 
 styled, of the Verbum euro factum, the 
 woid made flesh ; 
 
 " The hem of oiir Lord's garment, which 
 cured the diseased woman ; 
 
 " The seamless coat of our Lord ; 
 " A tear which our Lord shed over La- 
 zarus ; it was preserved by an angel, 
 who gave it in a phial to Mary Magda- 
 lene; 
 
 " Two handkerchiefs, on which are im- 
 pressions of our Saviour's face ; the one 
 sent by our Lord himself as a present to 
 Agbarus, prince of Edessa ; the other 
 given at the time of his crucifixion *o a 
 holy woman, named Veronica ; 
 
 " The rod of Moses, with which he per- 
 formed his miracles ; 
 
 " A lock of hair of Mary Magdalene's ; 
 
 407 
 
THE EVER^-DAY BOOK— JUNE 21, 
 
 " A hem of Joseph's garment ; 
 
 " A feather of the Holy Ghost ; 
 
 " A finger of the Holy Ghost ; 
 ' A feather of the angel Gabriel ; 
 
 " A finger of a cherubim ; 
 
 '* The water-pots used at the mariiage 
 in Galilee ; 
 
 " The slippers of the antediluvian 
 Enoch ; 
 
 " The face of a seraphim, with only part 
 of the nose ; 
 
 " Tlie ' snout' of a seraphim, thought to 
 nave belonged to the preceding ; 
 
 " Tlie coal that broiled St. Lawrence; 
 
 " The square buckler, lined with ' red 
 velvet,' and the short swotd of St 
 Michael; 
 
 " A phial of the ' sweat of St. Michael,' 
 when he contended with Satan ; 
 
 " Some of the rays of the star that ap- 
 peared to the Magi; with innumerable 
 others, not quite consistent with decency 
 to be here described. 
 
 " The miracles wrought by these and 
 other such precious remains, have been 
 enlarged upon by writers, whose testi- 
 mony, aided by the protecting care of the 
 inquisition, no one durst openly dispute 
 wiio v.as not of the ' holy brotherhood ;' 
 
 although it would appear, by the confes- 
 sions of some of those respectable persons, 
 that ' instances have occurred of their, 
 failure,' but that they always ' recovered 
 their virtue, when,' as Galbert, a monk 
 of Marchiennes, informs us, ' they were 
 flogged with rods, &c. !' "* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Doubtful Poppy. Papaver dubhim 
 Dedicated to St. Silverius. 
 
 3nm 21. 
 
 ■S^ Aloysius, or Lewis Gonzaga, a. d. 
 1591. St. Ralph, Abp. of Bourges, 
 A. D. 866. St. Meen, in Latin, Me- 
 vennns, also Melamis,Ahhol in Britanny, 
 about A. D. 617. St. Aaron, Abbot in 
 Britanny, 6th Cent. St. Eusebius, 
 Bp. of Samosata, a. d. 379 or 380. St. 
 Leufredus, in French, Leufroi, Abbot, 
 A. D. 738 
 
 * Brady's Clavis, 
 
 Summer Morning and Eveyiing. 
 
 The glowing morning, crown'd with youthful roses. 
 Bursts on the world in virgin sweetness smiling, 
 And as she treads, the waking flowers expand. 
 Shaking their dewy tresses. Nature's choir 
 Of untaught minstrels blend their various powers 
 In one grand anthem, emulous to salute 
 Th' approaching king of day, and vernal Hope 
 Jocund trips forth to meet the healthful breeze. 
 To mark th' expanding bud, the kindling sky. 
 And join the general paean. 
 While, like a matron, who has long since done 
 With the gay scenes of life, whose children all 
 Have sunk before her on the lap of earth — 
 Upon whose mild expressive face the sun 
 Has left a smile that tells of former joys- 
 Grey Eve glides on in pensive silence musing. 
 As the mind triumphs o'er the sinking frame.. 
 So as her form decays, her starry beams 
 Shed brightening lustre, till on night's still bosojr. 
 Serene she sinks, and breathes her peaceful last, 
 While on the rising breeze sad melodies, 
 Sweet as the notes that soothe the dying pillow. 
 When angel-music calls the saint to heaven, 
 Come gently floating : 'tis the requiem 
 Chaunted by Philomel for day departed. 
 
 ^4do, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Viper's Buglos. Echium vulgare. 
 Dedicated to St. Aloysius 
 
 408 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUKE 21. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Now Cometh welcome Summer with great strength, 
 
 Joyously smiling in high lustihood, 
 Conferring on us days of longest length, 
 
 For rest or labour, in town, field, or wood; 
 Offering, to our gathering, richest stores 
 
 Of varied herbage, corn, cool fruits, and flowers, 
 As forth they rise from Nature's open pores, 
 
 To fill our homesteads, and to deck our bowers ; 
 Inviting us to renovate our health 
 
 By recreation ; or, by ready hand, 
 And calculating thought, t' improve our wealth : 
 
 And so, invigorating all the land. 
 And all the tenantry of earth or flood, 
 Cometh the plenteous Summer — full of good. 
 
 « How beautiful is summer," says the 
 elegant author of Sylvan Sketches, a 
 volume that may be regarded as a 
 sequel to the Flora Domesfica, from 
 the hand of the same lady. — " IIow beau- 
 tiful is summer! the trees are heavy with 
 fruit and foliage ; the sun is bright and 
 cheering in the morning; the shade of 
 broad and leafy boughs is refreshing at 
 noon ; and the calm breezes of the even- 
 
 ing whisper gently through the leaves, 
 which reflect the liquid light of the moon 
 when she is seen — 
 
 " lifting her silver rim 
 
 Above a cloud, and with a gradual swim 
 Coming into the blue with all Ler light." 
 
 On page 337 of the present work, there 
 is the spring dress of our ancestors in th* 
 fourteenth century, from ar Hlumination 
 
 409 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK. -JUNE 21. 
 
 in a manuscript copied by Strutt. From 
 the same illumination, their summer dress 
 in that age is here represented. 
 
 LONGEST DAY. 
 
 No day is disadvantageous to an agiee- 
 able thought or two upon " Time;" and the 
 present, being the longest day, is selected 
 for submitting to perusal a very pleasant 
 little apologue from a miscellany ad- 
 dressed to the young. The object of the 
 writer was evidently to d'- good, and it 
 is hoped that its insertion \\tie, in further- 
 ance of the purpose, may not be less 
 pleasing to the editor who first introduced 
 it to the public eye, than it will be found 
 by the readers of me Every-Day Book. 
 This is the tale. 
 
 THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 
 
 An old clock, that had stood for fifty 
 years in a farmer's kitchen, without giving 
 its owner any cause of complaint, early 
 one summer's morning, before the family 
 was stirring, suddenly stopped. 
 
 Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may 
 credit the fable,) changed countenance with 
 alarm ; the hands made a vain effort to 
 continue their course ; the wheels remain- 
 ed motionless with surprise ; the v/eights 
 hung speechless ; each member felt dis- 
 posed to lay the 'olame on the others. At 
 length the dial instituted a formal inquiry 
 as to the cause of the stagnation, when 
 hands, wheels, weights, with one voice 
 protested their innocence. But now a 
 faint tick was heard below from the pen- 
 dulum, who thus spoke : — 
 
 " I confess myself to be the sole cause 
 oftlie present stoppage; and I am willing, 
 for the general satisfaction, to assign my 
 reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of 
 ticking." Upon hearing this, the old 
 clock became so enraged, that it was ua 
 the very ])oiiit of striking: 
 
 " Lazy wire !" exclaimed the dial- plate, 
 
 holding up its hands. — " Very good," 
 replied the pendulum : " it is vastly easy 
 for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, 
 as every body knows, set yourself- up 
 above me, — it is vastly easy for you, I 
 say, to accuse other people of laziness ! 
 You, who have had nothing to do all the 
 days of your life but to stare people in the 
 face, and to amuse yourself with watch- 
 ing all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, 
 I beseech you, how you would like to be 
 shut up for life in this dark closet, and to 
 wag backwards and forwards, year after 
 year, and do." — " As to that," said the 
 di?l, ' Is there not a window in youi 
 house, on purpose for you to look 
 through ?" 
 
 " For all that," resumed the pendulum 
 " it is very dark here : and, although there 
 is a window, I dare not stop, even for an 
 instant, to look out at it. Besides, I am 
 really tired of my way of life ; and, if you 
 wish, Fll tell you how I took this disgust 
 at my employment. I happened this 
 morning to be calculating how many 
 times 1 should have to tick in the course 
 only of the next twenty-four hours : perhaps 
 some of you above there can give me the 
 exact sum." 
 
 The minute hand, being (]uick at figures, 
 presently replied, " Eighty-six thousand 
 four hundred times. 
 
 " Exactly so," replied the pendulum ; 
 " well, I appeal to you all, if the very 
 thought of this was not enough to fatigue 
 one ; and when I began to multiply the 
 strokes of one day by those of months and 
 years, really it is no wonder if I felt dis- 
 couraged at the piospect ; so, after a great 
 deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I 
 to myself, Fll stop." 
 
 The dial could scarcely keep its counte- 
 nance during this harangue; but, resum- 
 ing its gravity, thus replied : — 
 
 " Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really 
 astonished that such a useful, industrious 
 person as yourself should have been over- 
 come by this sudden notion. It is true 
 you have done a great deal of work in 
 your time; so have we all, and are likely 
 to do ; which, although it may fatigue us 
 to think of, the question is, whether it will 
 fatigue us to do. Would you now do me 
 the favour to give about half a dozen 
 strokes, to ilKi^trate my argument?" 
 
 The pendulum complied, and ticked 
 six times at its usual pace. — " Now," re- 
 sumed the dial, " may I be allowed to 
 inquire, if that exeition was at all fa 
 tiguing or disagreeable to you ?" 
 
 410 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 22. 
 
 " Not in the least," replied the pendu- 
 lum; " it is not of six strokes that I com- 
 plain, nor of sixty, but oi millio7is." 
 
 " Very good," replied the dial ; " but 
 recollect, that though you may think of a 
 million strokes in an instant, you are re- 
 quired to execute but one ; and that, 
 however often you may hereafter have to 
 swing, a moment will always be given 
 you to swing in." 
 
 " That consideration staggers me, I 
 confess," said the pendulum. " Then I 
 hope," resumed the dial-plate, " we shall 
 all immediately return to our duty ; for 
 the maids will lie in bed till noon, if we 
 stand idling thus." 
 
 Upon this the weights, who had never 
 been accused of light conduct, used all 
 their influence in urging him to proceed; 
 when, as with one consent, the wheels 
 began to turn, the hand began to move, 
 the penduium began to swing, and, to its 
 credit, ticked as loud as ever ; while a 
 red beam of the rising sun, that streamed 
 through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shin- 
 ing full upon the dial-plate, it brightened 
 up as if nothing had been the matter. 
 
 When the farmer came down to break- 
 fast that morning, upon looking at the 
 clock, he declared that his watch had 
 gained half-an-liour in the night. 
 
 A celebrated modern writer says, " take 
 care of the minutes, and the hours will 
 take care of themselves " This is an ad- 
 mirable remark, and might be very sea- 
 sonably recollected when we begin to be 
 "weary in well-doing," from the thought 
 of having much to do. The present mo- 
 ment is all we have to do with in any 
 sense ; the past is irrecoverable ; the fu- 
 ture is uncertain ; nor is it fair to burthen 
 one moment with the weight of the next. 
 Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble 
 thereof. If we had to walk a hundred 
 miles, we should still have to set but one 
 step at a time, and this process continued 
 would infallibly bring us to our journey's 
 end. Fatigue generally begins, and is 
 always increased, by calculating in a 
 minute the exertion of hours. 
 
 Thus, in looking forward to future life, 
 let us recollect that we have not to sus- 
 tain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, 
 or encounter all its crosses at once. One 
 moment comes laden with its own little 
 burthens, then flies, and is succeeded by 
 another no heavier than the last ; if one 
 
 could be borne, so can another, and ano- 
 ther. 
 
 Even in looking forward to a single 
 day, the spirit may sometimes faint from 
 an anticipation of the duties, the labours, 
 the trials to temper and patience that may 
 be expected. Now, th's is unjustly lay- 
 ing the burthen of many thousand mo- 
 ments upon one. Let any one resoWe 
 always to do right now, leaving then to 
 do as it can ; and if he were to live to the 
 age of Methusalem, he would never do 
 wrong. But the common error is to re- 
 solve to act right after breakfast, or after 
 dinner, or to-morrow morning, or next 
 time ; but noiv, jimt now, this once, we 
 must go on the same as ever. 
 
 It is easy, for instance, tor viiC most 
 ill-tempered person to resolve, that the 
 next time he is provoked he will not let 
 his temper overcome him ; but the victory 
 would be to subdue temper on the present 
 provocation. If, without taking up the 
 burthen of the future, we would always 
 make the single eflbvt at the present 
 moment, while there wtnild, at any time, 
 be very little to qo, yet, by this simple 
 process continued, every thing would at 
 last be done. 
 
 It seems easier to do right to-morrow 
 than to-day, merely because we forget, 
 that when to- morrow comes, then will be 
 iiow. Thus life passes with many, in re- 
 solutions for the future, which the pre- 
 sent never fulfils. 
 
 It is not thus with those, who, " by pa- 
 tient continuance in ivell-doing, seek for 
 glory, honour, and immortality :" day by 
 day, minute by minute, they execute the 
 appointed task to which the requisite mea- 
 sure of time and strength is proportioned : 
 and thus, having worked while it was 
 called day, they at length rest from their 
 labours, and their " works follow them." 
 
 Let us then, " whatever our hands find 
 to do, do it with all our might, recollect- 
 ing that now is the proper and accepted 
 time."* 
 
 ^ime 22. 
 
 St Paulinus, Bp. of Nola, a.d. 431. Ht. 
 
 Alban, Proto-Martyr of Britain, a.d. 
 
 303. 
 
 American Newspapers. 
 
 The following singular advertisement, 
 appeared in the " Connecticut Courant," 
 of June 2, 1784. 
 
 * From the Youlh'i Magazine, for November, IblU 
 
 411 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 Take Notice, Debtors 
 For Newspapers to the Subscriber. 
 This is the last time of asking in this 
 way ; all those who settle their accounts 
 Dy the 18th of June, instant, will have 
 the thanks of their tiumble servant ; and 
 those that neglect, will find their accounts 
 in the hands of some person, who will 
 collect them in a more fashionable way, 
 but more expensive. 
 
 James Johnson. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Canterbury Bells. Campanula Medium 
 Dedicated to St. Paulinus. 
 
 Suite 23, 
 
 St Etheldreda, or Audry, a.d. 679. 
 Mary of Uignies, a.d. 1213. 
 
 St 
 
 MIDSUMMER— THE BONFIRE. 
 
 This engraving represents a rejoicing 
 formerly common to this season ; it is 
 from a French print, inscribed " Le Feu 
 de St. Jean Mariette es." 
 
 The summer solstice has been celebrat- 
 ed throughout all ages by the lighting up 
 of fires, and hence on " St. John's eve," or 
 the vigil of the festival of St. John the 
 Baptist, there have been popular cere- 
 monials of this kind from the earliest 
 times of the Romish church to the present. 
 
 Before, however, particularizing any o' 
 these celebrations, it may be worth while 
 to notice the following practice, which is 
 still maintained. 
 
 Midsummer Eve, in Ireland. 
 At Stoole, near Downpatrick, in t)« 
 north of Ireland, there is a ceremony 
 commencing at twelve o'clock at night on 
 every Midsummer-eve. — Its sacred mount 
 is consecrated to St. Patrick : the plain 
 contains three wells, to which the naost 
 
 412 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.—JUNE 23. 
 
 extraordinary virtues are attributed. Here 
 and there are heaps of stones, around some 
 of which appear great numbers of people 
 running with as much speed as possible ; 
 around others, crowds of worshippers kneel 
 with bare legs and feet as an indispensable 
 part of the penance. The men, without 
 coats, with handkerchiefs on their heads 
 instead of hats, having gone seven times 
 round each heap, kiss the ground, cross 
 themselves, and proceed to the hill ; here 
 they ascend on their bare knees, by a path 
 so steep and rugged that it would be diffi- 
 cult to walk up : many hold their hands 
 clasped at the back of their necks, and >s- 
 veral carry large stones on their heads. 
 Having repeated this ceremony seven 
 times, they go to what is called St. 
 Patrick's chair, which are two great flat 
 stones fixed upright in the hill ; here they 
 cross and bless themselves as they step in 
 between these stones, and while repeating 
 prayers, an old man, seated for the pur- 
 pose, turns them round on their feet three 
 times, for which he is paid ; the devotee 
 then goes to conclude his penance at a 
 pile of stones named the altar. Whih 
 this busy scene of superstition is continued 
 by the multitude, the wells, and stream.^ 
 issuing from them, are thronged by cowd; 
 of halt, maimed, and blind, pressing tc 
 wash away their infirmities with watei 
 consecrated by their patron saint ; and sc 
 powerful is the impression of its efficac}' 
 on their minds, that many of those who go 
 to be healed, and who are not totally 
 blind, or altogether crippled, really believe 
 for a time that they are by means of its 
 miraculous virtues perfectly restored. 
 These effects of a heated imagination are 
 received as unquestionable miracles, and 
 are propagated with abundant exaggera- 
 tion.* 
 
 The annual resort of the ignorant por- 
 tion of our Roman Catholic countrymen, 
 was never so numerously attended as it 
 has been during the late anniversary of 
 this festival, in 1825. The extent of the 
 number of strangers from very remote 
 parts of the country was unprecedented. 
 The usual ablutions, penances, and mi- 
 raculous results, were performed, and 
 attested by the devotees, who experienced 
 lome disappointment in not having th* 
 accustomed arch-officiater to consummate 
 the observances by thrice revolving the 
 votary in the chair of St. Patrick. This 
 
 • Hibernian Magazine, July, IB\7. 
 
 deprivation, it is said, marks the sense of 
 a dignitary of the church respecting iL s 
 annual ceremony.* 
 
 Ancient Custom of 
 
 SETTING THE WATCH IN L0^ DON 
 
 on St. John's Eve. 
 
 The curfew-bell, commanded by Wil- 
 liam Conquerour to be nightly rung at 
 eight of the clock, as a warning, or com- 
 mand, that all people should then put out 
 their fires and lights, was continued 
 throughout the realm till the time of 
 Henry the First, when Stow says, that 
 it followed, " by reason of warres within 
 the realme, that many men gave them- 
 selves to robbery and murders in the 
 night." Stow then recites from an ancient 
 chronicler, Roger Hoveden, that in the 
 yeare 1175, during the time of a council 
 held at Nottingham, a brother of the earle 
 Ferrers, was " in the night privily slaine 
 at London, and thrown out of his inne 
 into the durty street; when the king un- 
 derstood thereof he sware that he would 
 be revenged on the citizens. It was then 
 a common practice in this city, that a 
 hundred or more in a company, young 
 and old, would make nightly invasions 
 upon houses of the wealthy, to the intent 
 to rob them ; and if they found any man 
 stirring in the city within the night, that 
 were not of their crue, they would pre- 
 sently murder him : insomuch, that when 
 night was come, no man durst adventure 
 to walk in the streets. When this had 
 continued long, it fortuned, that a crue 
 of young and wealthy citizens assembling 
 together in the night, assaulted a stone 
 house of a certaine rich man, and break- 
 ing through the wall, the good man of 
 that house having prepared himself with 
 other in a coiner, when hee preceived one 
 of the theeves, named Andrew Bucquint, 
 to lead the way, with a burning brand in 
 .he one hand, and a pot of coles in the 
 other, which hee assaied to kindle with 
 the brand, he flew upon him, and smote 
 off his right hand, and then with a lourt 
 voyce cryed ' theeves.' At the hearing 
 whereof, the theeves took their flight, all 
 saving he that had lost his hand, whom 
 the good man (in the next morning) 
 delivered to Richard de Lucie, the kinf;'s 
 justice. This theefe, upon wan ant o^ lu« 
 
 * iiellasi Cliroiiiile. 
 
 413 
 
THE EVERY-DAY UOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 life, appeached his confederates, of whom 
 many were taken, and many were fled. 
 Among tlie rest that were apprehended, a 
 certaine citizen of great countenance, 
 credit, and wealth, named John Senex, 
 who for as much he could not acquit 
 himselfe by the water-doome (as that law 
 was then tearmed) hee offered to the king 
 five hundred pounds of silver for his life. 
 But forasmuch as he was condemned by 
 judgement of the water, the king would 
 not take the offer, but commanded him to 
 be hanged on the gallowes, which was 
 done, and then the city became more 
 quiet for a long time after." 
 
 It appears that the city of London was 
 subject to these disorders till 1253, when 
 Henry III. commanded watches to be 
 kept in the cities, and borough towns, 
 for the preservation of the peace ; and 
 this king further ordained " that if any 
 man chanced to be robbed, or by any 
 means damnified, by any theefe or robber, 
 he to whom the charge of keeping that 
 county, city, or borough, chiefly apper- 
 tained, where the robbery was done, 
 should competently restore the losse." 
 
 This origin of the present nightly watch 
 in London was preceded by other popular 
 customs, or they rather, it may be said, 
 assisted in its formation. " In the months 
 of June and July, on the vigils of festivall 
 dayes, and on the same festivall dayes in 
 the evenings, after the sun-setting, there 
 were usually made bone-fires in the 
 streets, every man bestowing wood or 
 labour towards them. The wealthier sort 
 also before their doores, neere to the said 
 bone-fires, would set out tables on the 
 vigils, furnished with sweete bread, and 
 good drinke, and on the festivall dayes 
 with meats and drinkes plentifully, 
 whereunto they would invite their neigh- 
 bours and passengers also to sit, and be 
 merry with them in great familiarity, 
 praysing God for his benefits bestowed on 
 them. These were called bone-fires, as 
 well of amity amongst neighbours, that 
 being before at conlroversie, were there by 
 the labour of others reconciled, and made 
 of bitter enemies, loving friends ; as also 
 for the vertue that a great fire hath, to 
 purge the infection of the ayre. 
 
 "On the vigil of St. "John Baptist, 
 and on Sts. Peter and Paul the apostles, 
 every man's doore being shaddowed with 
 greene birch, long fennel, St. John's 
 wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, 
 garnished upon with garlands of beautiful! 
 
 flowers, had also lamps of glasse, with 
 oyle burning in them all the night ; some 
 hung out branches of iron curiously 
 wrought, containing hundreds of lamps 
 lighted at once, which made a goodly 
 shew, namely in new Fish-street, Thames- 
 street, &c. 
 
 " Then had ye, besides the standing 
 watches, all in bright harnesse, in every 
 ward and street of this city and suburbs, a 
 marchiuir watch, that passed through the 
 principall streets thereof, to wit, from the 
 little conduit by Paul's gate, through 
 West Cheape, by the Stocks, through 
 Cornehill, by Leadenhall to Aldgate, then 
 backe down Fen-church-street, by Grasse- 
 church, about Grasse-church conduit, and 
 up Grasse-church-street into Cornhill, and 
 through it into West Cheape again, and 
 so broke up. 
 
 " The whole way ordered for this march- 
 ing watch, extended to three thousand 
 two hundred taylors' yards of assize ; for 
 the furniture whereof with lights, there 
 were appointed seven hundred cressets, 
 five hundred of them being found by the 
 companies, the other two hundred by the 
 chamber of London. Besides the which 
 lights, every constable in London, in 
 number more than two hundred and forty, 
 had his cresset : the charge of every 
 cresset was in light two shillings foure 
 pence, and every cresset had two men, 
 one to beare or hold it, another to beare a 
 bag with light, and to serve it : so that the 
 poore men pertaining to the cressets, 
 taking wages, (besides that every one had 
 a strawen hat, with a badge painted, and 
 his breakfast in the morning,) amounted 
 in number to almost two thousand. 
 
 *' The marching watch contained in 
 number two thousand men, part of them 
 being old souldiers, of skill to bee cap- 
 taines, lieutenants, Serjeants, corporals, &.c. 
 wifflers, drummers, and fifes, standard 
 and ensigne-bearers, sword-players, trum- 
 peters on horsebacke, demilaunces on 
 great horses, gunners with hand-guns, or 
 halfe hakes, archers in cotes of white fus- 
 tian, signed on the breste and backe with 
 the armes of the city, their bowes bent in 
 their hands, with sheafes of arrowes by 
 their sides, pike-men in bright corslets, 
 burganets, &c., holbards, the like bill- 
 men in almaine rivets, and aperns of 
 mayle in great number. 
 
 " There were also divers pageants, and 
 morris dancers attendant on the setting of 
 this marching watch. The constables, 
 
 4U 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JUNE 23. 
 
 were divided into two parties ; one halfe 
 consisting of one hundred and twenty, 
 were appointed on St. John's eve, the 
 other halfe on St. Peter's eve." They 
 were " in bright harnesse, some over-gilt, 
 and every one a jornet of scarlet there- 
 upon and a chaine of gold, his hench-nian 
 following him, his minstrels before him, 
 and his cresset light passing by him." In 
 the procession were " the ivaytes of the 
 city, the maiors officers, for his guard 
 before him, all in a livery of wosted, or 
 say jackets, party coloured ; the maior 
 himselfe well mounted on horseback, the 
 sword-bearer before him in faire armour, 
 well mounted also, the maiors foot-men, 
 and the like torch-bearers about him ; 
 hench-men twaine, upon great stirring 
 horses following him. The sheriffes 
 watches came one after the other in like 
 order, but not so large in number as the 
 maiors : for whereas the maior had, 
 besides his giant, three pageants, each of 
 the sheriffes had, besides their giants, but 
 two pageants ; each their morris-dance, 
 and one hench-man, their officers in 
 jackets of wosted, or say, party-coloured, 
 differing from the maiors, and each from 
 other, but having harnessed men a great 
 many, &c. This Midsummer watch was 
 thus accustomed yeerely, time out of 
 minde, untill the yeere 1539, the thirty- 
 first of Henry the Eighth, in which yeere, 
 on tlie eighth of Maj, a great muster was 
 made by the citizens at the Miles end, all 
 in bright harnesse, with coats of white 
 silke or cloth, and chaines of gold, in 
 three great battels, to the number of 
 fifteen thousand, which passed thorow 
 London to Westminster, and so through 
 the sanctuary, and round about the parke 
 of St. Jan.es, and returned home thorow 
 Oldboine." 
 
 In that year, 1539, king Henry VIII. 
 forbid this muster of armed men, and 
 prohibited the marching watch altogether, 
 and it was disused "til the yeere 1548." 
 When sir John Gresham, then lord 
 mayor, revived the marching watch, b'oth 
 on the eve of St. John the baptist, and of 
 St. Peter the apostle, and set it forth, in 
 order as before had been accustomed ; 
 " which watch was also beautified by the 
 the number of more than three hundred 
 demilances and light-horsemen, prepared 
 by the citizens to be sent into Scotland, 
 for the rescue of the town of Hadding- 
 ton." After that time the marching wiitcli 
 again fell into disuse ; yet, in the year 
 
 1 585, " a booke was drawne by a grave 
 citizen, (John Mountgomery,) and by 
 him dedicated to sir Tho. Pullison, then 
 1. maior, and his brethren the aldermen, 
 containing the manner and order of a 
 marching watch in the citie, upon the 
 evens accustomed ; in commendation 
 whereof, namely, in times of peace to be 
 used, he hath words to this effect : ' The 
 artificers of sundry sorts were thereby 
 well set aworke, none but rich men 
 charged, poor men helped, old souldiers, 
 trumpeters, drummers, fifes, and engine- 
 bearers, with such like men meet for the 
 prince's service, kept in use, wherein the 
 safety and defence of every common-weale 
 consisteth. Armour and weapons being 
 yeerely occupied in this wise, the citizens 
 had of their owne readily prepared for 
 any neede, whereas, by intermission 
 hereof, armorers are out of worke, soul- 
 diers out of use, weapons overgrowne 
 with foulnesse, few or none good being 
 provided,' " &:c. Notwithstanding these 
 plausible grounds, the practice was dis- 
 continued. 
 
 There can be little doubt that so great 
 an array of armed citizens, was not only 
 viewed with distrust by the government, 
 but had become of so great charge to the 
 corporation, that it was found mutually 
 convenient to substitute a less expensive 
 and less warlike body to watch and ward 
 the city's safety. The splendour wherein 
 it was annually set forth was, however, a 
 goodly sight, and attracted the curiosity 
 of royalty itself, for we find that on St. 
 John's eve, in 1510, king Henry VHI. 
 came to the King's-head, in Cheap, in 
 the livery of a yeoman of the guard, with 
 a halbert on his shoulder, and there, in 
 that disguise, beheld the watch till it had 
 passed, and was so gratified with the 
 show, that " on St. Peter's night next 
 following, he and the queen came royally 
 riding to the sayd place, and there, with 
 their nobles, beheld tl)e watch of the city, 
 and returned in the morning."* In 1519, 
 Christern, king of Denmark, and his 
 queen, being then in England, were con- 
 ducted to the King's-head, in Cheap, 
 there to see the watch. 
 
 On taking leave of the old London 
 watch, on St. John's eve, a remark or 
 two may be made respecting their lights. 
 
 * ?tow. 
 
 415 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 The Cresset. or it was a light from combustibles, in a 
 
 Concerning the cressets or lights of the hollow pan. It was rendered portable ^y 
 
 watch, this may be observed by way of being placed on a pole, and so carried 
 
 explanation. 
 
 The cresset light was formed of a 
 wreathed rope smeared with pitch, and 
 placed iu a cage of iron, like a trivet 
 suspended on pivots, in a kind of fork ; 
 
 from place to place. Mr. Douce, in his 
 " Illustrations of Shakspeare," gives the 
 following four representations from old 
 prints and drawings of 
 
 CRESSETS. 
 
 
 LAMPS IN THE OLD STREETS, 
 
 AND ALSO CARRIED BY THE 
 
 MARCHING WATCH OF LONDON. 
 
 Mr. Douce imagines the word cresset 
 to have been derived from the French 
 word croiset, a cruet or earthen pot. 
 
 When the cresset light was stationary 
 it served as a beacon, or answered the 
 purpose of a fixed lamp, and in this way 
 our ancestors illuminated or lighted up 
 their streets. There is a volume of ser- 
 mons, by Samuel Ward, printed 1617-24, 
 with a wood-cut frontispiece, representing 
 two of these fixed cressets or street-lamps, 
 with verses between them, in relation to 
 his name and character, as a faithful 
 watchman. In the first lines old Ward 
 is addressed thus : — 
 
 " Watch Ward, and keepe thy Garments 
 
 tight, 
 For I come thiefe-like at Midnight." 
 
 Whereto Ward answers the injunction, to 
 watch, in the lines following : — 
 
 " All-seeing, never-slumbering Lord; 
 Be thou my Watch, He be thy Ward. 
 
 Ward's " lamp, or beacon," is trans- 
 ferred from his frontispiece to the next 
 column, in order to show wherein our 
 ancient standing lamps differed from the 
 present. 
 
 416 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 73 
 
 AN OLD BEACON, 
 
 OR 
 
 STANDING LAMP, 
 It will be seen from this engraving 
 that the person, whose business it was to 
 " watch " and trim the lamp, did not 
 ascend for that purpose by a ladder, as 
 the gas-lighters do our gas-lamps, or as 
 the lamp-lighter did the oil-lamps which 
 they superseded, but by climbing the 
 pole, hand and foot, by means of the 
 projections on each side. 
 
 Sf. Johns Eve Watch at Nottingham. 
 
 The practice of setting the watch, it 
 Nottingham, on St. John's eve, was main- 
 tained until the reign of Charles I., the 
 tne manner whereof is thus described : — 
 
 " In Nottingham, by an ancient custom, 
 they keep yearly a general watch every 
 Midsummer eve at night, to which every 
 inhabitant of any ability ."sets forth a man, 
 as well \oluntaries as those who are 
 charged with arms, with such munition 
 
 as tliey have ; some pii .^s, some muskets, 
 caiivers, or other guns, some par'isans, 
 holberts, and such as have armour send 
 their servants in their armour. Thu 
 number of these are yearly almost two 
 hundred, who, at sun-setting, meet on 
 the Row, the most open part of the town, 
 where the mayor's serjeant at mace gives 
 them an oath, the tenor whereof foUoweth, 
 in these words : ' They shall well and 
 truly keep this town till to-morrow at 
 the sun-rising ; you shall come into no 
 hovise without license, or cause reasonable. 
 Of all manner of casualties, of fire, of 
 crying of children, you shall due warning 
 make to the parties, as the case shall 
 require you. You shall due search make 
 of all manner of affrays, bloud-sheds, 
 outcrys, and of all other things that be 
 suspected,' &c. Which done, they all 
 march in orderly an ay through the prin- 
 cipal parts of the town, and then they 
 are sorted into several companies, and 
 designed to several parts of the town, 
 where they are to keep the watch until the 
 sun dismiss them in the morning. In 
 this business the fashion is for every 
 watchman to wear a garland, made in the 
 fashion of a crown imperial, bedeck'd 
 with flowers of various kinds, some 
 natural, some artificial, bought and kept 
 for that purpose; as also ribbans, jewels, 
 and, for the better garnishing whereof, 
 the townsmen use the day before to ran- 
 sack the gardens of all the gentlemen 
 within six or seven miles about Notting- 
 ham, besides what the town itself affords 
 them, their greatest ambition being to 
 outdo one another in the bravery of their 
 garlands."* So pleasant a sight must 
 have been reluctantly parted with ; and 
 accordingly in another place we find that 
 this Midsummer show was held at a much 
 later period than at Nottingham, and 
 with more pageantry in the procession. 
 
 St. Johns Eve Jf'atch at Chester. 
 The annual setting of the watch on St 
 .Tohn's eve, in the city of Chester, was an 
 affair of great moment. By an ordinance 
 of the mayor, aldermen, and common 
 councilmen of that corporation, dated in 
 the year 1564, and preserved among the 
 Harleian MSS. in the British Museum, a 
 pageant which is expressly said to be 
 " according to ancient custom," is or- 
 dained to consist of four giants, one uni- 
 corn, one dromedary, one camel, one 
 luce, one dragon, and six hobby-horses 
 
 * Deering's Nottingham 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 417 
 
 2 E 
 
THE EVE"RY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 23. 
 
 vvitli other figures. By anotner MS. in 
 the same library it is said, that Henry 
 Hardware, Esq., the mayor, in 1599, 
 caused the giants in the Midsummer show 
 to be broken, " and not to goe the devil 
 in his feathers ;" and it appears that he 
 caused a man in complete armour to go 
 in their stead : but in the year 1601, Jolm 
 Ratclyffe, beer-brewer, being mayor, set 
 out the giants and Midsummer show as of 
 old it was wont to be kept. In the time 
 of the commonwealth the show was dis- 
 continued, and the giants with the beasts 
 were destroyed. 
 
 At the restoration of Charles II., the 
 citizens of Chester replaced their pageant, 
 and caused all things to be made new, 
 because the old models were broken. 
 According to the computation, the four 
 great giants were to cost five pounds 
 a-piece, at the least, and the four men to 
 carry them were to have two shillings and 
 six-pence each ; the materials for construct- 
 ing them were to be hoops of various 
 sizes, deal boards, nails, pasteboard, 
 scaleboard, paper of various sorts, buck- 
 ram, size-cloth, and old sheets for their 
 body-sleeves and shirts, which were to 
 be coloured ; also tinsel, tinfoil, gold and 
 silver leaf, and colours of various kinds, 
 with glue and paste in abundance. The 
 provision of a pair of old sheets to cover 
 the " father and mother giants," and three 
 yards of buckram for the mother's and 
 daughter's hoods, seems to prove that 
 three of these monstrous pasteboard 
 figures represented females. A desire to 
 preserve them may be inferred from an 
 entry in the bill of charges : — " For ars- 
 nick to put into the paste, to sive the 
 giants from being eaten by the rats, one 
 shilling and four-pence." There was an 
 item in the estimate — " For the new mak- 
 ing the city mount, called the maior's 
 mount, as auntiently it was, and for hire- 
 Ing of bays for the same, and a man to 
 carry it, three pounds six shillings and 
 eight-pence." Twenty-pence was paid to 
 a joiner for cutting pasteboard into se- 
 veral images for the " merchant's mount," 
 
 which being made, " as it aunciently was 
 with a ship to turn round," cost foui 
 pounds, including the hiring of the 
 " bays," and five men to carry it. The 
 charge for the ship, and new dressing it, 
 was five shillings. Strutt, who sets forth 
 these particulars, conjectures, that the 
 ship was probably made with pasteboard, 
 that material seeming, to him, to have 
 been a principle article in the manufac- 
 turing of both these movable mountains. 
 The ship was turned, he says, by means 
 of a swivel, attached to an iron handle 
 underneath the frame ; the " bays " was 
 to hang round the bottom of the frames 
 to the ground, and so conceal the bearers. 
 Then there was a new " elephant and 
 castell, and a cupid," with his bows and 
 arrows, " suitable to it ;" the castle was 
 covered with tin foil, and the cupid with 
 skins, so as to appear to be naked, and 
 the charge for these, with two men to 
 carry them, was one pound sixteen shil- 
 lings and eight-pence. The " four beastes 
 called the unicorne, the antelop, the 
 flower-de-luce (?) and the camell, cost one 
 pound sixteen shillings and four-pence 
 each, and eight men were paid sixteen 
 shillings to carry them. Four boys for 
 carrying the four hobby-horses, had four 
 shillings, and the hobby-horses cost six 
 shillings and eight-pence each. The charge 
 for the new dragon, with six naked boys 
 to beat at it, was one pound sixteen shil- 
 lings. Six morris-dancers, with a pipe 
 and tabret, had twenty shillings ; and 
 " hance-staves, garlands, and balls, for 
 the attendants upon the mayor and she- 
 riffs cost one pound nineteen shillings."* 
 These preparations it will be remem- 
 bered were for the setting forth of the Mid- 
 summer-watch at Chester, so late as the 
 reign of Charles II. After relating these 
 particulars, Mr. Strutt aptly observes, 
 that exhibitions of this kind for the di- 
 versions of the populace, are well des 
 cribed in a few lines fiom a dramatic 
 piece, entitled " A pleasant and stately 
 Morall of theThreeLordesof London:" — 
 
 '* Let nothing that's mag-nifical. 
 
 Or that may tend to London's graceful state, 
 Be unperformed, as sliowes and'solenine feastes, 
 Watches in armour, triumphes, cresset lights> 
 Bonefires, liclles, and peales of ordinaunce 
 And pleasure. See that plaies be published, 
 Mai-games and maskcs, with mirthe and minstrelsie. 
 Pageants aad school-fcastes, beares and puppet-plales.' 
 
 « Strutt s Sports. 
 
 418 
 
THE EVERY-DAT B'JOK.— JUNE 24. 
 
 Somorsctxhire Custom- 
 
 In the parishes of Congresbury and 
 Puxton, are two large pieces of common 
 land, called East and West Dolemoors, 
 (from the Saxon dal, which signifies a 
 share or portion,) which are divided into 
 single acres, each bearing a peculiar and 
 different mark cut in the turf; such as a 
 horn, lour oxen and a mare, two oxen and a 
 mare, a pole-axe, cross, dung-fork, oven, 
 duck's-nest, hand-reel, and hare's-tail. 
 On the Saturday before Old-Midsummer, 
 several proprietors of estates in the 
 parishes of Congresbury, Puxton, and 
 Week St. Lawrence, or their tenants, 
 assemble on the commons. A number 
 of apples are previously prepared, marked 
 in the same manner with the before-men- 
 tioned acres, which are distributed by a 
 young lad to each of the commoners from 
 a bag or hat. At the close of the distri- 
 bution each person repairs to his allot- 
 ment, as his apple directs him, and takes 
 possession for the ensuing year. An 
 adjournment then takes place to the 
 house of the overseer of Dolemoors, (an 
 officer annually elected from the tenants,) 
 where four acres, reserved for the purpose 
 of paying expenses, are let by inch of 
 candle, and the remainder of the day is 
 spent in that sociability and hearty mirth 
 so congenial to the soul of a Somersetshire 
 yeoman.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Our Lady's Slipper. Cypripedinm 
 
 Calceolits. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Etheldreda. 
 
 Sime 24. 
 
 Nativity of St. John the Baptist. The 
 Martyrs of Rome inider Nero, a. d. 
 64. St. Bartholomew. 
 
 Nativity of St. John the Baptist. 
 At Oxford on this day there was lately 
 a re=markable custom, mentioned by the 
 Rev. W. Jones of Nayland, in his " Life of 
 Bishop Home," affixed to the bishop's 
 works. He says, " a letter of July the 
 
 25th, 175.5, informed me that JNIr. llorne, 
 according to an established custom at 
 Magdalen-college in Oxford, had begun 
 to preach before the university on the 
 day of St. John the baptist. For the 
 preaching of this annual sermon, a perma- 
 nent pulpit of stone is inserted into a 
 corner of the first quadrangle ; and, so 
 long as the stone pulpit was in use, 
 (of ivhich I have been a witness,) the 
 quadrangle was furnished round the sides 
 with a large fence of green boughs, that 
 the preaching might more nearly resemble 
 that of John the baptist in the wilder- 
 ness; and a pleasant sight it was : but 
 for many years the custom has been dis- 
 continued, and the assembly have thought 
 il safer to take shelter under the roof of 
 the chapel.'' 
 
 Pulpits. 
 
 Without descanting at this time on the 
 manifold construction of the pulpit, it 
 may be allowable, perhaps, to observe, 
 that the aiiibo, or first pulpit, was an 
 elevation consisting of two flights of 
 stairs ; on the higher was read the gos- 
 pel, on the lower the epistle. The 
 pulpit of the present day is that fixture in 
 the church, or place of worship, occupied 
 by the minister while he delivers his 
 sermon. Thus much is observed for the 
 present, in consequence of the mention of 
 the Oxford pulpit ; and for the purpose of 
 i Uroducing the re])resentation of a re- 
 markably beautiful structure of this kind, 
 from a fine engraving by Fessard in 
 1710. 
 
 This pulpit is larger than the pulpit of 
 the church of England, and the other 
 Protestant pulpits in our own country. It 
 is a pulpit of the Romish church with a 
 bishop preaching to a congregation of 
 high rank. It is customary for a Roman 
 Catholic prelate to have the ensigns of his 
 pielacy displayed in the pulpit, and hence 
 they are so exhibited in Fessard's print. 
 This, however, is by no means so large as 
 other pulpits in Romish churches, -which 
 are of increased magnitude for the pur- 
 pose of congregating the clergy, when 
 their occupations at the altar have ceased, 
 before the eye of the congregation ; and 
 hence it is common for many of them to 
 sit robed, by the side of the preacher, 
 during the sermon. 
 
 * CoUinson'iiSomcfsetsliirp. 
 
 419 
 
TUE E VERY-DAY BOOK— JUNE 24. 
 
 FRENCH PULPIT. 
 
 An English lady visiting France, who 
 had been mightily impressed by the rites 
 of the Roman Catholic religion, revived 
 there since the restoration of the Bour- 
 bons, was induced to attend the Pro- 
 testant worship, at the chapel of the 
 British ambassador. She says " the 
 
 splendour of the Romish service, the 
 superb dresses, the chanting, accompanied 
 by beautiful music, the lights, and the 
 other ceremonies, completely overpowered 
 my mind ; at last on the Sunday before 
 I left Paris I went to our ambassador's 
 chapel, just to say that I had been. There 
 
 was none of the pomp I had been so 
 lately delighted with; the prevailing cha- 
 racter of the worship was simplicity ; the 
 minister who delivered the sermon was 
 only sufficiently elevated to be seen by 
 the auditors ; he preached to a silent 
 and attentive congregation, whose senses 
 had not been previously affected ; his dis- 
 course was earnest, persuasive, and con- 
 vincing. T began to perceive the differ- 
 ence between appeals to the feelings and 
 to the understanding, and I came home a 
 better Protestant and I hope a bettev 
 Christian than when I left England." 
 
 420 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNK '24 
 
 OlVtiartrr-'tiai)* 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 This is quarter-day ! — what a variety 
 of thought and feeling it calls up 
 u the minds of thousands in this great 
 metropjlis. Ilow many changes of abode, 
 voluntary and involuntary, for the better 
 and for the worse, are now destined 
 to take place ! There is the charm of 
 novelty at least ; and when the mind is 
 disposed to be pleased, as it is when the 
 will leads, it inclines to extract gratifica- 
 tion from the anticipation of advantages, 
 rather than to be disturbed by any latent 
 doubts which time mayor may not realize. 
 Perhaps the removal is to a house a- 
 decidediy superior class to the present j 
 and if this step is the consequence of 
 augmented resources, it is the first indi- 
 cation to the world of the happy circum- 
 stance. Here, then, is an additional 
 ground of pleasure, not very heroic indeed, 
 but perfectly natural. Experience may 
 have shown us that mere progression in 
 life is not always connected with pro- 
 gression in happiness ; and therefore, 
 though we may smile at the simplicity 
 which connects them in idea, yet our 
 recollection of times past, when we our- 
 selves indulged the delusion, precludes us 
 from expressing feelings that we have 
 acquired by experience. The pleasure, if 
 from a shallow source, is at least a present 
 benefit, and a sort of counterpoise to vexa- 
 tions from imaginary causes. It does not 
 seem agreeable to contemplate retrogres- 
 sion; to behold a family descend ingfrom their 
 wonted sphere, and becoming the inmates 
 of a humbler dwelling ; yet, they who have 
 had the resolution, I may almost say the 
 magnanimity, voluntarily to descend, may 
 reasonably be expected again to rise. 
 They have given proof of the possession 
 of one quality indispensable in such an 
 attempt — that mental decision, by 
 which they have achieved a task, difficult, 
 painful, and to many, impracticable. 
 They have shown, too, their ability to form 
 a correct estimate of the value of the 
 world's opinion, so far as it is influenced 
 by external appearances, and boldly dis- 
 regarding its terrors, have wisely resolved 
 to let go that which could not be much 
 longer held. By this determination, be- 
 sides rescuing themselves from a variety 
 ot perpetually recurring embarrassments 
 and annoyances, they have suppressed half 
 the sneers which the malicious had in 
 
 store for them, had their decline reached 
 its expected crisis, while they have secured 
 the approbation and kind wishes of all 
 the good and considerate. The conscious- 
 ness of this consoles them for what is past, 
 contents them with the present, and ani- 
 mates their hopes for the future. 
 
 Now, let us shift the scene a little, and 
 look at quarter-day under another aspect. 
 On this day some may quit, some may re- 
 main ; all must pay — that can ! Alas, 
 that there should be some unable ! I pass 
 over the rich, whether landlord or tenant ; 
 the effects of quarter-day to them are 
 sufficiently obvious : they feel little or no 
 sensation on its approach or arrival, and 
 when it is over, they feel no alteration in 
 their accustomed necessaries and luxuries. 
 Not so with the pour man ; I mean the 
 man who, in ivhatever station, feels his 
 growing inability to meet the demands 
 periodically and continually making on 
 him. What a day quarter-day is to him! 
 He sees its approach from a distance, tries 
 to be prepared, counts his expected means 
 of being so, finds them short of even his not 
 very sanguine expectations, counts again, 
 but can make no more of them; and 
 while day after day elapses, sees his little 
 stock diminishing. What shall he do ? 
 He perhaps knows his landlord to be in- 
 exorable ; how then shall he satisfy him ? 
 Shall he borrow ? Alas, of whom ? 
 Where dwell the practicers of this precept 
 — " From him that would borrow of thee 
 turn thou not away ?" Most of the pro- 
 fessors of the religion which enjoins this 
 precept, construe it differently. What 
 shall he do ? something must be soon de- 
 cided on. He sits down to consider. Ht 
 looks about his neatly-furnished house oi 
 apartments, to see what out of his humble 
 possessions, he can convert into money. 
 The faithful wife of his bosom becomes of 
 his council. There is nothing they have, 
 wliich they did not purchase for some 
 particular, and as they then thought, ne- 
 cessary purpose ; how, then, can they 
 spare any thing? they ruminate; they re- 
 peat the names of the various articles, 
 they fix on nothing — there is nothing they 
 can part with. They are about so to de- 
 cide ; but their recollection that external 
 resources are now all dried up, obliges 
 them to resume their task, and resolutely 
 determine to do without something, hew- 
 ever painful may be the sacrifice. Could 
 we hear the reasons which persons inns 
 situated assign, why this or tlnal article 
 
 421 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 21. 
 
 should by no means be parted with, we 
 should be enabled, in some degree, to ap- 
 preciate their conflicts, and the heart-aches 
 wiiich precede and accompany them. In 
 sucli inventories much jewellery, diamond 
 rings, or valuable trinkets, are not to be 
 expected. Tlie few that there may be, 
 are probably tokens of affection, either 
 from some deceased relative or dear 
 friend ; or not less likely from the hus- 
 band to the wife, given at their union — 
 *• when life and hope were new" — when 
 their minds were so full of felicity, that no 
 room was left for doubts as to its perma- 
 nence ; when every future scene appeared 
 to their glowing imaginations dressed in 
 beauty ; when every scheme projected, 
 appeared already crowned with success ; 
 when the possibility of contingencies ftus- 
 tating judicious endeavours, either did not 
 present itself to the mind, or presenting 
 itself, was dismissed as an unwelcome 
 guest, " not having on the wedding gar- 
 ment." At such a time were those tokens 
 presented, and they are now produced. 
 They serve to recal moments of bliss un- 
 alloyed by cares, since become familiar. 
 They were once valued as pledges of af- 
 fection, and now, when that affection en- 
 dures in full force and tenderness, they 
 wish that those pledges had no other 
 value than affection confers on them, that 
 S') there might be no temptation to sacri- 
 fice them to a cruel necessity. Let us, 
 however, suppose some of them selected 
 for disposal, and the money raised to meet 
 the portentous day. Our troubled fellow- 
 creatures breathe again, all dread is for 
 the present banished ; joy, temporary, 
 but oh ! how sweet after such bitterness, is 
 difll'used through their hearts, and grati- 
 tude to Providence for tranquillity, even 
 by ouch means restored, is a pervading 
 feeling. It is, perhaps, prudent at this 
 juncture to leave them, rather than follow 
 on to the end of the next quarter. It may 
 be that, by superior prudence or some un- 
 expected supply, a repetition of the same 
 evil, or the occurrence of a greater is 
 avoided ; yet, we all know that evils of 
 the kind in question, are too frequently 
 followed by worse. If a family, owing to 
 the operation of some common cause, such 
 as a rise in the price of provisions, or a 
 partial diminution of income from the 
 depression of business, become em- 
 barrassed and with difficulty enabled to 
 pay their rent; the addition of a fit of 
 sickness, ttie unexpected failure of a 
 debtor, or any other contingency of the 
 
 sort, (assistance from without not being 
 afforded,) prevents them altogether. The 
 case is then desperate. The power which 
 the law thus permits a landlord to exer- 
 cise, is one of fearful magnitude, and is 
 certainly admirably calculated to discover 
 the stuff he is made of. Yet, strange as it 
 seems, this power is often enforced in all 
 its rigour, and the merciless enforcers lose 
 not, apparently, a jot of reputation, nor 
 forfeit tlie esteem of their intimates : so 
 much does familiarity with an oppressive 
 action deaden the perception of its real 
 nature, and so apt are we to forget that 
 owing to the imperfection of human in- 
 stitutions, an action may be legal ami 
 cruel at the same time ! The common 
 phrase, " So and so have had their goods 
 seized for rent," often uttered with indif- 
 ference and heard without emotion, is a 
 phrase pregnant with meaning of the 
 direst import. It means that they — wife, 
 children, and all — who last night sat in a 
 decent room, surrounded by their own 
 furniture, have now not a chair of theirowii 
 to sit on ; that they, who last night could 
 retire to a comfortable bed, after the fa- 
 tigues and anxieties of the day, have to- 
 night not a bed to lie on — or none but 
 what the doubtful ability or humanity of 
 strangers or relations may supply : it 
 means that sighs and tears are pro- 
 duced, where once smiles and tranquil- 
 lity existed-; or, perhaps, that long che- 
 rished hopes of surmounting difficulties, 
 have by one blow been utterly des- 
 troyed, — that the stock of expedients 
 long becoming threadbare, is at last 
 quite worn out, and all past efforts ren- 
 dered of no avail, though some for a time 
 seemed likely to be available. It means 
 tha=t the hoUowness of professed friends 
 has been made manifest ; that the busy 
 tongue of detraction has found employ- 
 ment; that malice is rejoicing; envy is 
 at a feast ; and that the viands are the 
 afflictions of the desolate. Landlord ! 
 ponder on these consecjuences ere you 
 distrain for rent, and let your heart, rather 
 than the law, be the guide of your con- 
 duct. The additional money you may 
 receive by distraining may, indeed, add 
 something to the luxuries of your table, 
 but it can hardly fail to diminish youi 
 relish. You may, perhaps, by adopting 
 the harsh proceeding, add down to your 
 pdlow, but trust not that your sleep will 
 be tranquil or your dreams pleasant. 
 Above all remember the benedicticTi — 
 *' lilessed are the merciful, for they .«1 al 
 
 422 
 
iriE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 24. 
 
 obtiiin mercy;" and inspired with the 
 sentimejit, and retiecting on tlie tiuctua- 
 tions which are every day occurring, the 
 poor and humble raised, and the wealthy 
 and apparently secure brought down, you 
 will need no other incitement to fulfil the 
 golden rule of your religion — " Do unto 
 others as ye would they should do unto 
 you." Sigma. 
 
 Concerning the Feast of St. John the 
 Baptist, an author, to whom we are obliged 
 for recollections of preceding customs, 
 gives us information that should be 
 carefully perused in the old versified 
 version : — 
 
 Then doth the joyfull feast of John 
 
 the Baptist take his tiirne, 
 When boiijiers great, with loftie flame, 
 
 in every towne doe burne ; 
 And yong- men round about with maides. 
 
 doe daunce in every streete, 
 With garlands wrought of Motherwort, 
 
 or else with Vervain sweete. 
 And many other flowres faire, 
 
 with Violets in their handes, 
 Whereas they all do fondly thinke, 
 
 that whosoever standes, 
 And thurow the Jlowres beholds the flame, 
 
 his eyes shall feel no paitie. 
 When thus till night they daunced have, 
 
 they through the fire amaine, 
 With striving mindes doe riinne, and all 
 
 their hearbes they cast therein, 
 And then with wordes devout and prayers 
 
 they solemnely begin. 
 Desiring God that all their ills 
 
 may there consumed bee ; 
 Whereby they thinke through all that 
 yeare 
 
 from agues to be free. 
 Some others get a rotten Wheele, 
 
 all worne and cast aside. 
 Which covered round about with strawe 
 
 and tow, they closely hide : 
 ■ind caryed to some mountaines top, 
 
 being all with fire light, 
 They hurle it downe with, violence, 
 
 when darke appears the night : 
 liesembling inuch the sunne, that from 
 
 the Heavens down should fal, 
 A strange and monstrous sight it seemes, 
 
 and fearefull to them all : 
 But they suppose their miscluefes all 
 
 are likewise throwne to hell, 
 And that from harmes and daungers now, 
 
 in safetie here they dwell.* 
 
 A very ancient " Homily" relates other 
 
 • Naogeorgus by Googe. 
 
 particulars and superstitions relating to 
 the bonfires on this day : — 
 
 " In worshyp of Saint Johan the peo- 
 ple waKed at home, and made three 
 maner of fyres: one was clene bones, 
 and noo woode, and that is called a bone 
 fyre ; another is clene woode, and no 
 bones, and that is called a wood fyre, for 
 people to sit and wake thereby ; the thirde 
 is made of wode and bones, and it 
 is callyd Sajnt Johannys fyre. The 
 first fyre, as a great clerke, Johan Belleth, 
 tellelh, he was in a certayne countrey, so 
 in the countrey there was so soo greate 
 hete, the which causid that dragons to go 
 togyther in tokenynge, that Johan dyed 
 in brennynge love and cliaryte to God 
 and man, and they that dye in charyte 
 shall have part of all good prayers, and 
 they that do not, shall le.'er be saved. 
 Then as these dragons fle»ve in th' ayre 
 they shed down to that water froth of ther 
 kynde, and so envenymed the waters, and 
 caused moche people for to take theyr 
 deth thereby, and many dy verse sykenesse. 
 Wyse clerkes knoweth well that dragons 
 hate nothyng more than the stenche of 
 brennynge bones, and therefore they ga- 
 deryd as many as they mighte fynde, and 
 brent them ; and so with the stenche 
 thereof they drove away the dragons, and 
 so they were brought out of greete dysease. 
 The seconde fyre was made of woode, for 
 that wyll brenne lyght, and wyll be seen 
 farre. For it is the chefe of fyre to be 
 seen farre, and betokennynge that Saynt 
 Johan was a lanterne of lyght to the peo- 
 ple. Also the people made biases of fyre 
 for that they shulde be scene farre, and 
 specyally in the nyght, in token of St. 
 Johan's having been seen from far in the 
 spirit by Jeremiah. The third fyre of bones 
 betokenneth Johan's martyrdome, for hys 
 bones were brente." — Brand calls this 
 " a pleasant absurdity ;" the justice of the 
 denomination can hardly be disputed. 
 
 Gebelin observes of these tires, that 
 " they were kindled about midnight on 
 the very moment of the summer solstice, 
 by the greatest part as well of the ancient 
 as of modern nations ; and that this fire- 
 lighting was a religious ceremony of the 
 most remote antiquity, which was ob- 
 served for the prosperity of states and 
 people, and to dispel every kind of evil.'' 
 He then proceeds to remark, that " the 
 origin of this fire, which is still retained 
 by so many nations, though enveloped in 
 the mist of antiquity, is very simple : it 
 ■«vas a /I'M cfe ;oi(?, kindled the very mo- 
 
 423 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 2t. 
 
 meiit the year began ; for llie first of all 
 years, and the most ancient that we know 
 of, began at this month of June. Thence 
 the very name of this month, junior, the 
 youngest, which is renewed ; while that 
 of the preceding one is May, major, the 
 ancient. Thus the one was the month of 
 young people, while the other belonged 
 to old men. These feiix de joie were 
 accompanied at the same time with vows 
 and sacrifices for the prosperity of the 
 people and the fruits of the earth. They 
 danced also round this fire ; for what 
 feast is there without a dance ? and the 
 most active leaped over it. Each on de- 
 parting took away a fire-brand, great or 
 small, and the remains were scattered to 
 the wind, which, at the same time that it 
 dispersed the ashes, was thought to expel 
 every evil. When, after a long train of 
 years, the year ceased to commence at 
 this solstice, still the custom of making 
 these fires at this time was continued by 
 force of habit, and of those superstitious 
 ideas that are annexed to it." So far re- 
 marks Gebelin concerning the univer- 
 sality of the practice. 
 
 Bourne, a chronicler of old customs, 
 says, " that men and women were ac- 
 customed to gather together in the even- 
 ing by the sea side, or in some certain 
 houses, and there adorn a girl, who was 
 her parent's first begotten child, after tiie 
 manner of a bride. Tiien they feasted, 
 and leaped after the manner of baccha- 
 nals, and danced and shouted as they 
 were wont to do on their holidays ; after 
 this they poured into a narrow-necked 
 vessel some of the sea water, and put also 
 into it certain things belonging to each of 
 them ; then, as if the devil gifted the girl 
 with the faculty of telling future things, 
 they would inquire with a loud voice 
 about the good or evil fortune that should 
 attend them : upon this the girl would 
 take out of the vessel the first thing that 
 came to hand, and show it, and give it to 
 the owner, who, upon receiving it, was 
 so foolish as to imagine himself wiser as 
 'to the good or evil fortune that should 
 attend him." " In Cornwall, particu- 
 larly," says Borlase, " the people went 
 'vith lighted torches, tarred and pitched 
 at the end, and made their perambula- 
 tions round their fires." They went " from 
 village to village, carrying their torches 
 before them, and this is certainly the re- 
 mains of the Druid superstition." 
 
 And so in Ireland, according to sir 
 Henry Piers, in Vallancey, " on the eves 
 
 of St. John the baptist and St. Peter, they 
 always have in every town a bonfire late 
 in the evenings, and carry about bundles 
 of reeds fast tied and fired ; these being 
 dry, will last long, and flame better than 
 a torch, and be a pleasing divertive pros- 
 pect to the distant beholder; a stranger 
 would go near to imagine the whole 
 country was on fire." Brand cites fui- 
 ther, from " The Survey of the South of 
 Ireland," that — " It is not strange that 
 many Druid remains should still exist ; 
 but it is a little extraordinary that some 
 of their customs should still be practised. 
 They annually renew the sacrifices that 
 used to be offered to Apollo, without 
 knowing it. On Midsummer's eve, every 
 eminence, near which is a habitation, 
 blazes with bonfires ; and round these 
 they carry numerous torches, shouting 
 and dancing, which affords a beautiful 
 sight. Though historians had not given 
 us the mythology of the pagan Irish, and 
 though they had not told us expressly 
 that they worshipped Beal, or Bealin, and 
 that this Beal was the sun, and their chief 
 god, it might, nevertheless, be investi- 
 gated from this custom, which the lapse 
 of so many centuries has not been able to 
 wear away." Brand goes on to quote 
 from the " Gentleman's Magazine," for 
 February 1795, "The Irish have ever 
 been worshippers of fire and of Eaal, and 
 are so to this day. This is owing to the 
 Roman Catholics, who have artfully yield- 
 ed to the superstitions of the natives, in 
 order to gain and keep up an establish- 
 ment, grafting Christianity upon pagan 
 rites. The chief festival in honour of the 
 sun and fire is upon the 21st of June, 
 when the sun arrives at the summer sol- 
 stice, or rather begins its retrograde mo- 
 tion. I was so fortunate in the summer 
 of 1782, as to have my curiosity gratified 
 by a sight of this ceremony to a very great 
 extent of country. At the house where I 
 was entertained, it was told me that we 
 should sec at midnight the most singular 
 sight in Ireland, which was the lighting of 
 fires in hiniour of the sun. Accordingly, 
 exactly at midnight, the fires began to 
 appear : and taking the advantage of 
 going up to the leads of the house, which 
 had a widely extended view, I saw on a 
 radius of thirty miles, all around, the 
 fires burning on every eminence which 
 the country afforled. I had a farther 
 satisfaction in le irning, from undoubteil 
 authority, that the people danced ronn.l 
 the fires, and at the close went through 
 
 4£4 
 
'niE F.VERY-DAY BOOK— JUNE 24. 
 
 these fires, and made their sons and 
 daughters, together with their cattle, pass 
 the fire ; and the whole was conducted 
 with religious solemnity." 
 
 Mr. Brand notices, that Mr. Douce has 
 a curious French print, entitled " L'este 
 le Feu de la St. Jean ;" Mnrietle ex. In 
 the centre is the fire made of wood piled 
 up very regularly, and having a tree 
 stuck in the midst of it. Young men 
 and women are represented dancing round 
 it hand in hand. Herbs are stuck in 
 their hats and caps, and garlands of the 
 same surround their waists, or are slung 
 across their shoulders. A boy is repre- 
 sented carrying a large boi;gh of a tree. 
 Several spectators are looking on. The 
 following lines are at the bottom : — 
 
 " Que de Feux brulans dans les airs ! 
 
 Qu'ils font une douce liarmonie 1 
 
 Redoublorir cette m^iodie 
 
 Par nos dances, par nos concerts !" 
 This " curious French print," furnished 
 the engraving at page 8ir>, or to speak 
 more correctly, it was executed from one 
 in the possession of the editor of the 
 Every-Day Book. 
 
 To enliven the subject a little, we may 
 recur to recent or existing usages at this 
 period of the year. It may be stated then 
 on the authority of Mr. Brand's collec- 
 tions, that the Eton scholars formerly had 
 bonfires on St. John's day ; that bonfires 
 are still made on Midsummer eve in 
 several villages of Gloucester, and also 
 in the northern parts of England and in 
 Wales ; to which Mr. Brand adds, that 
 there was one formerly at Whiteborough, 
 a tumulus on St. Stephen's down near 
 Launceston, in Cornwall. A large summer 
 pole was fixed in the centre, round which 
 the fuel was heaped up. It had a large 
 bush on the top of it. Round this were 
 parties of wrestlers contending for small 
 prizes. An honest countryman, who had 
 often been present at these merriments, 
 informed Mr. Brand, that at one of them 
 an evil spirit had appeared in the shape 
 of a black dog, since which none could 
 wrestle, even in jest, without receiving 
 hurt : in consequence of which the wrest- 
 ing was, in a great measure, laid aside, 
 the rustics there believe that giants are 
 Duried in these tumuli, and nothing would 
 tempt them to be so sacrilegious as to 
 disturb their bones. 
 
 In Northumberland, it is customary on 
 this day to dress out stools with a cushion 
 
 of flowers. A layer of clay is placed on 
 the stool, and therein is stuck, with great 
 regularity, an arrangement of all kinds of 
 flowers, so close as to form a beautiful 
 cushion. These are exhibited at tlie doors 
 of houses in the villages, and at the ends 
 of streets and cross-lanes of larger towns, 
 where the attendants beg money from 
 passengers, to er-.able them to have an 
 evening feast and dancing.* 
 
 One of the "Cheap Repository Tracts," 
 entitled, " Tawney Rachel, or the For- 
 tune-Tel ler," said to have been written 
 by Miss Hannah More, relates, among 
 other superstitious practices of Sally 
 Evans, that " she would never go to bed 
 on Midsummer eve, without sticking up 
 in her room the well-known plant called 
 Midsummer Men, as the bending of the 
 leaves to the right, or to the left, would 
 never fail to tell her whether her lovei 
 was true or false." The Midsummer Men 
 were the orpyne plants, which Mr. Brand 
 says is thus elegantly alluded to in the 
 " Cottage Girl," a poem " written on 
 Midsummer eve, 1786:" — 
 
 *' The rustic maid invokes her swain ; 
 And bails, to pensive damsels dear, 
 This eve, though direst of the year. 
 
 « » * « « 
 
 " Oft on the shrub she casts her eye, 
 That spoke her true-love's secret sigh ; 
 Or else, alas ! too plainly told 
 Her true-love's faithless heart was cold. ' 
 
 In the " Connoisseur," there is men- 
 tion of divinations on Midsummer eve. 
 " I and my two sisters tried the dumb- 
 cake together : you must know, two must 
 make it, two bake it, two break it, and 
 the third put it under each of their pil- 
 lows, (but you must not s])eak a word all 
 the time), and then you will dream of the 
 man you are to have. This we did : and 
 to be sure I did nothing all night but 
 dream of Mr. Blossom. The same night, 
 exactly at twelve o'clock, I sowed hemp- 
 seed in our back-yard, and said to my- 
 self, — 'Hemp-seed I sow, hemp-seed I 
 hoe, and he that is my true-love come 
 after me and mow.' Will you believe 
 me? I looked back, and saw him behind 
 me, as plain as eyes could see him. After 
 that, I took a clean shift and wetted it, 
 and turned it wrong-side out, and hung 
 it to the fire upon the back of a chair 
 and very likely my sweetheart would have 
 come and turned it right again, (for 1 
 
 * Hutchinson's NorUiwmberland. 
 
 425 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOUK.— JUNE '^4. 
 
 heard his step) but I was frightened, keep it in a clean slieet of paper, without 
 Ai.J oould not help speaking,which broke 
 the charm. I likewise stuck up two 
 Midsntmner Men, one for myself and 
 one for him. Now if his had died 
 away, we should never have come toge- 
 ther, but I assure you his blowed and 
 turned to mine. Our maid Betty tells 
 
 looking at it till Christmas-day, it will 
 be as fresh as in June; and if I then stick 
 it in my bosom, he that is to be my hus- 
 band will come and take it out. My own 
 sister Hetty, who died just before Christ- 
 mas, stood in the church porch last Mid- 
 summer eve, to see all that were to die 
 
 me, that if I go backwards, without speak- that year in our parish ; and she saw her 
 
 ing a word, into the garden upon Mid- own apparition." 
 
 summer eve, and gather a rose, and Gay, in one of his pastorals, says — 
 
 At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought. 
 But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought ; 
 I scattered round the seed on every side, 
 And three times, in a trembling accent cried : — 
 " This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow, 
 Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow." 
 1 straight looked back, and, if my eyes speak truth, 
 With his keen scythe behind me came the youth. 
 
 It IS also a popular superstition that The moss-rose that, at fall of devr, 
 
 any unmarried woman fasting on Mid- (lire Eve its duskier curtain drew,) 
 
 Was freshly gather'd from its stem. 
 She values as the ruby gem ; 
 And, guarded from the piercing air. 
 With all an anxious lover's care, 
 She bids it, for her shepherd's sake. 
 Await the new-year's frolic wake — 
 When, faded, in its alter'd hue 
 She reads — the rustic is untrue ! 
 But, if it leaves the crimson paint, 
 Her sick'ning hopes no longer faint. 
 The rose upon her bosom worn. 
 She meets him at the peep of morn ; 
 And lo ! her lips with kisses prest, 
 He plucks it from her panting breast. 
 
 summer eve, and at midnight laying a 
 clean cloth, with bread, cheese, and ale, 
 and sitting down as if going to eat, the 
 street-door being left open, the person 
 whom she is afterwards to marry will 
 come into the room and drink to her by 
 bowing ; and after filling the glass will 
 leave it on the table, and, making another 
 bow, retire.* 
 
 So also the ignorant believe that any 
 person fasting on Midsummer eve, and 
 sitting in the church porch, will, at mid- 
 night, see the spirits of the persons of that 
 parish who will die that year, come and 
 knock at the church door, in the order In " Time's Telescope," there is cited 
 and succession in which they will die. the following literal version of a beautiful 
 
 In the " Cottage Girl," before referred ballad which has been sung for many 
 to, the gathering the rose on Midsummer centuries by the maidens, on the banks of 
 eve and wearing it, is noticed as one of the Guadalquivir in Spain, when they go 
 the modes by which a lass seeks to divine forth to gather flowers on the morning ol 
 ihe sincerity of her suitor's vows : — tiie festival of St John the baptist :— 
 
 Spanish Ballad. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, my maidens, 'tis the day of good St. John, 
 
 It is the Baptist's morning that breaks the hills upon ; 
 
 And let us all go forth together, while the blessed day is new. 
 
 To dress with flowers the snow-white welher, ere the sun has dried the dew. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, Ac- 
 Come forth, come forth, my maidens, the hedgerows all are green. 
 And the little birds are smging the opening leaves between ; 
 And let us all go forth together, to gather trefoil by the stream, 
 Eie the face of Guadalquivir glows beneath the strengthening beam. 
 
 Come, forth, come forth, &c. 
 Come forth, come forth, my maidens, and slumber not away 
 The blessed, blessed morning of John the Baptist's day ; 
 Tlu're's trefoil on the meadow, and lilies on the lee. 
 And hawthorn blossoms on the bush, which you must pluck with me. 
 
 Come forth, come forth. 8lc. 
 
 426 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNR J4. 
 
 Come forth, come fortli, my maidens, the air is calm and cool, 
 And the violet blue far down yell view, reflected in the pool ; 
 The violets and the roses, and the jasmines all together, 
 \Ve'll bind in garlands on the brow of the strong and lovely wither. 
 
 Come forth, come foith, &c. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, my maidens, we'll gather myrtle boughs, 
 And we all shall learn, from the dews of the fern, if our lads will keep their vows 
 If the wetbar be still, as we dance on the hill, and the dew hangs sweet on the flowers. 
 Then we'll kiss otf the dew, for our lovers are true, and the Baptist's blessitig is ours. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, Sic. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, my maidens, 'tis the day of good St. John, 
 
 It is the Bajjlist's morning that breaks the hills upon ; 
 
 And let us all go forth together, while the blessed day is new, 
 
 To dress with flowers the snow-white wether, eie the sun has dried the dew. 
 
 Come forth, come fort i, &c. 
 
 There are too many obvious traces of follow. He accordingly called several of 
 the fact to doubt its truth, that the niak- his friends together, on an appointed day, 
 Ing of bonfires, and the leaping through and having lighted a large fire, bronglit 
 them, are vestiges of the ancient worship forth his best calf; and, without cererno- 
 of the heathen god Bal ; and therefore, ny or remorse, pushed it into tiie flames, 
 it is, with propiiety, that the editor of The innocent victim, on feeling the in- 
 " Times's Telescope," adduces a recent tolerable heat, endeavoured to escape ; 
 occurrence from Ilitchin's " History of but this was in vain. The barbarians 
 Corn wall," as a probable remnant of pagan that surrounded the fire were armed with 
 superstition in that county. He presumes pitchforks, or pikes, as in Cornwall they 
 that the vulgar notion which gave rise are generally called ; and, as the burning 
 to it, was derived from the druidical victim endeavoured to escape from deatli, 
 sacrifices of beasts. " An ignorant old with these instruments of cruelty tlie 
 farmer in Cornwall, having met with wretches pushed back the tortured animal 
 some severe losses in his cattle, about tlie into the flames. In this state, amidst the 
 year 1800, was much afflicted with his wounds of pitchforks, the shouts of un- 
 misfortuues. To stop the growing e\il, feeling ignorance and cruelty, and the 
 he applied to the farriers in his neigh- corrosion of flames, the dying victim 
 bourhood, but unfortunately he applied poured out its expiring groan, and was 
 in vain. The malady still continumg, consumed to ashes. It is scarcely pos- 
 and all remedies failing, he thought it sible to reflect on this instance of super- 
 necessary to have recourse to some extra- stitious barbarity, without tracing a kind 
 ordinary measure. Accordingly, on con- of resemblance between it, and the an- 
 sulting with some of his neighbours, cient sacrifices of the Druids. This calf 
 equally ignorant with himself, and evi- was sacrificed to fortune, or good luck, 
 denlly not less barbarous, they recalled to avert impending calamity, and to en- 
 to their recollections a tale, which tradi- sure future prosperity, and was selected 
 tion had handed down from remote anti- by the farmer as the finest among his 
 (liiity, that the calamity would not cease herd." Every intelligent native of Corn- 
 until he had actually burned alive the wall will perceive, that this extract from 
 finest calf ichich he had upon his farm ; thehistoiy of his county, is here made for 
 but that, when this sacrifice was made, the purpose of shaming the brutally igno- 
 the murrian would afflict his cattle no rant, if it be possible, into humanity, 
 more The old farmer, influenced by this To conclude the present notices rather 
 counsel, resolved immediately on reduc- pleasantly, a little poem is subjoined, 
 ing it to practice ; that, by making the which shows that the superstition respect- 
 detestable experiment, he might secure ing the St. John's wort is not confined tj 
 an advantage, which the whisperers of England ; it is a version of some line* 
 tradition, and the advice of his neigh- transcribed from a German almanac ; — 
 liOcirs, had conspired to assure him would 
 
 The St. John's Wort. 
 
 The young maid stole through the cottage door, 
 And b'ushed as she sought the plant of pow'r , - 
 
 427 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 25,26 
 
 "Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy liglit, 
 I must gather the mystic St. John's wort to-nighl, 
 The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide 
 It the coming year shall make me a bride." 
 
 And the glow-worm came 
 
 With its silvery flame, 
 
 And sparkled and shone 
 
 Thro' the night of St. John, 
 And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied 
 
 With noiseless tread 
 To her cliamber she sped, 
 Where the spectral moon her white beams shed : — 
 " Bloom here — bloom here, thou plant of pow'rj 
 To deck the young bride in her bridal hour !" 
 But it drooped its head that plant of power, 
 And died the mute death of the voiceless flower • 
 And a withered wreath on the ground it lay, 
 More meet for a burial than bridal day. 
 
 And when a year was past away, 
 All pale on her bier the young maid lay 
 
 And the glow-worm came 
 
 With it£ silvery flame, 
 
 And sparkled and shone 
 
 Thro' the night of St. John, 
 And they closed the cold grave o'er the maid*? cold clay. 
 
 It would be easy, and perhaps more 
 asreeable to the editor than to his readers, 
 to accumulate many other notices con 
 cerning the usages on this day ; let it suf- 
 fice, however, that we know enough to be 
 assured, that knowledge is engendering 
 good sense, and that the superstitions of 
 oar ancestors will in no long time have 
 passed away for ever. Be it the business 
 of their posterity to hasten their decay. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 St. John's Wort. Hyperiann Piilchrum. 
 Nativity of St. John. 
 
 %\\m 25. 
 
 St. Prosper, a. d. 463. St. Maxi^nus, 
 Bp. A. D. 465. St. IFillium of Monte- 
 Vergine, a. d. 1142. St. Adalbert , 
 A. D. 740. St. Moloc, Bp. 7th Cent. 
 Sis. Agoard and Aglibert, a. d. 400. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1314. Tlie battle of Bannockburn 
 which secured the independence of 
 Scotland, and fixed Robert Bruce on tlie 
 throne of that kingdom, was fought on 
 this day l)el,ween the Scots under that 
 chieftain, and the English under Ed- 
 ward li. 
 
 Franking of Newspapers. 
 
 By a recent regulation it is not neces 
 sary to put the name of a member of 
 either house of parliament on the cover; 
 the address of the party to whom it is 
 sent, with the ends of the paper left open 
 as usual, will be sufficient to ensure its 
 delivery. This Is a praiseworthy accom- 
 modation to common sense. The old 
 fiction was almost universally known to 
 be one, and yet it is only a few years 
 ago, that a member of parliament re- 
 ceived a humble letter of apology, coupled 
 with a request from one of his consti- 
 tuents, that he might be allowed to use 
 the name of his representative in direct- 
 ing a newspaper. To the ingenuous, 
 pretences seem realities. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Sweet Williams. Dianthns barbatux. 
 
 Dedicated to St. IFillium. 
 
 %xm 26. 
 
 St. John and Paul, Martyr^ about a. d. 
 362. St. Ma jcentins, AhhoX, a.d. 515. 
 St. Figilius, Bp. A. D. 400, or 405. 
 St. Babolen. St. Anthcbn, Bp. of 
 Bellay, a, d. 1 178. Baingarda, Widow, 
 A.D. 1135 
 
 428 
 
THE irVTERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 CnnoNOLOGY. 
 On the 26tli of June, 1541, Francis 
 Pizirro, the conqueror of Peru, was ass;us- 
 sir.ated. Hewa* born at Truxillo, in Spain; 
 his birth was illegitimate, and in his 
 youth he was a keeper of liogs. Becom- 
 ing a soldier, he went to America, and 
 settled at Punama, where he projected 
 the prosecution of discoveries to the 
 eastward of that settlement. By means 
 of an expedition, which he solicited, and 
 was intrusted to command from the court 
 of Spain, he entered Peru when the em- 
 ]iire was divided by a civil war between 
 lluascar the legitimate monarch, and 
 Atahualpa his half brother. Pretending 
 succour to Atahualpa, he was permitted 
 In penetrate twelve days' journey into 
 the country, and received as an ally by 
 Ataliualpa, whose confidence lie rewarded 
 
 by suddenly attackiag him, and makinfj 
 him prisoner. The exaction of an im- 
 mense ransom for tl is king's release ; the 
 shameful breach of taith, by wliich he wai 
 held in captivity after his ransom was 
 paid ; his brutal murder under the infa- 
 mous mockery ot i trial ; the horrible 
 frauds by which he was inveigled to die 
 in the profession of the christian faith, 
 without being able to comprehend its 
 tenets; and the superaddition of other 
 acts of perfidy and cruelty, will rende"* 
 the name of Pizarro infanious so long as 
 it exists. 
 
 His assassination was effected by the 
 friends of Almagro, his original associate, 
 with whom he had quarelled, and whom 
 he caused to be executed when he got 
 him into liis power. 
 
 COPENHAGEN-HOUSE. 
 
 In olden times, so high a rise 
 Was, perhaps, a Tor or beacon ground 
 And lit, or larni'd, the country round. 
 
 For pleasure, or against surprise 
 
 Tliere is a cobler's stall m London that I pass its vicinity, because it was the seal cf 
 1 go oui of my way to look at whenever an honest old man wlio i>atched mv siioes 
 
 429 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JTJNE 26 
 
 and my mind, when 1 was a boy. I invo- 
 luntarily reverence the spot ; and if I find 
 myself in Red Lion-square, I, with a like 
 afiection, look between the iron railings 
 of its enclosure, because, at the same age, 
 from my mother's window, I watched the 
 taking down of the obelisk, stone by 
 stone, that stood in the centre, and impa- 
 tiently awaited the discovery of the body 
 of Oliver Cromwell, which, according to 
 local legend, was certainly buried there 
 in secrecy by night. It is true that Oli- 
 ver's bones were not found ; but then 
 " every body" believed that " the work- 
 men did not dig deep enough." Among 
 these believers was my friend, the cobbler, 
 who, though no metaphysician, was given 
 to ruminate on " causation." lie imputed 
 the nonpersistence of the diggers to " pri- 
 vate reasons of state," whicii his awfully 
 mysterious look imported he had fathom- 
 ed, but dared not reveal. From ignorance 
 of wisdom, I venerated the wisdom of 
 ignorance; and though I now know better, 
 I respect the old man's memory. He 
 allowed me, though a child, to sit on the 
 frame of his little pushed-back window ; 
 and I obtained so much of his good-will 
 and confidence, that he lent me a folio 
 of fragments from Caxton's " Polychro- 
 nicon," and Pynson's " Shepherd's Kalen- 
 dar," which he kept in the drawer of his 
 seat, with " St. Hugh's bones," the in- 
 struments of his " gentle craft." This 
 black-letter lore, wiUi its wood-cuts, cre- 
 ated in me a desire to be acquainted with 
 our old authors, and a love for engravings, 
 which I have indulged without satiety. 
 It is impossible that I should be without 
 fond recollections of the spots wherein I 
 received these early impressions. 
 
 From still earlier impressions, I have 
 like recollection of the meadows on the 
 Highgate side of Copenhagen-house, I 
 often rambled in them in summer-time, 
 when I was a boy, to frolic in the new- 
 mown hay, or explore the wonders of the 
 nedges, and listen to the songs of the 
 birds. Certain indistinct apprehensions 
 of danger arose in me from the rude 
 noises of the visitors at Copenhagen- 
 house itself, and I scarcely ventured near 
 enough to observe more than that it had 
 drinking-benches outside, and boisterous 
 company within. I first entered the 
 place in the present month of June, 1825, 
 and the few particulars I could collect 
 concerning it, as an old place of public 
 entertainment, may be acceptable to many 
 who ecoUect its former notoriety. S]ie- 
 
 culators are building up to it, and if they 
 continue with their present speed, it will 
 in a few years be hidden by their oper- 
 ations. 
 
 Copenhagen-house stands alone in the 
 fields north of the metropolis, between 
 Maiden-lane, the old road to Highgate 
 on the west, and the very ancient north 
 road, or bridle-way, called Hagbush-lane, 
 on the east ; on this latter side it is 
 nearly in a line with Cornwall-place, 
 Holloway. Its name is said to have been 
 derived from a Danish prince, or a Danish 
 ambassador, having resided in it durino- 
 a great plague in London ; another repre- 
 sentation is, that in the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century, it was opened under 
 its present name by a Dane, as a place ot 
 resort for his countrymen. " Coopen- 
 Ilagen" is the name given to it in the 
 map in Camden's " Britannia," Dublished 
 in 1695.* It is situated in the parish of 
 Islington, in the manor of St. John of 
 Jerusalem, in the rental of which manor, 
 dated the 25th of February, 1624, its name 
 does not occur ;f it is therefore probable 
 from thence, and from the appearance of 
 the oldest part of the present edifice, that 
 it was not then built. 
 
 It is certain that Copenhagen-house has 
 been licensed for the sale of beer, and 
 wine, and spirits, upwards of a century ; 
 and for such refreshments, and as a tea- 
 house, with a garden and grounds for 
 skittles and Dutch pins, it has been 
 greatly resorted to by Londoners. No 
 liouse of the kind commands so extensive 
 and uninterrupted a view of the metro- 
 polis and the immense western suburb, 
 with the heights of Hampstead and High- 
 gate, and the rich intervening meadows. 
 Those nearest to London are now rapidly 
 destroying for their brick-earth, and being 
 covered with houses ; though from Copen- 
 hagen-street, which is built on the green 
 lane from White Conduit-house, there is 
 a way to the footpath leading to Copen- 
 hagen-house, from the row of handsomf 
 cottages called Barnesbury-park. 
 
 The latter buildings are in the manor 
 of Berners, or Bernersbury, otherwise 
 Barnesbury ; the name being derived 
 
 * Mr. Nelson's Histoiy oflslinetnn. 
 t To Mi-.SImes, bailirt'of the manor, I am indebted 
 for a sight of this rental. 
 
 430 
 
THE E^^RY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE Sd. 
 
 from the Berners' family,* of whom the 
 most distinguished individual was John 
 Bourchier, the last lord Berners, and " the 
 fifth writer in order of time among the 
 nobility." He was author of " a comedy 
 usually acted in the great church of Ca- 
 ais after vespers," of which town he held 
 the command by appointment of king 
 Henry VIII. ;f he also translated several 
 works, and particularly " Froissart's Cro- 
 nycles, oute of Frenche mto our maternale 
 Englysshe tongue." 
 
 VVest of Barnesbury-park, and close to 
 the footpath from thence to Copenhagen- 
 house, are the supposed remains of a 
 Roman encampment. It is a square of 
 about one hundred and twenty feet, sur- 
 rounded by a ditch, with a high embank- 
 ment or breast work to the west. This is 
 presumed to have been a position occu- 
 pied by Suetonius, the Roman general, 
 when he destroyed eighty thousand of the 
 Britons under Boadicea, in a memorable 
 engagement presumed co have been fought 
 from this place in the fi-elds of Pentonville, 
 and terminating in the plain at Battle- 
 bridge, from whence that place is said to 
 have been so named. 
 
 From Battle-bridge up Maiden-lane, 
 and from Barnesbury-park, there are still 
 footways to Copenhagen-house, which, from 
 standing alone on an eminence, is visible 
 from every open spot for many miles 
 round. To the original edifice is attached 
 a building at the west end, with a large 
 parlour below for drinking and smoking, 
 Jnd beyond it is a billiard-room ; above 
 js a large tea-room. The engraving repre- 
 sents its present appearance, fiom a draw- 
 jig made for that purpose. 
 
 About the year 1770, this house was 
 aept by a person named Harrington; at 
 sis decease the business was continued 
 Oy his widow, wherein she was assisted 
 /or several years by a young woman who 
 came from Shropsliire. This female as- 
 sistant afterwards married a person named 
 Tomes, and kept the Adam and Eve at 
 Islington ; she is now a widow ; and 
 from her information the editor of the 
 Every-Day Book gathers, that at the time 
 of the London riots in the year 1780, 
 a body of the rioters passed Copenhagen- 
 6ouse on their way to attack the seat of 
 
 * Mr. Nelson's History of Isiiiigtnn. 
 t Mr. Utter^on's Preface to tiis edition of Lord 
 Berners' Froissart, 2 vo s. 4ti). 
 
 lord Mansfield, at Caen-wood : happilj, 
 they did not sack Copenhagen; but Mr.'. 
 Harrington and her maid were so alarm- 
 ed, that they despatched a man to justice 
 Hyde, who sent a party of soldiers to 
 garrison this important place, where they 
 remained till the riots were quelled. 
 From this spot the view of the nightly 
 conflagrations in the metropolis must, 
 have been terrific. Mrs. Tomes says, she 
 saw nine large fires at one time. On 
 new-year's day previous to this, the house 
 was broken into after the family had re- 
 tired to rest. The burglars forced the 
 kitchen window, and mistaking the salt- 
 box in the chimney corner for a man's 
 head, fired a ball through it. They then 
 ran up stairs with a dark-lantern, tied 
 the man and the woman servant, burst the 
 lower pannel of Mrs. Harrington's room- 
 door, while she secreted fifty pounds be- 
 tween her bed and the mattress, and 
 three of them rushed to her bedside, 
 armed with a cutlass, crowbar, and pis- 
 tol, while a fourth remained on the watch 
 outside. They demanded her money ; 
 and as she denied that she had any, they 
 wrenched her drawers open with the crow- 
 bar, refusing to use the keys she ofl'ered 
 to them. In these they found about ten 
 pounds belonging to her daughter, a little 
 child, whom they threatened to murder 
 unless she ceased crying, while they pack- 
 ed up all the plate, linen, and clothes, 
 which they carried off. They then went 
 to the cellar, set all the ale-lsarrels run- 
 ning, broke the necks ofi' the wine-bottles, 
 spilt the other liquors, and slashed a round 
 of beef with their cutlasses. From this 
 wanton spoil they reserved sufficient to 
 carouse with in the kitchen, where they 
 ate, drank, and sung, till they resolved to 
 " pinch the old woman, and make her 
 find more money." On this, they all ran 
 up stairs again, where she still lay in bed, 
 and by their threats and violence soon 
 obtained from her a disclosute of the 
 hidden fifty pounds. This rather appeared 
 to enrage than pacify them, and they 
 seriously proposed cutting her throat for 
 the deception ; but that crime was not per- 
 petrated,and they departed with their plun- 
 der. Rewards were ofl'ered, by govern- 
 ment and the parish of Islington, for the 
 apprehension of the felons : in May fol- 
 lowing, one of them, named Clarkson, was 
 discovered, and hopes of mercy tendered 
 to him if he would discover his accom- 
 plices. This man was a watch-maker in 
 Clerkenwell, the other three were trades- 
 
 431 
 
THE EVER\-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 men ; Ms information led to their dis- 
 covery ; they were tried and executed, 
 and Clarkson was pardoned ; though, 
 some time afterwards, he, also, suffered 
 death, for obtaining a box of plate from 
 the White-horse, in Fetter-lane, upon 
 pretence that it liad been sent thither by 
 mistake. 
 
 The robbery at Copenhagen-house, 
 was so far fortunate to Mrs. Harrington, 
 that she obtained a subscription consider- 
 ably more in amount than the value of 
 the money and property she had lost. 
 Mr. Leader, the coachmaker, in Long- 
 acre, who was her landlord, remitted to 
 her a year's rent of the premises, which 
 at that time was 30/. The notoriety of 
 the robbery increased the visitors to the 
 house, and Mr. Leader built the addi- 
 tional rooms to the old house, instead of 
 a wooden room, to accommodate the new 
 influx of custom ; and soon afterwards 
 the house was celebrated for fives-playing. 
 This last addition was almost accidental. 
 " I made the first fives-ball,'' says Mrs. 
 Tomes, " that was ever thrown up against 
 Copenhagen-house. One Hickman, a 
 butcher at Highgate, a countryman of 
 mine, ' used' the house, and seeing me 
 
 country,' we talked about our country 
 sports, and anrrngst the rest fives ; I told 
 him we'd have a game some day : I laid 
 down the stone in the ground myself, and, 
 against he came again, made a ball. I 
 struck the ball the first blow and he gave 
 it the second, and so we played ; and as 
 there was company they liked the sport, 
 and it got talked of. This was the begin- 
 ning of the fives-play, which has since 
 become so famous at Copenhagen-house." 
 
 A word or two on ball-play. 
 
 Fives was our old hand-tennis, and is a 
 very ancient game. 
 
 In the fourteenth century there was a 
 game at ball, where a line, called the 
 cord, was traced upon the wall, below 
 which the stroke was faulty. Some of 
 the players were on foot ; others had the 
 two hands tied together, or played in a 
 hollow cask.* 
 
 Hand-ball was before the days of 
 Homer. He introduces the princess 
 Corcyra, daughter of Alcinous, king of 
 Phoeacia, amusing herself, with her 
 maidens, at hand-ball : — ■ 
 
 " O'er the green mead the sporting virgins 
 
 play; 
 Their shining veils unbound, along thi 
 
 skies, 
 Tost and re-tost, the ball incessant flics."* 
 
 It is related of St. Cuthbert, who lived 
 in the seventh century, that " whan he 
 was viii yere old, as he played at the ball 
 with other chyldren, sodeynly there stode 
 amonge them a fayre yonge chylde," who 
 admonished Cuthbert against " vayne 
 playes," and seeing Cuthbert take no 
 heed, he fell down, wept sore and wrung 
 his hands ; " and than Cuthbert and the 
 other chyldren lefte their playe and com- 
 forted hym; and than sodeynly he va- 
 nyshed away ; and than he knewe veryly 
 that it was an angel; and, fro than forth on, 
 he lefte all such vayne playes, and never 
 used them more.'' ^ 
 
 Ball-play was formerly played at Easter 
 in churches, and statutes passed to regu- 
 late the size of the ball. The ceremony 
 was as follows : the ball being received, 
 the dean, or his representative, began an 
 antiphone, or chant, suited to Easter- 
 day ; then taking the ball in his left hand, 
 he commenced a dance to the tune, others 
 of the clergy dancing round, hand in 
 hand. At intervals the ball was handed 
 or tossed by the dean to each of the cho- 
 risters, the organ playing according to the 
 dance and sport : at the conclusion of the 
 anthem and dance, they went and took 
 refreshment. It was the privilege of the 
 lord, or his locum tenens, to throw the 
 ball, and even the archbishop did it.J 
 
 The P'rench palm-play consisted in re- 
 ceiving the ball and driving it back again 
 with the palm of the hand. Anciently 
 they played with the naked hand, then 
 with a glove, which, in some instances, 
 was lined ; afterwards they bound cords 
 and tendons round tneir hands, to make 
 the ball rebound more forcibly ; and 
 hence, says St. Foix, the racket derived 
 its origin. 
 
 In the reign of Charles V., palm-play, 
 which, Strutt says, may properly enough 
 be denominated hand-tennis, ov fives, was 
 exceedingly fashionable in France, being 
 played by the nobility for large sums of 
 money ; and when they had lost all that 
 they had about them, they would some- 
 times pledge a part of their wearing ap- 
 parel rather than give up the game. The 
 
 • Mr. Fosbroke's Diet, of Amiqui'ies. 
 
 * I'lipp's Homer 
 
 t Golden Lfjeiid 
 
 t Mr. Posbroke's Diet, ot Antiquitiu. 
 
 432 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 duke of Bourbon having; lost sixty francs 
 at pilm-play with M. William de Lyon, 
 and M. Guy de la Trimouille, and not 
 liaving money enoughto pay tliem, gave 
 his girdle as a pledge for the remainder. 
 
 A damsel, named Margot, who resided 
 at Paris m 1424, played at hand-tcnnin 
 with the palm, and also with the back of 
 her hand, better than any man ; and 
 what is most surprising, says St. Foix, at 
 that time the game was played with tlie 
 naked hand, or at least with a double 
 jjlove. 
 
 Haiul'tennis still continues to be played, 
 though under a difl'erent name, and pro- 
 bably a different modification of the 
 game : it is now caWed Jives, which deno- 
 mination, perhaps, it might receive from 
 having five competitors in it, as the suc- 
 ceeding passage shews : When queen 
 Elizabeth was entertained at Elvetham, 
 in Hampshire, by the earl of Hertford, 
 " after dinner about three o'clock, ten of 
 his lordship's servants, all Somersetshire 
 men, in a square greene court before her 
 majesties windowe, did hang up lines, 
 squaring out the forme of a tennis court, 
 and making a cross line in the middle; 
 in this square they, being stripped out of 
 their dublets, played five to five with 
 hand-ball at bord and cord as they tearme 
 it, to the great liking of her highness.''* 
 
 Fives-playing at Copenhagen-house, is 
 recorded in a memoir of Cavanagh, the 
 famous /yes-player, by Mr. Hazlitt. It 
 first appeared in the Examiner of Fe- 
 bruary 17, 1819, and is subjoined, with 
 the omission of a passage or two, not es- 
 sentially connected with the subject. 
 
 DEATH OF JOHN CAVANAGH. 
 
 . " And is old Double dead? See, see, he 
 drew a good bow ; and dead ! he shot a line 
 shoot. John of Gaunt loved hun well, and 
 betted much money on his head. Dead ! he 
 would have clapt in^the dout at twelve score, 
 and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen 
 and fourteen and a half, that it would have 
 done a man's heart gosd to see." 
 
 Died at his house in Burbage-street, 
 St. Giles's, John Cavanagh, the famous 
 hand fives-player. When a person dies, 
 who does any one thing better than any 
 
 « Biriitt's sports, from Mr. Nichol's Progresses of 
 Queen Eliiabeth, &c. 
 
 one else in the world, which so many 
 others are trying to do well, it leaves a 
 gap in society. It is not likely that any 
 one will now see the game of fives played 
 in its perfection for many years to come — 
 for Cavanagh is dead, and has not left his 
 peer behind him. 
 
 It may be said that there are tilings 
 of more importance than sti iking a ball 
 against a wall — there are things indeed 
 that make more noise and do as little 
 good, such as making war and peace, 
 making speeches and answering them, 
 making verses and blotting them, making 
 money and throwing it away. But the 
 game of fives is what no one despises who 
 has ever played at it. It is the finest 
 exercise for the body, and the best relaxa- 
 tion for the mind. 
 
 The Roman poet said that " Care 
 mounted behind the horseman, and stuck 
 to his skirts." But this remark would 
 not have applied to the fives-player. He 
 wlio takes to playing at fives is twice 
 young. He feels neither the past nor fu- 
 ture " in the instant." Debts, taxes, 
 " Domestic treason, foreign levy, nothing 
 can touch him. further." He has no other 
 wish, no other thouglit, from the monient 
 the game begins, but that of striking the 
 ball, of placing it, of making it ! This Ca- 
 vanagh was sure to do. Whenever he 
 touched the ball, there was an end of the 
 chase. His eye was certain, his hand 
 fatal, his presence of mind complete. He 
 could do what he pleased, and he always 
 knew exactly what to do. He saw the 
 whole game, and played it ; took instant 
 advantage of his adversary's weakness, 
 and recovered balls, as if by a miracle 
 and from sudden thought, that every 
 one gave for lost. He had equal 
 power and skill, quickness and judg- 
 ment. He couid either outwit his anta- 
 gonist by finesse, or beat him by main 
 strength. Sometimes, when he se«mtd 
 preparing to send the ball with the full 
 swing of his arm, he would, by a slight 
 turn of his wrist, drop it within an inch 
 of the line. In general, the ball came 
 from his hand, as if from a racket, in a 
 strait horizontal line; so that it v/as in 
 vain to attempt to overtake or stop it. 
 As it was said of a great orator, that he 
 never was at a loss for a word, and for the 
 properest word, so Cavanagh always 
 could tell the degree of force necessary to 
 be given to a ball, and the precise direc- 
 tion in which it should be sent. He did 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 433 
 
 2 F 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 26. 
 
 his work with the greatest ease ; never 
 took more pains than was necessary, and 
 while others were fagering themselves to 
 death, was as cool and collected as if he 
 had just entered the court. 
 
 His style of play was as remarkable as 
 his power of execution. He had no 
 affectation, no trifling. He did not throw 
 away the game to show off an attitude, 
 or try an experiment. He was a fine, 
 sensible, manly player, who did what he 
 could, but that was more than any one 
 else could even affect to do. He was the 
 nest up-hill player In the world; even 
 when his adversary was fourteen,, he 
 would play on the same or better, and 
 as he never flung away the game through 
 carelessness and conceit, he never gave 
 it up through laziness or want of 
 heart. The only peculiarity of his play 
 was that he never volleyed, but let the 
 balls hop ; but if they rose an inch from 
 the ground, he never missed having them. 
 There was not only no body equal, but 
 nobody second to him. It is supposed 
 that he could give any other player 
 half the game, or beat them with his 
 left hand. His service was tremendous. 
 He once played Woodward and Mere- 
 dith together (two of the best players in 
 England) in the Fives-court, St. Martin's- 
 street, and made seven and twenty aces 
 following by services alone — a thing un- 
 heard of. He another time played Peru, 
 who was considered a first-rate fives- 
 piayer, a match of the be.<t out of five 
 games, and in the three first games, 
 which of course decided the match, Peru 
 got only one ace. 
 
 Cavanagh was an Irishman by birth, 
 and a house-painter by profession. He 
 had once laid aside his working-dress, 
 and walked up, in his smartest clothes, 
 to the Rosemary Branch to have an after- 
 noon's pleasure. A person accosted him, 
 and asked him if he would have a game. 
 So they agreed to play for half-a-crown a 
 game, and a bottle of cider. The first 
 game began — it was seven, eight, ten, 
 thirteen, fourteen, all. Cavanagh won it. 
 The next was the same. They played on and 
 each game was hardly contested. " Tliere," 
 said the unconscious fives-player, " there 
 was a stroke that Cavanagh could not 
 take : I never played better in my life, and 
 yet I can't win a- game. I don't know 
 how it is." However, they played on, Ca- 
 vanagh winning every game, and the bye- 
 standers drinking the cider and laughing 
 
 all the time. In the twelfth gaihe, when 
 Cavanagh was only four, and the stranger 
 thirteen, a person came in, and said, 
 " What are you here, Cavanagh !'' The 
 words were no sooner pronounced than 
 the astonished player let the ball drop 
 from his hand, and saying, " What ! have 
 I been breaking my heart all this time to 
 beat Cavanagh ?" refused to make ano- 
 ther effort. " And yet, I give you my 
 word,'' said Cavanagh, telling the story 
 with some triumph, " I played all the 
 while with my clenched fist." 
 
 He used frequently to play matches at 
 Copenhagen-house for wagers anddmners. 
 The wall against which they play is the 
 same that supports the kitchen-chimney, 
 and when the wall resounded louder than 
 usual, the cooks exclaimed, " Those are 
 the Irishman's balls," and the joints trem- 
 bled on the spit ! 
 
 Goldsmith consoled himself that there 
 were places where he too was admired : 
 and Cavanagh was the admiration of all 
 the fives-courts where he ever played. 
 Mr. Powell, when he played matches in 
 the court in St. Martin's-street, used to 
 fill his gallery at half-a-crown a head, 
 with amateurs and admirers of talent in 
 whatever department it is shown. He 
 could not have shown himself in any 
 ground in England, but he would have 
 been immediately surrounded with in- 
 quisitive gazers, trying to find out in what 
 part of his frame his unrivalled skill lay. 
 
 He was a young fellow of sense, hu- 
 mour, and courage. He once had a quarrel 
 with a waterman atHungerford-staiis, and 
 they say, "served him out" in great style. 
 In a word, there are hundreds at this day, 
 who cannot mention his name without 
 admiration, as the best fives-player that 
 perhaps ever lived (the greatest excellence 
 of which they have any notion) — and 
 the noisy shout of the ring happily stood 
 him instead of the unheard voice of pos- 
 terity. 
 
 The only person who seems to have 
 excelled as much in another way as Ca- 
 vanagh did in his, was the late John 
 Davies, the racket-player. It was re- 
 marked of him that he did not seem to 
 follow the ball, but the ball seemed to 
 follow him. Give him a foot of wall, and 
 he was sure to make the ball. The four 
 best racket-players of that day were Jack 
 Spines, Jem Harding, Armitage, and 
 Church. Davies could give any one of 
 these two hands a time, that is, half the 
 
 434 
 
THE EVERYDAY BODK.— JUA'P. 26. 
 
 game, and each of tliese at tlieir best, 
 Cv^uld give the best player now in London 
 the same odds. Such are tlie gradations 
 in all exertions of human skill and art. 
 He once played four capital players to- 
 gether, and beat them. He was also a 
 first-rate tennis-player, and an excellent 
 fives-player. In the Fleet or King's Bench, 
 he would have stood against I\)well, who 
 was reckoned the best open-ground player 
 of his time. This last-mentioned player 
 is at present the keeper of the Fives-court, 
 and we might recommend to him for a 
 motto over his door, — " Who enters here, 
 fi^rgets himself, his country, and his 
 fiiends." And the best of it is, that by 
 the calculation of the odds, none of the 
 three are worth remembering ! 
 
 Cavanagh died from the bursting of a 
 blood-vessel, which prevented him from 
 playing for the last two or three years. 
 This, he was often heard to say, he 
 thought hard upon him. He was fast 
 recovering, however, wlien he was sud- 
 denly carried off to the regret of all who 
 knew him. 
 
 Jack Cavanagii was a zealous Catholic, 
 and could not be persuaded to eat meat 
 on a Friday, the day on which he died. 
 We have p;aid this willing tribute to his 
 memory. 
 
 " Let no nule hand deface it, 
 And his forlorn ' Hie Jacet.' " 
 
 F/iii's-pIaif from the year 1 780 was a 
 chief diversion at Copenhagen-house, par- 
 ticularly while Mrs. Harrington remained 
 the landlady. She was careless of all 
 customers, except they came in shoals to 
 drink tea in the gardens and long room 
 up stairs, or to play at fives, skittles, and 
 Dutch pins, and swill and smoke. The 
 house was afterwards kept by a person 
 named Orchard, during whose time the 
 London Corresponding Society, in 1795, 
 held meetings in the adjacent fields.* In 
 1812, it was proposed by a company of 
 projectors to bring sea-water through iron 
 pipes " from the coast of Essex to Copen- 
 hagen fields " and construct baths, which, 
 according to the proposals, would yield 
 twelve and a half per cent, on a capital 
 of 200,000/. ; but the subscription was 
 not filled up, though the names of several 
 eminent physicians sanctioned the under- 
 taking, and the project failed.f 
 
 ♦ Mr. Nelson'j History of Islington. t l^id. 
 
 After Orchard's tenancy, Copenhagen- 
 house was kept by one Tooth, who encou- 
 raged brutal sports for the sake of the 
 liquors he sold. On a Sunday morninp 
 the fives-ground was filled by bull-dogs 
 and rufhans, who lounged and drank to 
 intoxication ; so many as fifty or sixty 
 bull-dogs have been seen tied up to the 
 benches at once, while their masteis boozed 
 and made match after match, and went 
 out and fought their dogs before the house, 
 amid the uproar of idiers attracted to the 
 " bad eminence" by its infamy. This 
 scene lasted throughout every Sunday 
 forenoon, and then the mob dispersed, 
 and the vicinity was annoyed by the yells 
 of the dogs and their drunken masters on 
 their return home. There was also a 
 common field, east of the house, wherein 
 bulls were baited ; -this was called the 
 bull-field. These excesses, although com- 
 mitted at a distance from otheHiabita- 
 tions, occasioned so much disturbance, 
 that the magistrates, after repeated warn- 
 ings to Tc oth, refused him a license in 
 1816, and granted it to Mr. Bath, the 
 present landlord, who abated the nuisance 
 by refusing to draw beer or aff'ord refresh- 
 ment to any one who had a bull-dog at 
 his heels. The bull-field has since been 
 possessed and occupied by a great cow- 
 keeping landlord in the neighbourhood, 
 though by what title he holds it is not 
 known, certainly not by admission to it 
 as ii:a.ste of the manor. This field is 
 close to the mud cottage hereafter men- 
 tioned in Hai];bush-lane, an ancient way 
 to Hic;h£rate-hi;i. 
 
 Near the spot at which Ilagbush-lane 
 comes out into the Holloway-road tc 
 Highgate, the great lord Bacon met with 
 the cause of his death, in a way not 
 generally known. He was taking an ail- 
 ing in his coach, on a winter-day, with 
 Dr. Witherborne, a Scotchman, physiciar. 
 to James L, and the snow laying on 
 the ground. It occurred to lord Bacor. 
 that flesh might be preserved in snow as 
 well as in salt ; resolving to try the expe- 
 riment, tliey alighted from the carriage, 
 and going into a poor woman's cottage at 
 the foot of Highgate-hill, they bought a 
 hen; his lordship helped to stuff" the body 
 with snow, which so chilled liim that he 
 fell ill, and could rot return to his lodg- 
 ings ; he therefore went to the earl of 
 Arundel's house at IIighe;ate, where a bed 
 was warmed for him with a pan of coals ■ 
 
 435 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JU:<E 26. 
 
 but the lied not having been lain in for 
 about a year befoie was damp, and so 
 increased his disorder that in two or 
 three days he died. 
 
 It is not to defame so great a man, the 
 greatest of modern times, but merely to 
 illustrate his well-known attachment to 
 J)cltUcu\at favourites, that a paper is here 
 for the first time printed. It is a bill of 
 fees to counsel, upon an order made in 
 the court of chancery by lord Bacon, as 
 Keeper of the great seal, during the first 
 year he held it. From this it appears 
 that counsel had been retained to argue 
 a demurrer, on the first day of Mi- 
 chaelmas term, 1617; and that the hear- 
 ing stood over till the following Tuesday, 
 before which day " one of my lord- 
 keeper's favourites" was retained as otiier 
 counsel, and, " beins^ one of my lord- 
 keeper s favourites," had a double fee for 
 his services. The mention of so extra- 
 ordinary a fact in a common bill of 
 costs may perhaps justify its rather out- 
 of-the-way introduction in this place 
 The paper from whence it is here printed, 
 the editor of the Every-Ckiy Book has 
 selected from among other old unpublished 
 manuscripts in his possession, connected 
 with the affaips of sir Philip Hoby, who 
 was ambassador to the emperor of Ger- 
 many from Henry VIII., and held other 
 offices during that reign. 
 
 (copy.) 
 
 Termino Micalis, 1617. 
 
 To Mr. Bagger of the Tner-Temple, 
 Councellor, the firste day of the 
 Tearme, for attending at the 
 Chancery barr, to mayntain or. 
 demurrer against Sr. Tho. Hoby, 
 by my Lo : Keeper's order, that 
 daye to attend the Corte, wc''. 
 herd noe motions that daye, but 
 deferd it of until Tusday fol- 
 lowing- ------- xxii. s. 
 
 Uppon Tusdaye following wee had 
 yonge Mr. Tho: Finch, and Mr. 
 Bagger, of our Councell, to at- 
 tend there to mayntainethe same 
 demurrer, and the cause be can- 
 cel red; Upon (which) my Lo: 
 Keeper ordered, that he reflTerred 
 die cause to be heard before Sr. 
 Charles Ceser King, one of the 
 docters of the Chancery, to make 
 
 a reporte unto his Lo : of • ne 
 Cause, that his Lo : might better 
 consider, whether the demurrer 
 should stand good, or noe : — Mr. 
 Tho: Finch his fee, being one of 
 my Lo : favourites, had - - - 44? 
 Mr. Bager his Fee ----- 2'ls. 
 
 At Copenhagen-house, the eye and the 
 stomach may be satisfied together. A 
 walk to it through the fresh air creates an 
 appetite, and the sight must be allowed 
 some time to take in the surrounding 
 prospect. A seat for an hour or two at 
 the upstairs tea-room windows on a fine 
 day IS a luxury. As the clouds inter- 
 cept the sun's rays, and as the winds dis- 
 perse or congregate the London atmos- 
 phere, the appearance of the objects it 
 hovers over continually varies. Masses 
 of building in that direction daily stretch 
 out further and further across the fields, 
 so that the metropolis may be imagined 
 a moving billow coming up the heights 
 to drown the country. Behind the house 
 the 
 
 " Hedge-row elms, o'er hillocks green," 
 
 is exquisitely beautiful, and the fine am- 
 phitheatre of wood, from Primrose-hill to 
 Highgate-archway and Hoinsey, seems 
 built up to meet the skies. A stroll to- 
 wards either of these places from Copen- 
 hagen-house, is pleasant beyond imagin- 
 ation. Many residents in London to whom 
 walking would be eminently seiviceable, 
 cannot " take a walk" without a motive ; 
 to such is recommended the " delightful 
 task" of endeavouring to trace Hagbush- 
 lane. 
 
 Crossing the meadow west of Copen- 
 hagen-house, to the north-east corner, 
 there is a mud built cottage in the wices 
 part of Hagbush-lane, a? it runs due 
 north from the angle formed by its eastern 
 direction. It stands on the site of one 
 still more rude, at which until destroyed, 
 labouring men and humble wayfarers, 
 attracted by the sequestered and rural 
 beauties of the lane, slopped to recreate. 
 It was just such a scene as Morland 
 would have coveted to sketch, and there- 
 _fore Mr. Fussell with " an eye for the 
 picturesque," and with a taste akin to 
 Morland's, made a drawing of it while 
 it was standing, and placed it on the 
 wood whereon it is engraven, to adorn 
 the next page. 
 
 436 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 26 
 
 COTTAGE FORMERLY IN HAGBUSH-LANE. 
 
 " ^Vhv this cottage, sir, not three miles from London, is as secluded as if it were in tiie 
 
 weald of Kent." 
 
 This cottage stands no longer : its his- 
 tory is in the " simple annals of the 
 j.oor." About seven years ago, an aged 
 and almost decayed labouring man, a 
 native of Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire, with 
 Ins wife and child, lay out every night 
 upon the road side of Ilagbush-lane, under 
 what of bough and brancl) they could creep 
 for shelter, till " winter's cold" came on, 
 and then he erected this " mud edifice." 
 tie had worked for some great land-hold- 
 ers and owners in Islington, and still 
 loobed about. Like them, he was, to this 
 extent of building, a speculator ; and to 
 eke out his insufficient means, he profit- 
 ed, in his humble abode, by the sale of 
 small beer to stragglers and rustic way- 
 farers. His cottage stood between the 
 lands of two rich men ; not upon the land 
 of either, but partly on the disused road, 
 and partly on the waste of the manor. 
 Deeming him by no means a respectable 
 
 neighbour for their cattle, they " warned 
 him off;" he, not choosing to be house- 
 less, noi conceiving that their domains 
 could be injured by his little enclosure 
 between the banks of the road, refused to 
 accept this notice, and he remained. For 
 this offence, one of them caused his la- 
 bourers to level the miserable dwelling to 
 the earth, and the "houseless child of 
 want," was compelled by this wanton act 
 to apply for his family and himself to be 
 taken into the workhouse. His applica- 
 tion was refused, but he received advice 
 to build again, with information that 
 his disturt>tfr was not justified in disturb- 
 ing him. In vain he pleaded incompe- 
 tent power to resist ; the workhouse was 
 shut against him, and he began to build 
 another hut. He had proceeded so far 
 as to keep off the weather in one direc- 
 tion, when wealth again made war upon 
 poverty, and while away from his wife 
 
 437 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 16. 
 
 and child, iiis scarcely half raised hnl was 
 pulled down during a heavy rain, and his 
 wife and child left in the lane shelterless. 
 A second application for a home in the 
 workhouse was rejected, with still stronger 
 assurances that he had been illegally 
 disturbed, and with renewed advice to 
 build again. The old man has built for 
 the third time; and on the site of the 
 cottage represented in the engraving, 
 erected another, wherein he dwells, and 
 sells his small beer to people who choose 
 to sit and drink it on the turf seal against 
 the wall of his cottage ; it is chiefly in 
 request, however, among the brickmaktis 
 in the neighbourhood, and the labourers 
 on the new road, cutting across Hagbush- 
 lane from IloUoway to the Kentish-town 
 road, which will utimately connect the 
 Regent's-patk and the western suburb, 
 with the eastern extremity of this im- 
 mensely growing metropolis. Though im- 
 mediately contiguous toMr.Bath, the land- 
 lord of "Copenhagen-house," he has no 
 way assisted in obstructing this poor crea- 
 ture's endeavour to get a morsel of bread. 
 For the present he remains unmolested in 
 his almost sequestered nook, and the 
 place and himself are worth seeing, for 
 they are perhaps the nearest specimens 
 to London, of the old country labourer 
 and his dwelling. 
 
 From the many intelligent persons a 
 stroller may meet among the thirty thou- 
 sand inhabitants of Islington, on his way 
 along Ilagbush-lane, he will perhaps 
 not find one to answer a question 
 that will occur to him during his walk. 
 " Why is this place called Hagbush- 
 lane?" Before giving satisfaction here to 
 the inquirer, he is informed that, if a 
 Londoner, Hagbush-lane is, or ought to 
 be, to him, the most interesting way that 
 he can find to walk in ; and piesuming 
 him to be influenced by the feelings and 
 motives that actuate his fellow citizens to 
 the improvement and adornment of their 
 city, by the making of a neir north re id, 
 he is informed that Hagbush-lane, though 
 now wholly disused, and in many parts 
 destroyed, was the old, or rather the old- 
 est north road, or ancient bridle-way to 
 and from London, and the northern parts 
 of the kingdom. 
 
 Now for its name — Hagbush-lane. flag 
 IS the old Saxon word hcBg; which became 
 corrupted into hawgh, and afterwards 
 into hnw, and is the name for the berry 
 of the hawthorn ; also the Saxon word 
 
 hagn sirjpitied a nedge or any enclosure., 
 Hag afterwards signified a bramble, and 
 hence, for instance, the blackberry-bush, 
 or any other bramble, would be properly 
 denominated a hag. Hagbush-lane, tiiere- 
 fore, may be taken to signify either Haw- 
 thornbush-lane, Bramble-lane, or Hedge- 
 bush-lane ; more probably the latter. 
 Within recent recollection, Whitcomb- 
 street, near Charing-cross, was called 
 //d?'/o-e-lane. 
 
 Supposing the reader to proceed from 
 the old man's mud-cottage in a northerly 
 direction, he will find that the widest 
 part of Ilagbush-lane reaches, from tliat 
 spot, to the road now cutting from Hol- 
 loway, Crossing immediately over the 
 road, he comes again into the lane, which 
 lie will there find so narrow as only to 
 admit convenient passage to a man on 
 horseback. This was the general width 
 of the road throughout, and the usual 
 width of all the English roads made in 
 ancient times. They did not travel in 
 carriages, or carry their goods in carts, as 
 we do, but rode on horseback, and con- 
 veyed their wares or merchandise in pack- 
 saddles or packages on horses' backs. 
 They likewise conveyed their money in 
 the same way. In an objection raised in 
 the reign of Elizabeth to a clause in the 
 Hue and Cry bill, then passing through 
 parliament, it was urged, regarding some 
 travellers who had been robbed in open 
 day within the hundred of Beyntesh, in 
 the county of Berks, that " they were 
 clothiers, and yet travailed not withe the 
 great trope of clothiers ; they also carried 
 their money openlye in wallets upon their 
 saddles."* The customary width of their 
 roads was either four feet or eight feet. 
 Some parts of Hagbush-lane are much 
 lower than the meadows on each side; 
 and this defect is common to parts of every 
 ancient way, as might be exemplified, 
 were it necessary, with reasons founded 
 on their ignorance of every essential con- 
 nected with the formation, and perhaps 
 the use, of a road. 
 
 It is not intended to point out the tor- 
 tuous directions of Hagbush-lane ; for the 
 chief object of this notice is to excite the 
 reader to one of the pleasantest walks he 
 can imagine and to tax his ingenuity to 
 the discovery of the route the road takes. 
 This, the ancient north road, comes into 
 the prcient north road, in Upper IIol- 
 loway, at the foot of Highgate-hill, and 
 
 • Hoby MSS. 
 
 438 
 
THE EVER\'-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 9.6. 
 
 went in that direction to Ilornsey. From 
 the mud-cottage towards London, it pro- 
 ceeded between Paradise-house, the resi- 
 dence of Mr. Greig, the engraver, and the 
 Adam and Eve public-house, in tlie Hol- 
 loway back-road, and by circuitous wind- 
 ings approached London, at the distance 
 of a few feet on the eastern side of the 
 City Arms pubhc-house, in the City-road, 
 and continued towards Old-street, St. 
 Luke's. It no where communicated with 
 the back -road, leading from Battle-bridge 
 to the top of Highgate-hill, called Maiden- 
 lane. 
 
 Hagbush-lane is well known to every 
 botanizing perambulator on the west side 
 of London. The wild onion, clowns- 
 vvound-wort, wake-robin, and abundance 
 of other simples, lovely in their form, and 
 of high medicinal repute in our old herb- 
 als and receipt-books, take root, and seed 
 and flower here in great variety. How. 
 long beneath the tall elms and pollard oaks, 
 and the luxuriant beauties on the banks, 
 the infirm may be suffered to seek health, 
 and the healthy to recreate, who shall say ? 
 Spoilers are abroad. 
 
 Through Ilagbush-lane every man has 
 a right to ride and walk ; in Hagbush- 
 lane no one man has even a shadow 
 of right to an inch as private pro- 
 perty. It is a public road, and public 
 property. The trees, as well as the road, 
 are public proyterty ; and the very form 
 of the road is public property. Yet bar- 
 gains and sales have been made, and are 
 said to be now making, imder which the 
 trees are cut down and sold, and the 
 public road thrown, bit by bit, into pri- 
 vate fields as pasture. Under no con- 
 veyance or admission to land by any 
 
 proprietor, whether freeholder or lord of 
 a manor, can any person legally dispossess 
 the public of a smgle foot of Hagbus'> 
 lane, or obstruct the passage of any indi- 
 vidual through it. All the people of 
 London, and indeed all the people of 
 England, have a right in this road as a 
 common highway. Hitherto, among the 
 inhabitants of Islington, many of whom 
 are opulent, and all of whom are the 
 local guardians of the public rights in 
 this road, not one has been found with 
 sufficient public virtue, or rather with 
 enough of common manly spirit, to com- 
 pel the restoration of public plunder, and 
 in his own defence, and on the behalf of 
 the public, arrest the highway robber. 
 
 Building, or what may more properly 
 be termed the tumbling up of tumble- 
 down houses, to the north of London, is 
 so rapidly increasing, that in a year or 
 two there will scarcely be a green spot 
 for the resort of the inhabitants. Against 
 covering of private ground in this way, 
 there is no resistance ; but against its evil 
 consequences to health, some remedy 
 should be provided by the setting apart 
 of open spaces for the exercise of walking 
 in the fresh air. The preservation of 
 Hagbush-lane therefore is, in this point 
 of view, an object of public importance, 
 Where it has not been thrown into pri- 
 vate fields, from whence, however, it is 
 recoverable, it is one of the loveliest of 
 our green lanes; and though persons from 
 the country smile at Londoners A\hen 
 they talk of being *' rural" at the distance 
 of a few miles from town, a countryman 
 would find it difficult to name any lane 
 in his own county, more sequestered or of 
 greater beauty. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN HAG BUSH-LANE. 
 
 A scene like this, 
 Would woo the care-worn wise 
 
 To moralize. 
 And courting lovers court to tell their bliss. 
 
 Had I a cottage here 
 I'd be content ; for where 
 I have my books 
 
 I have old friends, 
 
 Whose cheering looks 
 
 Make me amends 
 
 439 
 
TIIK EVERYDAY BOOK.— JUNE 27, 2n. 
 
 For coldnesses in men ; and s'i, 
 
 With them departed long ago, 
 
 And with wild-flowers and tre'?s 
 And with the living breeze, 
 And with the " still small voice " 
 Within, I would rejoice, 
 And converse hold, while breath 
 Held me, and then — come Death ! 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Blue Sowthistle. Sonchus Cceruleim. 
 Dedicated to B. Raiugurda. 
 
 Slmte 27. 
 
 Si. Ladislas I., king of Hungary, a. d. 
 1,095. St. John, of Moutier, 6th 
 Cent. 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 ]\Ir. Howard, in his work on the wea- 
 ther, is of opinion, that farmers and 
 others, who are particularly interested in 
 being acquainted with the variations in 
 the weather, derive considerable aid from 
 the use of the barometer. He says, " in 
 fact, much less of valuable fodder is 
 spoiled by wet now than in the days of 
 our forefathers. But there is yet room 
 for improvement in the knowledge of our 
 farmers on the subject of the atmosphere. 
 It must be a subject of great satisfaction 
 and confidence to the husbandman, to 
 know, at the beginning of a summer, by 
 the certain evidence of meteorological re- 
 sults on record, that the season, in the 
 ordinary course of things, may be ex- 
 pected to be a dry and warm one ; or to 
 find, in a certain period of it, that the 
 average quantity of rain to be expected 
 for the month has already fallen. On the 
 other hand, when there is reason, from 
 the same source of information, to expect 
 much rain, the man who has courage to 
 begin his operations under an unfavour- 
 aole sky, but with good ground to con- 
 vlude, from the state of his instruments 
 find his collateral knowledge, that a fair 
 interval is approaching, may often be 
 profiting by his observations ; while his 
 cautious neighbour, who waited for the 
 weather to ' settle,' may find that he has 
 let the opportunity go by. This supe- 
 riority, however, is attainable by a very 
 moderate share of application to the sub- 
 ject : and by the keeping of a plain diary 
 nf Lhe barometer and raingauge with the 
 
 hygrometer and the vane undc 
 notice." 
 
 his i 
 
 ■>'J 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Perforated St. John's Wort. Hypericum 
 
 perforatum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. John, 
 
 Suite 28. 
 
 St. IrencEus, Bp. of Lyons, a. d. 202. St. 
 Leo n.. Pope a.d. 683. Sts. Plutarch 
 and others. Martyrs, "ibout a.d. 202. 
 Sts. Potamiana and Basilides, Martyrs. 
 
 ClIRONOLOGT. 
 
 1797. George Keate, F.R.S., died, aged 
 sixty-seven. He was born at Trowbridge in 
 Wills, educated at Kingston school, called 
 to the bar, abandoned the profession of the 
 law, amused himself with his pen, and 
 wrote several works. His chief produc- 
 tion is the account of "Capt. Wilson's 
 Voyage to the Pelew Islands ;" his 
 "Sketches from Nature," written in the 
 manner of Sterne, are pleasing and popular. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Blue Cornflower. Centaurea Cyanuft. 
 Dedicated to St. IrencBus 
 
 A hot day. 
 Now the rosy- (and lazy-) fingered 
 Auroia, issuing from her safl"ron house, 
 calls up the moist vapours to surround 
 her, and goes veiled with them as long as 
 she can ; till Phcebus, coming forth in his 
 power, looks every thing out of the sky, 
 and holds sharp uninterrupted empire 
 from his throne of beams. Now the 
 mower begins to make his sweeping cuts 
 more slowly, and resorts oftener to the 
 
 4iO 
 
THE EVERT-DAY BOOK.— JUNE '^8 
 
 beer. Now the carter sleeps a-top of his 
 load of hay, or plods with double slouch 
 of shoulder, looking out with eyes wink- 
 ing under his shading hat, and with a 
 hitch upward of one side of his mouth. 
 Now the little girl at her grandmother's 
 cottage-door watches the coaches that go 
 by, with her hand held up over her sunny 
 forehead. Now labourers look well, rest- 
 ing in their white shirts at the doors of 
 rural alehouses. Now an elm is fine 
 there, with a seat under it ; and horses 
 drink out of the trough, stretching their 
 yearning necks with loosened collars ; 
 and the traveller calls for his glass of ale, 
 having been without one for more than 
 ten minutes ; and his horse stands wincing 
 at the flies, giving sharp shivers of his 
 skin, and moving to and fro his inef- 
 fectual docked tail ; and now Miss Betty 
 Wilson, the host's daughter, comes stream- 
 ing forth in a flowered gown and ear- 
 rings, carrying with four of her beautiful 
 fingers the foaming glass, for which, after 
 the traveller has drank it, she receives 
 with an indifferent eye, looking another 
 way, the lawful two-pence : that is to say, 
 unless the traveller, nodding his ruddy 
 face, pays some gallant compliment to 
 her before he drinks, such as " I'd rather 
 kiss you, my dear, than the tumbler," — 
 or " I'll wait for you, my love, if you'll 
 marry me ;" upon which, if the man is 
 good-looking gnd the lady in good-hu- 
 mour, she smiles and bites her lips, and 
 says " Ah — men can talk fast enough ;" 
 upon which the old stage-coachman, who 
 is buckling something near her, before he 
 sets oflT, says in a hoarse voice, " So can 
 women too for that matter," and John 
 Boots grins through his ragged red locks, 
 and doats on the repartee all the day after. 
 Now grasshoppers " fry," asDryden says. 
 Now cattle stand in water, and ducks are 
 €nvied. Now boots and shoes, and trees 
 Ov the road side, are thick with dust ; 
 *nd dogs rolling in it, after issuing out of 
 |t)e water, into which they have been 
 .hrown w fetch sticks, come scattering 
 Jiorror among the legs of the spectators. 
 Now a fellow who finds he has three 
 miles further to go in a pajr of tight shoes, 
 .s in a pretty situation. Now rooms with 
 the sun upon them become intoleiable; 
 and the apothecary's apprentice, with a 
 bitterness beyond aloes, thinks of the 
 pond he used to bathe in at school. Now 
 men with powdered heads (especially if 
 thick) envy those that are unpowdered, 
 and stop to wipe them up hill, with 
 
 countenances that seem to expostulate 
 with destiny. Now boys assemble round 
 the village pump with a ladle to it, and 
 delight to make a forbidden splash and 
 get wet through the shoes. Now also 
 they make suckers of leather, and bathe 
 all day long in rivers and ponds, and 
 follow the fish into their cool corners, and 
 say millions of " my eyes !" at " tittle- 
 bats." Now the bee, as he hums along, 
 seems to be talking heavily of the heat. 
 Now doors and brick-walls are burning 
 to the hand ; and a walled lane, with 
 dust and broken bottles in it, near a 
 brick-field, is a thing not to be thought 
 of. Now a green lane, on the contrary, 
 thick-set wiih hedge-row elms, and hav- 
 ing the noise of a brook " rumbling in 
 pebble-stone," is one of the pleasantest 
 things in the world. Now youths and 
 damsels walk through hay-fields by chance; 
 and the latter say, " ha' done then, Wil- 
 liam ;" and the overseer in the next field 
 calls out to " let thic thear hay thear 
 bide ;'' and the girls persist, merely to 
 plague " such a frumpish old fellow." 
 
 Now, in town, gossips talk more than 
 ever to one another, in rooms, in door- 
 ways, and out of windows, always begin- 
 ning the conversation with saying that the 
 heat is overpowering. Now blinds are 
 let down, and doors thrown open, and 
 flannel waitcoats left off', and cold meat 
 preferred to hot, and wonder expressed 
 why tea continues so refreshing, ani peo- 
 ple delight to sliver lettuces into bowls, 
 and apprentices water doorways with tin- 
 canisters that lay several atoms of dust. 
 Now the water-cart, jumbling along the 
 middle of the streets, and jolting the 
 showers out of its box of water, really 
 does something. Now boys delight to 
 have a waterpipe let out, and set it bub- 
 bling away in a tall and frothy volume. 
 Now fruiterers' shops and dairies look 
 pleasant, and ices are the only things to 
 those who can get them. Now ladies 
 loiter in baths ; and people make presents 
 of flowers ; and wine is put into ice ; and 
 the after-dinner lounger recreates his head 
 with applications of perfumed water out 
 of long -necked bottles. Now the lounger, 
 who cannot resist riding his new horse, 
 feels his boots burn him. Now buck- 
 skins are not the lawn of Cos. Now 
 jockies, walking in great coats to lose 
 flesh, curse inwardly. Now five fat peo- 
 ple in a stage coach, hate the sixth fat 
 one who is coming in. ^nd think he has 
 no right to be so large. Now clerks in 
 
 441 
 
TriE EVrRY-D.'\Y BOOK.— JUNE -18. 
 
 offices do nothing, but drink soda-water 
 and spruce-beer, and read the news- 
 paper. Now the old clothes-man drops 
 his solitaiy cry more deeply into the areas 
 on the hot and forsaken side of the street ; 
 and bakers look vicious; and cooks 
 are aggravated : and the steam of a ta- 
 vern kitchen catches hold of one like the 
 breath of Tartarus. Now delicate skins 
 are beset with gnats ; and boys make 
 their sleeping companion start up, with 
 pl.^ying a burning-glass on his hand ; and 
 blacksmiths are super-carbcmated ; and 
 coblers in their stalls almost feel a wish 
 to be transplanted ; and butter is too easy 
 
 to spread ; and the dragoons wonder whe- 
 ther the Romans liked their helmets ; and 
 old ladies, with tiieir lappets unpinned, 
 walk along in a state of dilapidation ; and 
 the servant-maids are afraid they look 
 vulgarly hot ; and the author, who has 
 a plate of strawberries brought him, finds 
 that he has come to the end of his writ- 
 insr. — Indicator. 
 
 In the " Miscellanies," published by 
 the Spalding Society of Antiquaries there 
 is a poem of high feeling and strong 
 expression against " man's cruelty to 
 man :" — 
 
 Why should mans high aspiring mind 
 
 Burn in him, with so proud a breath; 
 When all his haughty views can find 
 
 In this world, yields to death ; 
 The fair, the brave, the vain, the wise, 
 
 The rich, the poor, and great, and small. 
 Are each, but worms anatoinys, 
 
 To strew, his quiet hall. 
 
 Power, may make -many earthly gods. 
 
 Where gold, and bribery's guilt, prevails ; 
 But death's, unwelcome honest odds. 
 
 Kicks oer, the unequal scales. 
 The flatter'd great, may clamours raise 
 
 Of Power, — and, their own weakness hide, 
 But death, shall find tinlooked for ways 
 
 To end the Farce of pride. — 
 
 An arrow, hnrtel'd ere so Iiiijh 
 
 From e'en a giant's sinewy strength, 
 In time's untraced eternity. 
 
 Goes, but a pigmy length — 
 Nay, whirring from the tortured string, 
 
 With all its pomp, of hurried flight, 
 Tis, by the Skylarks little wing., 
 
 Outmeasmed, in its height. 
 
 Just so, mans boasted strength, and | owei, 
 
 Shall fade, before deaths lightest stroke ; 
 Laid lower, than the meanest flower — 
 
 Whose pride, oertopt the oak. 
 And he, who like a blighting blast. 
 
 Dispeopled worlds, with wars alarms, 
 Shall, be himself destroyed at last. 
 
 By poor, despised worms. 
 
 Tyrants in vain, their powers secure 
 
 And awe slaves' murniurs, with a frown , 
 But unawcd death, at last is sure, 
 
 To sap the Babels down — 
 A stone thrown upward, to the skye. 
 
 Will quickly meet the ground iigea ; 
 So men-gods, of earths vanity. 
 
 Shall drop at last, to men ;' 
 
 And power, and pomp, their all reslga 
 
 Blood purchased Thrones, and banqnet ].'ialls. 
 
 Fate, waits to sack ambitions shrine 
 As bare, as prison walls^ 
 
 442 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE ?o 
 
 Where, the poor sufFering wretch bous dovin, 
 To laws, a iawk-ss power h.itli past ; — 
 
 \iul pride, and power, and King, and Clown, 
 Shall be death's slaves at bsl. 
 
 Time, the prime miniiter of death, 
 
 I'here's nouijht, can bribe his honest will 
 He, stops the richest Tyrants breath, 
 
 And lays, liis mischief still : 
 Each wicked scheme for power, all stops. 
 
 With grandeurs false, and mock displav, 
 As Eve's shades, from high mountain tops, 
 
 Fade with the rest, away. 
 
 Death levels all things, in his march. 
 
 Nought, can resist his mighty strongtii ; 
 The Pallace proud, — triumphal arch, 
 
 Shall mete, their shadows length : 
 The rich, the poor, one common bed, 
 
 Shall lind, in the unhonoiired grave, 
 AVniere weeds shall crown alike, the head, 
 
 Of Tyrant, and of Slave. 
 
 Bime 29. 
 
 Hnliday at tlic Pulilic Offices, except Excise, 
 Stamp, and Custom. 
 
 St. Peter, the Apostle. St. Hemnta, a. d. 
 1045. 
 
 St. Peter. 
 
 From this apostle the Rotnish cii'J.rch 
 assumes to derive her authority, and ap- 
 points this his anniversary, which she 
 splendidly celebrates. Tiie illuminations 
 at Rome on this day would astonish the 
 apostle were he alive. From the account 
 of a recent traveller, they appear to be 
 more brilliant than an Englishman can 
 well imagine ; he witnessed them, and 
 describes them in these words : — 
 
 "At Ave Maria we drove to the piazza 
 of St. Peter's. The lighting of the lan- 
 ternoni, or laree paper lanterns, each of 
 which looks like a globe of ethereal fire, 
 had been going on for an hour, and, by 
 the time we arrived there, was nearly 
 completed. As we passed the Ponte San 
 Angelo, the appearance of this magnificent 
 church, glowing in its own brightness — 
 the millions of lights reflected in the 
 calm waters of the Tiber, and mingling 
 with the last golden glow of evening, so 
 as to make the whole building seem 
 covered with burnished gold, had a most 
 striking and magical effect. 
 
 " Our progress was slow, being much 
 impeded by tht long line of carriages 
 before us; but at length we arrived at the 
 piazza of St. Peter's, and took out station 
 on the right of its farther extremity, so 
 
 Mnrvel. 
 
 as to lose the deformity of the dark, dingy, 
 Vatican palace. The gathering shades of 
 night rendered the illumination every mo- 
 ment more brilliant. The whole of this 
 immense church — its columns, capitals, 
 cornices, and pediments — the beautiful 
 swell of the lofty dome, towering into 
 heaven, the ribs converging into one point 
 at top, surmounted by the lantern of the 
 church, and crowned by the cross,— all were 
 designed in lines of fire; and the vast sweep 
 of the circling colonnades, in every rib, 
 line, mould, cornice, and column, were 
 resplendent in the same beautiful light. 
 
 " While we were gazing upon it, sud- 
 denly a bell chimed. On the cross of 
 fire at the top waved a brilliant light, as 
 if wielded by some celestial hand, and 
 instantly ten thousand globes and stars of 
 vivid fire seemed to roll spontaneously 
 along the building, as if by magic ; and 
 self-kindled, it blazed in a moment into 
 one dazzling flood of glory. Fancy her- 
 self, in her most sportive mood, could 
 scarcely have conceived so wonderful a 
 spectacle as the instantaneous illumin- 
 ation of this magnificent fabric : the 
 agents by whom it was effected were un- 
 seen, and it seemed the work of enchant- 
 ment. In the first instance, the illumin- 
 ations had appeared to be complete, and 
 one could not dream that thousands and 
 tens of thousands of lamps were still to 
 be illumined. Their vivid blaze har- 
 monized beautifully with the softer, milder 
 light of the lanternoni ; while the brilliant 
 glow of the whole illumination shed a 
 rosy light upon the fountains, whose silver 
 
 443 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-- JUNK 20. 
 
 fall, and ever-playing showers, accorded 
 well with the tnagi-c of the scene. 
 
 " Viewed from the Trinita de' Monti, 
 its effect was unspeakably beautiful : it 
 seemed to be an enchanted palace hung 
 in air, and called up by the wand of some 
 invisible spirit. We did not, however, 
 drive to the Trinita de' Monti till after 
 the exhibition of the girandola, or great 
 fire-works from the castle of St. Angelo, 
 which« commenced by a tremendous ex- 
 plosion that represented the raging erup- 
 tion of a volcano. Red sheets of lire 
 seemed to blaze upwards into the glow- 
 ing heavens, and then to pour down their 
 liquid streams upon the earth. This was 
 followed by an incessant and complicated 
 display of every varied device that ima- 
 gination could figure — one changing into 
 another, and the beauty of the first ef- 
 faced by that of the last. Hundreds of 
 immense wheels turned round with a ve- 
 locity that almost seemed as if demons 
 were whirling them, letting fall thou- 
 sands of hissing dragons, and scorpions, 
 and fiery snakes, whose long convolu- 
 tions, darting forward as far as the eye 
 could reach in every direction, at length 
 vanished into air. Fountains and jets 
 of fire threw up their blazing cascades 
 into the skies. The whole vault of heaven 
 
 shone with the vivid fires, and seemed to 
 receive into itself innumerable stars and 
 suns, which, shooting up into it in oright- 
 ness almost insufierable, vanished, .ike 
 earth-born hopes. The reflection ia the 
 dr-pih of the calm clear waters of the 
 Tiber, was scarcely less beautiful than the 
 spectacle itself; and the whole ended in 
 a tremendous burst of fire, that, while it 
 lasted, almost seemed to threaten con- 
 flagration to the world. 
 
 " The expense of the illumination of 
 St. Peter's, and of the girandola, when 
 repeated two successive evenings, as they 
 invariably are at the festival of St. Peter, 
 is one thousand crowns ; when only ex- 
 hibited one night they cost seven hun- 
 dred. Eighty men were employed in the 
 instantaneous illuminations of the lamps, 
 which to us seemed the work of enchant- 
 ment : they were so posted as to be un- 
 seen."* 
 
 Dr. Forster, in certain remarks on the 
 excitement of the imagination, cites some 
 " Verses by a modern poet, on an appear- 
 ance beheld in the clouds," which may 
 aptly come after the glowing description 
 of the illumination of St. Peter's : — 
 
 The appearance, instantaneously clisclosed. 
 Was of a mighty city — boldly say 
 A wilderness of building, sinking far 
 And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth 
 Far sinking into splendour, without end ! 
 Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold. 
 With alabaster domes and silver spires, 
 And blazing terrace upon terrace, high 
 Uplifted ; here, serene pavilions bright 
 In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt 
 With battlements, that on their restless fronts 
 Bore stars — iUumination of all gems ! 
 By earthly nature hac" the effect been wrought 
 Upon the dark materials of the storm 
 Now jiacified ; on them, and on the coves, 
 And mountain steeps and summits, whereunto 
 The vapours had receded — taking there 
 Their station under a cerulean sky 
 
 CnilONOLOGY 
 
 363.The emperor Julian died, aged thirty- 
 tAvo. lie was denominated the apostate, 
 from having professed Christianity before 
 he ascended the throne, and afterwards 
 relapsing to Paganism. lie received his 
 death wound in a battle with the Per- 
 sians. Dr. Watkins in his " Biographical 
 Dictionary" says, that he was virtuous and 
 modest in his manners, and liberal in his 
 
 disposition, an enemy to luxury, and 
 averse to public amusements. 
 
 FLOnAL DIRECTOnr. 
 
 Yellow Rattle. Rhinanthns (iulli 
 Dedicated to St. Pf.ter 
 
 Rome in the Nineteenth 'Vnl-irv. 
 
 4^4 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUNE 30.— JULY. 
 
 3m\t 30. 
 
 St. Paul, the Apostle. St. Martial, Bp. of 
 Limoges, 3d Cent. 
 St. Paul. 
 Paul, the apostle, was martyred, ac- 
 cording to some accounts, on the 29th of 
 June, in the year, 65 ; according to others 
 in the month of May, 66.* A Romish 
 writer fables that, before he was beheaded, 
 he " loked vp into heuen, markynge his 
 foreheed and his breste with the sygne of 
 the crosse," although that sign was an 
 after invention ; and that, " as soone as the 
 heed was from the body," it said " Jestis 
 Christus fyfty tymes."f Another pretends 
 
 from St. Chrysostoin, that " from the head 
 of St. Paul when it was cut off there came 
 not one drop of blood, but there ran foun 
 tains of milk ;" and that " we have by 
 tradition, that the blessed head gave three 
 leaps, and at each of them there sprung 
 up a fountain where the head fell : whicb 
 fountains remain to this day, and are reveF 
 enced with singular devotion by all Chris- 
 tian Catholics."* The fictions of the Ro- 
 mish church, and its devotions to devices, 
 are innumerable. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Cistus. Cistus Heliuntkemum. 
 Dedicated to St. Paul. 
 
 * Butler. 
 
 t Golden Legend. 
 
 * Uibadencira 
 
 Then came hot July, boilinp; like to fire. 
 
 That all his garments he had cast away. 
 Upon a lyon raging yet with ire 
 
 He boldly rode, and made him to obey : 
 (It was the beast that whilom did forray 
 
 The Nemaean forest, till the Amphitrionide 
 Him slew, and with his bide did him array :) 
 
 Behind his backe a sithe, and by his side 
 Under Lis belt he bore a sickle circling wide. 
 
 445 
 
THE EVtRY-DAY ROOK.— JFLY- 
 
 .)uly i-s the seventh month of the year. 
 According to ancient reckoning it was the 
 *it'th, anu called Quintilis, until Mark 
 Antony denominated it July, in compli- 
 jnent to Caius C'sBsar, the Human dictator, 
 whose surname was Julius, who improved 
 tlie calendar, and was born in this month. 
 
 July was called by the Saxons hen- 
 ivonath, which probably expressed the 
 meaning of the German word hain, signi- 
 fymg wood or trees ; and hence hen- 
 monath might mean foliage month. They 
 likewise called it hei/monath, or hay- 
 
 month; " because," says Verstegan, 
 " therein they usually mowed and made 
 their hay harvest ;" and they also de \c. 
 inated it Lida-aftera, meaning the se< omJ 
 " Lida," or second month after the sun's 
 descent.* 
 
 The beautif I representation preceding 
 Spenser's pern nirtcation of July, on the 
 preceding pagfc, was designed and engraved 
 by Mr. Samuel Williams, ofwhom it shoula 
 in justice be said, that his talents have 
 enriched the Every- Day Buo'i with m^s* 
 of its best illustrations. 
 
 Nivv comes July, and with his fervid noon 
 Unsinevvs labour. Tlie swinkt mower sleeps ; 
 Tt.e weary maid rakes feebly ; the warm swain 
 Pitches his load reluctant ; the faint steer, 
 r,ashin£f his sides, draws sulkily along 
 The slow encumbered wain in midday heat. 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt in his Months, after 
 remarking that " July is so called after 
 Julius Csesar, who contrived to divid-e his 
 names between months and dynasties, 
 and among his belter deeds of ambition 
 reformed the calendar," proceeds to notice, 
 that — " The heat is greatest in this month 
 on account of its previous duration. The 
 reason why it is less so in August is, that 
 the days are then much shorter, and the 
 influence of the sun has been gradually 
 diminishing. The farmer is still occupied 
 in getting the productions of the earth 
 into his garners; but those who can avoid 
 labour enjoy as much rest and shade as 
 possible. There is a sense of heat and 
 quiet all over nature. The birds are 
 silent. The little brooks are dried up. 
 The earth is chapped with parching. The 
 shadows of the trees are particularly 
 grateful, heavy, and still. The oaks, 
 which are freshest because latest in leaf, 
 form noble clumpy canopies, looking, as 
 you lie under them, of a strong and emu- 
 lous green against the blue sky. The 
 traveller delights to cut across the country 
 through the fields and the leafy lanes, 
 where nevertheless the flints sparkle with 
 heat. The cattle get into the shade, or 
 stand in the water. The active and air- 
 cutting swallows, now beginning to as- 
 semble for migration, seek their prey 
 about the shady places, where the insects, 
 though of differently compounded natures, 
 fleshless and bloodless,' seem to get for 
 coolness, as they do at other times for 
 warmth. The sound of insects is also 
 the only audible thing now, increasing 
 Tather than lessening the sense of quiet 
 oy its g( ntle contrast. The bee now and 
 
 then sweeps 
 gravest tone. 
 
 Their murmuring 
 wide ; 
 
 ear with h/. 
 
 across the 
 The gnats 
 
 small trumpets soundeo 
 Sjjenser. 
 
 and kere and there the little musician oi 
 the grass touches forth his tricksy note. 
 
 The poetry of earth is never dead ; 
 
 When all the birds are faint with the hot 
 
 sun. 
 And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run 
 From hedge to hedge about the new-mown 
 
 mead : 
 That is the grasshopper's. Keats. 
 
 " Besides some of the flowers of last 
 month, there are now candy-tufts, catch- 
 fly, columbines, egg-plant, French mary- 
 golds, lavateras, London-pride, marvel ol 
 Peru, veronicas, tuberoses, which seem 
 born of the white rose and lily ; and scar- 
 let-beans, which though we are apt to 
 think little of them because they furnish 
 us with a good vegetable, are quick and 
 beautiful growers, and in a few weeks 
 will hang a walk or trellis with an exub 
 erant tapestry of scarlet and green. 
 
 " The additional trees and shrubs in 
 flower are bramble, button-wood,' iteas, 
 cistuses, climbers, and broom. Pimper- 
 nel, cockle, and fumitory, are no\\ to be 
 found in corn-fields, the blue-bell in 
 wastes or by the road-sides ; and the 
 luxuriant hop is flowering. 
 
 " The fruits begin to abound and are 
 more noticed, in proportion to the neces- 
 sity for them occasioned by the summer 
 heat. The strawberries are in the? 
 greatest quantity and perfection ; aitt 
 
 * Ui . Frank Sayers. 
 
 A^Q 
 
THE EVERY-DAV BOOK.— JT7A' J. 2. 
 
 currants, gooseberries, and raspberries, 
 have a world of juice for us, prepared, as 
 il were, in so many crowds of little bottles, 
 in wiiicli the sunsliine has turned the dews 
 of April into wine. The strawberry lurks 
 about under a beautiful leaf. Currants 
 are also extremely beautiful. A hand- 
 some bunch looks like pearls or rubies, 
 and an imitation of it would make a most 
 graceful ear-ring. We have seen it, when 
 held lightly by fair iingers, present as 
 
 equally contributes to the th/ee grach': of 
 health, beauty, and good temper; — to 
 health, in pulling the body into its best 
 state; to bei^uty, in clearing and tinting 
 the skin ; ana to good temper, in rescu- 
 ing the spirits from the irritability occa- 
 sioned Iiy tliose formidable personages ' the 
 nerves,' wnich nothing else allays in so 
 quick and entire a manner. See a lovely 
 passage on the subject of bathing in sir 
 Philip Sydney's ' Arcadia,' where ' Pbilo- 
 
 lovely a drop, and piece of contrast, as clea. blushing, and withall smiling, making 
 
 any holding hand in a picture of Titian. shamefastnesse pleasant, and pleasure 
 
 " Bulbous rooted flowers, that have shamefast, tenderly moved her feet, un- 
 
 almost done with their leaves, should now wonted to feel the naked ground, until 
 
 be taken up, and deposited in shallow the touch of the cold water made a pretty 
 
 wooden boxes. Mignionette should be kind of shruaiffing come over her body. 
 
 transplanted into smuU pots, carnations 
 be well attended to and supported, and 
 auriculas kepJ; clean from dead leaves and 
 weeds, and in dry weather frequently 
 watered. 
 
 " It is now the weather for bathing, a 
 refreshment too little taken in this coun- 
 try, either in summer or winter. We say 
 in winter, because with very little care in 
 placing it near a cistern, and having a 
 leathern pipe for it, a bath may be easily 
 filled once or twice a week with warm 
 water; and it is a vulgar error that the 
 warm bath relaxes. An excess, either 
 warm or cold, will relax; and so will any 
 other excess : but the sole effect of the 
 warm bath moderately taken is, that it 
 throws ofi' the bad humours of the body 
 by opening and clearing the pores. As 
 to summer bathing, a father may soon 
 teach his children to swim, and thus per- 
 haps might be the means of saving their 
 lives some day or other, as well as health. 
 Ladies also, though they cannot bathe in 
 the open air as they do in some of the 
 Westjndian islands and other countries, 
 by means of natural basins among the 
 rocks, might uftener make a substitute for 
 it at home in tepid baths. The most 
 beautiful aspects under which ^"enus has 
 been painted ^^r sculptured, have been 
 connected with bathing : and indeed 
 there is perl aps no one thing that so 
 
 lik-e the twinkling of the fairest among 
 tlie fixed stars.'" 
 
 3n\\] 1. 
 
 St. Rmnbold, Bp. a. d. 775. Sts. JnUns 
 and Aaron. St. Theobald, or TkiOanlt, 
 11th Cent. St. Gal I. Bp. 6th 
 Cent. .S^ Calais, or Carilep/uis, a. u. 
 542. iS'. Leonorus, or Limaire, Bp. 
 St. Simeon Sulus, 6th Cent. St. Thieri, 
 A. D. 5:53. St. Cybar, a. d. 581. 
 Chronology. 
 
 1690. The battle of the Boyne, fought 
 on this day, decided the fate of James 11. 
 and the Stuart tyranny, and established 
 William III. on the throne of the people 
 
 rLOUAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Agrimony. Agrimonia Eupatoria. 
 Dedicated to St. Aaron. 
 
 3uIl) 2. 
 
 Visitation of the B. Virgin. Sts. ProceS" 
 sns and Mai-tiniun, 1st Cent. St. Of ho, 
 Bp. 12lh Cent. St. Monegoude, a. d' 
 570. -S^ Oudoceus, Bp. of LandafF 
 6th Cent. 
 
 ri.ORAL DIRF.CTORY. 
 
 ^Vhite Lily. Lilium candidum. 
 Dedicated to the Virgin Mun/. 
 
 A Morning's fValk in July, 
 
 But when mild morn, in saffron stole, 
 First issues from her eastern ffoal, 
 Let not my due feet fail to climb 
 Some breezy summit's brow sublime. 
 Whence Nature's universal face 
 Illumined smiles with newborn srrare , 
 'Hie misty streams that wind below 
 With silver sparkling lustre glow; 
 
 447 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JL^A 3. 
 
 'llie groves and castled cliflfe appear 
 Invested all in radiance clear ; 
 O every village charm beneath. 
 The smoke that mounts in azure wreath 
 O beauteous rural interchange ! 
 Tlie simple spire and elmy grange ; 
 Content, indulging blissful hours, 
 Whistles o'er the fragrant flowers : 
 And rattle lous'd to pasture new, 
 Shake jocund from their sides the dew.* 
 
 Snip 3. 
 
 St. Phocas, a Gardener, a. d. 303. St. 
 
 Gutkaqon. St. Gnnthiern, a Wel>h 
 
 Prince, 6th Cent. St. Bertram, 6lh 
 
 Cent. 
 
 The Bleeding Image. 
 
 On the 3d of July is annually cele- 
 brated, in Paris, in the church of St. Leu 
 and St. Giles, a solemn office, in com- 
 memoration of a miracle wrouglit by the 
 blessed virgin, in la Rue aux Ours, or 
 the street for the bears; the history of 
 which is as follows : — In the year 1518, a 
 soldier coming out of a tavern in this 
 Bear-street, where he had been gambling, 
 and losing his money and clothes, was 
 blaspheming the name of God ; and as he 
 passed by the image of the holy virgin, 
 standing very quietly and inoffensively at 
 the corner of the street, he struck it, or 
 her, furiously with a knife he had in his 
 hand ; on which God permitted, as the 
 modern and modest tellers of this tale 
 say, the image to bleed abundantly. The 
 ministers of justice were informed, and 
 the wretch was seized, conducted to the 
 spot where he had committed the sacri- 
 lege, tied to a post, and scourged, from 
 six o'clock in the morning till night, till 
 his eyes dropped out ; his tongue was 
 bored with a hot iron, and his body was 
 cast into the fire. The blei^sed image was 
 transported to Rome. This was the 
 origin of a ceremony still remembered, 
 and which once was very curious. The 
 zeal of the inhabitants of Bear-street was 
 conspicuous, and their devotion to the 
 blessed virgin not less so. At first they 
 only made the figure of the soldier, as 
 we in England do of Guy Faux, and 
 threw it into the fire; by degrees the feast 
 became more solemn, and the soldier, 
 who had been rudely fashioned out of 
 faggots, was at last a composition of fire- 
 works, which, after being carried in pro- 
 cession through the streets of Paris, took 
 a flight into the air, to the great joy and 
 edification of the Parisians, particularly 
 
 of Bear-street At last, however, tne 
 magistrates wisely recoUecled that the 
 streets being narrow, and the buildings 
 numerous in that part of the city, a fire 
 might happen, and it would then be still 
 more miraculous if the holy image should 
 travel from Rome to Paris to extinguish 
 the fiames : not to mention that the holy 
 image might not at that precise moment 
 be so plentifully supplied as on a similar 
 occasion our friend Gulliver was. In 
 1744, therefore, they forbad any future 
 fire-work soldiers, and the poor distressed 
 inhabitants of Bear-street, were once more 
 reduced to their man of wood, whom they 
 continue to burn with great affection every 
 3d of July, after having walked him 
 about Paris three days. This figure is 
 now made of osier, clothed, and armed 
 with a knife, and of so horrid an appear- 
 ance, it would undoubtedly frighten wo- 
 men and children who did not know the 
 story of the sacrilegious soldier ; as it is, 
 they believe they see him breathe blas- 
 phemy. Messieurs, the associated gen 
 tlemen of Bear-street, give the money 
 formerly spent in fireworks, to make 
 procession to the proxy of the blessea 
 image which now stands where the bleed- 
 ing one did, and to say a solemn mass to 
 the blessed virgin, for the souls of the 
 defunct gentlemen, associates of Bear- 
 street. The mummery existed under Na- 
 poleon, as appears by the preceding par- 
 ticulars, dated Paris, July 12, 1807, and 
 may be seen in tlie Sundai/ Advertiser, of 
 the 19th of that month. 
 
 On the 3d of July, 1810, a small loal 
 fastened by a string, was suspended from 
 the equestrian statue at Charing-cross, td 
 which was attached a placard, stating 
 that it was purchased from a baker, ano 
 was extremely deficient in weight, and 
 was one of a numerous batch. The 
 notice concluded by simply observing, 
 " Does this not deserve the aid of par- 
 
 * Ode on tlie Approach of Summer 
 
 448 
 
Tllh EVER.Y-DAY BOOTt.— JULY 3. 
 
 liament?" Tliis exhibition aUracied a year to Canioula, at his first rising to ap- 
 great crowd of people, until the whole of pease his rage." 
 
 the loaf was nearly washed away by sub- A Cambridge contributor to the Every- 
 sequent heavy rain. Day Book affirms, that, in the year 18'24, 
 
 an edict was issued there for all persons 
 ■ keeping dogs either to muzzle or lie then 
 
 up, and many a dog was tied up by the 
 THE DOG-DAYS. neck as a sacrifice; whether to the Mayor 
 
 or Canicular, this deponent saith not; but 
 
 the act and deed gave rise to the following 
 
 JEU d'esprit. 
 Good mister Mayor 
 All dogs declare 
 The beam of justice falters! 
 To miss the puppies — sure she's blind, 
 For (logs they are alone consign'd 
 To muzzles or to halters ! 
 Cu7?ibridge, T. N. 
 
 " The Dog-star rages." 
 
 tMHus, or the Dog-star, is represented 
 as m the above engraving, on a garnet 
 gem, in lord Besborough's collection, 
 etched by Worlidge. The late Mr. Wil- 
 liam Butler, in his Chronological Exer- 
 cises, says, that on this day " commence, 
 according to the almanacs, the Canicular, 
 or Dog-days, which are a certain number 
 of days preceding and following the heli- 
 acal rising of Canicula, or the Dog-star, 
 in the morning. Their beginning is 
 usually fixed in the calendars on the 3d of 
 July, and their termination on the 11th 
 of August ; but this is a palpable mistake, 
 since the heliacal rising of this star does 
 not now take place, at least in our lati- 
 tude, till near the latter end of August ; 
 and in five or six thousand years more, 
 Canicula may chance to be charged with 
 bringing frost and snow, as it will then, 
 owing to the precession of the equinoxes, 
 rise in November and December." 
 
 Dr. Hutton remarks, that some authors 
 say, from Hippocrates and Plmy, that the 
 day this star first rises in the morning, the 
 sea boils, wine turns sour, dogs begin to 
 grow mad, the bile increases and irritates, 
 and all animals grow languid ; also, " the 
 diseases it usually occasions in men are 
 burning fevers, hysterics, and phrensies. 
 Tb:' Romans sacrificed a brown dog every 
 
 Mr. Brady observes, in his " Clavis 
 Calendaria," " That the weather in July 
 and August is generally more sultry than at 
 any other period of the year, and that some 
 particular diseases are consequently at that 
 time more to be dreaded, both toman and 
 beast, is past dispute. The exaggerated 
 eflPectsofthe rising of Sirius are now, how- 
 ever, known to be groundless ; and the su- 
 perior heat usually ftlt during the Dog-days 
 has been more philosophically accounted 
 for. The sun, at this period of the year, not 
 only darts his rays almost perpendicularly 
 upon us, and of course with greater power ; 
 but has also continued to exert his in- 
 fluence through the spring and summer 
 seasons, whereby the atmosphere and earth 
 have received a warmth, proportioned to 
 the continuity of its action; and moisture, 
 in itself naturally cold, has been dissi- 
 pated. Even in the course of a day, 
 which has been aptly typified as a short 
 year, the greatest eflTeet of the sun is ge- 
 nerally felt at about two o'clock, although 
 ithas then passed the meridian, because by 
 having so much longer exerted its powers, 
 its consequent effects are more than 
 commensurate for the diminution of heat 
 in its rays. The cold of winter in like 
 manner augments about the time the days 
 begin to increase, and continues to do so 
 for a considerable time after, because, a\ 
 that season, the earth has become wet and 
 chilled, fiom the eff"ects of the preceding 
 gradual decrease of power in the sun, 
 although, at that time, when the cold is 
 usually most severe, that orb is ascensive, 
 and returning from the winter solstice : 
 and our Saxon ancestors were experimen- 
 tally 3D well aware of this lattet circum- 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 449 
 
 2 G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BUUK— JULYS. 
 
 sinnoe, that in tlie delineation on their 
 calendars, to illustrate the characters of 
 the months they represented February, 
 as a man in the act of striking his arms 
 across his body to warm himself : wliile 
 there is also yet m common use a very old 
 saying, grounded upon the like conviction, 
 that 'when the days lengthen, the frost t^ 
 sure to strengthen.' 
 
 " The early Egyptians, whose Ji'ierogh/- 
 jihiral characters, aptly adapted by them 
 to the ])eculiarity of their climate and cir- 
 p'Ti^stances, were the principal or perhaps 
 iole origin of all the heathenish supersti- 
 tions of other nations, were caaght bv long 
 obsef^ation and experience, tnat as soon 
 as a particular star became visible, the 
 Nile would overflow its banks ; and they 
 accordingly upon its very first appearance 
 retreated to their terraces, where they re- 
 mained until the inundation had subsided. 
 This star, therefore, was called by them 
 Sihor, i. e. the Nile ; as 2«%ios is in Greek, 
 and Sirins in Latin ; and from the icar?i- 
 hig it afforded them, they typified it as a 
 dog, or in most cases as a man with a 
 dog's hea<J ; that faithful animal having 
 been, even in those times, di«vinguished 
 for his peculiar qualities of watching over 
 the affairs of man, and affovding warning 
 of approaching danger. The names as- 
 sioncd to this star by the Egyptians was 
 Thaauf, or Tai/ont, the dog ; and in 
 later times Sothis, Thnte.i, or Thot, each 
 bearing the like significa^'on ; Hit it was 
 left for the su', sequent ignorance of those 
 other nations who adopted that character 
 for Sihur, :iow Sirius, without considering 
 the true origin of its appellation, falsely to 
 assign to it, the increasing heat of the 
 season, and its consequent effects upon 
 animated nature. The idea, however, of 
 any such effects, either as to heat, or to 
 disorders, from the influence of the cani- 
 cular star, is r.ow wholly exploded, from 
 I'le reasons already assigned, and because 
 * that star not only varies in its rising 
 every year, as the latitude varies, but 
 that it rises later and later every year in 
 all latitudes ;' so that when it rises in 
 winter, which, by the way, cannot be foi 
 five or six thousand years, it might, with 
 equal propriety, be charged with increas- 
 ing -hi,' frost : and besides, it is to be ob- 
 sei /ed, that although Sirius is the nearest 
 to the earth of any of the fixed stars, it 
 is computed to be at the enormous dis- 
 tance of 2,200,000,000,000 miles from 
 out globe ; a space too prodigious to ad- 
 mit of its rays aflbrding any sensible heai : 
 
 and which could not be passed by a can- 
 non-ball, flying with its calculated velo- 
 city of 480 miles in oae l;our, in less than 
 523,211 years! Upon the whole, there- 
 fore, it evidently appears, that the origin 
 of the name of this stsr was not only 
 wholly disregarded, but that common and 
 undigested opinion ma^'e its conjunction 
 with the sun, the cause o' heat kc. instead 
 of having regarded it a.s a sign of the 
 period when such effects might naturally 
 be expected." 
 
 There is no cure for the bite of a mnii 
 dog ; and as at this time dogs go mad, it is 
 proper to observe, that immediate burning 
 out of the bitten part by caustic, or the 
 cutting of it out by the surgeon's knife, is 
 the only remedy. If either burning or 
 cutting be omitted, the bitten person, un- 
 less opiumed to death, or smothered be- 
 tween featherbeds, will in a few days or 
 weeks die in unspeakable agi ny. The 
 latter means are said to have been some- 
 limes resorted to as a merciful method of 
 extinguishing life. It is an appalling fact, 
 that there is no cure for hydrophobia. 
 
 Preventive is better than cure, and in 
 this case it is easy. Dogs, however use- 
 ful in some situations, are wholly useless 
 in towns. Exterminate them. 
 
 Against this a cry will go forth from all 
 dog-owners : they will condemn the mea 
 sure as proceeding fiom a barbarian ; but 
 they are the barbarians who keep animals 
 subject to a disease fatal to human life. 
 Such persons, so far from being entitled 
 to a voice against its execution, merit 
 abhorrence and contempt for daring to 
 propose that every man, woman, and 
 child among their friends and neighbours, 
 should run the risk of a cruel death for 
 the gratification of selfishness. Every 
 honest man in every town who keeps 
 a dog, should destroy it, and use hia 
 influence with others to destroy theirs. 
 No means of preventing hydrophobia 
 exists but the destruction of dogs. 
 
 Oh ! but dogs are useful ; they guard 
 our houses at night ; they go in carts and 
 guard our goods by day ; they catch our 
 rats ; and, then, they are such faithful 
 creatures ! All this, though very true, 
 does not urge one reason against their 
 destruction as a preventive from then 
 communicating a fatal and wholly incui- 
 abie disease. Instead of house-dogs at 
 night, get additional watchmen, or secure 
 
 450 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 4. 
 
 watchmen more vitijilant than those you 
 iiave, by paying a proper price for the 
 important services required of them, 
 wl}ich in most places are not half re- 
 rjuited. Instead of cart-dogs, employ 
 boys, of whom there are scores half- 
 starving, who would willingly take charge 
 of carts at little more than the expense of 
 dog-keep. If rats must be caught, cats 
 can catch them, or they may be poisoned. 
 Instead of cultivating the fidelity of dogs, 
 let dog-keepers cultivate a little fidelity 
 "n themselves towards their neighbours, 
 and do as they would be done unto, by 
 destroying their dogs. 
 
 Oh, but would you deprive the " poor" 
 man of his dog ? Yes. The poorer he is, 
 the less occasion he has for a dog, and 
 the less ability he has to maintain a dog. 
 Few poor men in towns keep dogs but for 
 the purpose of sport of some kind ; mak- 
 ing matches to fight them, drawing bad- 
 gers with them, baiting bulls with them, 
 or otherwise brutally misemploying them. 
 
 An act of parliament, intlicting heavy 
 penalties for keeping dogs in towns, and 
 empowering constables, beadles, street- 
 keepers, and others, with rewards for car- 
 rying it into effect on every dog they 
 meet, would put an end to hydrophob-ia. 
 
 It is a common practice to kill dogs at 
 this season in some parts of the conti- 
 nent, and so did our ancestors. Ben 
 Jonson, m his " Bartholomew Fair," 
 speaks of " the dog-killer in this month 
 of August." A dog-destroyer in every 
 parish would be an important public 
 officer. Remember ! there is no cure for 
 the bite of a mad dog. 
 
 To the Bellflower. 
 With drooping; bells of clearest blue 
 Thou didst attract my childish view. 
 
 Almost resembling 
 The azure butterflies that flew 
 Where on the heath thy blossoms grew 
 
 So lightly trembling. 
 
 Where feathery fern and golden broom 
 Increase the sandrock cavern's gloom 
 
 I've seen thee tangled, 
 'Mid tufts of purple heather bloom 
 By vain Arachne's treacherous loom 
 
 With dewdrops spangled. 
 
 'Mid ruins tumbling to decay, 
 
 Thy flowers their heavenly hues display, 
 
 Still freshly springing. 
 Where pride and pomp have passed away 
 On mossy tomb and turret gray, 
 Like friendship clinging. 
 
 When glowworm lamps illume the scene 
 And silvery daisies dot the green, 
 
 Thy flowers revealing, 
 Perchance to soothe the fairy queen, 
 ^^'ith faint sweet tones on night serene 
 
 Soft bells are pealing. 
 
 ]5ut most I love thine azure braid, 
 ^Vllen softer flowers are all decayed, 
 
 And thou appearest 
 Stealing beneath the hedgerow shade, 
 Like joys that linger as they fade, 
 
 Whose last are dearest. 
 
 Thou art the flower of memory ; 
 The pensive soul recalls in thee 
 
 The year's past pleasures ; 
 And, led by kindred thought, will flee, 
 Till, back to careless infancy. 
 
 The path she measures. 
 
 Beneath autumnal breezes bleak. 
 So faintly fair, so sadly meek, 
 
 I've seen thee bending, 
 Pale as the pale blue veins that streak 
 Consumption's thin, transparent cheek, 
 
 With death hues blending. 
 
 Thou shalt be sorrow's love and mine 
 The violet and the eglantine 
 
 With Spring are banished. 
 In Summer pinks and roses shine, 
 But I of thee my wreath will twine. 
 
 When these are vanished. 
 
 l\Iay you like it. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Tried Mallow. Malva Sylvestris 
 Dedicated to St. Fhocus. 
 
 S>nlj) 4. 
 
 St Ulric, or Udalric. St. Odo, Abp. of 
 Canterbury, 10th Cent. St. Sisoes, or 
 Sisoy, A. D. 429. St. Bertha, 8th Cent. 
 St. Finbar, of Cruiilen. St. Bolcan, 
 disciple of St. Patrick. 
 
 St. Ulric. 
 He was son of count Ilucbald, one of 
 the first dukes of higher Germany. He 
 became bishop of Augsburg, and rebuilt 
 the celebrated cathedral there, in 962. 
 dedicating it to St. Afra, patroness of that 
 city, and died eighty years old, in 973, 
 on ashes laid in the form of a cross upon 
 a floor. Customs peculiar to this day 
 are related in these verses : — 
 
 St. Huldryche. 
 Wheresoeuer Huldryche liath his place, 
 
 the people there brings in 
 Both carpes, and pykes, and mullets fat, 
 
 his fauour liere to win. 
 
 451 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 4. 
 
 Amid the church there sitteth one, 
 
 and to the aultar nie, 
 That selleth fish, and so good cheepe, 
 
 that euery man may buie : 
 Nor any thing he losetli here, 
 
 bestowing thus his paine, 
 For when it hath beene offred once, 
 
 'tis brought him all againe, 
 That twise or thrise he selles the same 
 
 vngodlinesse such gaine 
 Doth still bring in, and plentiously 
 
 the kitchiu doth maintaine. 
 
 Whence comes this same religion newe Y 
 
 what kind of God is this 
 Same Huldryche here, that so desires, 
 
 aud so delightes in fish? * 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Copper Day Lily. Hemerocallis fulva 
 Dedicated to St. Ulrk. 
 
 Napgeorgus by Googe. 
 
 THE LONDON BARROW- WOMAN. 
 
 See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, 
 
 With thread so white in tempting posies ty'd, 
 
 Scatt'ring like blooming maid their glances round 
 
 With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside, 
 
 And must be bought. Shenstuiie. 
 
 This is cherry season, but it is not to 
 nie as cherry seasons were. I like a 
 grea'c deal that is, but I have an affection 
 for what was. By-gone days seem to 
 have been more fair than these ; and I 
 cannot help trying to 
 
 " catch the manners dying as they /"«//." 
 
 I have lived through the extremity of 
 one age, into the beginning of another, 
 and I believe a better ; yet the former 
 has been too much detracted : every thing 
 new is not, therefore, good ; nor was 
 
 every thing old, bad. When I was a 
 boy, I speak of just after the French 
 revolution broke out, my apdmiratio« and 
 taste were pure and natural, and one of 
 my favourites at all times, and in cherry- 
 time especially, was the London barrow- 
 woman. There are no barrow-women now. 
 They are quite " gone out," or, rather, 
 they have been *' put down," and by 
 many they are not even missed. Look 
 around; there is not one to be seen. 
 
 In those days there were women on the 
 eartJi ; finely grown, every way well-pro- 
 
 452 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 4. 
 
 portioned, handsome, and in stature like 
 Mrs. Siddons. I speak of London wo- 
 men. Let not tl^e ladies of tiie metro- 
 polis conceive offence, if I maintain that 
 some of their mothers, and more among 
 their grandmothers, were taller and more 
 robust than they. That they are other- 
 wise may not be in their eyes a misfor- 
 
 Her hair loose cnrl'd, the rest .ack'd up between 
 Her neatly frill'd mob-cap, was scarcely seen ; 
 A black rhip-hat, peculiarly her own, 
 With ribbon pufF'd around the small flat crown 
 Pinn'd to her head-dress, gave her blooming fate 
 A jaunty openness and winning grace. 
 
 tune ; should they, however, think it so 
 " their schools are more in fault tiiar 
 they." Be that as it may, I am merely 
 stating a fact. They have declined in 
 personal elevation, as they have increases 
 in moral elevation. 
 
 At that time lived the London barrow- 
 woman :^ 
 
 On her legs were " women's blacks," or, 
 in dry sunny weather, as at this season, 
 stockings of white cotton, with black 
 high-heeled shoes, and a pair of bright 
 sparkling buckles ; tight lacing distended 
 her hips, which were further enlarged by 
 her flowered cotton or chintz gown being 
 drawn through the pocket-holes to balloon 
 out behind, and display a quilted glazed 
 petticoat of black or pink stuff, termin- 
 ating about four inches above the ancles ; 
 she wore on her bosom, which was not 
 so confined as to injure its fullness, a 
 light gauze or muslin kerchief. This was 
 her full dress, as she rolled through the 
 street, and cried — 
 
 *' Round and sound, 
 Two-pence a pound, 
 Cherries ! rare ripe cherries !" 
 
 " Green and ripe gooseberries ! amber- 
 berries ! ripe amber-berries ?" " Cur- 
 rants ! rare ripe currants !" ending, as 
 she began, with cherries : — 
 
 " Cherries a ha'penny a stick ! 
 Come and pick ! come and pick 
 Cherries ! big as plums ! 
 Who comes.'' who comes?" 
 
 Each side of her well-laden barrow was 
 
 with which she tickled it; the tenderness 
 with which she looked into its young, 
 up-turned eyes, while the bland fluid 
 overflowed its laughing mouth; her smo- 
 thering kisses upon its crowing lips after 
 its nurture ; and her loud affectionate 
 " God bless it !" when it was carried 
 away, were indescribably beautiful. 
 
 As the seasons changed, so her wares 
 varied. With the " rolling year," she 
 rolled round to us its successive fruits ; 
 but cherry-time was the meridian of her 
 glory. Her clear and confident cry was 
 then listened for, in the distance, with as 
 much anxiety to hear it, as the proclama- 
 tion of a herald, in the full authority of 
 office, was awaited in ancient times. 
 *' What can keep the barrow-woman 
 so long? — Surely she has not gone 
 another way! — Hush! there she is; I 
 hear her !" These were tokens of her 
 importance in the neighbourhood she 
 circled ; and good housewives and ser- 
 vant girls came to the doors, with basins 
 and dishes, to await her approach, and 
 make their purchases of fruit for their 
 pies and puddings. As she slowly trun- 
 dled her barrow along the pavement, 
 what doating looks were cast upon its 
 
 dressed nearly halfway along with a row delicacies by boys with ever-ready appe- 
 
 of sticks having cherries tied on them 
 To assist in retailing her other fruit, 
 there lay before her a " full alehouse 
 measure" of clean pewter, and a pair of 
 shining brass scales, with thick turn-over 
 rims, and leaden weights, for the " real 
 black-hearts" that dyed the white cloth 
 they lay on with purple stains. If she 
 had an infant, she was sometimes met 
 with it, at a particular spot, for her to 
 suckle. She was then a study for a 
 painter. Her hearty caresses of her child, 
 while she hastily sat down on the arm of 
 lier barrow, and bared her bountiful bo- 
 
 tites ! How he who had nothing to lay 
 out envied him who a halfpenny entitled 
 to a perplexing choice amidst the tempt- 
 ing variety ! If currants were fixed on, 
 the question was mooted, " Which are 
 best — red or white ?" If cherries — " white 
 hearts, or blacks ?" If gooseberries— 
 " red or yellow ?" Sometimes the decision 
 as to the comparative merits of colour 
 was negatived by a sudden impulsive 
 preference for " the other sort," or " some- 
 thing else ;" and not seldom, after tiiese 
 deliberations, and being " served," arose 
 doubts and regrets, and an application to 
 
 soin ^j give it nourishment; the frolic be allowea to change *•' these" for " them," 
 
 453 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 4. 
 
 and perhaps the last choice was, in the 
 end, the least satisfactory. Indecisive- 
 ness is not peculiar to childhood ; " men 
 are but cliildren of a larger growth," and 
 their " conduct of the understanding " is 
 nearly the same. 
 
 Mr. George Cruikshank, whose pencil 
 is distinguished by power of decision 
 in every character he sketches, and whose 
 close observation of passing manners is 
 unrivalled by any artist of the day, has 
 sketched the barrow-woman for the t'^en/- 
 Day Book, from his own recollection of 
 her, aided somewhat by my own. It is 
 engraved on wood by Mr. Henry White, 
 and placed at the head of this article. 
 
 Before barrow-women quite " went 
 out," the poor things were sadly used. 
 If they stopped to rest, or pitched their 
 seat of custom where customers were 
 likely to pass, street-keepers, authorized 
 by orders unauthorized by law, drove them 
 off, or beadles overthrew their fruit into the 
 road. At last, an act of parliament made 
 It penal to roll a wheel or keep a stand 
 for the sale of any articles upon the 
 pavement ; and barrow-women and fruit- 
 stal's were " put down." 
 
 Fruit Stalin. 
 These daily purveyors to the refrosh- 
 ment of passengers in hot weather are 
 not wholly extinct ; a few, very few, still 
 exist by mere sufferance — no more. Upon 
 recollection of their number, and the 
 grateful abundance heaped upon them, I 
 could almost exclaim, in the words of 
 the old Scotch-woman's epitaph — 
 
 " Such desolation in my time lias been 
 I have an end of all perfection seen !" 
 
 Ah ! what a goodly sight was Holborn- 
 hill in " mi/ time." Then there was a 
 comely row of fruit-stalls, skirting tlie 
 edge of the pavement from opposite the 
 steps of St. Andrew's church to the 
 corner of Shoe-lane. The fruit stood on 
 tables covered with white cloths, and 
 placed end to end, in one long line. In 
 autumn, it was a lovely sight. The 
 pears and apples were neatly piled in 
 " ha'p'orths," for there were then no 
 pennyworths ; " a pen'orth" would have 
 been more than sufficient for moderate 
 eating at one time. First, of the pears, 
 came the " ripe Kat'er'nes ;" these were 
 succeeded by " fine Windsors," and 
 •'' real bergumys.'' Apples " came in" 
 
 with '• green codlins ; ' then follov a 
 " golden rennets," " golden pippins,'* 
 and " ripe nonpareils." These were the 
 common street-fruits. Such " golden 
 pippins" as were then sold, three and 
 four for a halfpenny, are now worth pence 
 a piece, and the true " golden rennet" 
 can only be heard of at great fruiterers. 
 The decrease in the growth of this de 
 lightful apple is one of the " signs of the 
 times !'' 
 
 The finest apples in Covent-garden 
 market come from Kent. Growers in 
 that county, by leaving only a few 
 branches upon the tree, produce the most 
 deliciou" kinds, of a surprisingly large 
 size. For these they demand and obtain 
 very high prices ; but instead of London 
 in general being supplied, as it was for- 
 merly, with tJie best apples, little else is 
 seen except swine-feed, or French, or 
 American apples. The importations oi 
 this fruit are very large, and under the 
 almost total disappearance of some of 
 our finest sorts, very thankful we are to 
 get inferior ones of foreign growth. 
 Really good English apples are scarcely 
 within the purchase of persons of mode- 
 rate means. 
 
 " JFomen's Blacks.'^ 
 This is the name of the common black 
 worsted stockings, formerly an article of 
 extensive consumption ; they are now 
 little made, because little worn. One of 
 the greatest wholesale dealers in "women's 
 blacks," in a manufacturing town, was 
 celebrated for the largeness of his stock ; 
 his means enabled him to purchase all 
 that were offered to him for sale, and it 
 was his favourite article. He was an old- 
 fashioned man, and while the servant- 
 maids were leaving them off, he was un- 
 conscious of the change, because he could 
 not believe it ; he insisted it was impos- 
 sible that household work could be done 
 in " white cottons." Offers of quantities 
 were made to him at reduced prices, 
 which he bought; his immense capital 
 became locked up in his favourite " wo- 
 men's blacks;" whenever their price in 
 the market lowered, he could not make 
 his mind up to be quite low enough ; 
 his warehouses were filled with them ; 
 when he determined to sell, the demand 
 had wholly ceased ; he could effect no 
 sales ; and, becoming bankrupt, he liter- 
 ally died of a broken heart — from an ex 
 cassive and unrequited attachment to 
 " women's blacks." 
 
 454 
 
rUE RVERY-DAY B(JOK.— JULY 5, 6, 7. 
 
 SJuIi? 5 
 
 S' Veler, of Luxemburg, Card. a. d. 
 \W6l. St. Modwena, 9th Cent. 67. 
 Edana, of Elphim andTuam. 
 
 There is i beautiful mention of flowers, 
 rtt this seasjn, in some lines from tlie Ita- 
 lian of Louis Gonzago. 
 
 With an Indian Perfume-boa; to iJaria de 
 Mancini, 1648. 
 
 Oh ! the Florence rose is freshe and faire. 
 And rich the young carnations blovve, 
 
 AWealhing in beauties' ebonne halre, 
 Or sighing on her breaste of snowe, 
 
 But onlie violette shall twine 
 
 Thy eboane tresses, ladye mine. 
 
 Oh ! dazzling shines the noon-daye sunne, 
 So kinglye in his golden carre, 
 
 But sweeter 'tis when day is done, 
 
 i'o watche the evening's dewye starre, 
 
 In silence lighting fielde and grove, 
 
 How like mye heart, how like mye love ! 
 
 Then, ladye, lowlye at thy feete 
 
 I lay this gift of niemorie, 
 All strange and rude, but treasures sweete 
 
 Within its gloomy bosonie lie. 
 Trifles, Marie ! may telle the tale, 
 Wlien wisdom, witte, and courage faile. 
 
 Pulci. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Double Yellow Rose. Rosa Sulp/iurca. 
 Dedicated to St. Edanu. 
 
 3ulp 6. 
 
 St. Palladhis, a. t>. 450. St. Jul'wn, An- 
 chorite, 4th Cent. St. Sexburgh, 7th 
 Cent. St. Goar, a. d. 575. St Mo- 
 ninna, a. d. 518. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Garden Hawks'-eyes. Crep'is barbata. 
 Dedicateu to St. Julian. 
 
 SJuly 7. 
 
 it. Panfcenm, 3d Cent. St. fViUihuld, 
 Bp. 8th Cent. St. Hedda, a. d. 705. 
 St. Edelburgu. St. Fellr, Bp. of Nantes, 
 A. D. 584. St. Benedict XL Pope, 
 A.D. 1304. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 1816. Ric'.K.rd Brinsley Sheridan, the 
 poet, dramatist, orator, and statesman, 
 died. He was the third son of Mr. Tho- 
 mas Sheridan, celebrated as an actor, 
 eminent as a lecturer on elocution, and 
 entitled to the gratitude of the public for 
 his judicious and indefatigable exertions 
 to improve the system of education in 
 this country. His father, the rev. Dr. 
 Thomas Sheridan, was a distinguished 
 divine, the ablest school-master of his 
 time, and the intimate friend of the dean 
 of St. Patrick. Mr. Tiiomas Sheridan 
 died at Margate, on the 1 4th of August, 
 1788. Mrs. F'ances Sheridan, the mo- 
 ther of Richard Biinsley, was the authcr 
 of " Sidney Biddulph," a novel, whicli 
 has the merit of combining the pure'^t 
 morality with the most powerful interest. 
 She also wrote " Nourjahad,'' an oriental 
 tale, and the comedies of the " Disco- 
 very," the " Dupe," and " A Trip to 
 Bath." She died at Blois, in France, thr^ 
 17th of September, 1766. 
 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan was born in 
 Dorset-street, Dublin, in the month ot 
 October, 1751. He was placed, in his 
 seventh year, under the tuition of Mr. 
 Samuel Whyte, of Dublin, the friend o{ 
 ilieir father. He was placed at Harrow 
 school, after the christmas of 1762. His 
 literary advancement at this seminary ap- 
 pears to have been at first retarded ; and 
 it was reserved for the Ute Dr. Parr, wlic 
 was at that time one of tlie sub-precep- 
 tors, to discover and call into activity the 
 faculties of young Sheridan's mind. liis 
 memory was found to be uncommonly 
 retentive, and his judgment correct ; so 
 that when his mind was quickened by 
 competition, his genius gradually ex- 
 panded. But to be admired seemed hit 
 only object, and when that end was at- 
 tained, he relaxed in his application, and 
 sunk into his former indolence. His last 
 year at Harrow was spent more in re- 
 flecting en the acquirements he bad 
 made, and the eventfvd scenes of a busy 
 life, which were opening to his view, than 
 in enlarging the circle of his classical and 
 literary attainments. His father deemed 
 it unnecessary to send him to the uni- 
 versity ; and he was, a short lime after 
 liis departure from Harrow, entered as a 
 student of the Middle Temple. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, when about twenty, was 
 peculiarly fond of the society of men of 
 taste and learning, and soon gave proofe 
 
 455 
 
niE EVERY-DaV book.— JULY 7. 
 
 that he was Inferioi to none of his com- 
 panions in wit and arsfument. At this 
 age he had recourse to his literary talents 
 for pecuniary supplies, and directed his 
 attention to the drama; but disgusted 
 with some sketches of comic character 
 which he drew, he actually destroyed 
 them, and in a moment of despair re- 
 nounced every hope of excellence as a 
 dramatic writer. His viev/s with respect 
 to the cultivation and exertion of his 
 genius in literary pursuits, or to the study 
 of the profession to which he had been 
 destined by his father, were all lost in a 
 passion that mastered his reason. He at 
 once saw and loved Miss Linley, a lady 
 no less admirable for the elegant accomi? 
 plishments of her sex and the affecting 
 simplicity of her conversation, than for 
 the charms of her person and the fasci- 
 nating powers of her voice. She was the 
 principal performer in the oratorios at 
 Drury-lane theatre. The strains which 
 she poured forth were the happiest com- 
 binations of nature and art ; but nature 
 predominated over art. Her accents were 
 so melodious and captivating, and their 
 passage to tVie heart so sudden and irre- 
 sistable, that "list'ning Envy would have 
 dropped her snakes, and stern-ey'd Fury's 
 self have melted" at the sounds. 
 
 Her father, Mr. Linley, the late inge- 
 nious compos-er, was not at first pro- 
 pitious to Mr. Sheridan's passion, and he 
 had many rivals to overcome in his at- 
 tempts to gain the lady's affections. His 
 perseverance, however, increased with the 
 difficulties that presented themselves, and 
 his courage and resolution were displayed 
 in vindicating Miss Linley 's reputation 
 fiom a calumnious report, which had 
 Deen basely thrown out against it. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, a gentleman then well 
 known in the fashionable circles at Bath, 
 had caused a paragraph to be inserted in 
 a public paper at that place, and haa set 
 out for London. He was closely pursued 
 by Mr. Sheridan. They met and fought 
 a duel with swords at a tavern in Hen 
 rietta-street, Co vent-garden, the house at 
 the north-west coiner, opposite Bedford- 
 court. Mr. Sheridan's second on the oc- 
 casion was his brother, Charles Francis, 
 a late secretary at war in Ireland. Great 
 courage and skill were displayed on both 
 sides ; but Mr. Sheridan having succeeded 
 in disarming his adversary, compelled 
 him to sign a formal retraction of the 
 paragraph which had been published. 
 The conqueror injtan'ly returned to Bath; 
 
 and thinking that, as the insult had been 
 publicly given, the apology should have 
 equal notoriety, he caused it to be pub- 
 lished in the same paper. Mr. Mathev.s 
 soon heard of this circumstance, and, 
 irritated at his defeat, as well as the use 
 which his antagi nist had made of his 
 apology, repaired to Bath, and called 
 upon Mr. Sheridan for satisfaction. The 
 parties met on Kingsdown. The victory 
 was desperately contested, and, after a 
 dischaige of pistols, they fought with 
 swords. Tliey were both wounded, and 
 closing with each other fell on the ground, 
 where the fight was continued until they 
 were separated. They received several 
 cuts and contusions in this arduous strug- 
 gle for life and honour, and a part of his 
 opponent's weapon was left in Mr. 
 Sheridan's ear. Miss Linley rewarded 
 Mr. Sheridan for the dangers he had 
 braved in her defence, by accompanying 
 him on a matrimonial excursion to the 
 continent. The ceremony was again 
 performed on their return to England, 
 with the consent of her parents ; from 
 the period of her marriage, Mrs. Sheridan 
 never appeared as a public performer. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, when encumbered with 
 the cares of a family, felt the necessity of 
 immediate exertion to provide for the 
 pressing calls inseparable from a domestic 
 establishment, which, if not splendid, was 
 marked with all the appearance of gen- 
 teel life. 
 
 On finishing his play of the " Rivals," 
 he presented it to the manager of Covent- 
 garden theatre, and it was represented on 
 the 17th ot January, 1775. In conse- 
 quence of some slight disapprobation, it 
 was laid aside for a time, after the first 
 night's performance. Mr. Sheridan having 
 made some judicious alterations, both in 
 the progress of the plot and in the lan- 
 guage, it was shortly after brought for- 
 ward again, and received in the most 
 favourable manner. His next production 
 was the farce of '* St. Patrick's Day, or 
 The Scheming Lieutenant." This was 
 followed by the comic opera of the 
 " Duenna," a composition in every re- 
 spect superior to the general class of 
 English operas then -n fashion. It sur- 
 passed even the " Beggar's Opera" in 
 attraction and popularity, and was per- 
 formed seventy-five nights during the 
 season, while Gay's singular production 
 ran only sixty-five. 
 
 Mr Garrick having resolved to retire 
 from the management of Drury-lane 
 
 456 
 
THE EVERY-DAV' BOOK.^JULY 7. 
 
 theatre, his shareof the patent was sold to 
 Mr. Sheridan, who. in 1776, paid 30,000/. 
 for it. He immediately brought out the 
 " Trip to Scarborough," altered from 
 Vanburgh's comedy of the " Relapse." 
 It was performed on the 24th of Febru- 
 ary, 1777. His next production was the 
 comedy of the " School for Scandal," 
 which raised his fame to undisputed pre- 
 eminence over contemporary dramatic 
 writers, and conferred, in the opinion of 
 foreign literati, a lustre on the British 
 comedy which it did not previously pos- 
 sess. It was first performed on the 8lh 
 of May, 1777. 
 
 Early in the following season, he pro- 
 duced the musical piece of " The Camp." 
 His " Critic," written upon the model o. 
 the duke of Buckingham's " Rehearsal,'' 
 came out on the 30th of October, 1787. 
 
 On the death of Mr. Garrick, in 1779, 
 Mr. Sheridan wrote the monody to the 
 memory of Mr. Garrick, recited at Drury- 
 lane theatre by Mrs. Yates. 
 
 Notwithstanding the profits whicli he 
 derived from his pieces, and the share he 
 had in the theatre, which was very con- 
 siderable, as he had obtained Mr. Lacy's 
 interest in the patent, a property equally 
 valuable with that of Mr. Garrick, 
 and of course worth, on the lowest 
 calculation, 30,000/., his pecuniary 
 embarrassments had considerably in- 
 creased. His domestic establishment was 
 not only very expensive, but conducted 
 without any kind of economy. The 
 persuasions of Mr. Fox, whose friendship 
 he had carefully cultivated, operated, 
 with a firm conviction of his own abili- 
 ties, in determining him to obtain a seat 
 in the house of commons, and a general 
 election taking place in 1780, Mr. Sheri- 
 dan was returned for Stafford ; and though 
 he contented himself at the commence- 
 ment of the session with giving a silent 
 vote against the minister, he was inde- 
 fatigable without doors in seconding the 
 views of the whigs under Mr. Fox, 
 against the measures of the ministry. 
 He had a considerable share in the " Eng- 
 lishman," a paper opposed to the ad- 
 mi-nistration of lord North ; and when 
 the Rockingham party came into power, 
 m 1782, his exertions were rewarded 
 with the appointment of under secretary 
 to Mr. Fox, then secretary of state for 
 the foreign department. 
 
 The death of the marquis of Rocking- 
 ram, and the unexpected elevation of the 
 '"arl of Shelburne to the important office 
 
 of first lord of the treasury, completely 
 defeated the views of himself and friends 
 and the ever-memorable coalition having 
 been formed between Mr. Fox and lord 
 North, Mr. Sheridan was once more 
 called upon to commence literary hostili- 
 ties against the new administration. The 
 periodical work of the " Jesuit " soon 
 appeared, and several very distinguished 
 members of the party contributed to that 
 production. 
 
 At length the coalition having gained 
 a decisive victory over the new adminis- 
 tration, formed by the Shelburne party, 
 Mr. Sheridan was once more brought into 
 place, in April, 1783, as secretary of the 
 treasury. Under Mr. Pitt, an entire 
 change took place in men and measures, 
 and on the trial of an ea^ officio informa- 
 tion against the " Jesuit," Mr. Wilkie, 
 who had the courage to conceal the 
 names of the gentlemen by whom he had 
 been employed, was sentenced to an im- 
 prisonment of twelve months. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan's speech in defence of 
 Mr. Fox's celebrated East-India Bill was 
 so masterly, as to induce the public 
 opinion to select him from the secand 
 class of parliamentary speakers. He was 
 viewed as a formidable opponent by Mr, 
 Pitt, and looked up to with admiration, 
 as a principal leader of the opposition. 
 
 He was rapidly approaching to per- 
 fection as an orator, when the impeach- 
 ment of Mr. Hastings supplied him with 
 an opportunity of displaying powers 
 which were then unrivalled. He was 
 one of the managers of the prosecution, 
 and his speech delivered in the house of 
 commons, in April, 1787, on the eighth 
 article as stated in the order laid down by 
 Mr. Burke, relative to " money corruptly 
 and illegally taken," was allowed to equal 
 the most argumentative and impassioned 
 orations that had ever been addressed to 
 the judgment and feelings of the British 
 parliament. He fixed the uninterrupted 
 attention of the house for upwards of 
 five hours, confirmed the minds of those 
 who wavered, and produced co-operation 
 from a quarter which it was supposed 
 would have been hostile to any further 
 proceeding. In the long examination cf 
 Mr. Middleton, he gave decided proofs 
 of a strong and discriminating mind; 
 but when, in June, 1788, he summed up 
 the evidence on the charge, respecting 
 the confinement and imprisonment of the 
 princesses of Oude, and the seizure ot 
 their treasures, his superiority over his 
 
 457 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 7. 
 
 colleagues was established by universal 
 consent. To fovm a just opinion of this 
 memorable oration, which occupied the 
 attention of the court and excited the 
 admiration of the public for several hours, 
 it would be necessary to have heard Mr. 
 Sheridan himself. It is difficult to select 
 any part of it as the subject of peculiar 
 t'ncomium. The address with which he 
 arranged his materials ; the art and force 
 with which he anticipated objections ; 
 tlie unexampled ingenuity with which he 
 commented on the evidence, and the na- 
 tural boldness of his imagery, are equally 
 entitled to panegyric. He combined tlie 
 three kinds of eloquence. He was clear 
 and unadorned — diffuse and pathetic — 
 animated and vehement. Tliere was no- 
 thing superfluous — no affected turn — no 
 glittering point — no false sublimity. 
 Compassion and indignation were aUer- 
 nately excited, and the wonderful eflects 
 related of the eloquence of Greece and 
 Rome were almost revived. 
 
 During the indisposition of his late 
 majesty, Mr. Sheridan took a leading 
 part in the attempts which were made to 
 declare the prince of Wales regent, with- 
 out such restrictions as parliament should 
 think fit to impose. He contended, that 
 the immediate nomination of the heir- 
 apparent ought to take place, as a matter 
 of constitutional right. 
 
 He w;is ever the zealous supporter of 
 parliamentary reform, and the uniform 
 friend of the liberty of the press and of 
 religious toleration; but he rose superior 
 to the selfish drudgery of a mere partizan, 
 and his conduct, during the crisis of the 
 naval mutiny, received the thanks of the 
 minister. 
 
 Mrs. Sheridan ditd in June, 1792, and 
 he had a son by tiiat lady, Mr. Thomas 
 Sheridan, who inherited much of his 
 father's talents, but fell a victim to in- 
 dulgence. In 1795, Mr. Sheridan mar- 
 ried his second wife. Miss Ogle, youngest 
 daughter of the rev. Dr. Newton Ogle, 
 dean of Winchester. The is.sue of this 
 second marriage was also a son. 
 
 His conduct as manager and principal 
 proprietor of the first theatre in the king- 
 dom, and his punctuality in the discharge 
 of the duties contracted by him in that 
 situation, have rarely been the subject of 
 praise ; but in the legal discussion of the 
 claims of the proprietors of Drury-lane 
 theatre, in the court of chancery, so far 
 from any imputation being thrown out 
 against his conduct, it was generally 
 
 commended ; and the chancellor himself 
 (lord E,ldon) spoke in the handsomest 
 terms of Mr. Sheridan's integrity, though 
 certainly he thought his prudence was, in 
 some instances, liable to be questioned. 
 
 On the formation of the Fox and Gren- 
 ville administration, after the death ol 
 Mr. Pitt, Mr. Sheridan was appointed 
 treasurer of the navy, and returned mem- 
 ber for Westminster, after a strong oppo- 
 sition on the part of Mr. Paul. But in 
 the latter yeais of his life he had not sat 
 in parliament; where, during the period 
 after his last return, he attended irregu- 
 larly, and spoke seldom. One of the 
 wittiest of his closing efforts in the house, 
 was a speech, in answer to Mr. Yorke, 
 respecting a discussion on the " Nightly 
 Watch," which had arisen out of the 
 murder of the families of Marr and Wil- 
 liamson, at Wapping 
 
 Mr. Sheridan was one of tliat circle 
 denominated the prince's friends. So 
 long as his mind remained unaffected by 
 the pressure of personal distress and 
 embarrassment, and whilst he could con- 
 tribute to the hilarity of the table by his 
 wit, as he had formerly contributed to 
 forward the interests of the prince by his 
 earnest and unremitted endeavours, he 
 appears to have been a welcome visitor 
 at Carlton-house — but this was all. Nor 
 the brilliancy of genius, nor the master ol 
 talent, nor time, nor intellect employed 
 and exhausted in the service of the prince, 
 obtained for this great man the means of 
 a peaceful existence, on his cession from 
 public life. In June, 1816, his constitu- 
 tion was completely broken up, and his 
 speedy dissolution seemed inevitable. 
 
 He died at noon, on Sunday, the 7th of 
 July, 1816. For several weeks prior to 
 his death he lay under arrest, and it was 
 only by the firmness and humanity of the 
 two eminent physicinns who attended 
 him. Dr. Baillie and Dr. Bain, that an 
 obdurate attorney was prevented from 
 executing a threat to remove him froii: 
 his house to a death-bed in gaol. He 
 enjoyed, however, to the last moment, 
 the sweetest consolation that the heart 
 can feel in the affectionate tenderness, 
 sympathy, and attention of his amiable 
 wife and son. Mrs. Sheridan, though 
 herself labouring under severe illness 
 watched over him with the most anxiou. 
 solicitude through the whole of that pro- 
 tracted suffering, which has parted them 
 for ever. 
 
 To these paiticulars of this extraurdi- 
 
 458 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 7. 
 
 nary individual, whicW are extracted from 
 a memoir of him that appeared in The 
 Times newspaper, must be added a pas- 
 sage or two from a celebrated " Estimate 
 of his Character and Talents" in the same 
 journal. 
 
 " Mr. Sheridan in his happiest days 
 never effected any thing by steady appli- 
 cation. He was capable of intense, but 
 not of regular study. When public duty or 
 private difficulty urged him, he endured 
 the burden as if asleep under its pressure. 
 At length, when the pain could be no 
 longer borne, he roused himself with one 
 mighty effort, and burst like a lion through 
 the toils. There are reasons for believing 
 that his constitutional indolence began its 
 operation upon his habits at an early age. 
 His very first dramatic scenes were written 
 by snatches, with considerable intervals 
 between them. Convivial pleasures had 
 lively charms for one whose wit was the 
 soul of the table ; and the sparkling 
 glass — the medium of social intercourse — 
 had no small share of his affection. These 
 were joys to be indulged without effort : 
 as such they were too well calculated to 
 absorb the time of Mr. Slieridan, and 
 sooner or later to make large encroach- 
 ments on his character. His attendance 
 in parliament became every year more 
 languid — the vis inertia; more incurable — 
 the plunges by wliicli his genius had now 
 and then extricated him in former times 
 less frequent and more feeble. We never 
 witnessed a contrast much more melan- 
 choly than between the brilliant and 
 commanding talent displayed by Mr. 
 Sheridan throughout the first regency dis- 
 cussions, and the low scale of nerve, 
 activity, and capacity, to which he seem- 
 ed reduced when that subject was more 
 recently agitated in parliament. But in- 
 dolence and intemperance must banish 
 reflection, if not corrected by it ; since no 
 man could support the torture of per- 
 petual self-reproach. Aggravated, we 
 fear, by some such causes, the naturally 
 careless temper of Mr. Sheridan became 
 ruinous to all his better hopes and pros- 
 pects. \\ ithout a direct appetite for 
 spending money, he thought not of check- 
 ing its expenditure. The economy of 
 time was as much disregarded as that of 
 money. All the arrangements, punctu- 
 alities, and minor obligations of life were 
 forgotten, and the household of Mr. She- 
 ridan was always in a state of nature. 
 His domestic feelings were originally kind, 
 and his manners gentle : but the same 
 
 bad habits seduced him from the house of 
 commons, and from home ; and equally 
 injured him as an agent of the public 
 good, and as a dispenser of private hap- 
 piness. It is painful, it is mortifying 
 but it is our sacred duty, to pursue this 
 history to the end. Pecuniary embar- 
 rassments often lead men to shifts and 
 expedients — these exhausted, to others of 
 a lefs doubtful colour. Blunted sensi- 
 bility — renewed excesses — loss of cast in 
 society — follow each other in melancholy 
 succession, until solitude and darkness 
 close the scene. 
 
 " It has been made a repioach by som^ 
 persons, in lamenting Mr. Sheridan's crue" 
 destiny, that ' his friends ' had not done 
 more for him. We freely and conscien- 
 tiously declare it as our opinion, that had 
 Mr. Sheridan enjoyed ten receiverships ot 
 Cornwall mstead of one, he would not 
 have died in afiHuence. He never would 
 have attained to comfort or independence 
 in his fortune. A vain man may become 
 rich, because his vanity may thirst for 
 only a single mode of gratification ; ar 
 ambitious man, a bou vivaiit, a sports- 
 man, may severally control their ex- 
 penses ; but a man who is inveterately 
 thoughtless of consequences, and callous 
 to reproof — who knows not when he 
 squanders money, because he feels not 
 those obligations which constitute or di- 
 rect its uses — such a man it is impossible 
 to rescue from destruction. We go fur- 
 ther — we profess not to conjecture to 
 what individuals the above reproach of 
 forgotten friendships has been applied. 
 If against persons of illustrious rank, 
 there never was a more unfounded accu- 
 sation. Mr. Sheridan, throughout his 
 whole life, stood as high as he ought to 
 have done in the quaiters alluded to. He 
 received the most substantial proofs of 
 kind and anxious attachment from tliese 
 personages; and it is to his credit thnt 
 he was not insensible to their regard. 
 If the mistaken advocates of Mr. Sheridan 
 were so much his enemies as to wish he 
 had been raised to some elevated office, 
 are they not aware that even one montli's 
 active attendance out of twelve he was at 
 times utterly incapable of giving? But 
 what friends are blamed for neglecting 
 Mr. Sheridan? Vt'hat friendships did he 
 ever form ? We more than doubt whether 
 he could fairly claim the rights of friend 
 ship with any leader of the whig adminis- 
 tration. We know that he has publicly 
 asserted Mr. Fox to be his friend, ana 
 
 459 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 
 
 that ho lias dwell with much eloquence 
 on Ine sweets and enjoyments of that 
 connection ; but it has never been our 
 fortune to find out tliat Mr. Fox had, on 
 any public oi private occasion, bound 
 fiimseif by reciprocal pledges. Evidence 
 against the admission of such ties on his 
 part may be drawn from the well-known 
 anecdotes of what occurred within a few 
 days of that statesman's death. The fact 
 is, that a life of conviviality and intem- 
 perance seldom favours the cultivation of 
 those better tastes and affections which 
 are necessary to the existence of intimate 
 friendship. That Mr. Sheridan had as 
 many admirers as acquaintances, there is 
 no room to doubt ; but they admired 
 only his astonishing powers ; there ^cver 
 was a second opinion or feeling as to the 
 unfortunate use which he made of them. 
 
 " Never were such gifts as those which 
 Providence showered upon Mr. Sheridan 
 so abused — never were talents so miser- 
 
 ably perverted. Tlie term ' greatness 
 has been most ridiculously, and, in a 
 moral sense, most perniciously applied u 
 the character of one who, to speak clia 
 ritably of him, was the weakest of men 
 Had he employed his matchless endow- 
 ments with but ordinary judgment, no- 
 thing in England, hardly any thing ip 
 pAirope, could have eclipsed his name, o 
 obstructed his progress." 
 
 May they who read, and he who writes 
 reflect, and profit by reflection, on 
 
 The talents lost — the moments run 
 To waste — the sins of act, of thoug-lit, 
 
 Ten thousand deeds of folly done, 
 And countless virtues cherish'd not. 
 
 FLOKAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Nasturtium. Tropocolum majui 
 Dedicated to St. Felix 
 
 To the Summer Zvphyr. 
 
 Zephyr, stay thy vagrant flight. 
 
 And tell me where you're going . — 
 Is it to sip off the dew-drop bright 
 That hangs on the breast of the lily white 
 
 In yonder pasture growing; 
 Or to revel 'mid roses and mignionette sweet ; 
 Or wing'st thou away some fair lady to meet ?— 
 If so, then, hie thee away, bland boy ; 
 Thou canst not engage in a sweeter employ. 
 
 " From kissing the blue of yon bright summer sky, 
 To the vine-cover'd cottage, delighted, 1 fly, 
 
 Where Lucy the gay is shining ; 
 To sport in the beams of her lovely eye, 
 
 While her temples with roses she's twining. 
 Then do not detain me ; I sigh to be there, 
 'I'o fan her young bosom — to play 'mid her hair !" 
 
 Sulp 8. 
 
 St. Elizabeth, Queen of Portugal, a. d. 
 1336. St. Procopius, a. d. 303. Sts. 
 Kilian, Culman, and Totnam, a. d. 
 688. St. JFltiilmrge, 10th Cent. B. 
 Theobald, 13th Cent. St. Grimbald, 
 A.D. 903. 
 
 New Churches. 
 
 r,vprv one must have been struck by 
 t!;.r- great number of new churches erected 
 w/tnm the suburbs of the metropolis, and 
 
 the novel forms of their steeples ; yet fe"? 
 have been aware of the difficulties en- 
 countered by architects in their endea- 
 vours to accommodate large congregations 
 in edifices for public worship. Sir 
 Christopher Wren experienced the incon- 
 venience when the fifty churches were 
 erected in queen Anne's time. He says, 
 " The Romanists, indeed, may build large 
 churches ; it is enough if they hear the 
 murmur of the mass, and see the elevation 
 of the host , but ours are to be fitted for 
 auditories. 1 can hardly think it practi- 
 cable to make a single room so capacious 
 with pews and galleries, as to no/cl above 
 two thousand persons, and bcil ti hear 
 
 40 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 9. 
 
 distinctly, and see the preacher. 1 en- 
 deavoured to effect this, in building the 
 parish church of St. James's, Westmin- 
 ster, which I presume is the most capa- 
 cious, with these qualifications, that hath 
 yet been built; and yet, at a solemn 
 lime, when the church was much crowd- 
 ed, I could not discern from a gallery 
 that two thousand were present. A 
 moderate voice may be heard fifty feet 
 distant before the preacher, thirty feet on 
 each side, and twenty behind the pulpit ; 
 and not this, unless the pronunciation be 
 distinct and equal, without losing the 
 voice at the last word of the sentence, 
 which is commonly emphatical, and, if 
 obscured, spoils the whole sense. A 
 French is heard further than an Englisli 
 preacher, because he raises his voice, and 
 does not sink his last words. 1 mention 
 this as an insufferable fault in the pro- 
 nunciation of some of our otherwise 
 excellent preachers ; which schoolmasters 
 might correct in the young, as a vicious 
 pronunciation, and not as the Roman 
 orator spoke ; for the principal verb is in 
 Latin usually the last word ; and if that 
 oe lost, what becomes of the sentence ?" 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Evening Primrose. Oenothera biennis. 
 Dedicated to St. Elizabeth. 
 
 3UI|) 9. 
 
 The 
 
 St. 
 
 St. Ephreni of Edessa, a. d. 378. 
 
 Martyrs of G or cum, a. d. 1572 
 
 Everildis. 
 
 Health. 
 
 In hot weather walk slowly, and as 
 much as possible in the shade. 
 
 When fatigued recline on a sofa, and 
 avoid all drafts. 
 
 Eat sparingly of meat, and indeed of 
 every thing. 
 
 Especially shun unripe fruits, and be 
 moderate with cherries. 
 
 Strawberries may be safely indulged 
 in ; with a little cream and bread they 
 make a delightful supper, an hour or 
 two before retiring to rest. 
 
 If the frame be weakened by excessive 
 heat, a table spoonfull of the best brandy, 
 thrown into a tumbler of spring water, 
 becomes a cooling restorative ; otherwise 
 spirits should not be touched. 
 
 Spring water, with a toast in* it, is the 
 best drink. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Marsh Sowthistle. Sonchus palusfrit. 
 Dedicated to St. Everildis 
 
 CAPTAIN STARKEY. 
 
 Died, .July 9, 1322. 
 
 Reader ! see the famous Captain 
 
 Starkey, in his own coat wrapt in ; 
 
 Mark liis mark'd nose, and mark his eye, 
 
 His lengtheu'd chin, his forehead high. 
 
 His little stick, bis huinble hat. 
 
 The modest tie of his cravat ; 
 
 Mark how easy sit his hose, 
 
 Mark the shoes that hold his toes ; 
 
 So he look'd when Ranson sketch'd him 
 
 While alive — but Death has fetch'd him. 
 
 Auto-biography is agreeable in the 
 writing, and sometimes profitable in the 
 publication, to persons whose names 
 would otherwise die and be buried with 
 them. Of this numerous class was cap- 
 tain Starkey, who to his " immortal 
 memory" wrote and published his own 
 *' Memoirs."* 
 
 * " Memoirs of the Life of Btnj. Starkey, late of 
 London, but now an inmate oi the Freemen's Hos- 
 pital, in Newcastle. Written by himselt. Wiii' '^ 
 portrait of the Author and a Fa< -simile of his hpnj. 
 writing. Printed and sold by William Hall, Gr».-»' 
 Market, Newta$tl«." 1818. 12mo. pp. 14. 
 
 461 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY [). 
 
 Tlie preface to a fine uncut copy of 
 captain Starkey's very rare " Memoirs," 
 venes me, commences thus : — " The 
 writers of biographical accounts have 
 always prepared articles, which at once, 
 when held forth to the public, ivere 
 highly entertaining, useful, and satisfac- 
 tory." This particular representation, so 
 directly opposed to general experience, is 
 decisively original. Its expression be- 
 speaks an independence of character, 
 rendered further conspicuous by an amia- 
 ble humility. " I am afraid," says the 
 captain, " i shall fall infinitely short in 
 commanding your attention ; none, on 
 this side of time, are perfect, and it is in 
 the nature of things impossible it should 
 be otherwise." He trusts, " if truth has 
 any force," that " patience and candour" 
 will hear him out. Of captain Starkey 
 then — it may be said, that " he knew the 
 truth, and knowing dared maintain it." 
 
 The captain declares, he was born of 
 lionest and poor parents, natives of 
 Newcastle upon Tyne, at the Lying-in 
 Hospital, Brownlow-street, Long-acre, 
 London, on the 19lh of December, 1757. 
 " My infantile years," he observes," were 
 attended with much indisposition." The 
 nature of his " indisposition" does not 
 appear ; but it is reasonable to presume, 
 tiiat as the " infantile years" of all of " liv- 
 ing born," at that time, were passed in 
 " much indisposition," the captain suf- 
 fered no more than fell to him in the 
 common lot. It was then the practice to 
 afflict a child as soon as it breathed the 
 air, by forcing spoonfulls of " unctuousi- 
 ties" down its throat, " oil of sweet 
 almonds and syrup of blue violets." A 
 strong cotton swathe of about six inches 
 in width, and from ten to twenty feet in 
 length, was tightly rolled round the body, 
 beginning under the arm pits and ending 
 at the hips, so as to stiffly encase the en- 
 tire trunk. After the child was dressed, 
 if its constraint would allow it to suck, 
 it was suckled ; but whether suckled oi 
 not, the effect of the swathing was soon 
 visible ; its eyes rolled in agony, it was 
 pronounced convulsed, and a dose of 
 " Dalby's Carminative" was administered 
 as " the finest thing in the world for con- 
 vulsions." With "pap" made of bread 
 and water, and milk loaded with brown 
 sugar, it was fed from a " pap-boat," an 
 earthen vessel m the form of a butter- 
 boE.t. If " these contents" were not 
 quickly "received in full," the infant was 
 decla ed '■ not very well," but if by cry- 
 
 ing, kicking of the legs, stiffening of the 
 back, and eructation from the stomach, it 
 resisted further overloading, then it was 
 affirmed (hat it was " troubled with 
 wind," and was drenched with " Daffy's 
 Elixir," as " the finest thin;:; in the world 
 for wind." As soon as the " wind " 
 had " a little broken off, poor thing !" it 
 was suckled again, and fed again ; being 
 so suckled and fed, and fed and suckled, 
 it was wonderful if it could sleep soundly, 
 and therefore, after it was undressed at 
 night, it had a dose of " Godfrey's Cor- 
 dial," as " the finest thing in the world 
 for composing to rest." If it was not 
 " composed" out of the world before 
 morning,it awoke to undergo the manifold 
 process of being again over-swathed, over- 
 fed, " Dalby'd, Daffy 'd, and Godfrey'd " 
 for that day ; and so, day by day, it was 
 put in bonds, " carminativ'd, elixir'd, and 
 cordial'd," till in a few Aveeks or months 
 it died, or escaped, as by miracle, to be 
 weaned and made to walk. It was not to 
 be put on its legs " too soon," and there- 
 fore, while the work of repletion was 
 going on, it was not to feel that it had 
 legs, but was kept in arms, or rather kept 
 lolling on the arm, till ten or twelve 
 months old. By this means its body, 
 being unduly distended, was too heavy to 
 be sustained by its weak and compara- 
 tively diminutive sized limbs ; and then a 
 " go-cart"' was provided. The go-cart 
 was a sort of circular frame-work, running 
 upon wheels, with a door to open for 
 admission of the child ; wherein, beino 
 bolted, and the upper part being only sc 
 large as to admit its body from below the 
 arms, the child rested by the arm pits, 
 and kicking its legs on the floor, set the 
 machine rolling on its wheels. This being 
 the customary mode of " bringing child- 
 ren up" at the time of captain Starkey's 
 birth, and until about the year 1790, few 
 were without a general disorder and 
 weakness of the frame, called " the rick- 
 ets." These afflicted ones were some- 
 times hump-backed, and usually bow- 
 shinned, or knock-kneed, for life, though 
 to remedy the latter defects in some de- 
 gree, the legs were fastened by straps to 
 jointed irons. From the whole length 
 portrait at the head of this article, which 
 is copied from an etching by Mr. Thomaa 
 Ranson, prefixed to captain Starkey's 
 " Memoirs,'' it is reasonably to be con- 
 jectured tt.at the captain in his childhood 
 had been ricketty and lad worn irons. 
 Mr. Ranson has draped the figure in a 
 
 462 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 9. 
 
 long coat. Had this been done to con- 
 ceal the inward inclination of the cap- 
 tain's knees, it would have been en dita- 
 ble to Mr. llanson's delicacy ; foj there 
 is a sentiment connected with the meet- 
 ing of the knees, in the owner'' mind, 
 which he who knows human na* .re and 
 has human feelings, knows ho". to re- 
 spect; and no one either as a man or an 
 artist is better acquainted with the "hu- 
 manities" than Mr. Kanson. But that 
 gentleman drew the captain from the 
 life, and the captain's coat is from the 
 coat he actually wore when he stood for 
 his picture. There is a remarkable dere- 
 liction of the nose from the eyebrows. It 
 was a practice with the race of nurses 
 who existed w hen the captain's nose 
 came into the world, to pinch up that fea- 
 ture of our infant ancestors from an hour 
 old, till " the month was up." This was 
 from a persuasion that nature, on that 
 part of the face, required to be assisted. 
 A few only of these ancient females re- 
 riain, and it does not accord with the ex- 
 perience of one of the most experienced 
 among them, that they ever depressed ihat 
 sensible feature ; she is fully of opinion, 
 that for the protrusion at the end of the 
 captain's, he was indebted to his nurse 
 " during the month ;" and she says tliat, 
 " it's this, that makes him look so sensi- 
 ble." 
 
 According to captain Starkey's narra- 
 tive,when "learning to walk alone," he un- 
 fortunately fell, " and so hurt his left arm, 
 that it turned to a white swelling as large 
 as a child's head." The captain says, 
 " my poor parents immediately applied 
 to two gentlemen of the faculty, at the 
 west end of the town, named Bloomfield 
 and Hawkins, physicians and surgeons to 
 his then reigning majesty, king George 
 the Second, of these kingdoms, who de- 
 clared that, t/icy could not do any more 
 than cut it off ; unto which my tender 
 parents would not consent." A French 
 surgeon restored to him the use of his 
 arm, and gave him advice " not to em- 
 ploy it in any arduous employment." 
 " I, therefore" says the captain, " as my 
 mother kept a preparatory school, was 
 learned by her to read and spell." At 
 seven years old he was " put to a master 
 to learn to write, cipher, and the classics." 
 After this, desiring to be acquainted with 
 other languages, he was sent to another 
 master, and " improved," to the pleasure 
 of himself and friends, but was " not so 
 successful" as lie co ild wish ; for which 
 
 he says, " I am, as I ought to be, thank- 
 ful to divine providence." With him he 
 stayed, improving and not sjcceeding 
 till he was fourteen, " at which age," says 
 the captain, " I was bound apprentice to 
 Mr. VVdliam Bird, an eminent writer and 
 teacher of languages and mathematics, in 
 r etter-lane, Holborn." /ifterhis appren- 
 ticeship the captain, in the year 1780, 
 went with his father, during an election, to 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, his parents' native 
 town. Returning to London, he, in 1784, 
 went electioneering again to Newcastle, 
 having left a small school in London to 
 the care of a substitute, who managed to 
 reduce twenty-tive scholars to ten, 
 " although he was paid a weekly allow- 
 ance." Being " filled with trouble by the 
 loss," he was assisted to a school in Sun- 
 derland ; " but," the captain remarks, 
 *' as the greatest success did not attend 
 me in that, I had the happiness and ho- 
 nour of receiving a better employment in 
 the aforesaid town of Sunderland, from 
 that ever to be remembered gentleman, 
 William Gooch, esq., comptroller of the 
 customs, who died in the year 1791, and 
 did not die unmindful of me : for he left 
 me in his will the sum of 10/., with 
 which, had I been prudent enough, and 
 left his employ immediately after his in- 
 terment, I might have done well ; but 
 foolishly relying on the continuance of mv 
 place, continued doing the duties for 
 nine months without receiving any rcrru- 
 neration ; and at last was obliged to 
 leave, it not being the pleasure of the 
 then collector, C. Hill, esq., that I should 
 continue any luui^er in office." Great as 
 the sensation must have been at Sunder- 
 land on this important change " iV 
 office" the fact is entirely omitted it 
 the journals of the period, and might at 
 this time have been wholly forgotten if the 
 captain had not been his own chronicler 
 On his forced " retirement" he returned 
 to Newcastle, willing to take " office" 
 there, but there being no opening he re- 
 solved once more to try his fortune in 
 London. For that purpose he crossed 
 the Tyne-bridge, with two shillings in his 
 pocket, and arriving at Chester-le-street, 
 obtained a subscription of two giii- 
 neas, by which, "with helps and hopes," 
 and " walking some stages," and getting 
 " casts by coaches," he arrived in the me- 
 tropolis, where he obtained a recommen- 
 dation back, to the then mayor of New- 
 castle. Thither he again repaireo, and 
 presented his letter to the mayor, who 
 
 463 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 9. 
 
 promised him a place in the Freemen's 
 Hospital, and gave it him on the first va- 
 cancy. " In which situation," says cap- 
 tain Starkey, " 1 have now been twenty- 
 six years enjoying the invaluable blessing 
 of health and good friends." So ends his 
 " Memoir written by himself." 
 
 To what end captain Starkey wrote his 
 history, or how he came by his rank, he 
 does not say ; but in the " Local Records, 
 or Histoiical Register of Remarkable 
 Events in Durham, Northumberland, 
 Newcastle, and Berwick," a volume com- 
 piled and published by Mr. John Sykes, 
 of Newcastle, there is a notice which 
 throws some light on the matter. " Mr. 
 Starkey, who was uncommonly polite, had 
 a peculiarly smooth method of obtaining 
 the loan of a halfpenny, for which he was 
 always ready to give his promissory note, 
 which his creditors held as curiosities." 
 Halfpenny debentures were tedious in- 
 struments for small " loans," and Starkey 
 may have compiled his " Memoirs," with- 
 
 out affixing a price, for the purpose of 
 saying, "what you please," and thereby 
 raising " supplies " by sixpence and a 
 shilling at a time. It is to be observed to 
 his credit, that had he made his book 
 more entertaining, it would have had far 
 less claim upon an hcnest reader. It is 
 the adventureless history of a man who 
 did no harm in the world, and thought he 
 had a right to live, because he was a living 
 being Mr. Hanson's portrait represents 
 him as he was. His stick, instead of a 
 staff of support, appears symbolical of the 
 assistance he required towards existence. 
 He holds his hat behind, as if to intimate 
 that his head is not entitled to be covered 
 in " a gentleman's presence." He seems to 
 have been a poor powerless creature, sen- 
 sible of incompetency to do; anxious not 
 to suffer ; and with just enough of worldly 
 cunning, to derive to himself a little of the 
 superabundance enjoyed by men, who ob- 
 tain for greater cunning the name of 
 cleverness 
 
 QUATRAINS 
 
 TO THE EDITOR OF THE EVERY-DAt BOOK. 
 
 \From the London Magazine] 
 
 I like yon, and your book, ingenuous Hone'. 
 
 In whose capacious ail -embracing leaves 
 The very marrow of tradition's shown ; 
 
 And all that history — much that fiction — weavef 
 
 By every sort of taste your work is graced. 
 
 \ £.st stores of modern anecdote we find. 
 With good old story quaintly interlaced — 
 
 The theme as various as the reader's mind. 
 
 Rome's lie-fraught legends you so truly pnint — • 
 Yet kindly — that the half-turn'd Catholic 
 
 Scarcely forbears to smile at his own saint, 
 And cannot curse the candid Heretic. 
 
 Rags, relics, witches, ghosts, fiends, crowd your pagej 
 Our father's mummeries we well-pleased behold j 
 
 And, proudly conscious of a purer age, 
 Forgive some fopperies in the times of old. 
 
 Verse-honouring Phcebus, Father of bright DaySj 
 Must needs bestow on you both good and many, 
 
 Who, building trophies to his children's praise, 
 Run their rich Zodiac through, not missing any. 
 
 464 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY y. 
 
 Pan Phoebus loves j'our book — trust me, friend Hone— 
 
 The title only errs, he bids me say : 
 )'or while such art — wit — reading — there are shown, 
 
 lie swears, 'tis not a work oi every day. 
 
 C. Lamb 
 
 QUATORZIANS 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF " QUATRAINS. 
 
 In feeling, like a stricken deer, I've been 
 
 Self-put out from the herd, friend Lamb ; for I 
 Imagined all the sympathies between 
 
 Mankind and me had ceased, till your full cry 
 Of kindness reach'd and roused me, as I lay 
 
 " Musing — on divers things foreknown :" it bid 
 Me know, in you, a friend ; with a fine gay 
 
 Sincerity, before all men it chid. 
 Or rather, by not chiding, seem'd te chide 
 
 Me, for long absence from you ; re-invited 
 Me, with a herald's trump, and so defied 
 
 Me to remain immured ; and it requited 
 Me, for othtV harsh misdeeming — which I trtjst is 
 Now, or will be, known by them, to be injustice. 
 
 am " ingenuous :" it is all I can 
 Pretend to ; it is all I wish to be ; 
 
 Yet, through obliquity of sight in man, 
 From constant gaz.e on tortuosity. 
 
 Few people understand me : still, I am 
 Warmly affection'd to each human being ; 
 
 Loving the right, for right's sake; and, friend Lair.l^ 
 Trying to see things as they are ; hence, seeing 
 
 Some " good in ev'ry thing " however bad, 
 Evil in many things that look most fair. 
 
 And pondering on all : this may be mad- 
 ness, but it is my method ; and I dare 
 
 Deductions from a strange diversity 
 
 Of things, not taught within a University. 
 
 No schools of science open'd to my youVn; 
 
 No learned halis, no academic bowers ; 
 No one had I to point my way to truth, 
 
 Instruct my ign'rance, or direct my powers 
 Yet I, though all unlearned, p'rhaps may aid 
 
 The march of knowledge in our " purer age," 
 And, without seeming, may perchance persuade 
 
 The young to think, — to virtue some engage ; 
 So have I hoped, and with this end in view, 
 
 My little Every- Day Book I design'd ; 
 Praise of the wohv, aad ol' iw u-uthor too, 
 
 From you, frieml Lamb, is more than good and kind *, 
 To such high meed I did not dare aspire 
 As public honour, from the hand of Allworthy Elia, 
 
 Vol. I. 465 2 H 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY lo, 11,12. 
 
 As to the message from your friend above : — 
 
 Do me the favour to present my best 
 Respects to old " Dan Phoebus," for the " love 
 
 He bears the Every-Day Book : for the rest^ 
 That is, the handsome mode he has selected 
 
 Of making me fine compliments by you, 'tis 
 So flatt'ring to me, and so much respected 
 
 By me, that, if you please, and it should suit nis 
 Highness, I must rely upon you, for 
 
 Obtaining his command, to introduce me 
 To him yourself, when quite convenient ; oi 
 
 I trust, at any rate, you'll not refuse me 
 A line, to signify, that I'm the person known 
 To him, through you, friend Lamb, as 
 
 Your Friend 
 
 William Hows 
 
 3vHv 10- 
 
 T,\e Seven Brothers, Martyrs, and St. 
 Fellcitas, their Mother. 2nd Cent. 
 Sts. Rufina and Secunda, V, a. d. 257. 
 
 Spider Barometers, 
 If the weather i« likely to become 
 rainy, windy, or u other respects dis- 
 agreeable, spiders fiv the terminating fila- 
 ments, on which the whole web is sus- 
 pended, unusually short. If the termi- 
 nating filaments are made uncommonly 
 long, the weather will be serene, and 
 continue so, at least for ten or twelve 
 days. If spider? oe totally indolent, rain 
 generally succeeds ; though their activity 
 during rain is certain proof that it will 
 be only of short duration, and followed 
 by fair and constant weather. Spiders 
 usually make some alterations in their 
 webs every \wenty-four hours ; if these 
 changes take place between the hours of 
 six and seven in the evening, they indicate 
 a clear and pleasant night. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Speckled Snapdragon. Antirrhinum tri- 
 
 phyllnm. 
 Dedicated to Sts. Rufina and Secunda. 
 
 Snip 11. 
 
 St. James, Bp. of Nisibis, a. d. 350. St. 
 Hidnlphus, Bp. A. d. 707, or 713. St. 
 Pins t.. Pope, A. D. 157. St. Drostan, 
 A. D. 809. 
 
 Sim-set. 
 Soft o'er tliR mountain's purple brow, 
 
 Meek twilight draws her shadowy grey ; 
 From tufted woods, and valleys low, 
 
 Light's magic colours steal away. 
 
 Yet still, amid the spreading gloom. 
 Resplendent glow the western waves 
 
 That roll o'er Neptune's coral caves 
 A zone of light on evening's dome. 
 
 On this lone summit let me rest. 
 And view the forms to fancy dear, 
 
 'Till on the ocean's darkened breast. 
 The stars of evening tremble clear ; 
 
 Or the moon's pale orb appear, 
 
 Tlirowing her light of radiance wide. 
 
 Far o'er the lightly curling tide. 
 
 No sounds o'er silence now prevail. 
 Save of the murm'ring brook*below. 
 
 Or sailor's song borne on the gale, 
 Or oar at distance striking slow. 
 
 So sweet, so tranquil, may my evening ray, 
 Set to this world — and rise in future day. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Yellow Lupin. Lnpinus f cevns 
 Dedicated to St. James. 
 
 %\X\^ 12. 
 
 St. John Gnalbert, Abbot, a. D. 1073. 
 Sts. Nabor and Felix, Martyrs, a. d. 
 304. 
 
 In the " Poems" of Mr. Gent, there 
 are some lines of tranquillizing ten- 
 dency. 
 
 To Mary. 
 
 Oh ! is there not in infant smiles 
 A witching power, a cheering ray, 
 
 A charm that every care beguiles. 
 And bids the weary soul he gay ? 
 
 There surely is — for thou liast been 
 Child of my heart, my peaceful dove, 
 
 Gladd'ning life's sad and cliecquered scene. 
 An emblem of the peace above. 
 
 466 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY ]3 14. 
 
 Now all is calm and dark and still, 
 
 And brigilt the beam the moonlight 
 throws 
 
 On ocean wave, and gentle rill, 
 
 And on thy slumb'ring cheek of rose. 
 
 And may no care disturb that breast, 
 Nor sorrow dim tbsit brow serene ; 
 
 And may thy latest years be blest 
 As thy sweet infancy has been. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Snapdragon. Antirrhinum purpii- 
 renrr 
 Dedicated to St. John Gualbert. 
 
 m^ 13. 
 
 St. Eugenius, Bp. a. d. 505. St. Ana- 
 cletus, Pope, a. d. 107. St. Turiaf, 
 Bp. A. D. 749. 
 
 How soothing is a calm stroll on a 
 summer's evening after sun-set, while the 
 oreeze of health is floating gently over 
 jhe verdure, the moon ascending, and the 
 evening star glistening like a diamond. 
 
 Diana's bright crescent, like a silver bow, 
 New strung in Heaven, lifts 'ngh its beamy 
 
 horns 
 Impatient for the uight, and seems to push 
 Her brother down the sky j fair Venus 
 
 shines 
 Ev'n in the eye of day ; with sweetest beam. 
 Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling 
 
 flood 
 Of softened radiance from her dewy locks. 
 The shadows spread apace ; while meek- 
 
 ey'd eve, 
 Her cheeks yet warm with blushes, slow 
 
 retires 
 Thro' the Hesperian garden of the west, 
 And shuts the gates of day. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Blue Lupin. Liipimis cosruleus. 
 Dedicated to iS^ Eugenius. 
 
 Snip 14. 
 
 St. Bonaventure, Card, Bp. a. d. 1274. 
 St. Camilliis de Lellis, a. d. 1614. <S^. 
 laust Bp. in Leiuster 
 
 WAUMIU. 
 
 The heat of the season, unless patiently 
 endured, has a tendency to inflame the 
 mind, and render it irritable. On some 
 infants its eifects are visible in their rest- 
 lessness and peevishness. Parents, and 
 those who have the care of childhood, 
 must now watch themselves as well as 
 their offspring. 
 
 A father's voice in threat'ning tone 
 
 The storm of rage revealing, 
 His flashing eye and angry frown, 
 
 Would rouse a kindred feeling. 
 But Where's the child his sigh can hear, 
 
 When grief his heart is rending ? 
 And who unmov'd can see the tear, 
 
 A parent's cheek descending. 
 
 Oh, yes ! a child may brave the heat, 
 
 A father's rage confessing. 
 But, ah ! how sweet iiis smile to meet, 
 
 And, oh ! how dear his blessing ! 
 Then let me shun with shrinking fear. 
 
 The thought of not conceding, 
 I could not bear affection's tear. 
 
 When parent's lips were pleading. 
 
 The Cross Bill. {Loxia curvi rostra.) 
 In July, 1821 , at West Feiton, in Shrop. 
 shire, this rare and beautiful bird was 
 seen, in a flight of about eighteen or 
 twenty, auirhting on the tops of pine trees 
 and larch ; ■ ti\e cone of which it opens 
 with adroit: neatness, holding it in one 
 claw, like a parrot, and picking out the 
 seeds. They were of various colours, 
 brown, green, yellow, and crimson, and 
 some entirely of the most lovely rose co- 
 lour; hanging and climbing in fanciful 
 attitudes, and much resembling a group 
 of small paroquets. Their unusual note, 
 somewhat like the quick chirp of linnets, 
 but much louder, first attracted attention. 
 The observer had repeated opportunities 
 of viewing them to the greatest advantage, 
 by means of a small telescope. They 
 also eat excrescent knobs, or the insects 
 formed therein by the cynips, at the ends 
 of the young spruce branches. These birds 
 are natives of Germany and the Pyrenees, 
 and are very rarely seen in England. It 
 was remarked, that the same mandible ol 
 the bill crossed on the right side in some 
 birds, and on tlie left in others.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Red Lupin. Liipinus perennis. 
 Dedicated to St. Bonaventure. 
 
 * Shrewsbury Chronicle. 
 
 467 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 
 
 DESTRUCTION OF THE BASTILE. 
 
 Sir, 'tis the Bastile, 
 
 Full of such dark, deep, damp, chill dungeons of horror and silence. 
 Voung men shut therein oft grew gray-haired in a twelvemonth ; 
 Old men lost their senses, forgetting they had not been born there; 
 Thumb-screws, weapons of torture, were found, most shocking to think of! 
 Fetters still lock'd on the limbs of unburied skeletons starved there, 
 Curses engraved with a nail in the stone walls. 
 
 Hexameters, iVi Annual Anthology , vol. il. 
 
 The Bastile of Paris, the great state 
 prison of France, was stormed and des- 
 troyed by the populace on the 14th of 
 July, 1789. This extraordinary event took 
 place during the sitting of the national 
 assembly convened by Louis XVL under 
 great exigency. The Fw.nch government 
 at that time afforded no security to life 
 or property. Persons offensive to the state 
 were arrested under arbitrary warrants, 
 called Lettres de Cachet, consigned to the 
 lungeons of the Bastile, remained there 
 without trial, often for life, and some- 
 '•mes perished from neglect, or the cruel- 
 ties incident to imprisonment in the for- 
 tix-ss. 
 
 Louis XVL was surrounded by adviser', 
 who insisted on the maintenance of the 
 royal prerogative, in opposition to the 
 growing and loudly expressed desires of 
 the most intelligent men in France, for 
 an administration of public affairs, and 
 the formation of a government, on princi- 
 ples of acknowledged right and justice. 
 The king refused to yield ; and, to crush 
 the popular power, and overawe the na- 
 tional assembly in its deliberations, troops 
 were ordered to approach Paris. At this 
 juncture the assembly addressed the king, 
 praying the removal of the troops ; ha 
 refused, the troops prepared to enter 
 Paris, the people flew to arms, the Bastile 
 
 4G8 
 
THE EVERYDAY BOOK.— JULY i-i. 
 
 v/as taken, and fatal ills prevailed in the 
 cabinet, till popular fury arrived at a 
 height uncontrollable by public virtue, 
 and the king himself perished on the 
 scaffold, with several of his family. 
 
 In recording the destruction of the 
 Ristile on this day, it is necessary to re- 
 mark, that on the morning of the day be- 
 fore, (the 13th of July,) the populace 
 marched in a body to the Hotel des Iiiva- 
 lides, with intent to seize the arms de- 
 posited there. The governor, M. de Som- 
 breuil, sensible that resistance was vain, 
 opened the gates, and suffered them to 
 carry away the arms and the cannon. At 
 tiie same time, the curate of the parish 
 church of St. Etienne dii Mont, having 
 put himself at the head of his parishion- 
 ers, invited his neighbours to arm them- 
 selves in their own defence, and in sup- 
 port of good order. 
 
 By the interception of couriers, the 
 grand plan of hostility against the city 
 was universally known and understood. 
 It was ascertained that marshall Broglio 
 had accepted the command of the troops ; 
 that he had made dispositions for the 
 blockade of Paris ; and that considerable 
 convoys of artillery had arrived for that 
 purpose. Tbesa facts occasioned violent 
 agitation, and eager search for arms, 
 wherever they could be found. Every one 
 flew to the post of danger ; and, without 
 reflection, commenced perilous attacks, 
 seemingly reserved only for military 
 science and cool reflection, to achieve 
 with success. 
 
 On the 14th, there was a sudden excla- 
 mation among the people, Let v.s storm 
 the Bastile 1 If they had only said, let 
 us attack the Bastile, the immense walls 
 tliat surrounded the edifice, the broad and 
 deep ditches that prevented approach to 
 its walls and the batteries of cannon 
 placed on them, would have at least 
 cooled their resolution. But insensible 
 of the danger and hazard of the assault, 
 all at once, and with one voice, a nume- 
 rous body of men, among whom were 
 many of the national guards, exclaimed, 
 Let us storm the Bastile ! and that in- 
 stant they proceeded towards it, with 
 such arms as tl'.ey happened to be pro- 
 vided with, and presented themselves be- 
 fore this tremendous fortress, by the great 
 street of St Anthony. M. de Launay, 
 the governoi, perceiving this insurrection, 
 caused a tlag of truce to be hung out. 
 Upon this appearance, a detachment of 
 the patriotic g.iards, with five or six hun- 
 
 dred citizens, introduced themselves into 
 the outer court, and the governor, ad- 
 vancing to the draw-bridge, inquired of 
 the people what they wanted. They an- 
 swered, ammunition and arms. He pro- 
 niised to furnish them, ivhen any persons 
 presented themselves on the part of the 
 Hotel de fllle ; meaning by that, from 
 Des '^\essG\\e%,Prevot ftes Marchands. The 
 people, little satisfied with this answer, 
 replied by menaces, threats, and great 
 appearance of violence. De Launay then 
 caused the draw-biidge to be raised, and 
 ordered a discharge of artillery on the 
 ])ersons who by this means he had cut off 
 from the main body, and enclosed within 
 the court. Several soldiers, and a greater 
 number of the citizens, fell, and the cannon 
 fired on the city threw the neighbourhood 
 into the greatest disorder. The besiegers, 
 burning to retaliate the loss of their 
 comrades, applied to the districts for re- 
 inforcements, sent for the artillery they 
 had just taken from the invalids, and ob- 
 tained five pieces of cannon, with six 
 gunners, who ofi'ered their services, and 
 brought ammunition for the attack. Two 
 Serjeants of the patriotic corps, M. War- 
 gnier and Labaitlie, at the head of a party 
 of their comrades, supported by a troop 
 of citizens, headed by M. Hulin, vhom 
 they had tinanimously chosen for their 
 commandei, traversed on the side of the 
 Celestins, all the passages near the arsenal, 
 and with three pieces of artillery which 
 they brought into the court des Saltpetres, 
 contiguous to the Bastile, immediately 
 commenced a brisk fire, tlie besiegers en- 
 deavouring to outdo each other in courage 
 and intrepidity. M. Hely, an officer oJ 
 the regiment of infantry (de la Reine,) 
 caused several waggons loaded with straw 
 to be unloaded and set on fire, and by 
 means of the smoke that issued from 
 them, the besieged were prevented from 
 seeing the operations of the besiegers. 
 The governor, knowing that he could not 
 hold out against an incessant fire en the 
 fortress, and seeing that the chains of the 
 first draw-bridge were carried away by 
 the shot from the besiegers' cannon, again 
 hung out a white flag, as a token ct 
 peace. The besiegers, determined to re- 
 venge the massacre of their comrades by 
 the perfidy of De Launay, were deaf to 
 all entreaties, and would look at nothing 
 that would lessen tlieir resentment. In 
 vain the governor made a second attempt 
 to pacify the assailants. Through the cre- 
 vices of tlie inward draw-bridge, he affixed 
 
 4G9 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 a wntingjWhich a person went in quest of, 
 at the hazard of his life. The paper was to 
 this purport : " JVe have twenty tliouxand 
 iveight of gunpowdur, and loe will blow 
 up the garrison and all its environs, if 
 yott do not accept of onr capitulation." 
 The besiegers despising the menace, re- 
 doubled their firing, and continuedjheir 
 operations with additional vigour. Num- 
 berless spectators of all ages, of all con- 
 ditions, and many English, were present 
 at this wonderful enterprise ; and it is 
 re-corded, that a British female, unre- 
 strained by the delicacy of her sex, ac- 
 cepted a lighted match on its being 
 offered to her, and fired one of the cannon 
 against the fortress. 
 
 Three pieces of artillery being brought 
 forward to beat down the draw-bridge, the 
 governor demolished the little bridge of 
 passage on the left hand, at the entrance 
 of the fortress ; but three persons, named 
 Hely, Hulin, and Maillard, leaped on the 
 bridge, and demanding that the inmost gate 
 should be instantly opened, the besieged 
 obeyed, and the besiegers pushed forward 
 to make good their entrance. The gar- 
 rison still persisted in a vain resistance. 
 The people massacred all who came in 
 their way, and the victorious standard 
 was soon hoisted from the highest tower. 
 In the mean time, the principal draw- 
 bridge having been let down, a great 
 crowd rushed in at once, and every one 
 looked out for the governor. Arne, a 
 grenadier, singled him out, seized, and 
 disarmed him, and delivered him up to 
 M. Hulin and Hely. The people tore 
 from his coat the badge of honour ; nu- 
 merous hands were lifted against him ; and 
 De Launay threw himself into the arms 
 of M. Templement, and conjured him to 
 protect him from the rage of the popu- 
 lace. 
 
 Tlie deputy governor, major, and the 
 captain of the gunners, were now united 
 in one group. The horrid dungeons of 
 the fortress were thrown open, never more 
 to be closed ; unhappy victims, with hoary 
 locks and emaciated bodies, were asto- 
 nished at beholding the light, on their 
 release, and shouts of joy and victory re- 
 sounded through the remotest cells of the 
 Bastile. 
 
 The victors formed a kind of march, 
 and while some uttered acclamations of 
 i.rium[.h, others vented their passions in 
 'i'lreats of revenge against the vanquish- 
 ed. The city militia mixing with the 
 (<atiio.ic guards, crowns of laurel, gar- 
 
 lands, and ribands, were offered to them by 
 the spectators. The conquerors, proceed- 
 ing to the Hotel de Fille, were scarcely 
 arrived at the square before that edifice. 
 La Place de Greve, when the multitude 
 called aloud for sudden vengeance on the 
 objects of their resentment. The gover- 
 nor and the other officers were impetu- 
 ously torn from the hands of their con- 
 querors, and De Launay, with several 
 other victims, perished beneath the wea- 
 pons of an infuriated populace. 
 
 Thus fell the Bastile, after a siege of only 
 three hours. Tumultuous joy prevailed 
 throughout Paris, and the city was illu- 
 minated in the evening. By the most 
 experienced nuiitary engineers underLouis 
 XIV., it had been deemed impregnable. 
 
 The Bastile consisted of eight strong 
 towers. It was surrounded with a fosse 
 one hundred and twenty yards wide, and 
 on the summit of the towers there was 
 a platform, connected by terraces, whereon 
 prisoners were sometimes permitted to 
 walk, attended by a guard. Thirteen 
 pieces of cannon mounted on this plat- 
 form were fired on days of public re- 
 joicing. There were five sorts of cham- 
 bers in the Bastile. The dungeons under 
 these towers exhaled noxious vapours 
 and stench, and were frequented by rats, 
 lizards, toads, and other loathsome rep- 
 tiles. In the angle of each dungeon, was 
 a camp-bedstead, of planks resting on 
 bars of iron fixed in the wall. These 
 cells were dark and hideous, without 
 windows or apertures, to admit either 
 fresh air or light. They were secured by 
 double doors of seven inches thick, the 
 interior one covered with iron-plates, and 
 fastened by strong bolts and heavy locks. 
 The most horrible receptacles were 
 the dungeons, wherein the iron cages 
 were fixed. These cages, the dis- 
 grace of human nature, were eight feet 
 high, by six feet wide, and formed of 
 strong beams, strengthened further by 
 iron plates. As this building is amply 
 described in several works, further parti- 
 culars of it may here cease. 
 
 Cowper, after an eloquent passage 
 upon the blessings of libeity to man, says, 
 " The author hopes that he shall not be 
 censured for unnecessary warmth upon 
 so interesting a subject. He is aware 
 that it is become almost fashionaWe, to 
 stigmatize such sentiments as no better 
 than empty declamation ; but it is an ill 
 symptom, and peculiar to modern times." 
 He then rolls a flood of indigna»». 
 
 470 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 against the Baslile. Tlie dreadful fortress 
 ■was at that time standing. His imagina- 
 tion of human endurance under the hor- 
 rors of confinement in its cells, beautifully 
 illustrates his compassionate feelings. He 
 says,— 
 
 Shame to manhood, and opprobrious more 
 To France than all her losses and defeats, 
 Old or of later date, by sea or land, 
 Her house of bondage, worse than that of 
 
 old 
 Which God aven;,''d on Pharaoh — the Bas- 
 
 tile. 
 Ye horrid tow'rs, th' abode of broken 
 
 hearts ; 
 Ye dungeons and ye cages of despair, 
 That monarchs have supplied from age to 
 
 age 
 With music, such as suits their sov'rcign 
 
 ears. 
 The sighs and groans of miserable men ! 
 There's not an English heart, that would 
 
 not leap. 
 To hear that ye were fall'n at last ; to know 
 That ev'n our enemies, so oft employ'd 
 In forgijig chains for us, themselves were 
 
 free. 
 For he, who values liberty, confines 
 His zeal for her predominance within 
 No narrow bounds ; her cause engages him 
 Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. 
 There dwell the most forlorn of human kind, 
 Immur'd though unaccus'd, condemn'd un- 
 tried. 
 Cruelly spar'd, and hopeless of escape. 
 There, like the visionary emblem seen 
 By him of Babylon, life stands a stump, 
 And, filleted abonc with hoops of brass, 
 Still lives, though all his pleasant boughs 
 
 are gone. 
 To count the hour-bell, and expect no 
 
 change ; 
 And ever, as the sullen soimd is heard. 
 Still to reflect, that, though a joyless note 
 To him, whose moments all have one dull 
 
 pace. 
 Ten thousand rovers in the world at large 
 Account it music ; that it summons some 
 To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball : 
 The wearied hireling finds it a release 
 From labour ; and the lover, who has chid 
 Its long delay, feels ev'ry welcome stroke 
 Upon his heart-strings, trembling with de 
 
 light- 
 To fly for refuge from distracting thought 
 To such amusements, as ingenious woe 
 Contrives, hard -fighting, and without her 
 
 tools — 
 To read engraven on the mouldy walls. 
 In stagg'ring types, his predecessor's tale 
 \ sad memorial, .\nd subjoin his own — 
 To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd 
 A.nd bloated spider, till the pamper'd pest 
 
 Is made familiar, watches his approach. 
 Comes at his call, and serves him for ii 
 
 friend — 
 To wear out time in numb'ring to and fro 
 The studs, that thick emboss his iron door ; 
 Then downwaid and then upward, then 
 
 aslant 
 And then alternate ; with a sickly hope 
 By dint of change to give his tauteless task 
 Some relish ; till the sum, exactly found 
 In all directions, he begins again — 
 Oh, comfortless existence ' benun'd around 
 With woes, which who that suflFers would 
 
 not kneel 
 And beg for exile, or the pangs of death. 
 That man should thus encroach on fellow 
 
 man, 
 Abridge him of his just and native rights. 
 Eradicate him, tear him from his hold 
 Upon th' endearments of domestic life 
 And social, nip his fruitfulness and use. 
 And doom him for perhaps a heedless word 
 To barrenness, and solitude, and tears. 
 Moves indignation, makes the name of king 
 (Of king whom such prerogative car 
 
 please) 
 As dreadful as the Manichean god, 
 Ador'd through fear, strong only to destroy 
 
 Witchcraft. 
 
 In July, 1 825, a man was "swam for a 
 wi:ard," at \Vickham-Skeith,in Sufi'olk,in 
 the presence of some hundreds of people ! 
 In that parish lives Isaac Stebbings, a 
 little spare man about sixty-seven 
 years old, who obtains a livelihood as 
 a huckster ; and hard by his cottage lives 
 a thatcher, whose wife is afflicted in mind. 
 In the same parish there happens to be a 
 farmer whose mind is occasionally dis- 
 turbed. Some one or other put forth the 
 surmise, that these two afflicted persons 
 were bewitched, and Stebbings was spoken 
 of as the " worker of the mischief." Story 
 grew on story ; accumulated hearsays were 
 accepted, as " proof undeniable." Among 
 other things it was said, that the friends 
 of the afflicted woman had recourse to 
 some means recorded in the annals of 
 witchcraft for detecting the devil's agent; 
 and that whilst the operation was going 
 on at night, Stebbings carne dancing up 
 to the door. In his denial of this circum- 
 stance, Stebbings admitted thai he did 
 once call at his neighbour's with mackarel 
 for sale at four o'clock in the morning, 
 before the family were up, and this ad- 
 mission was taken to be as much as he 
 was likely to make. Besides this, the 
 village shoemaker persisted that one morn- 
 ing, as Stebbings passed two or three times 
 
 471 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 Defore his bouse, lie could not " make " 
 his wax — the ingredients would neither 
 melt nor mix. Dubbed a wizard beyond 
 all doubt, poor Stebbings, ignorant as his 
 neighbours, and teased beyond bearing, 
 proposed at length of himself, the good 
 o'd-fashioned ordeal of "sink or swim." 
 The proposal was readily caught at, and 
 f,n the following Saturday, at two o'clock, 
 n a large pond, called the Grimmer, on 
 Wickham-green, four men walked into 
 the water with him, and the constable of 
 the parish engaged to attend and keep 
 the peace ! The sides of the pond were 
 crowded with spectators — men, women, 
 and children. Stebbings had on his 
 breeches and shirt ; and when the men 
 had walked with him into the water 
 breast-high, they lifted him up and laid 
 him flat upon his back on the water. Steb- 
 bings moved neither hand nor foot, and 
 continued in that position for ten minutes. 
 This was the first trial, and the spectators 
 called out "give him another." Another 
 trial was accordingly given, for the same 
 length of time, and with the same result. 
 " Try him again, and dip him under the 
 the water," was then the cry. They did 
 so : one of the four men pressed his chest, 
 and down went his head, whilst up came 
 his heels; in a word, he was like a piece 
 of cork in the water. These trials kept 
 the poor old fellow three-quarters of an 
 hour m the pond, and he came out " more 
 dead than alive." Still, some were not 
 satisfied. Another man, they said, of his 
 age and size, ought to be swam with him. 
 Stebbings agreed even to this, for he was 
 determined to get rid. of the imputation, 
 or die. The following Saturday was ap- 
 pointed for the purpose, and a man called 
 Tom Wilden, of Bacton parish, hard by, 
 was named for his companion. The story 
 now got more wind, and hundreds of 
 people from all the neighbouring parishes 
 attended to witness the second ordeal. But, 
 in the interval, the clergyman of the parish, 
 and the two churchwardens, had interfered, 
 and the swimmers were kept away, to the 
 no small vexation and disappointment of 
 the deluded multitude. It is gravely told, 
 that at the very time Stebbings was swam, 
 the afflicted farmer alluded to above was 
 unusually perturbed ; he cried out, " I 
 can see the imps all about me ; I must 
 frighten them away with my voice ;" and 
 bis delusion and his noise, as Stebbings 
 did not sink, are put down to his account. 
 I'o complete the affair, a respectable far- 
 mer in a neighbouring parish went, it is 
 
 said, to some " cunning man," and learnt 
 to a certainty that Stebbings was a wizard , 
 The sum of 3/. was paid for this intelli- 
 gence, and for the assurance that Steb- 
 bings should be " killed by inches." 
 
 These particulars in The Times news- 
 paper of July 19, 1825, extracted from the 
 Suffolk Chronicle, prove the deplorable ig- 
 norance of certain human beings in Eng- 
 land. It is to be hoped, that such per- 
 sons are not allowed to bring up their 
 offspring in the same darkness. Little 
 can be done towards civilizing adults of 
 this description, but their infants may be 
 reared as intelligent members of society. 
 
 " Now Sirius rages." 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 I am one of those unfortunate creatures, 
 who, at this season of the year, are ex- 
 posed to the effects of an illiberal pre- 
 judice. Warrants are issued out in form, 
 and whole scores of us are taken up and 
 executed annually, under an obsolete 
 statute, on what is called suspicion of 
 lunacy. It is very hard that a sober, 
 sensible dog, cannot go quietly through a 
 village about his business, without having 
 his motions watched, or some impertinent 
 fellow observing that there is an " odd 
 look about his eyes." My pulse, for 
 instance, at this present writing, is as 
 temperate as yours, Mr. Editor, and my 
 head as little rambling, but 1 hardly dare 
 to show my face out of doors for fear of 
 these scrutinizers. If I look up in a 
 stranger's face, he thinks I am going to 
 bite him. If I go with my eyes fixed 
 upon the ground, they say I have got the 
 mopes, which is but a short stage from 
 the disorder. If I wag my tail, I am too 
 lively; if I do not wag it, I am sulky — 
 either of which appearances passes alike 
 for a prognostic. If I pass a dirty pud- 
 dle without drinking, sentence is infallibly 
 pronounced upon me. I am perfectly 
 swilled with the quantity of ditch-wate' 
 I am forced to swallow in a day, to clear 
 me from imputations — a worse cruelty 
 than the water ordeal of your old Saxon 
 ancestors. If 1 snap at a bone, I am 
 furious ; if I refuse it, I have got the .<!ut- 
 lens, and that is a bad symptom. I dar^ 
 not bark outright, for fear of being ad- 
 judged to rave. It was but yesterday 
 that I indulged in a little innocent ydj: 
 
 472 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 oniy, on occasion of a cart-wheel going 
 over my leg, and the populace was up in 
 arms, as if 1 had betrayed some marks of 
 fligiuiness in my conversation. 
 
 Really our case is one which calls for the 
 interference of the chancellor. He should 
 see, as in cases of other lunatics, thot 
 commissions are only issued out against 
 proper objects ; and not a whole race be 
 proscribed, because some dreaming Chal- 
 dean, two thousand years ago, fancied a 
 canine resemblance in some star or other, 
 that was supposed to predominate over 
 addle brains, with as little justice as Mer- 
 cury was held to be influential over 
 rogues and swindlers ; no compliment I 
 am sure to either star or planet. Pray 
 attend to my complaint, Mr. Editor, 
 and speak a good word for us this hot 
 weather. 
 
 Your faithful, though sad dog, 
 
 POMPEY. 
 
 Tiiis "sad dog" is a "sensible dog," 
 and must know, that England is by no 
 means favourable to him or his fellow- 
 cr.'atures. Dogs here are mostly ihe 
 property of persons who by " training," 
 and " working," and " fighting" them, 
 drive many of tliem mad, and render 
 every dog at this season an object of fear. 
 They have, at present, the right to do 
 wrong to dogs, and the liberty of making 
 them as brutal as themselves. If a few 
 of these dog-masters were tied up, as an 
 example to others, dogs might have rights 
 and liberties. The condition of the lower 
 animals will improve with the subjuga- 
 tion of the passions in the master-animal, 
 man. 
 
 ARCHITECTURE OF THE NEW CHURCHES. 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Taking into consideration the competi- 
 tion excited amongst architects by the 
 public advertizing for designs for the new 
 churches, it might reasonably have been 
 expected that greater specimens of genius 
 would have been elicited, and more va- 
 riv ty displayed in the elevations than we 
 at present see. From whatever cause it 
 arises, whether from the interference of 
 individual partiality, or the predominating 
 intluence of a bad taste, it is certain that 
 a lameness of design is too generally ap- 
 parent in these buildings. 
 
 Mr. Grey Bennett, speaking of the 
 church in Langham-place, in the house 
 of commons said, " that it was deplor- 
 able, a horrible object, and npver had be 
 
 seen so shameful a disgrace to the metro, 
 polls. It was like a flat candlestick with 
 an extinguisher on it. He saw a great 
 number of churches building, of all of 
 which it might be said, tiiat one was 
 worse than the other ; it seemed as if an 
 adventurous spirit of architecture pre- 
 vailed, and that its professors had re- 
 solved to follow nothing that had ever 
 appeared before, and to invent nothing 
 new that was not purely absurd. No 
 man who knew what architecture was, 
 ■would have put up the edifices he allud- 
 ed to, and which disgusted every body, 
 while it made every body wonder who 
 could be the asses that planned, and the 
 fools that built them."* These remarks 
 are upon the whole, perhaps, loo severe 
 and sweeping. The greatest fault in the 
 new churches is the want of variety, the 
 eye is tired with the repetition of the 
 same design, and looks with eagerness 
 for something to relieve the general mo- 
 notony. We have before us so many ex- 
 amples of good church-building, that the 
 spectator is more fastidious in his judg- 
 ment upon any new specimen, and is led 
 to judge of its merits by comparison with 
 some favourite design, rather than by an 
 examination of its intrinsic beauties or 
 defects : in this view the new churches 
 have not been fairly treated. 
 
 Much has been written on ttie style of 
 architecture most prope for churches. 
 The balance of argumrnt is in favour of 
 the gothic. Architects would decide for 
 the Grecian, but tlieir judgments are so 
 biassed by education, that \ery few who 
 look at the subject professionally, are 
 likely to form an opinion upon it of any 
 value. If the beauty of a building con- 
 sists in its appropriateness to the objects 
 for which it is intended, then the gothic 
 style will ever bear away the palm when 
 put into competition with the Greek or 
 Roman architecture for ecclesiastical 
 edifices. 
 
 By gothic architecture it should here 
 be understood, that the fashionable mode 
 of building, correctly styled " modern 
 gothic," is not referred to. So widely 
 different is it from the correct and beau- 
 tiful architecture which it professes to 
 imitate, tiiat it may with great justness 
 be called a new order. The late Mr. 
 Carter, than whom, no man ever entered 
 into the spirit of gothic architecture with 
 more attention, or ever understood itq 
 
 • The Times, March 31, 1824. 
 
 473 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 properties and beauties more soundly, 
 very justly called this splendid invention 
 of modern genius, the " fantastic order ;" 
 the correctness of the cognomen is now 
 so far acknowledged, that even architects 
 are giving up this their favourite child, and 
 endeavouring to assume a greater just- 
 ness of detail, and form a closer imitation 
 of the genuine style. From the reports 
 of the commissioners for building new 
 churches, it appears that the gothic style 
 is adopted in the majority of those 
 churches built in the country ; in the en- 
 virons of the metropolis but in a very few 
 instances. This is to be lamented ; it 
 would have been more desirable had the 
 gothic churches been allowed to have 
 borne a proportion to the others, at least 
 of one in three. It has been often urged, 
 that the rejection of this style arises from 
 the expensiveness of its details. — To show 
 at once how little weight there is in this 
 objection, let any one contrast the splen- 
 did gothic church lately erected at Chel- 
 sea, rich in crockets and muUions, with 
 its stone roof, and pinnacled tower, 
 against the frigid ionic temple built for 
 the parish of St. Pancras. The estim-ate 
 of the first is, perhaps, little more than a 
 .'liiid of the cost of tlie latter building ; 
 the dimensions are at least equal ; and 
 which of these buildings displays the 
 most ornament ? In the one much 
 money is consumed indelicate mouldings 
 and rich friezes; delicate, minute, and 
 scarcely seen embellishments, which the 
 smoke and damp of a London atmos- 
 phere will soon fill with dirt, while it will 
 corrode the composition in which they are 
 woiked. In the other, though the gothic 
 detail is marked with a want of coldness, 
 yet what ornament is introduced shows 
 to advantage, and is more calculated to 
 endure than the other. The gothic style 
 in detail is bold and conspicuous, and 
 a little money laid out in embellishment 
 with judgment goes a loner way — witness 
 the beautiful chapel at Mile-end, which 
 proves beyond all dispute, that even an 
 ornamented gothic building can be erect- 
 ed at a very limited expense. The archi- 
 tect was the late Mr. Walters, and had 
 he built nothing more than this chapel, 
 he would be entitled to have ranked high 
 in his profession. Another edifice in the 
 gothic style may be worth notice as 
 Jiffording a striking contrast to that last 
 mentioned, this is a church now building 
 Li Scmers-town. Its only characteristics 
 aie meanness and poverty; the style re- 
 
 sembles that of a Chinese summer-In luse, 
 without its lightness; it is clumsy where 
 solidity is required, and possesses not 
 one redeeming quality to atone for the 
 many absurdities it contains. 
 
 As to the Grecian architecture of tlie 
 present day, it is much a matter of ques- 
 tion, whether the style of many of the new 
 churches is not as much removed from 
 the original as the gothic I have com- 
 plained of. It would, however, occupy 
 too much time to inquire into the classi- 
 cal authorities to wairant many of these 
 edifices, and it is very questionable whe- 
 ther many of their architects have done 
 so. It has already been remarked that, 
 a great sameness appears in the new 
 churclies. This is in a great measure to 
 be attributed to the designs of the stee- 
 ples being cramped by the style, which 
 admits of little more than a square tower 
 supporting a circular or polygonal story. 
 It is, however, rather an error of choice 
 than the eflTect of necessity ; the architect 
 does not appear to have been guided by 
 what he can or cannot do ; but a want of 
 energy seems the principal cause ; he 
 forms a design and fears to deviate from 
 it. This may be exemplified in the three 
 churches erected from Mr. Smirke's de- 
 signs, at Wandsworth, Biyanstone-square, 
 and West Hackney. In all, the same 
 design is seen ; the same round tower, 
 the same cupola, differing only in height 
 and situation. The bodies of the 
 churches too are so strikingly similar, 
 that the spectator cannot help feeling 
 disappointment from the plainness of the 
 designs and their want of variety ; it is 
 not what he has been led to expect from 
 an architect of the eminence to which 
 Mr. Smirke has been raised. The same 
 observations apply even more forcibly to 
 four churches in Surrey : viz. Camberwell, 
 Norwood, Trinity church, Newington, and 
 St. John's in the Waterloo-road. The 
 steeples of the three latter, as originally 
 designed, would have been exact copies 
 of each other. The first differs but little 
 The last named church has the good for 
 tune to have had a spire added, as far su 
 perior to the others, as it is to the gene- 
 rality of the modern designs. The bodies 
 of all these churches are so closely copied 
 that it would be a difficult matter to point 
 otyt in what respect they difi'er. It will 
 be almost needless to add, that the whole 
 four are the work of one architect, Mr. 
 Bedford, of Cambe-rweii. It is not only 
 the sameness of design, but the sameness 
 
 474 
 
TlIF 5VERY-DAy BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 of style, which I complain of. Thounh 
 rJrt>o'^t> edifices may be tolerated amidst 
 modern nouses, as assimilaiing with their 
 architecture, they are out of all character 
 in the country. Lambeth parish for in- 
 stance has built four churches. The Gre- 
 cian style prevails in the whole, and 
 though the buildings are creditable to 
 their architects, yet, in the case of Brix- 
 ton, which is certainly a very chaste and 
 pretty doric church, and does honour to 
 the genius of Mr. Porden, and at Nor- 
 wood, where in every point of view at the 
 least distance, and particularly the latter 
 place, the steeples are seen in connection 
 with trees and country scenery, the pep- 
 per-box towers remind the spectator more 
 of pigeon-houses than cimrch steeples ; 
 and he, to whom the sight of a village- 
 spire brings almost enthusiastic feelings, 
 and an earnest desire of ariiving at it, 
 would scarce bestow any notice on these 
 modern and unappropriate ol>jects. Let 
 the town and the city retain tiie portico 
 and the dome, the country claims the go- 
 thic spire, the muUioned window, and 
 the buttressed wall ; but things are now 
 reversed and changed from their natural 
 order. The slender pointed spire is now 
 made to terminate a splendid street of 
 modern houses, where it appears as awk- 
 ward as the cupola does amidst fields 
 and hedges. Mr. Nash is to build a 
 gothic church at Haggerstone, and let us 
 hope he will atone for his fault at the 
 west, by bestowing a more orthodox stee- 
 ple upon the eastern erection. Mr. 
 Soane is the architect of Walworth church, 
 which is the first specimen of his eccle- 
 siistical structures; it differs from the ge- 
 nerality of new churches, in having a 
 range of arches rising from the parts of 
 the galleries, dividing the structure longi- 
 tudinally into three aisles, in the style of 
 the older churches. It formed one of the 
 groupes of churches exliibited by this 
 gentleman at Somerset-house in the pre- 
 sent year. One recommendation it has, 
 and that by no means a trifling one ; 
 the voice of the clergyman may be dis- 
 tinctly heard in every part of the building 
 without the least echo or indistinctness, a 
 fault very common in large buildings. 
 
 It would occupy too much space to 
 MOtice, even briefly, every new church. 
 In regard to steeples, that of the new 
 thurch building at Hoxton (architect Ed- 
 wards) is one of the prettiest designs of 
 the modern school of cupolas ; and the 
 spire of .St. Paul's, Shadwell, of which 
 
 Mr. Walters, before spoken of, wa? the 
 architect, forms a brilliant exception ; it 
 is closely formed on the model of Bow 
 steeple, but there are some variations so 
 pleasing, that the design may justly be 
 said to be the aichitect's own property — 
 he has followed sir Christopher Wren 
 without copying him. The spire at Pop- 
 lar is a fine object, but decidedly inferior 
 to the last, inasmuch as it diminishes 
 more abruptly. The steeple attached to 
 St. John's church, in the Waterloo-road, 
 is a very finely proportioned erection, 
 and shows exceedingly well from the 
 Strand and the Temple-gardens ; those 
 who have seen an engraving of this 
 church with the tower originally de- 
 signed for it, will see what has been 
 gained by the exchange. 
 
 Tiiere are more new churches still to 
 be built ; let us hope then, that the archi- 
 tects who may be selected to erect them, 
 having seen the faults and defects of 
 their predecessors, will produce some- 
 thing better; or, at least, that their de- 
 signs will differ from the generality of 
 those already built, if only for the sake of 
 variety. 
 
 In conclusion, the writer has only to 
 add, that much more might be said both 
 on old and new churches ; it is a subject 
 which has more than once eiHployed his 
 pen ; he feels, however, that he has al- 
 ready occupied a larger space than he is 
 entitled to do, if he has trespassed on 
 your readers patience he has to beg their 
 pardon ; his excuse is, that the subject is 
 a favourite one. E. I. C. 
 
 Jiihj, 1825. 
 
 & HOT LETTER 
 
 For Captain Lion, Brighton. 
 My dear sir, 
 I anticipated a sojournment in your 
 " neat little country cottage" during your 
 absence, with more pleasure than I ex- 
 pressed, when you niade me the offer of 
 it. I imagined how much more com- 
 fortable I should be there, tlian in my own 
 out-of-town single-room. I was mistaken. 
 I have been comfortable nowhere. The 
 malignity of an evil star is against me ; 
 I mean the dog-star. You recollect the 
 heat I fell into during our Hornsey walk 
 I have been hot ever since, "hissing hot, 
 — think of that Master Brook ;" I would 
 that thou wert really a brook I would 
 
 475 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 14. 
 
 cleave thy bosom, and, unless thou wert 
 cool to me, I would not acknowledge thee 
 for a true friend. 
 
 After returnincT from the coach wherein 
 you and your lady-cousin departed, I 
 " larded the lean earth " to my own house 
 in town. That evening I got into a hack- 
 ney coach to enjoy your " cool " resi- 
 dence ; but it was hot ; and there was no 
 *' cool of the evening;'' I went to bed 
 hot, and slept hot all night, and got up 
 hot to a hot tea-breakfast, looking all the 
 while on the hot print opposite, Hogarth's 
 " Evenimj;," with the fat hot citizen's 
 wife sweltering between her husband and 
 the New River, the hot little dog looking 
 wistfully into the reachless warm water, 
 her crying hot boy on her husband's 
 stick, tlie scolding hot sister, and all the 
 other heats of that ever-to-be-warmly-ad- 
 mired engraving. The coldest picture in 
 the room, to my heated eye, was the 
 fruit-piece worked in worsted — worsted in 
 the dog-days ! 
 
 How I got throup-h that hot day I can- 
 not remember. At night, when, accord- 
 ing to Addison, " evening shades prevail," 
 the heat prevailed ; there were no " cool " 
 shades, and I got no rest ; and therefore 
 I got up restless, and walked out and saw 
 tlie morning star, which I suppose was 
 the dog-star, for I sought coolness and 
 found it not ; but the sun arose, and me- 
 thought there was no atmosphere but 
 burning beams ; and the rrjetropolis poured 
 out its heated thousands towards the New 
 River, atNewington; and it was filled with 
 men, and boys, and dogs; and all looked 
 as " comfortable" as live eels in a stew 
 pan. 
 
 I am too hot to proceed. What a sum- 
 mer I The very pumps refuse " spring " 
 water ; and, I suppose, we shall have no 
 more till next spring. 
 
 My heart melts within me, and I 
 am not so inhuman as to request the 
 servant to broil with this letter to the 
 post-office, but I have ordered her to give 
 it to the newsman, and ask him to slip it 
 into the first letter-box he passes, and to 
 tell him, if he forgets, it is of no conse- 
 quence, and in no hurry ; he may take it 
 on to Ludgate-hili, and Mr. Hone, if he 
 please, may print it in his Every-Dny 
 Book. I dare say he is too hot to write, 
 and this may help to fill up ; so that 
 vou'll get it, at any rate. I don't care if 
 all the world reads it, for the hot weather 
 IS no secret. As Mr. Freeling cannot say 
 rtiat printing a letter is privately convey 
 
 ingit, I shall no> t^et into hot water at the 
 post-office. 
 
 I am, my dear sir, 
 
 Your warmest friend, till winter, 
 Coleman Cottage, 
 
 Sun Day. I. Fry. 
 
 P. S. I am told the sight of the post- 
 men in their scarlet coats is not bearable 
 in London ; they look red-hot 
 
 IVeather. 
 
 Duncomb, for many years the principal 
 v-ender of Dunstable larks, resided at the 
 village of Haughton-Regis, near Dun- 
 stable. He was an eccentric character, 
 and, according to Dunno's " Originals," 
 (himself an " original") he was "remark- 
 able for his humorous and droll method of 
 rhyming." The following .mes are shrewd 
 and pleasant : — 
 
 Duncoinb's Answer in Hay-time relating 
 to the ll'eather. 
 
 Well, Duncomb, how will l)e the weather .' 
 Sir, it looks cloudy altou:i'ther. 
 And coming 'cross our Houghton Green, 
 I stopp'd and talk'd with old Fiank J^eane. 
 While we stood there, sir, old Jaii Swain, 
 Went by and said, he know'd 'twood rain. 
 The next that came was Master Hunt, 
 And he declar'd, he knew it wont. 
 And then I met with farmer Blow, 
 He told nie plainly he di'nt know . 
 So, sir, when docturs disagree 
 Who's to decide it, you or nie ? 
 
 Dunstable Larks. 
 
 The larks which are caught at Dun- 
 stable are unequalled for their size and 
 richness of flavour. Their superiority 
 is said to be owing in a great measure 
 to the chalky soil. On their first arrival 
 they are very lean and weak, but they 
 recover in a short time, and are braced 
 and fattened by picking considerable 
 quantities of the finest particles of chalk 
 with their food. They are usually taken 
 in great quantities, with' trammelling 
 nets, on evenings and mornings from 
 Michaelmas to February. When dressed 
 and served up at some of the inns in the 
 town, " in great perfection, by a peculiar 
 and secret method in the process of cook 
 ing them," they are admired as a luxury 
 by travellers during the time they are in 
 season ; and by an ingenious contrivance 
 in their package, they are sent ready 
 dressed to all parts of England 
 
 476 
 
THE EVERY-D7iY BOOK.— JULY \5. 
 
 Sail) 15. 
 
 t»7. Heiirj/ IL, Emperor, a. d. 1024. St. 
 Plechelm, a. d. 714. St. Swithin, Bp. 
 A. u. 862. 
 
 Swithin is still retained on this day in 
 our almanacs, and at some public offices 
 IS a holiday. 
 
 St. Swithin. 
 
 He was of noble parentage, and also 
 called Swithun, or in the Saxon language 
 Swithum. He received the tonsure in 
 the church at Winchester, and became a 
 monk in the old monastery there, of 
 which, after being ordained priest, he 
 was made provost or dean. He studied 
 grammar, philosophy, and theology. For 
 his learning and virtue, Egbert, king of 
 England, appointed him his priest, in 
 which character he subscribed a charter 
 to the abbey of Croyland, in 833. Egbert 
 also committed to him the education of 
 his son Ethelwolf, who on succeeding to 
 the throne procured Swithin to be chosen 
 oishop of Winchester in 852. 
 
 Tithes were established in England 
 through St. Swithin, who prevailed on 
 Ethelwolf to enact a kw, by which he 
 gave the tenth of the land to the church, 
 on condition that the king should have a 
 prayer said for his soul every Wednesday 
 in all the churches for ever. Ethelwolf 
 solemnized the grant by laying the char- 
 ter on the altar of St. Peter at Rome, in 
 a pilgrimage he made to that city, and by 
 procuring the pope to confirm it. 
 
 St. Swithin died on the 2d of July, 
 862, in the reign of king Ethelbert, and 
 he was buried, according to his own 
 order, in the churchyard. Alban Butler, 
 from whom these particulars are related, 
 affirms the translation of his relics into 
 the church a hundred years afterwards, 
 and refers to the monkish historians for 
 the relation of " such a number of mi- 
 laculous cures of all kinds wrought by 
 them, as was never known in any other 
 place." His relics were afterwards re- 
 moved into the cathedral of Winchester, 
 on its being built uiider William the 
 Conqueror. It was dedicated to the 
 Holy Trinity, under the patronage of St. 
 Peter, afterwards to St. Swithin, in 980, 
 and was called St. Swithin's until Henry 
 '''HI. ordered it to be called by the name 
 of the Holy Trinity. 
 
 Among the notable miracles alleged 
 to have been worked by St. Swithin ia 
 this, that after he had built the bridge a> 
 Winchester, a woman came over it with 
 her lap full of eggs, which a rude fellow 
 broke, but the woman showed the eggs 
 to the saint, who was passing at the 
 time, and he lifted up his hand and 
 blessed the eggs, " and they were made 
 hole and sounde." To this may be added 
 another story ; that when his body was 
 translated, or removed, two rings of iron, 
 fastened on his grave-stone, came out as 
 soon as they were touched, and left no 
 mark of their place in the stone ; but 
 when the stone was taken up, and touched 
 by the rings, they of themselves fastened 
 to it again.* 
 
 " If it rains on St. Swithin's day, there 
 will be rain the next forty days after- 
 wards." The occasion of this old and 
 well-known saying is obscure. In Mr. 
 Douce's interleaved copy of Brand's 
 " Popular Antiquities," there is a printed 
 statement " seemingly cut out of a news- 
 paper" cited, in the last edition of Mr. 
 Brand's work, thus : — " In the year 865, 
 St. Swithin, bishop of Winchester, to 
 which rank he was raised by king Ethel- 
 wolfe, the dane, dying, was canonized by 
 the then pope. He was singular for his 
 desire to be buried in the open church- 
 yard, and not in the chancel of the min- 
 ster, as was usual with other bishops, 
 which request was complied with; but 
 the monks, on his being canonized, taking 
 it into their heads that it was disgraceful 
 for the saint to lie in the open church- 
 yard, resolved to remove his body into 
 the choir, which was to have been done 
 with solemn procession on the 15th of 
 July. It rained, however, so violently 
 on that day, and for forty days succeed- 
 ing, as had hardly ever been known, 
 which made them set aside their design 
 as heretical and blasphemous : and, in- 
 stead, they erected a chapel over his 
 grave, at which many miracles are said to 
 have been wrought." 
 
 Also in " Poor Robin's Almanac" for 
 1697, the saying, together with one of 
 the miracles before related, is noticed iu 
 these lines : — 
 
 " In this month is St. Swithin's day; 
 On which, if that it rain, they say 
 
 * Golden Legend. 
 
 477 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 15. 
 
 Full forty dnys iifter it will, 
 
 Or inoi'e or less, some rain distill. 
 
 This Swithin was a saint, I trow, 
 
 And Winchester's bisiiop also. 
 
 Who in his time did many a feat, 
 
 As popish legends do repeat: 
 
 A woman having broke her eggs 
 
 By stumbling at another's legs, 
 
 For -which she made a woful cry, 
 
 St. Swithin chanc'd for to come by. 
 
 Who made them all as sound, or more 
 
 Than ever that they were before. 
 
 But whether this were so or no 
 
 'Tis more than you or 1 do know : 
 
 Better it is to rise betime, 
 
 And to make hay while sun doth shine, 
 
 Tiian to believe in tales and lies 
 
 Which idle naonks and friars devise." 
 
 The satirical Churchill also mentions 
 the superstitious notions concerning rain 
 on this day : — 
 
 •• July, to whom, the dog-star in her train, 
 St. James gives oisters, and St. Swithin 
 rain." 
 
 The same legend is recorded by l!Lr. 
 Brand, from a memorandum by Mr. 
 Douce : " I have heard these lines upon 
 St. Swithin's day : — 
 
 " St. Swithin's day if thou dost rain, 
 For forty days it will remain : 
 St. Swithin's day if thou be fair 
 For forty days 't will rain na mair. 
 
 Ben Jonson, in " Every man out of his 
 humour," has a touch at almanac-wis- 
 dom, and on St. Swithin's power over the 
 weather : — 
 
 " Enter Sordido, Macilente, Hine. 
 
 " Sord. — {looking at an almanac) — O 
 
 rare! good, good, good, good, good! I 
 thank my stars, 1 thank my st rs for it. 
 
 " Mart — {aside) — Said I not true? 'tis 
 Sordido, the farmer, 
 A boar, and brother, to that swine was 
 here. 
 
 " Sord. Excellent, excellent, excellent ! 
 as I could wish, as I could wish ! — Ha, 
 lia, ha ! I will not sow my grounds this 
 year. Let me see what harvest shall we 
 h-ave ? June, Jnh/, /August ? 
 
 "Maci. — {aside) — What is't, a prognos- 
 tication raps him so ? 
 
 " Sord. — {reading) — The xx, xxi, xxii 
 days. Rain and Wind; O good, good ! 
 the xxiii and xxiv Rain and some Wind : 
 the XXV, Rain, good still ! xxvi, xxvii, 
 xxviii, wind and some rain ; would it had 
 been rain and some wind ; well, 'tis good 
 (when it can be no better ;) xxix inclining 
 to rain: inclining to ram? that's not so 
 good now : xxx and xxxi wind and no 
 lain : no rain? 'Slid stay ; this is worse 
 and worse : what says he of Saint 
 Swithin sP turn back, look, Saint Smith- 
 ill's : no rain ? — O, here, Saint Switkin't, 
 the XV day ; variable weather, for the most 
 part rain, good ; for the most part rain : 
 ■why, it should rain forty days after, now, 
 more or less, it was a rule held, afore I 
 was able to hold a plough, and yet here 
 are two days no rain ; ha ! it makes me 
 muse." 
 
 Gay, whilst he admonishes againyt 
 falling into the vulgar superstition, re- 
 minds his readers of necessary precautions 
 in a wet season, which make us smile, 
 who forbear from hats to loop and uo- 
 loop, and do not wear wigs :— 
 
 Now, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours, 
 And every penthouse streairs with hasty showers. 
 Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain 
 And wash the pavements with incessant rain. 
 Let not such vulgar tales debase thy mind ; 
 Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind 
 
 If you the precepts of the Muse despise, 
 And slight the faithful warning of the skies, 
 Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat. 
 Wrapt in the embraces of a kersey coat. 
 Or double bottomed frieze ; their guarded feet 
 Defy the muddy dangers of the street ; 
 While you, with hat nnlooped, the fury dread 
 Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious trSid 
 Shun every dashing pool, or idly stop, 
 To seek the kind protection of a shop. 
 But business summons ; now with hasty scini 
 You jostle for the wall ; the spattered ror.d 
 Hides all thy hose behind ; in vain you scour 
 lliy wig, alas ! uncurled, admits the shovrr 
 
 478 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 15. 
 
 So fierce Electo's snaky tresses fell, 
 When Orpheus cliariiied the rigorous powers of bell j 
 Or thus hung Glaucus' beard, with briny dew 
 Clotted and stiaight, wlien first his amorous view 
 Surprised the bathing fair ; the frighted maid 
 Now stands a rock, transformed bv Circe's aid. 
 
 Dr. Forster, in his " Perennial Calen- 
 dar," cites from Mr. Howard's work on 
 the climate of London the following — 
 
 " Examination of the popular Adage of 
 ' Forty Days'' Rain after St. Sivithin' hoio 
 far it may be founded in fact.'' 
 
 Tlie opinion of the people on subjects 
 connected with natural history is com- 
 monly founded in some degree on fact or 
 experience ; though in this case vag^ue 
 and inconsistent conclusions are too fre- 
 quently drawn from real premises. The 
 notion commonly entertained on this 
 subject, if put strictly to the test of expe- 
 rience at any one station in this part of 
 the island, will be found fallacious. To 
 do justice to popular observation, I may 
 now state, that in a majority of our sum- 
 mers, a showery peiiod, which, with some 
 latitude as to time and local circum- 
 stances, may be admitted to constitute 
 daily rain for forty days, does come on 
 about the time indicated by this tradition: 
 not that any long space before is often so 
 dry as to mark distinctly its commence- 
 ment. 
 
 The tradition, it seems, took origin from 
 the following circumstances. Swithin or 
 Svvithum, bishop of Winchester, who died 
 in 8G8, desiied that he might be buried in 
 the open churchyard, and not in the chan- 
 cel of the minster, as was usual with other 
 bishops, and his request was complied 
 with ; but the monks, on his being canon- 
 ized, considering it disgraceful for the 
 saint to lie in a public cemetery, resolved 
 to remove his body into the choir, which 
 was to have been done with solemn pro- 
 cession, on the 15th of July : it rained, 
 however, so violently for forty days to- 
 gether at this season, that the design was 
 abandoned. Now, without entering into 
 the case of the bishop, who was probably 
 a man of sense, and wished to set the 
 example of a more wholesome, as well as 
 a more humble, mode of resigning the 
 perishable clay to the destructive elements, 
 I may observe, that the fact of the hinder- 
 ance of the ceremony by the cause related 
 is sufficiently authenticated by tradition; 
 
 and the tradition is so far valuable, as il 
 proves that the summers m this southern 
 part of our island were subject a thousand 
 years ago to occasional heavy rains, in the 
 same way as at present. Let us see how, 
 in point of fact, the matter now stands. 
 
 In 1807, it rained with us on the day in 
 question, and a dry time followed. In 
 1808, it again rained on this day, though 
 but a few drops : there was much light- 
 ning in the west at night, yet it was nearly 
 dry to the close of the lunar period, at 
 tho new moon, on the 22d of this month, 
 the whole period having yielded only a 
 quarter of an inch of rain ; but the next 
 moon was very wet, and there fell 5"10 
 inches of rain. 
 
 In 1818 and 1819, it was dry on the 
 15th, and a very dry time in each case 
 followed. The remainder of the summers 
 occurring betwixt 1807 and 1819, appear 
 to come under the general proposition 
 already advanced : but it must be ob- 
 served, that in 1816, the wettest year of 
 the series, the solstitial abundance of rain 
 belongs to the lunar period, ending, with 
 the moon's approach to the third quarter, 
 on the 16th of the seventh month ; in 
 which period there fell 5-13 inches, while 
 the ensuing period, which falls wholly 
 within the forty days, though it had rain 
 on twenty-five out of thirty days, gave 
 only 2'41 inches. 
 
 T have paid no regard to tlie change 
 effected in the relative position of this so 
 much noted day by the reformation of the 
 calendar, because common observation is 
 now directed to the day as we find it in 
 the almanac ; nor would this piece of 
 accuracy, without greater certainty as to 
 a definite commencement of this showery 
 period in former times, have helped us 
 to more conclusive reasoning on the 
 subject. 
 
 Solstitial and Equinoctial Bains. — Our 
 year, then, in respect of quantities of rain, 
 exhibits a dry and a wet moiety. The 
 latter again divides itself into two periods 
 distinctly marked. The first period 
 is that which connects itself with the 
 popular opinion we have been discussmg 
 
 479 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 16. 
 
 It mriy be said on the whole, to set in with 
 the decline of the diurnal mean tempera- 
 ture, the maximum of which, we may 
 recollect, has been shown to follow the 
 summer solstice at such an interval as to 
 fall between the 12th and 25th of the 
 month called July. Now the 15th of that 
 month, or Swithin's day in the old style, 
 corresponds to the 26th in the new ; so 
 that common observation has long since 
 settled the limits of the effect, without 
 being sensible of its real causes. The 
 operation of this cause being continued 
 usually through great part of the eighth 
 month, the rain of this month exceeds the 
 mean by about as much as that of the 
 ninth falls below it. 
 
 some places by this old saying, " St.Swkhin 
 is christening the apples.* 
 
 As regards St. Swithin and his day, it 
 may be observed, that according to bishop 
 Hall when Swithin died, he directed that 
 
 ' his body should not be laid within the 
 church, but where the drops of rain might 
 wet his grave ; thinking that no vxult was 
 so good to cover his grave as that of 
 heaven." This is scarcely an exposition 
 of the old saying, which, like other old 
 sayings, still has its votaries. It is yet 
 common on this day to say, " Ah ! this is 
 St. Swithin ; I wonder whether it will 
 rain?" An old lady who so far observed 
 this festival, on one occasion when it was 
 fair and sunshiny till the afternoon, pre- 
 dicted fair weather ; but tea-time came, 
 and — 
 
 "there follow'd some droppings of raiii.** 
 This was quite enough. " Ah ! " said she, 
 " now we shall have rain every day for 
 forty days ; " nor would she be persuaded 
 of the contrary. Forty days of our humid 
 climate passed, and many, by their having 
 been perfectly dry, falsified her prediction, 
 " Nay, nay," said she, "but there was wet 
 in the night, depend upon it." According 
 to such persons St. Swithin cannot err. 
 
 It appears from the parish accounts of 
 Kingston upon Thames,in 1508, that "any 
 householder kepying a brode gate "was 
 to pay to the parish priest's " wages 3d." 
 with a halfpenny " to the paschall : " this 
 was the great wax taper in the church ; 
 the halfpenny was towards its purchase 
 and maintaining its light ; also he was to 
 give to St. Switkm a halfpenny. A holder 
 cf one tenement paid twopence to the 
 friest's wages a halfpenny to the "pas- 
 chall;" likewise St. Swithin a halfpenny. 
 
 Rain on St Swithin's day is noticed in 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORV. 
 
 Small Cape Marigold. Calendula plnvt' 
 atis. 
 Dedicated to St. Sioithin 
 
 Snip 16. 
 
 St. Eustatkim, Patriarch of Antioch, a. d. 
 b38. St. Elier or Helier. 
 
 French Hoaxing, 
 
 July, 1817. — A man of imposmg fi- 
 gure, wearing a large sabre and immense 
 mustachios, arrived at one of the principal 
 inns of a provincial city, with a female of 
 agreeable shape and enchanting mein. 
 He alighted at the moment that dinner 
 was serving up at the table d'hote. At 
 his martial appearance all the guests rose 
 with respect ; they felt assured that it 
 must be a lieutenant-general, or a major- 
 general at least. A new governor was 
 expected in the province about this time, 
 and every body believed that it was he 
 who had arrived incognito. The officer 
 of gendarmerie gave him the place of ho- 
 nour, the comptroller of the customs and 
 the receiver of taxes sat by the side of 
 Madame, and exerted their wit and gal- 
 lantry to the utmost. All the tit-bits, ail 
 the most exquisite wines, were placed be- 
 fore the fortunate couple. At length the 
 party broke up, and every one ran to re- 
 port through the city that Monsieur the 
 governor had arrived. But, oh ! what was 
 their surprise, when the next day " his 
 excellence," clad in a scarl-et coat, and his 
 august companion dressed out in a gown 
 glittering with tinsel, mounted a small 
 open calash, and preceded by some musi- 
 cians, went about the squares and public 
 ways, selling Swiss tea and balm of 
 Mecca. Imagine the fury of the guests ! 
 They complained to the mayor, and 
 demanded that the audacious quack 
 should be compelled to lay aside the cha- 
 racteristic mark of the brave. The pru- 
 dent magistrate assembled the common 
 council ; and those respectable persons, 
 after a long deliberation, considering that 
 nothing in the charter forbad the cit- 
 izens to let their beard grow on their upper 
 lip, dismissed the complaint altogether 
 The same evening the supposed governor 
 gave a serenade to the complainants, and 
 the next day took his leave, and continued 
 
 480 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 17, 18, 19. 
 
 Ins journey amidst the acclamations of 
 the populace ; who, in small as well as in 
 great cities, are very apt to become pas- 
 sionately fond c-f charlatan^ * 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORV 
 
 Great Garden Convolvulus. Convolvulus 
 
 purpureus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Eustathius. 
 
 mv, 17. 
 
 St. Alexius, 5th Cent. St. Speratua and 
 his Companions. St. Marcellhia, a. d, 
 397. St. Ennodiiis, Bp. a. d. 521. 
 St. Leo IV., Pope, a. d. 855. St. Tur- 
 ninus, 8th Cent. 
 
 Mackerel. 
 
 The mackerel season is one of great in- 
 terest on the coast, where these beautiful 
 fish are caught. The going out and com- 
 ing in of the boats are really " sights.'' 
 The prices of mackerel vary according 
 to the different degrees of success. In 
 1807, the first Brighton boat of mackerel, 
 on the 14th of May, sold at Billingsgate, 
 for forty guineas per hundred, seven shil- 
 lings each, the highest price ever known at 
 that market. The next boat that came in 
 reduced their value to thirteen guineas 
 per hundred. In 1808, these fish were 
 caught so plentifully at Dover, that they 
 sold sixty for a shilling. At Brighton, in 
 June, the same year, the shoal of mackerel 
 was so great, that one of the boats had 
 the meshes of her nets so completely oc- 
 cupied by them, that it was impossible to 
 drag them in. The fish and nets, there- 
 fore, in the end sank together ; the fisher- 
 man thereby sustaining a loss of nearly 
 sixty pounds, exclusive of what his cargo, 
 could he have got it into the boat, would 
 have produced. The success of the fish- 
 ery in 1821, was beyond all precedent. 
 The value of the catch of sixteen boats 
 from Lowestoft", on the 30th of June, 
 amounted to 5,252/. 15s. iid., being an 
 average of 328/. 5s. ll|rf. per each boat; 
 and it is supposed that there was no less 
 a sum than 14,000/. altogether realized 
 by the owners and men concerned in the 
 fishery of the Suffolk coast.f 
 
 • Journal des Debnts. 
 
 ♦ Daniel's Rural Sports. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sweet Pea. Lathyrns odorntna 
 Dedicated to St. Marcellhia. 
 
 Snip 18. 
 
 Sts. Si/mpkorosa and her seven Sons, 
 Martyrs, a. d- 120. St. P/illastrius, 
 Bp. A. D. 384. St. Arnold, Bp. a. d. 
 640. St. Arnoul, a. d. 534. St. Fre- 
 deric, Bp. A. D. 838. si. Odtdph. St. 
 Bruno, Bp. of Segni, a. d. 1125. 
 
 Summer Morning. 
 The cocks have now the morn foretold. 
 
 The sun again begins to peep, 
 The shepherd, whistling to his fold. 
 
 Unpens and frees the captive sheep. 
 O'er pathless plains at early hours 
 
 The sleepy rustic slooniy goes; 
 The dews, brushed off from grass and flmr- 
 ers, 
 
 Bemoistening sop his hardened shoes 
 
 While every leaf that forms a shade. 
 
 And every floweret's silken top, 
 And every shivering bent and blade. 
 
 Stoops, bowing with a diamond drop. 
 But soon shall fiy those diamond drops, 
 
 The red round sun advances higher, 
 And, stretching o'er the mountain tops, 
 
 I« gilding sweet the village-spire. 
 
 'Tis sweet to meet the morning breeze. 
 
 Or list the gurgling of the brook ; 
 Or, stretched beneath the shade of trees. 
 
 Peruse and pause on Nature's book, 
 When Nature every sweet prepares 
 
 To entertain our wished delay, — 
 Tlie images which morning wears, 
 
 The wakening charms of early day ! 
 
 Now let me tread the meadow paths 
 
 While glittering dew the ground illumes, 
 As, sprinkled o'er the withering swaths. 
 
 Their moisture shrinks in sweet per 
 fumes ; 
 And hear the beetle sound his horn ; 
 
 And hear the skylark whistling nigh. 
 Sprung from his bed of tufted corn, 
 
 A hailing minstrel in the sky. Clare. 
 
 floral directory. 
 Autumn Marigold. Chrysanthemum co- 
 ronarium. 
 Dedicated to St. Bruno. 
 
 iulp 19- 
 
 5/. Vincent, of Paul, a. d. 1660. St. 
 Arsenins, a. d. 449. St. Symmachus, 
 Pope, A u. 514. jS^ MacriJia V., a p 
 379. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 481 
 
 2 I 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 20 21, 
 
 In July, 1797, as Mr. Wright, of Saint 
 Faith's, in Norwich, was walking in his 
 garden, a flight of bees alighted on his 
 head, and entirely covered his hair, till 
 they made an appearance like a judge's 
 wig. Mr. W. stood upwards of two 
 hours in this situation, while the custom- 
 ary means were used for hiving them, 
 ■which was completely done without his 
 receiving any injury. Mr. Wright had 
 expressed a strong wish, for some days 
 before, that a flight of bees might come 
 on his premises 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Hawkweed. Hieracium Aiiran- 
 
 tiacum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Vincent of Paul. 
 
 Sfulj) 20 
 
 St. Joseph Barsabas, the Disciple. St. 
 Margaret, of Antioch. Sts. Justa and 
 Rufina, A. D. 304. St. Ceslas, a. d. 
 1242. St. Axirelius, Abp., a. d. 423. 
 St. Ulmar, or tFuhnar, a. d. 710. St. 
 Jerom JEmiliani, a. d. 1337. 
 
 Midnight and the Moon. 
 
 Now sleep is busy with the world, 
 The moon and midnight come ; an<l curl'd 
 Are the light shadows round the hills ; 
 The niany-tongued and babbling rills 
 
 Play on the drowsy ear of ni2;ht. 
 Gushing at times into the light 
 From out their beds, and hastening al 
 To join the trembling waterfall. 
 
 Fair planet! when I watch on high. 
 Star-heralded along the sky, 
 That face of light and holiness, 
 1 turn, and all my brethren bless 
 And it must be— (the hour is gone 
 When the fair world thou smilest upon, 
 Lay chained in darkness,) thou wert sent 
 Ministering in the firmament, 
 To be — calm, beautiful, above — 
 The eye of universal love. 
 
 'Twere good to die in such an hour. 
 And rest beneath the almighty power, 
 (Beside yon ruin still and rude) 
 Of beauty and of solitude. 
 
 Literary Pocket Bonk, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Virginian Dragon's Head. Dracocephor 
 
 lus Virginianum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Margaret. 
 
 %\\\^ 21. 
 
 St. Praxedes. St. Zodiats, Bp , a d, 
 204. <S^ Barhadbesciabas, a.d. 354 
 St. Victor, of Marseilles. St. Arbo 
 gastus, Bp. A. D. 678. 
 
 Flowers. 
 
 A sensitive plant in a garden grew 
 And the young winds fed it with silver dew, 
 And it opened its fanlike leaves to the light. 
 And closed them beneath the kisses of night. 
 
 And the spring arose on the garden fair, 
 
 Like the spirit of love felt every where ; 
 
 And each flower and shrub on earth's dark breji't 
 
 Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. 
 
 But none ever trembled and panted with bliss. 
 In the garden, the field, or the wilderness, 
 Like a doe in the noontide with love's sweet ■wr.nf. 
 As the companionless sensitive plant. 
 
 The snowdrop, and then the violet, 
 
 Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, 
 
 And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, M-nfi 
 
 From the turf, like the voice and the instrument. 
 
 llien the pied windflowers, and the tulip tall. 
 And narcissi, the fairest among them all, 
 Vr\\o gaze on their eyes in the stream's receUR, 
 Till they die of their own dear loveliness. 
 
 482 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 21. 
 
 And the naiadlike lily of the vale, 
 Wliom youth makes so fair, and passion so pale, 
 That the light of its tremulous bells is seen, 
 Through their pavilions of tender green. 
 
 And the hyacintli purple, white, and blue, 
 Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew 
 Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, 
 It was felt like an odour within the sense. 
 
 And the rose, like a nymph to the bath addrest. 
 Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast, 
 Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air 
 The soul of her beauty and love lay bare. 
 
 And the wandlike lily, which lifted up. 
 As a Moenad, its moonlight-coloured cup. 
 Till the fiery star, which is its eye. 
 Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky. 
 
 And the jessnniine faint, and sweet tuberose, 
 The sweetest flower, for scent, that blows ; 
 And all rare blossoms from every clime, 
 Grew in that garden in perfect prime. 
 
 SMlcy. 
 
 CAPTAIN STARKET. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every- Day Book. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I read your account of this unfortunate 
 Being, and his forlorn piece of self-history, 
 with that smile of half-interest which the 
 Annals of Insignificance excite, till I 
 came to where he says " I was bound 
 apprentice to Mr. William Bird, an emi- 
 nent writer and Teacher of languages and 
 Mathematics," &c. — when I started as 
 one does on the recognition of an old 
 acquaintance in a supposed stranger. 
 This then was that Starkey of whom I 
 have heard my sister relate so many plea- 
 sant anecdotes ; and whom, never having 
 seen, I yet seem almost to remember. 
 For nearly fifty years she had lost all 
 sight of him — and behold the gentle 
 Usher of her youth, grown into an aged 
 Beggar, dubbed with an opprobrious title, 
 to which he had no pretensions ; an ob- 
 ject and a May game ! To what base 
 purposes may we not return ! What may 
 not have been the meek creature's suffer- 
 ings — what his wanderings — before he 
 finally settled down in the comparative 
 comfort of an olJ Hospitaller of the 
 Almonry of Newcastle ? And is poor 
 Starkey dead ? — 
 
 I was a scholar of that "eminent writer" 
 that he speaks of; but Starkey had quitted 
 the school about a year before I came to 
 it. Still the odour of his merits had left a 
 fragrancy upon the recollection of the 
 elder pupils. The school room stands 
 
 where it did, looking into a discoloired 
 dingy garden in the passage leading from 
 Fetter Lane into Bartlett's Buildings. It 
 is still a School, though the main prop, 
 alas! has fallen so ingloriously ; and bears 
 a Latin inscription over the entrance in 
 the Lane, which was unknown in our 
 humbler times. Heaven knows what 
 "languages" were taught in it then; I 
 am sure that neither my Sister nor my- 
 self brought any out of it, but a liitle of 
 OUT native English. By " mathematics," 
 reader, must be nuderstood " cyphering," 
 It was in fact a humble day-school, at 
 which reading and writing were taught 
 to us boys in the morning, and the same 
 slender erudition was communicated to 
 the girls, our sisters, &c. in the evening. 
 Now Starkey presided, under Bird, over 
 both establishments. In my time, Mr. 
 Cook, now or lately a respectable Singer 
 and Performer at Drury-lane Theatre, 
 and Nephew to Mr. Bird, had succeeded 
 to him. I well remember Bird. He 
 was a squat, corpulent, middle-sized man, 
 with something of the gentleman about 
 him, and that peculiar mild tone — espe- 
 cially while he was infiicting punishment 
 — which is so much more terrible to chil- 
 dren, than the angriest looks and gestures. 
 Whippings were not frequent ; but when 
 they took place, the correction was per- 
 formed in a private room adjoining, 
 whence we could only hear the plaints, 
 but saw nothing. This heightened the 
 decorum and the solemnity. But the 
 ordinary public chastisement was the 
 
 483 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 2 1 . 
 
 bastinado, a stroT<e or two on the palm 
 with that almost obsolete weapon now — 
 the ferule. A ferule was a sort of flat 
 ruler, widened at the inflicting end into 
 a shape resembling a pear, — but nothing 
 like so sweet — with a delectable hole in 
 the middle, to raise blisters, like a cup- 
 ping-glass. I have an intense recollection 
 of that disused instrument of torture — 
 and the malignancy, in proportion to the 
 apparent mildness, with which its strokes 
 were applied. The idea of a rod is 
 accompanied with something ludicrous; 
 bat by no process can I look back upon 
 this blister-raiser with any thing but un- 
 mingied horror. — To make him look more 
 formidable — if a pedagogue had need of 
 these heightenings — Bird wore one of 
 those flowered Indian gowns, formerly in 
 use with .schoolmasters ; the strange fi- 
 gures upon which we used to interpret 
 into hieroglyphics of pain and suffering. 
 But boyish fears apart — Bird I believe 
 was in the main a humane and judicious 
 master. 
 
 O, how I remember our legs wedged 
 in to those uncomfortable slopirig desks, 
 where we sat elbowing each other — and 
 the injunctions to attain a free hand, un- 
 attainable in that position ; the first copy 
 T wrote after, with its moral lesson " Art 
 improves Nature;" the still earlier pot- 
 hooks and the hangers some traces of 
 which I fear may yet be apparent in this 
 manuscript : the truant looks side-long to 
 the garden, which seemed a mockery of 
 our imprisonment ; the prize for best 
 spelling, which had almost turned my 
 head, and which to this day I cannot re- 
 flect upon without a vanity, which I ought 
 to be ashamed of^ — our little leaden ink- 
 stands, not separately subsisting, but 
 sunk into the desks ; the bright, punctu- 
 ally-washed morning fingers, darkening 
 gradually with another and another ink- 
 spot : -what a world of little associated 
 circumstances, pains and pleasures min- 
 gling their quotas of pleasure, arise at 
 the -eading of those few simple words — 
 " Mr. William Bird, an eminent Writer 
 and Teacher of languages and mathema- 
 tics in Fetter Lane, Holborn !" 
 
 Poor Starkey, when young, had that 
 peculiar stamp of old-fashionedness in his 
 face, which makes it impossible for a 
 beholder to predicate any particular a<^e 
 in the object. You can scarce make a 
 cuess between seventeen and seven and 
 thirty. This antique cast always seems 
 to promise ill-luck and penury. Yet it 
 
 seems, he was not always the abject 
 thing he came to. My Sister, who well 
 remembers him, can hardly forgive Mr. 
 Thomas Ranson for making an etching so 
 unlike her idea of him, when he was a 
 youthful teacher at Mr. Bird's school. 
 Old age and poverty — a life-long poverty 
 she thinks, could at no time have so ef- 
 faced the marks of native gentility, which 
 were once so visible in a face, otherwise 
 strikingly ugly, thin, and care-worn. 
 From her recollections of him, she thinks 
 that he would have wanted bread, before 
 he would have begged or borrowed a 
 halfpenny. If any of the girls (she says) 
 who were my school-fellows should be 
 reading, through their aged spectacles^ 
 tidings from the dead of their youthful 
 friend Starkey, they will feel a pang, as I 
 do, at ever having teased his gentle spirit. 
 They were big girls, it seems, too old to 
 attend his instructions with the silence 
 necessary ; and however old age, and a 
 long state of beggary, seem to have re- 
 duced his writing faculties to a state of im- 
 becility, in those days, his language occa- 
 sionally rose to the bold and figurative, for' 
 when he was in despair to stop their chat- 
 tering,his ordinary phrase was," Ladies, if 
 you will not hold your peace, not all the 
 powers in heaven can make you." Once 
 he was missing for a day or two ; he had 
 run away. A little old unhappy-iooking 
 man brought him back — it was his father 
 — and he did no business in the schooi 
 that day, but sate moping in a corner^ 
 with his hands before his face ; and the 
 girls, his tormentors, in pity for his case, 
 for the rest of that day forbore to annoy 
 him. I had been there but a few months 
 (adds she) when Starkey, who was the 
 chief instructor of us girls, communicated 
 to us as a profound secret, that the tra- 
 gedy of " Cato" was shortly to be acted by 
 the elder boys, and that we were to be 
 invited to the representation. That Star- 
 key lent a helping hand in fashioning the 
 actors, she remembers ; and but for his 
 unfortunate person, he might have had 
 some distinguished part in the scene 14 
 enact; as it was, he had the arduous task 
 of prompter assigned to him, and his 
 feeble voice was heard clear and distinct, 
 repeating the text during the whole per- 
 formance. She describes her recollection 
 of the cast of characters even now with a 
 relish. Martia, by the handsome Edgat 
 Hickman, who afterwards went to Africa 
 and of whom she never afterwards heard 
 tidings, — Lucia, by Master \V alkei, whose 
 
 484 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 21, 
 
 sister was her particular friend ; Cato, by 
 John Hunter, a masterly declaimer, but a 
 plain boy, and shorter by the head than 
 his two sons in the scene, &c. In con- 
 clusion, Starkey appears to have been one 
 of those mild spirits, which, not originally 
 deficient iu understanding, are crushed by 
 
 penury into dejection and Itebleness. Ife 
 might have proved a useful adjunct, if not 
 an ornament to Society, if Fortune had 
 taken him into a very little fostering, but 
 wanting that, he became a Captain — a 
 by-word — and lived, and died, a broken 
 bulrush. ('■ L. 
 
 PEERLESS POOL. 
 
 -The sprig:htly youth 
 
 Speeds to the well-known Pool. Awhile he stands 
 Gazing th' inverted landscape, half afraid 
 To meditate the blue profound below ; 
 Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. 
 His ebon tresses, and liis rosy cheek, 
 Instant emerge ; and thro' th' obedient wave, 
 At each short breathing by his lip repell'd. 
 With arms and legs according well, he makes. 
 As humour leads, an easy winding path ; 
 While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light 
 Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round. 
 
 Coming from the city, on the left-hand 
 side of the City-road, just beyond Old- 
 street, and immediately at the back of 
 St. Luke's hospital, Peerless Pool 
 
 flows unseen, 
 
 And wastes its waters in the silver Thames. 
 
 It is a pleasure-bath in the open air, 
 2 hundred and seventy feet long, and 
 upwards of a hundred feet wide, nearly 
 
 77ioi/ison, 
 
 surrounded by trees, with an arcade di- 
 vided off into boxes for privately dressing 
 and undressing; and is therefore, both in 
 magnitude and convenience, the greatest 
 bathing-place in the metropolis. Here 
 the lover of cleanliness, or of a " cool dip" 
 in a hot day, may at all times, for a shil- 
 ling, enjoy the refreshment he desires, 
 without the offensive publicity, and with- 
 out the risk of life, attendant on river- 
 
 485 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 21. 
 
 batliing ; while there is " ample room 
 and verge enough" for all the sports and 
 delights which " swimmers only know." 
 It is no where so deep as five feet, and 
 on one side only three ; the experienced 
 and the inexperienced are alike safe. 
 There is likewise a capacious cold-bath in 
 an adjacent building, for the use of those 
 
 world ;" and " in reference to the im- 
 provements he had made on the ruins of 
 that once Perilous Pond, and by a very 
 natural transition, he changed that dis- 
 agreeable appellation oWerilons," that is," 
 says Maitland, " dangerous, or hazardous, 
 to the more agreeable name of Peerless 
 Pool, that is. Matchless Bath, a name 
 
 who prefer a temper-ature below that of which carries its own reason with it." 
 
 the atmosphere. 
 
 Peerless Pool is distinguished for having 
 been one of the ancient springs that sup- 
 plied the metropolis with water, when 
 our ancestors drew that essential element 
 from public conduits; that is to say, be- 
 fore the " old " water-works at London- 
 bridge " commenced to be," or the " New 
 River" had been brought to London by 
 sir Hugh Myddelton. The streams of 
 this " pool" at that time were conveyed, 
 for the convenience of the inhabitants 
 near Lothbury, through pipes terminating 
 *' close to the south-west corner of the 
 church."* Stow speaks of it as a " cleere 
 water, called Perilous Pond, because," 
 says our chrou'cler, " divers youths, by 
 swimming therein, have been drowned."f 
 " Upon Saterday the 19 of January, 1633, 
 sixe pretty young lads, going to sport 
 themselves upon the frozen Ducking- 
 pond, neere to Clearkenwell, the ice too 
 weake to support them, fell into the 
 water, concluding their pastime with the 
 lamentable losse of their lives : to the 
 great griefe of many that saw them dying, 
 mnny more that afterward saw them dead. 
 
 with the in-expressible griefe of their 
 parents."! In consequence of such acci- 
 dents, and the worthy inhabitants of f'ircus-bench, capable of accommodating 
 Lothbury having obtained their water forty persons, under the cover of a wa>. 
 
 Maitland says, that Kemp " spared no 
 expense nor contrivance to render it quite 
 private and retired from public inspec- 
 tion, decent in its regulation, and as gen- 
 teel in its furniture as such a place could 
 be made." He added a cold-bath, " ge- 
 nerally allowed," says Maitland, " to be 
 the largest in England, being forty feet 
 long, and twenty feet broad ; this bath is 
 supplied by a remarkably cold spring, 
 with a convenient room for dressing." 
 The present cold-bath, faced with marble 
 and paved with stone, was executed by 
 sir William Staines, when he was a 
 journeyman mason. He was afterwards 
 lord mayor of London, and often boasted 
 of this, while he smoked his pipe at the 
 Jacob's-well in Barbican, as amongst his 
 " best work." 
 
 Kemp's improvements provided an en- 
 trance to it across a bowling-green on the 
 south side, through a neat marble pavi- 
 lion or saloon, thirty feet long, with a 
 large gilt sconce over a marble table. 
 Contiguous to this saloon were the dress- 
 ing apartments, some of which were open, 
 others were private with doors. There 
 was also a green bower on each side oi 
 the bath, divided into other apartments 
 for dressing. At the upp^r end was a 
 
 f/om other sources, Perilous Pond was 
 entirely filled up, and rendered useles-s, 
 till Mr. William Kemp, " an eminent 
 jeweller and citizen of London," " after 
 ten years' experience of the temperature" 
 of this water, and " the happy success of 
 getting clear of a violent pain of the head 
 by bathing in it, to which he had for 
 many years been subject, v/as generously 
 led for public benefit" to open the spring 
 in the year 1743, and " to form the com- 
 
 twelve feet high, surmounted on one side 
 by a lofty bank with shrubs, and encir- 
 cled by a terrace-walk planted with lime- 
 trees at the top. The descent to the 
 bath was by four pair of marble stairs, as 
 it still is, to a fine gravel-bottom, through 
 which the springs gently bubbled and 
 supplied, as they do at this time, the 
 entire basin with the crystal fluid. Hither 
 many a " lover and preserver" of health 
 and long life, and many an admirer of 
 calm retreat, resorted " ever and anon i"— 
 
 pletest swimming-bath in the whole 
 
 And in hyghe sommer eueiiche daye I wene, 
 Scapyng the hot son's euer bemyng face, 
 He dyd hym wend unto a pleasaunt place, 
 
 Where auncient trees shut owht escorchyng shene ; 
 
 t Slow'i Survey edit. 163Sp.II. 
 
 X Ibid. p. "m 
 
 48G 
 
TIIE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— JULY Ql. 
 
 And in a solempne lyfjhte, through braunches gtene 
 
 In quyet, sytting on a lytel stole, 
 For hys delection he woulde ther' unlace, 
 
 Wythin an arbre, where bryddes onlie bene 
 And goe, and bayn hyra in the waters cool 
 That alway wellyd there, and made a peerlesse poole. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of Peer- 
 less Pool, to the public eye, was a noble 
 fish-pond, constructed by Kemp, due east 
 and west. It was three hundred and 
 twenty feet long, ninety-three feet broad, 
 and eleven feet deep, stocked with carp, 
 tench, and a great variety of the finny 
 
 tribe, wherein subscribers and frequenters 
 of either the pleasure or the cold-bath 
 were privileged to angle. On each side 
 was a high slope or bank, with thousands 
 of variegated shrubs, terminated at the 
 top by a gravelled walk between stately 
 lime-trees : — 
 
 These beautiful plantations shadow'd all ; 
 
 And flung their beauteous greens so deep and full 
 
 Into the surface of the quiet lake, 
 
 That the cool water seem'd an open mirror 
 
 Reflecting patterns of all liveries 
 
 The gentle seasons give the constant earth 
 
 Wherein to wait on man ; or rather seem'd 
 
 An open portal to the great abyss 
 
 Inviting entrance. 
 
 At the head of the fish-pond, westward, 
 stood the house that Kemp built for his 
 own residence, with a garden and orchard 
 of pears and apple-trees, and walled 
 round. It was a handsome old-country- 
 'squire-like building, very similar to the 
 present parsonage-house of St. Luke's in 
 Helmet-row; the back-front looked upon 
 the water, and had an arch in the em- 
 bankment on that side, beneath which 
 two boats, kept for the accommodation of 
 gentlemen of the rod and line, were 
 drawn in at night. 
 
 Mr. Kemp expired before his lease ; 
 but he left property to his family, and 
 his son in possession of the " Pool," and 
 of his lease. He was not so successful as 
 his father; and after him the premises 
 were held by a person named Taylor, 
 and subsequently by one Crewe. At the 
 expiration of his lease, a new lease upon 
 building terms was obtained of St. Bar- 
 tholomew's hospital, at a rental of 600/. 
 per annum, by Mr. Joseph Watts, the 
 present occupier and proprietor of the 
 baths, who, to remunerate himself, set 
 about " improving," by draining the fish- 
 pond, pulling down Kemp's house, and 
 felling the trees. He built Buldwyn-street 
 on the site of the fish-pond ; Bath-build- 
 ings on the ground of Kemp's orchard ; 
 and erected other adjoining streets ; pre- 
 serving the baths as he found them, and 
 in many respects improving them. The 
 pleasure-bath is still a pleasant spot, and 
 
 both that and the cold-bath retam their 
 ancient capabilities. Indeed, the attrac- 
 tions to the pleasure-bath are undimi- 
 nished. Its size is the same as in Kemp's 
 time, and trees enough remain to shade 
 the visitor from the heat of the sun while 
 on the brink, irresolute whether to plunge 
 gloriously in, or ignobly walk down the 
 steps. On a summer evening it is amus- 
 ing to survey the conduct of the bathers : 
 some boldly dive; others "timorous 
 stand," and then descend step by step, 
 " unwillingly and slow." Choice swim- 
 mers attract attention by divings and 
 somersets, and the whole sheet of water 
 sometimes rings with merriment. Every 
 fine Thursday and Saturday afternoon in 
 the summer, columns of blue-coat boys, 
 more than three score in each, headed by 
 their respective beadles, arrive, and some 
 half-strip themselves ere they reach their 
 destination; the rapid plunges they make 
 into the pool, and their hilarity in the 
 bath, testify their enjoyment of the tepid 
 fluid. 
 
 Mr. John Cleghorn, of Chapman-street, 
 Islington, the architectural draftsman and 
 engraver, was resident near Peerless Pool 
 many years. There being no represent 
 ation of the fish-pond and house, as they 
 remained within the recollection of him- 
 self and the editor of the Every-Day Book, 
 this gentleman, whose taste and know- 
 ledge of perspective have by the pencil 
 
 487 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JlJLT 21. 
 
 and the gravei exquisitely and accurately made. Mr. Cleghorn also made the 
 
 illustrated Mr .Ruttei's " Description of drawing of the pleasure-bath, as it now 
 
 Fonthill," has supplied the drawing from is, for the engraving at the commence- 
 
 whence the subjoined engraving has been ment of this article. 
 
 THE OLD FISH-POND AT PEERLESS POOL. 
 
 To the Shepherd and Shepherdess then they go 
 To tea with their wives, for a constant rule ; 
 And next cross tlie road to the Fountain also. 
 And there they all sit, so pleasant and cool. 
 And see, in and out, 
 The folks walk about, 
 And gentlemen angling in Peerless Fool. 
 
 Tlie great eartbquake, on the first of 
 November, 1755, which destroyed seventy 
 thousand human beings at Lisbon, and 
 swallowed up the greatest part of the 
 city, affected Peerless Pool. Dr. Birch, 
 then secretary to the Royal Society, au- 
 thenticated the fact, and records it in the 
 '• Philosophical Transactions." It ap- 
 pears, that on reports that the agitation 
 of the waters observed in many parts of 
 England, Ireland, Scotland, Holland, &c. 
 Dn that day, had likewise been noticed 
 ai Peerless Pool, Dr. Birch, being desir- 
 pus of as accurate and circumstantial an 
 account as possible of a fact which he 
 had not heard to have been remarked in 
 any other part of London or its suburbs, 
 himself went thither, on Saturday, De- 
 cember the 6th, 1755, and there took 
 
 down the particulars from the mouth of 
 one of the two waiters, who were eye- 
 witnesses of it. This waiter said, that 
 having been engaged, between ten and 
 eleven in the morning, with his fellow- 
 waiter, near the wall which enclosed the 
 ground of the fish-pond, he accidentally 
 cast his eye on the water, and was sur- 
 prised to see it greatly moved without the 
 least apparent cause, as the air was quite 
 calm. He called to his companion to 
 take notice of it, who at first neglected, 
 but being urged to attend to so extraor- 
 dinary an appearance, he was equally 
 stnick with the sight of it. Large wavei 
 rolled slowly to and from the bank nea. 
 them for some time, and at last left the 
 bed of the pond dry for several feet, and 
 in their reflux overflowed the bank ten or 
 
 488 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 22, 2!^, 24, 25, 26. 
 
 Iwelve feet, as they did the opposite one, 
 which was evident from the wetness of 
 the ground about it. This motion having 
 continued for five or six minutes, the two 
 waiters stepped to the cold-bath near tlie 
 fish-pond, to see what passed there ; but 
 no motion was observed in it by them, or 
 by a gentleman who had been in it, and 
 was then dressing himself, and who, on 
 being told of the agitation in the fish- 
 pond, went directly thither with the wai- 
 ters, and was a third witness of it. On 
 the ceasing of it, they all three went to 
 the pleasure-bath, between which and the 
 fish-pond the cold-bath was situated ; they 
 found the pleasure-bath then motionless, 
 but to have been agitated in the same 
 manner with the fish-pond, the water 
 having left plain marks of its having 
 overflown the banks, and risen to the 
 bushes on their sides. The motion in the 
 fish-pond had also been observed by some 
 persons in Mr. Kemp's house. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Philadelphian Lily. Lilium I'hiladelphi- 
 
 cum. 
 
 Dedicated to St Praxedes. 
 
 Snip 22. 
 
 St. Mary Magdalen. St. FandriUe, or 
 If'andregisilus, a. d. CQQ. St. Joseph, 
 of Palestine,called Count Joseph, about 
 A. D. 356. St. Meneve, Abbot, a. v. 
 720. St. Dubius or Davius. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 African Lily. Agapanthus umbellatus. 
 Dedicated to St. Mary Magdalen 
 
 Sfulp 23. 
 
 Sf. ApoUinaris, Bp. of Ravenna. St. Li- 
 borius, Bp. a. d. 397. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Muskflovver. Scabiosa atropnrpurea. 
 Dedicated to St. ApoUinaris. 
 
 3ulp 24. 
 
 St. Lupus, Bp. A. D. 478. St. Francis 
 Solano, A. u. 1610. <S/*. Romanus and 
 David, Patrons of Muscovy. St. 
 Christina. Sts. IFulfhad and Ruffin, 
 A. D. 670. St. Lewine. St. Declan, 
 Bo. St. Kinga, or Cunegundes, a. d. 
 1292. 
 
 FLORAL DIREtlORY. 
 
 Tree Lupin. Lupinue arboreus 
 Dedicated to St. Lupus. 
 
 Slul]) 25. 
 
 St. James the Great, Apostle, a. d. 43. 
 St. Christopher. Sts. Thca, and Falen- 
 tina, and Paul, a d. 308. St. Cucufus, 
 a. d. 304. St. Nissen, Abbot. 
 
 St. James's Day. 
 
 On this day oysters come in ; by act 
 of parliament they are prohibited until 
 its arrival. It is a vulgar superstition, 
 that whoever eats oysters on St. James's 
 day will never want money. The in- 
 difference to industry which such notioni 
 engender in many minds, can be testified 
 by some of themselves, who falsify the 
 frivolous legend by their present abodes 
 in workhouses. 
 
 Apples were blessed on this day by 
 the priest. There is a special form foi 
 blessing them in the manual of the church 
 of Sarum. A greater blessing is con- 
 ferred at Cliff, in Kent, by the rector 
 there: by an old custom he distributes 
 " at his parsonage-house on St. James's 
 day, annually, a mutton pye and a loaf 
 to as many as choose to demand it, the 
 expense of which amounts to about 15/. 
 per annum."* 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Herb Christopher. Actcea Spicata 
 
 Dedicated to St. Christopher 
 
 smi|) 26. 
 
 St. Anne, Mother of the Virgin. St 
 Germanus, Bp. a. d. 448. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Field Chamomile. Matricaria Chamo- 
 
 milla. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Anne. 
 
 LION FIGHT. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 26th of July, 1825 
 there was a " fight," if so it m.ght he 
 called, between a lion and dogs, which is 
 thus reported in the public journals . — 
 
 This extremely gratuitous, as well as 
 
 • Bmnd, from Hatted** Kent. 
 
 489 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 disgusting, exhibition of brutality, took 
 place, at a late hour on Tuesday evening, 
 at Warwick; and, except that it was even 
 still more offensive and cruel than was 
 anticipated, the result was purely that 
 which had bejen predicted in The Times 
 newspaper. 
 
 The show was got up in an extensive 
 enclosure, called the " Old Factory-yard," 
 just in the suburbs of Warwick, on the 
 road towards Northampton ; and the cage 
 in which the fight took place stood in the 
 centre of a hollow square, formed on two 
 sides by ranges of empty workshops, the 
 windows of which were fitted up with 
 planks on barrels as seats for the specta- 
 tors ; and, in the remaining two, by the 
 whole of Mr. Wombwell's wild " collec- 
 tion," as they have been on show for 
 some days past, arranged in their respec- 
 tive dens and travelling carriages. 
 
 In the course of the morning, the 
 dogs were shown, for the fee of a shil- 
 ling, at a public-house in Warwick, called 
 the " Green Dragon." Eight had been 
 brought over originally ; but, by a mistake 
 of locking them up together on the pre- 
 ceding night, they had fallen out among 
 themselves, and one had been killed en- 
 tirely ; a second escaping only with the 
 loss of an ear, and a portion of one cheek. 
 The guardian of the beasts being rebuked 
 for this accident, declared he could not 
 have supposed they would have fought 
 each other — being *' all on the same side :" 
 six, however, still remained in condition, 
 as Mrs. Heidelberg expresses it, for the 
 " runcounter." 
 
 The price of admission demanded in 
 the first instance for the fight seemed to 
 have been founded on very gross miscal- 
 culation. Three guineas were asked for 
 seats at the windows in the first, second, 
 and third floors of the unoccupied manu- 
 factory ; two guineas for seats on the 
 fourth floor of this building; one guinea 
 for places at a still more distant point ; 
 and half-a-guineafor standing room in the 
 square. The appearance of the cage 
 when erected was rather fragile, consider- 
 ing the furious struggle which was to take 
 place within it. It measured fifteen feet 
 square, and ten feet high, the floor of it 
 standing about six feet from the ground. 
 The top, as well as the sides, was com- 
 posed merely of iron bars, apparently 
 slight, and placed at such a distance from 
 each other that the dogs might enter or 
 escape between, but too close for the 
 l:«,c to follow. Some doubts were ex- 
 
 pressed about the sufficiency of tliis last 
 precaution — merely because a number of 
 '* ladies,'' it was understood, would be 
 present; but the ladies in general escaped 
 that disgrace, for not a single female 
 came; and, at all events, the attendant 
 bear-wards swore in the most solemn 
 way — that is to say, using a hundred im- 
 precations instead of one — that the secu 
 rity of the whole was past a doub(t. To- 
 wards afternoon the determination as to 
 " prices" seemed a little to abate; and 
 it was suspected that, in the end, the 
 speculator would take whatever prices he 
 could get. The fact became pretty clear, 
 too, that no real match, nor any thing 
 approaching to one, was pending; be- 
 cause the parties themselves, in their 
 printed notices, did not settle any cir- 
 cumstances satisfactorily, under which the 
 contest could be considered as concluded. 
 Wheeler, Mr. Martin's agent, who had 
 come down on Monday, applied to the 
 local authorities to stop the exhibition ; 
 but the mayor, and afterwards, as we un- 
 derstood, a magistrate of the name of 
 Wade, declined interfering, on the ground 
 that, under Mr. Martin's present act, no 
 steps could be taken before the act consti- 
 tuting "cruelty" had been committed. A 
 gentleman aquaker,who resides nearWar- 
 wick, also went down to the menagerie, 
 in person, to remonstrate with Mr. Womb- 
 well ; but, against the hope of letting seats 
 at " three guineas" a-head, of course his 
 mediation could have very little chance of 
 success. 
 
 In the mean time, the unfortunate lion 
 lay in a caravan by himself all day, in 
 front of the cage in which he was to be 
 baited, surveying the preparations for his 
 own annoyance with great simplicity and 
 apparent good humour; and not at all 
 discomfited by the notice of the numerous 
 persons who came to look at him. In 
 the course of the day, the dogs who were 
 to fight were brought into the menagerie in 
 slips, it being not the least singular fea- 
 ture of this combat that it was to take 
 place immediately under the eyes of an 
 i.-nmense host of wild beasts of all descrip- 
 tions (not including the human spectators) ; 
 three other lions ; a she wolf, with cubs ; 
 a hyaena; a white bear; a lioness; two 
 female leopards, with cubs ; two zebras, 
 male and female ; a large assortment of 
 monkeys ; and two wild asses ; with a 
 variety of other interesting foreigners, 
 being arranged within a few yards of the 
 grand stand. 
 
 490 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 26. 
 
 These animals, generally, looked cle.in 
 and in good condition ; and were (as is 
 the custom "with such creatures when con- 
 fined) perpetually in motion; but the 
 dogs disappointed expectation — they were 
 very little excited by the introduction. 
 They were strong, however, and lively ; 
 crossed, apparently the majority of them, 
 between the bull and the mastiff' breed ; 
 one or two showed a touch of the lurcher, 
 a point in the descent of fighting dogs 
 which is held to give an increased capa- 
 city of mouth. The average weight of 
 those which fought was from about five 
 and thirty to five and forty pounds each ; 
 one had been brought over that weighed 
 more than sixty, but he was on some ac- 
 count or other excluded from the contest. 
 
 The cub leopards were " fine darling 
 little creatures," as an old lady observed 
 in the morning, fully marked and colour- 
 ed, and about the size of a two months' 
 old kitten. The young wolves had a 
 haggard, cur-like look ; but were so com- 
 pletely like sheep-dog puppies, that a 
 mother of that race might have suckled 
 them for her own. A story was told of 
 the lion " Nero " having already had a 
 trial in the way of " give and take," with 
 a bull bitch, who had attacked him, but, 
 at the first onset, been bitten through the 
 throat. The bitch was said to have been 
 got off by throwing meat to the lion ; and 
 if the account were true, the result was 
 only such as »vith a single dog, against 
 such odds, might reasonably have been 
 expected. Up to a late hour of the day, 
 the arrival of strangers was far less con- 
 siderable than had been anticipated ; and 
 doubts were entertained, whether, in the 
 end, the owner of the lion would not 
 declare off. 
 
 At a quarter past seven, however, in 
 the evening, from about four to five hun- 
 dred persons of different descriptions 
 being assembled, preparations were made 
 for commencing 
 
 The Combat. 
 
 The dens which contained the animals 
 on show were covered in with shutters ; 
 the lion's travelling caravan was drawn 
 close to the fighting cage, so that a door 
 could be opened from one into the other; 
 and the keeper, Wombwell, then going 
 into the travelling caravan, in which 
 another man had already been staying 
 with the lion for some time, the animal 
 followed him into the cage as tamely as a 
 Newfoundland dog. The whole demean- 
 our of the beast, indeed, was so quiet and 
 
 generous, that, at his first appearance, it 
 became very much doubted whether he 
 would attempt to fight at all. While the 
 multitude shouted, and the dogs were yell- 
 ing in the ground below, he walked up and 
 down his cage, Wombwell still remaining 
 in it, with the most perfect composure, 
 not at all angered, or even excited ; but 
 looking with apparently great curiosity at 
 his new dwelling and the objects gene- 
 rally about him ; and there can hardly 
 be a question, that, during the whole 
 contest, such as it turned out, any one of 
 the keepers might have remained close to 
 him with entire safety. 
 
 Wombwell, however, having quitted 
 the cage, the first relay of dogs was laid 
 on. These were a fallow-coloured dog, a 
 brown with white legs, and a third brown 
 altogether — averaging about forty pounds 
 in weight a-piece, and described in the 
 printed papers which were distributed, 
 by the names of Captain, Tiger, and 
 Turk. As the dogs were held for a mi- 
 nute in slips, upon the inclined plane 
 which ran from the ground to the stage, 
 the lion crouched on his belly to receive 
 them ; but with so perfect an absence of 
 any thing like ferocity, that many persons 
 were of opinion he was rather disposed 
 to play : at all events, the next moment 
 showed clearly that the idea of fighting, 
 or doing mischief to any living creature, 
 never had occurred to him. 
 
 At the first rush of the dogs — which 
 the lion evidently had not expected, and 
 did not at all know how to meet — they 
 all fixed themselves upon him, but caught 
 only by the dewlap and the mane. With 
 a single effort, he shook them off, without 
 attempting to return the attack. He then 
 flew from side to side of the cage, endea- 
 vouring to get away ; but in the next mo- 
 ment the assailants were upon him again, 
 and the brown dog, Turk, seized him by 
 the nose, while the two others fastened at 
 the same time on the fleshy part of his 
 lips and under-jaw. The lion then roared 
 dreadfully, but evidently only from the 
 pain he suffered — not at all from anger. 
 As the dogs hung to his throat and head, 
 he pawed them off by sheer strength ; and 
 in doing this, and in rolling upon them, 
 did them considerable mischief; but it 
 amounts to a most curious fact, that he 
 never once bit, or attempted to bite, 
 during the whole contest, or seemed to 
 have any desire to retaliate any of the 
 punishment which was inflicted upon 
 him. When he was first '' pinne<it'' for 
 
 491 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 instance, (to use the phraseology of the 
 bear-garden,) the dogs hung to him for 
 more than a minute, and were drawn, 
 holding to his nose and lips, several times 
 round the ring. After a short time, roar- 
 ing tremendously, he tore them off with 
 his claws, mauling two a good deal in 
 the operation, but still not attempting 
 afterwards to act on the offensive. After 
 about five minutes' fighting, the fallow- 
 coloured dog was taken away, lame, and 
 apparently much distressed, and the re- 
 maining two continued the combat alone, 
 the lion still working only with his paws, 
 as though seeking to rid himself of a tor- 
 ture, the nature of which he did not well 
 understand. In two or three minutes 
 more, the second dog, Tiger, being dread- 
 fully maimed, crawled out of the gcae; 
 and the brown dog, Turk, which was the 
 lightest of the three, but of admirable 
 courage, went on fighting by himself. A 
 most extraordinary scene then ensued : 
 the dog, left entirely alone with an animal 
 of twenty times its weight, continued the 
 battle with unabated fury, and, though 
 bleeding all over from the effect of the 
 lion's claws, seized and pinned him by 
 the nose at least half a dozen times ; 
 when at length, releasing himself with a 
 desperate effort, the lion flung his whole 
 weight upon the dog, and held him lying 
 between his fore paws for more than a 
 minute, during which time he could have 
 bitten his head off a hundred times over, 
 but did not make the slightest effort to 
 hurt him. Poor Turk was then taken 
 away by the dog-keepers, grievously man- 
 gled but still alive, and seized the lion, for 
 at least the twentieth time, the very same 
 moment that he was released from under 
 him. 
 
 It would be tiresome to go at length 
 into the detail of the " second fight," as it 
 was called, which followed this ; the un- 
 dertaking being to the assembly — for the 
 notion of " match " now began to be too 
 obvious a humbug to be talked about — 
 that there should be two onsets, at twenty 
 minutes' interval, by three dogs at each 
 time. When the last dog of the first set, 
 Turk, was removed, poor Nero's temper 
 was just as good as before the affair began. 
 The keeper, Wombwell, went into the 
 cage instantly, and alone, carrying a pan 
 of water, with which he first sluiced the 
 animal, and then offered him some to 
 drink. After a few minutes the lion laid 
 down, rubbing the parts of his head which 
 '4ad been torn (as a cat would do) with 
 
 his paw ; and presently a pan of fresh 
 water being brought, he lapped out of U 
 for some moments, while a second keeper 
 patted and caressed him through the iron 
 grate. The second combat presented only 
 a repetition of the barbarities committed 
 in the first, except that it completely 
 settled the doubt — if any existed — as to a 
 sum of money being depending. In throw- 
 ing water upon the lion, a good deal had 
 been thrown upon the stage. This made 
 the floor of course extremely slippery ; and 
 so far it was a very absurd blunder to 
 commit. But the second set of dogs let 
 in being heavier than the first, and the 
 lion more exhausted, he was unable 
 to keep his footing on the wet boards, 
 and fell in endeavouring to shake 
 them off, bleeding freely from the nose 
 and head, and evidently in a fair way to 
 be seriously injured. The dogs, all three, 
 seized him on going in, and he endea- 
 voured to get rid of them in the same way 
 as before, using his paws, and not thinking 
 of fighting, but not with the same success. 
 He fell now, and showed symptoms of 
 weakness, upon which the dogs were 
 taken away. This termination, however, 
 did not please the crowd, who cried out 
 loudly that the dogs were not beaten. 
 Some ' confusion then followed ; after 
 which the dogs were again put in, and 
 again seized the lion, who by this time, 
 as well as bleeding freely from the head, 
 appeared to have got a hurt in one of his 
 fore feet. At length the danger of mis- 
 chief becoming pressing, and the two 
 divisions of the second combat having 
 lasted about five minutes, Mr. Wombwell 
 announced that he gave up on the part of 
 the lion ; and the exhibition was declared 
 to be at an end. 
 
 • The first struggle between the lion and 
 his assailants lasted about eleven minutes, 
 and the last something less than five ; but 
 the affair altogether wanted even the sa- 
 vage interest which generally belongs to a 
 common bull or bear bait. For, from the 
 beginning of the matter to the end, the 
 lion was merely a sufferer — he never 
 struck a blow. The only picturesque 
 point which could present itself in such a 
 contest would have been, the seeing an 
 animal like the lion in a high state of fury 
 and excitation ; but before the battle be- 
 ^an, we felt assured that no such event 
 would take place ; because the animal Id 
 
 492 
 
ITIE EVERY-DAT BOOK— JULY ^6. 
 
 tgiiestion, had not merely been bred up in 
 such a manner as would go far to extin- 
 guish all natural disposition to ferocity, 
 Dut the greatest pains had been taken to 
 render him tame, and gentle, amd submis- 
 Wombvvell, the keeper, walked 
 
 sive. 
 
 about in the cage with the lion at least as 
 much at his ease as he could have done 
 
 with any one of the dogs who were to be 
 matched against him. At the end of the 
 first combat, the very moment the dogs 
 were removed, he goes into the cage ana 
 gives him water. At the end of the last 
 batt'e, while lie is wounded and bleeding, 
 he goes to him again without the least he- 
 sitation. Worabwell must have known, to 
 
 TAME LION BAIT. 
 " The dogs would not give him a moment's respite, and all three set on him again. 
 
 while the poor animal howling with pain 
 
 them as they came." 
 certainty, that the animal's temper was 
 not capable of being roused into ferocity. 
 It might admit, perhaps, of some ques- 
 tion, whether the supposed untameable 
 nature of many wild animals is not 
 something overrated : and whether it 
 would not be the irresistible strength 
 of a domestic lion (in case he should 
 become excited,) that could render 
 him a dangerous innvate, rather than 
 any probability that he would easily 
 become furious ; but, as regards the par- 
 ticular animal in question, and the battle 
 which he had to fight, he evidently had no 
 understanding of it, no notion that the dog 
 was his enemy. A very large dog, the 
 property of a gentleman in Warwick, was 
 led up to his caravan on the day before 
 the fight; this dog's appearance did not 
 produce the slightest impression upon 
 nim. So, with the other wild beasts r.f 
 Wombwell's collection, who wen. shown 
 
 threw his great paws awkwardly upon 
 Morning- Herald. 
 to the fighting dogs, as we observed 
 above, on the morning of Tuesday, not 
 one of them appeared to be roused by the 
 meeting in the smallest degree. A com- 
 mon house cat would have been upon the 
 qui vive, and auj: mains too probably, in 
 a moment. All the contest that did take 
 place arose out of the fact, that the dogs 
 were of a breed too small and light to de- 
 stroy an animal of the lion's weight and 
 strength, even if he did not defend himself. 
 It was quite clear, from the moment when 
 the combat began, that he had no more 
 thought or knowledge of fighting, than a 
 sheep would have had under the same 
 circumstances. His absolute refusal to 
 hite is a curious fact ; he had evidently 
 no idea of using his mouth or teeth as a 
 means for his defence. The dogs, most o. 
 them, showed conside-able game; the 
 brown dog Turk, perhaps as much as e\ei 
 was exhibited, ana none of them seemcc 
 
 493 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 26. 
 
 to feel any of that instinctive dread or 
 horror which some writers have attributed 
 to dogs in the presence of a lion. 
 
 It would be a joke to say any thing 
 about the feelings of any man, who, for 
 the sake of pecuniary advantage, could 
 make up his mind to expose a noble ani- 
 mal which he had bred, and which had 
 become attached to him, to a horrible and 
 lingering death. About as little reliance 
 we should be disposed to place upon any 
 appeal to the humanity of those persons 
 who make animal suffering — in the shape 
 of dog-fighting, bear-baiting. Sec, a sort 
 of daily sport — an indemnification, per- 
 haps, for the not being permitted to tor- 
 ture their fellow-creatures. But as, pro- 
 bably, a number of persons were present 
 at this detestable exhibition, which we 
 have been describing, who were attracted 
 merely by its novelty, and would be as 
 much disgusted as we ourselves were with 
 its details, we recommend their attention 
 to the following letter, which a gentle- 
 man, a member of the Society of Friends, 
 who applied personally to Mr. Womb- 
 well to omit the performance, delivered to 
 him as expressive of his own opinions 
 upon the question, and those of his friends. 
 Of course, addressed to such a quarter, it 
 produced no effect; but it does infinite 
 credit both to the head and heart of 
 the writer, and contains almost every 
 thing that, to honourable and feeling men, 
 need be said upon such a subject : — 
 
 " Friend, — I have heard with a great 
 degree of horror, of an intended fight 
 between a lion that has long been ex- 
 hibited by thee, consequently has long 
 been under thy protection, and six bull- 
 dogs. I seem impelled to write to thee 
 on the subject, and to entreat thee, I be- 
 lieve in christian love, that, whatever 
 may be thy hope of gain by this very 
 cruel and very disgraceful exhibition, 
 thou wilt not proceed. Recollect that 
 they are God's creatures, and we are in- 
 formed by the holy scriptures, that not 
 even a sparrow falls to the ground with- 
 out his notice ; and as this very shocking 
 scene must be to gratify a spirit of cruel- 
 ty, as well as a spirit of gambling, — for 
 it is asserted that large sums of money 
 are wagered on the event of the contest, 
 — it must be marked with divine dis- 
 pleasure. Depend upon it that the 
 Almighty will avenge the sufferings of 
 his tormented creatures on their tormen- 
 tors ; for, though he is a God of love, he 
 •8 al?o a God of justice ; and I believe 
 
 that no deed of cruelty has ever passed 
 unpunished. Allow me to ask thee how 
 thou wilt endure to see the noble animal 
 thou hast so long protected, and which 
 has been in part the means of supplying 
 thee with the means of life, mangled and 
 bleeding before thee ? It is unmanly, it 
 is mean and cowardly, to torment any 
 thing that cannot defend itself, — that 
 cannot speak to tell its pains and suffer- 
 ings, — that cannot ask for mercy. Oh, 
 spare thy poor lion the pangs of such a 
 death as may perhaps be his, — save him 
 from being torn to pieces — have pity on 
 the dogs that may be torn by him. Spare 
 the horrid spectacle — spare thyself the 
 sufferings that I fear will yet reach thee 
 if thou persist — show a noble example of 
 humanity. Whoever have persuaded thee 
 to expose thy lion to the chance of being 
 torn to pieces, or of tearing other animals, 
 are far beneath the brutes they torment, 
 are unworthy the name of men, or 
 rational creatures. Whatever thou mayest 
 gain by this disgraceful exhibition will, I 
 fear, prove like a canker-worm among the 
 rest of thy substance. The writer of this 
 most earnestly entreats thee to refrain 
 from the intended evil, and to protect the 
 animals in thy possession from all un- 
 necessary suffering. The practice of 
 benevolence will afford thee more true 
 comfort than the possession of thousands. 
 Remember, that lie who gave life did 
 not give it to be the sport of cruel man ; 
 and that He will assuredly call man to 
 account for his conduct towards his dumb 
 creatures. Remember, also, that cowards 
 are always cruel, but the brave love 
 mercy, and delight to save. With sincere 
 desire for the preservation of thy honour, 
 as a man of humanity, and for thy hap- 
 piness and welfare, I am, thy friend, 
 
 «S. IIOARE." 
 
 Mr. Iloare's excellent letter, with the 
 particulars of this brutal transaction, thus 
 far, are from The Times newspaper which 
 observes in its leading article thus: 
 
 " With great sincerity we offered a few 
 days ago our earnest remonstrance against 
 the barbarous spectacle then preparing, 
 and since, in spite of every better feeling, 
 indulged — we mean the torture of a noble 
 lion, with the full consent, and for the 
 profit, of a mercenary being, who had 
 gained large sums of money by hawking 
 the poor animal about the world and ex- 
 hibiting him. It is vain, however, to 
 make any appeal to humanity where none 
 exists, or to expatiate on mercy, justice, 
 
 494 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 und retribution hereafter, when those 
 whom we strive to influence have never 
 'earned that language in which alone we 
 can address them. 
 
 " Little more can be said upon this pain- 
 ful and degrading subject, beyond a re- 
 lation of the occurrence itself, which it 
 was more our wish than our hope to have 
 prevented. Nothing, at least, could be 
 so well said by any other person, as it has 
 by a humane and eloquent member of 
 the Society of Friends, in his excellent 
 though unavailing letter to Wombwell. 
 What must have been the texture of that 
 mind, on which such sentiments could 
 make no impression V 
 
 This question may be illustrated by 
 Wombwell's subsequent conduct. 
 
 To the preceding account, extracted 
 from The Times, additional circumstances 
 are subjoined, in order to preserve a full 
 record of this diseraceful act 
 
 The Morning Herald says — For several 
 months the country has been amused 
 with notices that a fight between a 
 lion and dogs was intended, and time 
 and place were more than once appoint- 
 ed. This had the desired effect — making 
 the lion an object of great attraction in the 
 provincial towns, and a golden harvest 
 was secured by showing him at two shil- 
 lings a head. The next move was to get 
 up such a fight as would draw all the 
 world from London, as well as from the 
 villages, to fill places marked at one and 
 two guineas each to see it ; and lastly, to 
 find dogs of such weight and inferior 
 quality as to stand no chance before an 
 enraged lion — thus securing the lion from 
 injury, and making him still a greater lion 
 than before, or that the world ever saw to 
 be exhibited as the wonderful animal that 
 beat six British bred mastiff's. The re- 
 peated disappointments as to time and 
 place led people to conclude that the af- 
 fair was altogether a hoax, and the mag- 
 nitude of the stake of 5,000/. said to be at 
 issue, was so far out of any reasonable 
 calculation, that the whole was looked 
 upon as a fabrication, and the majority 
 became incredulous on the subject. Nay, 
 the very persons who saw the lion and 
 the dogs, and the stage, disbelieved even 
 to the last moment that the fight was in 
 reality intended. But the proprietor of 
 the concern was too good a judge to let 
 the flats altogether escape him, though 
 his draught was diminished from having 
 troubled the waters too much. Womb- 
 
 well, the proprietor, as the leader of a col- 
 lection of wild beasts, may be excused for 
 his proficiency in trickery, which is the 
 essence and spirit of his calling, but we 
 think him accountable, as a man, for his 
 excessive cruelty in exposing a poor ani- 
 mal that he has reared himself, and made 
 so attached that it plays with him, and 
 fondles him like a spaniel — that has never 
 been taught to know its own powers, or 
 the force of its savage nature, to tlie at- 
 tacks of dogs trained to blood, and bred 
 for fighting. The Hop. now five years old, 
 was whelped in Edinburgh, and has been 
 brought up with so much softness, that it 
 appears as inoffensive as a kitten, and 
 suffers the attendants of the menagerie to 
 ride upon its back or to sleep in its cage. 
 Its nature seems to be gentleness itself, 
 and its education has rendered it perfectly 
 domestic, and deprived it of all savage in- 
 stinct. In the only experiment made upon 
 its disposition, he turned from a dog 
 which had been run at him, and on which 
 he had fastened, to apiece of meat which 
 was thrown into the cage. Nero is said 
 to be one of the largest lions ever ex- 
 hibited, and certainly a finer or more no- 
 ble looking animal cannot be imagined. 
 
 Wombwell announced in his posting- 
 bills at Birmingham, Coventry, Manches- 
 ter, and all the neighbouring towns, that 
 the battle was to be for 5,000/., but com- 
 municated, by way of secret, that, in re- 
 ality, it was but 300/. aside, which he as- 
 serted was made good with the owner of 
 the dogs on Monday night, at the Bear, in 
 Warwick ; but who the owner of the dogs 
 was, or the maker of the match, it was 
 impossible to ascertain ; and though well 
 aware of the impropriety of doubting the 
 authority of the keeper of the menagerie, 
 we must admit that our impression is, 
 that no match was made, that no wagers 
 were laid, and that the aflfair was got up 
 for the laudable purpose hinted at in the 
 commencement of this notice. The dogs 
 to be sure, were open to the inspection 
 of the curious on Monday, and a rough- 
 coaled, game-keeping, butcher-like, ho- 
 nest, ruffianly person from the north, an- 
 nounced himself as their ostensible friend 
 on the occasion ; but by whom employed 
 he was unwilling to declare. His orders 
 were to bring the dogs to " the scratch," and 
 very busy we saw him preparing them for 
 slaughter, and anointing the wounds of 
 one little bitter animal that got its head 
 laid open in the course of the night, while 
 laudably engaged in mangling the throat 
 
 495 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26 
 
 and forcing out the windpipe of one of 
 its companions, near whom it had been 
 unfortunately chained The other dogs 
 were good-looking savage vermin, aver- 
 aging about 40lbs. weight ; one of them 
 neing less than 30lbs., and the largest not 
 over 60lbs. Four were described as real 
 bull dogs, and the other bull and mastiff 
 crossed. The keeper said they were 
 quite equal to the work ; but, to one not 
 given to the fancy dog line, they appeared 
 quite unequal to attack and master a 
 lion, many times as large as all the curs 
 put together. Wedgbury, a person well 
 known in London for his breed of dogs, 
 brought down one over 701bs., of most 
 ferocious and villanous aspect, with the 
 intention of entering him for a run, but it 
 was set aside. by Wombwell ; thus af- 
 fording another proof that Wombwel. had 
 the whole concern in his hands, and se- 
 lected dogs unable, from tlieir weight or 
 size, to do a mortal injury to his lion, 
 
 Wombwell appointed seven in the even- 
 ing as the hour of combat. Accommo- 
 dations were prepared for about a thou- 
 sand people, but owing to the frequent 
 disappointments and to the exorbitant 
 
 f)rices demanded, not more than two 
 lundred and fifty per-sons appeared 
 willing or able to pay for the best 
 places, and about as many more ad- 
 mitted on the ground. The charge to 
 the former was reduced to two guineas 
 and one guinea, and to the latter from 
 half a guinea to 7s. 6d. About 400/. was 
 collected, from which, deducting 100/. for 
 expenses, SOO/. was cleared by the exhi- 
 bition, a sum barely the value of the lion 
 if he should lose his life in the contest. 
 The cages in which the other beasts were 
 confined, were all closed up. It was 
 well understood that no match had really 
 been made, and consequently no betting 
 of consequence took place, but among a 
 few countrymen, who, contrasting the size 
 of the lion with the dogs, backed him at 
 2 to 1. 
 
 Wombwell, having no longer the fear 
 of the law before him, proceeded to com- 
 plete his engagements, and distributed 
 the following bills : — 
 
 " THE LION FIGHT. 
 
 ** Tlie following are the conditions un- 
 der which the combat between Nero and 
 the dogs will be decided : — 
 
 " 1st. Three dogs are at once to be 
 slipped at him. 
 
 " 2d. If one or any of them turn tail, 
 he or they are to be considered as beaten, 
 
 and no one of the other remaining three 
 shall be allowed to attack him until 
 twenty minutes shall be expired, in order 
 to give Nero rest ; for he must be allowed 
 to beat the first three, one by one, or as 
 he may choose before the remaining three 
 shall be started. 
 
 " After the expiration of the stipulated 
 time, the remaining three dogs are to 
 start according to the foregoing rules, 
 and be regulated as the umpires shall ad- 
 judge. 
 
 " The dogs to be handled by Mr. Ed- 
 wards, John Jones, and William Davis, 
 assisted by Samuel Wedgbury. 
 
 " 1. Turk, a brown coloured dog. — 2. 
 Captain, a fallow and white dog, with 
 skewbald face. — Tiger, a brown dog, with 
 white legs. — 4. Nettle, a little brindled 
 bitch, with black head. — 5. Rose, a skew- 
 bald bitch. — 6. Nelson, a white dog, with 
 brindled spots." 
 
 The place chosen for the exhibition 
 was, as we have said, the yaid of a large 
 factory, in the centre of which an iron 
 cage, about fifteen feet square, elevated five 
 feet from the ground, was fixed as the 
 place of combat. This was secured at 
 top by strong open iron work, and at the 
 sides by wrought iron bars, with spaces 
 sufficient between to admit the dogs, and 
 an ascending platform for them to run up. 
 Temporary stations were fixed at the win- 
 •lows of the factory, and all round the 
 yard, and the price for these accommoda- 
 tions named at the outrageous charge of 
 three guineas for the best places, two 
 guineas for the second, one for the third, 
 and half a guinea for standing on the 
 ground. Though the place was tolerably 
 well fitted up, it fell far short of what the 
 mind conceived should be the arena for 
 for such a combat ; but Mr. Wombwell 
 cared not a jot for the pleasures of the 
 imagination, and counted only the golden 
 sovereign to which every deal board 
 would be turned in the course of the day, 
 while his whole collection of wild beasts, 
 lions, tigresses, and wolves, with their 
 whelps and cubs, apes and monkeys, 
 made up a goodly show, and roared and 
 grinned in concert, delighted with the 
 bustle about them, as if in anticipation of 
 the coming fun. 
 
 The Morning Chronicle says, — Tlie plac«> 
 chosen for the combat, was the factory 
 yard in which the first stage was erected 
 for the fight between Ward and Cannon. 
 This spot, which was, in fact, extremely 
 
 496 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULf 26. 
 
 well calculated for the exhibition, was 
 now completely enclosed. We formerly 
 stated that two sides of the yard were 
 formed by high buildings, the windows 
 of which looked upon the area; the va- 
 cant spaces were now filled up by Mr. 
 Wombwell's collection of wild beasts, 
 which were openly exposed, in their res- 
 pective ciges, on the one side, and by 
 paintings and canvass on the other, so 
 that, in fact, a compact square was 
 formed, which was securely hidden from 
 external observation. There was but one 
 door of admission, and that was next the 
 town. Upon the tops of the cages seats 
 were erected, in amphitheatrical order; 
 and for accommodation here, one guinea 
 was charged. The higher prices were 
 taken for the windows in the factories, 
 and the standing places were 10*. each. 
 The centre of the square was occupied by 
 the den, a large iron cage, the bars of 
 which were sufficiently far asunder to 
 permit the dogs to pass in and out, while 
 the caravan in which Nero was usually 
 confined, was drawn up close to it. The 
 den itself was elevated upon a platform, 
 fixed on wheels about four feet from the 
 ground, and an inclined plane formed of 
 thick planks was placed against it, so as 
 o enable the dogs to rush to the attack. 
 It was into this den that Nero was en- 
 ticed to be baited. Wombwell's trum- 
 peters then went forth, wiounted on horses, 
 and in gaudy array, to announce the 
 fight, which was fixed to take place be- 
 tween five and seven in the evening. They 
 travelled to Leamington, and the adjacent 
 villages; but to have done good they 
 should have gone still farther, for all who 
 ventured from a distance on speculation, 
 announced that those they left behind 
 fully believed that their labour would be 
 in vain. 
 
 The dogs attracted a good deal of cu- 
 riosity. They took up their quarters at 
 'he Green Dragon, where they held a 
 levee, and a great number of persons 
 paid sixpence each to have an oppoitu- 
 nity of judging of their qualities, and 
 certainly as far as appearance went, they 
 seemed capable of doing much mischief. 
 
 On Tuesday morning several persons 
 were admitted to the factory to see the 
 preparations, and at about ten o'clock the 
 dogs were brought in. They seemed per- 
 fectly ready to quarrel with each other, 
 but did not evince any very hostile dis- 
 position either towards Nero, who, from 
 his private apartment, eyed them with 
 
 great complacency, or towards the other 
 lion and lionesses by whom they were 
 surrounded, and who, as it were, taunted 
 them by repeated bowlings, in which 
 Nero joined chorus with his deep and 
 sonorous voice. The cruelty of unneces- 
 sarily exposing such an animal to torture, 
 naturally produced severe comments ; 
 and among other persons, a quaker, being 
 in the town of Warwick, waited upon 
 Mr. Wombwell, on Tuesday morning, 
 with Mr. Hoare's letter, which he said he 
 had received twenty miles from the town. 
 However well meant this letter was, and 
 that it arose in the purest motives of 
 christian charity no man could doubt : 
 with Mr. Wombwell it had no eflfect. He 
 looked at his preparations, he looked at 
 his lion, and he cast a glance forward to 
 his profits, and then shook his head. 
 The pain of the lion was to be Womb- 
 well's profit ; and between agony to the 
 animal, and lucre to himself, the showman 
 did not hesitate. 
 
 From the Morning Herald report of 
 this lion bait, several marked circum- 
 stances are selected, and subjoined under 
 a denomination suitable to their cha- 
 racter — viz : — 
 
 Points of CitUELTY. 
 First Combat. 
 
 1. The dogs, as if in concert, flew at 
 the lion's nose and endeavoured to pin 
 him, but Nero still kept up his head, 
 striking with his foie-paws, and seem- 
 ingly endeavouring more to ger rid of the 
 annoyance ihzn to injure them. 
 
 2. They unceasingly kept goading, 
 biting, and darting at his nose, sometimes 
 hanging from his mouth, or one endea- 
 vouring to pin a paw, while the others 
 mangled the head. 
 
 3. Turk, made a most desperate spring 
 at the nose, and absolutely held there for 
 a moment, while Captain and Tiger each 
 seized a paw ; the force of all three 
 brought the lion from his feet, and he was 
 pinned to the floor for the instant. 
 
 4. His great strength enabled him to 
 shake ofi' the dogs, and then, as if quite 
 terrified at their fury, he turned round 
 and endeavoured to fly ; and if the bars 
 of t'he cage had not confined him, would 
 certainly have made away. Beaten to 
 the end of the cage, he lay extended in 
 one corner, his great tail hanging out 
 through the bars. 
 
 5. Nero appeared quite exhausted, and 
 turned a forlorn and despairing look oa 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 497 
 
 2 K 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JuLY 26. 
 
 ev«>ry side for assistance. Tlie dogs be- 
 came faint, and panting with their tongues 
 out, stood beside him for a few seconds, 
 until cheered and excited by their keepers' 
 voices they again commenced the attack, 
 and roused Nero to exertion. The poor 
 beast's heart seemed to fail him altoge- 
 ther at this fresh assault, and he lay 
 against the side of the stage totally de- 
 fenceless, while his foes endeavoured to 
 make an impression on his carcase. 
 
 6. Turk turned to the head once more, 
 and goaded the lion, almost to madness, 
 by the severity of his punishment on the 
 jaws and nose. 
 
 7. The attack had continued about six 
 minutes, and both lion and dogs were 
 brought to a stand still ; but Turk got his 
 wind in a moment, and flew at his old 
 mark of the jaw, which he laid hold of, 
 and hung from it, while Nero roared with 
 anguish. 
 
 8. The lion attempted to break away, 
 and flung himself with desperation against 
 the bars of the stage — the dogs giving 
 chase, darting at his flank, and worrying 
 his head, until all three being almost 
 -pent, another pause took place, and the 
 dogs spared their victim for an instant. 
 
 9. Turk got under his chest, and en- 
 deavoured to fix himself on his throat, 
 while Tiger imitating his fierceness, flew 
 at the head. This joint attack worked 
 the spirit of the poor lion a little, he 
 struck Tiger from him with a severe blow 
 of his paw, and fell upon Turk with all 
 the weight of the fore part of his body, 
 and then grasping his paws upon him, 
 held him as in a vice. 
 
 10. Here the innocent nature of poor 
 Nero was conspicuous, and the brutality 
 of the person who fought him made more 
 evident, for the fine animal having its 
 totally defenceless enemy within the power 
 of his paw, did not put it upon him and 
 crush his head to mince meat, but lay 
 •with his mouth open, panting for breath, 
 nor could all the exertions of Wombwell 
 from outside the bars direct his fury at the 
 dog who was between his feet. 
 
 11. It now became a question what 
 was to be done, as Tiger crawled away 
 and was taken to his kennel, and there 
 appeared no chance of the lion moving 
 from his position and relieving the other 
 dog. However, after about a minute's 
 pause, the lion opened his hold, released 
 the dog and got upon his legs, as if he 
 became at ease when freed from the pu- 
 nishment of his assailants. 
 
 12. Turk findinghimself at liberty, faced 
 the lion, flew at his nose, and there fast- 
 ened himself like a leech, while poor 
 Nero roared again with anguish. Tlie 
 lion contrived, by a violent exertion, to 
 shake him off". Thus terminated the first 
 round in eleven minutes. 
 
 Second Combat. 
 
 1. The three dogs were brought to theit 
 station, aad pointed and excited at the 
 lion ; but the inoff'ensive, innocent crea- 
 ture walked about the stage, evidently 
 unprepared for a second attack. 
 
 2. Word being given, the three dogs 
 were slipped at once, and all darted at 
 the flank of the lion, amid the horrid din 
 of the cries of their handlers, and the 
 clapping and applause of the mob. The 
 lion finding himself again assailed, did 
 not turn against his foes, but broke away 
 with a roar, and went several times round 
 the cage seeking to escape from their 
 fury. 
 
 3. Tlie dogs pursued him, and all 
 heading him as if by the same impulse, 
 flew at his nose together, brought him 
 down, and pinned him to the floor. Theii 
 united strength being now evidently su- 
 perior to his, he was held fast for several 
 seconds, while the mob shouted with re 
 newed delight. 
 
 4. Nero, by a desperate exertion, cleared 
 himself at length from their fury, and 
 broke away ; but the dogs again gave 
 chase and headed him once more, sprung 
 at his nose, and pinned him all three to- 
 gether. The poor beast, lacerated and 
 torn, groaned with pain and heart-rending 
 anguish, and a few people, with some- 
 thing of a human feeling about them, 
 called out to Wombwell to give in for the 
 lion ; but he was callous to their entrea- 
 ties, and Nero was left to his fate. 
 
 5. Poor Nero lay panting on the stage, 
 his mouth, nose, and chaps full of blood, 
 while a contest took place between 
 Wombwell and the keepers of the dogs, 
 the one refusing, and the other claiming 
 the victory. At length brutality pre- 
 vailed, and the dogs were slipped again 
 for the purpose of finishing. 
 
 6. Nero was unable to rise and meet 
 them, and suffered himself to be torn and 
 pulled about as they pleased ; while the 
 dogs, exulting over their prey, mumbled 
 his carcase, as he lay quite powerless and 
 exhausted. Wombwell then seeing that 
 all chance of the lion coming round was 
 hopeless, and dreading that the death of 
 the poor animal must be the consequence 
 
 498 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 of further punishment, gave in at last, 
 and the handlers of tlie dogs laid hold of 
 them by the legs, and pulled them by 
 main force away, on which another shout 
 of brutal exultation was set up, and the 
 savage sport of the day concluded. 
 
 Nero's Tameness. 
 Had he exerted a tithe of his strength, 
 struck with his paws, or used his fangs, 
 he must have killed all the dogs, but the 
 poor beast never bit his foes, or attempted 
 any thing further than defending himself 
 from an annoyance. On the whole, the 
 exhibition was the most brutal we have 
 ever witnessed, and appears to be inde- 
 fensible in every point of view. 
 
 In reprobating the baiting of this tame 
 lion by trained and savage dogs, the pe- 
 riodical press has been unanimous. The 
 Neiv Times says, " We rejoice to observe 
 the strong feeling of aversion with which 
 the public in general have heard of this 
 cruel exhibition. As a question of natural 
 history, it may be deemed curious to ascer- 
 tain the comparative ferocity of the lion 
 and the bull-dog ; but even in this respect 
 the Warwick fight cannot be deemed 
 satisfactory; for though the lion was a large 
 and majestic animal, yet, as he had been 
 born and brought up in a domestic state, 
 he had evidentlyhttle or nothing of the fury 
 which a wild animal of the same species 
 evinces in combat. Buffon observes, that 
 the lion is very susceptible of the im- 
 pressions given to him, and has always 
 docility enough to be rendered tame to a 
 certain degree.' He adds, that * the lion, 
 if taken young, and brought up among 
 domestic animals, easily accustoms him- 
 self to live with them, and even to play 
 without doing them injury ; that he is 
 mild to his keeper, and even caressing, 
 especially in the early part of his life ; 
 and that if his natural fierceness now and 
 then breaks out, it is seldom turned 
 against those who have treated him with 
 kindness.' These remarks of the great 
 naturalist are very fully confirmed by the 
 conduct of poor Nero; for both be- 
 fore and after the combat, he suffered his 
 keeper, Wombwell, with impunity to 
 enter his den, give him water to drink, 
 and throw the remainder over his head. — 
 We begin now to feel that a man has no 
 r'lsht to torment inferior animals for his 
 omuseraent ; but it must be confessed 
 that this sentiment is rather of recent pre- 
 
 dominance. The gladiatorial shows of 
 Rome, the quail-fights of India, the bull- 
 fights of Spain, may, in some measure, 
 keep our barbarous ancestors in coun- 
 tenance ; but the fact is, that bear-baiting, 
 badger-baiting, buU-baiting, cock-fighting, 
 and such elegant modes of setting on 
 poor animals to worry and torment each 
 other, were, little more than a century 
 ago, the fashionable amusement of per- 
 sons in all ranks of life. They have gra- 
 dually descended to the lowest of the 
 vulgar ; and though there always will be 
 found persons who adopt the follies and 
 vices of their inferiors, yet these form a 
 very small and inconsiderable minority 
 of the respectable classes ; and in another 
 generation it will probably be deemed 
 disgraceful in a gentleman to associate, 
 on any occasion, with prize-fighters and 
 pickpockets.'' By right education, and 
 the diffusion of humane principles, we 
 may teach youth to shun the inhuman ex- 
 ample of their forefathers. 
 
 WOMBWETLS SECOND LION BAIT. 
 
 Determined not to forego a shilling 
 which could be obtained by the exposure 
 of an animal to torture, Wombwell in the 
 same week submitted another of his hons 
 to be baited. 
 
 The Times, in giving an account of this 
 renewed brutality, after a forcible expres- 
 sion of its " disgust and indignation at 
 the cruelty of the spectacle, and the su- 
 pmeness of the magistracy," proceeds 
 thus : " Wombwell has, notwithstanding 
 the public indignation which accompanied 
 the exposure of the lion Nero to the six 
 dogs, kept his word with the lovers of 
 cruel sports by a second exhibition. He 
 matched his ' Wallace,' a fine lion, cubbed 
 in Scotland, against six of the best dogs 
 that could be found. Wallace's temper 
 is the very opposite of that of the gentle 
 Nero. It is but seldom that he lets even 
 his feeders approach him, and he soon 
 shows that he cannot reconcile himself to 
 familiarity from any creature not of his 
 own species. Towards eight o'clock the 
 factory-yard was well attended, at 5s. 
 each person, and soon after the battle 
 tiimmenced. The lion was turned from 
 his den to the same stage on which Nero 
 fought. The match was — 1st. Three cou- 
 ples of dogs to be sMpped at him, two at 
 a time — 2d. Twenty minutes or more, as 
 the umpires should think fit, to be allov%ed 
 
 499 
 
THE EVERY-DAi BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 between each attack — 3d. The dogs to be 
 handed to the cage once only. Tinker, 
 Ball, Billy, Sweep, Turpin, Tiger." 
 
 THE FIGHT. 
 
 " In the first round. Tinker and Ball 
 were let loose, and both made a gallant 
 attack ; the lion having waited for them 
 as if aware of the approach of his foes. 
 He showed himself a forest lion, and 
 fought like one. He clapped his paw 
 upon poor Ball, took Tinker in his teeth, 
 and deliberately walked round the stage 
 with him as a cat would with a mouse. 
 Ball, released from the paw, worked all 
 he could, but Wallace treated his slight 
 punishment by a kick now and then. He 
 at length dropped Tinker, and that poor 
 animal crawled off the stage as well as he 
 could. The lion then seized Ball by the 
 mouth, and played precisely the same 
 game with him as if he had actually been 
 trained to it. Ball would have been 
 almost devoured, but his second got hold 
 of him through the bars, and hauled him 
 away. Turpin, a London, and Sweep, a 
 Liverpool dog, made an excellent attack, 
 but it was three or four minutes before the 
 ingenuity of their seconds could get them 
 on. Wallace squatted on his haunches, 
 and placed himself erect at the slope 
 where the dogs mounted the stage, as if 
 he thought they dared not approach. 
 The dogs, when on, fought gallantly; but 
 both were vanquished in less than a 
 minute after their attack. The London 
 dog bolted as soon as he could extricate 
 himself from the lion's grasp, but Sweep 
 would have been killed on the spot, but 
 he was released. Wedgbury untied IBilly 
 and Tiger, casting a most piteous look 
 upon the wounded dogs around him. 
 Both went to work. Wallace seized Billy 
 by the loins, and when shaking him. Tiger 
 having run away, Wedgbury cried out, 
 ' There, you see how you've gammoned 
 me to have the best dog in England killed.' 
 Billy, however, escaped with his life ; he 
 was dragged through the railing, after 
 having received a mark in the loins, 
 which (if he recovers at all) will probably 
 render him unfit for any future contest 
 The victory of course was declared in fa- 
 vour of the lion. — Several well-dressed 
 women viewed the contest from the upper 
 apartment of the factory." — JFomen ! 
 
 country to fight a lion against dogs. In 
 the time of James I., the exhibition took 
 place for the amusement of the court 
 Those who are curious on the subject, 
 willfindin "Seymour's Survey," a descrip- 
 tion of an experiment of that nature, in 
 1610. Two lions and a bear were first 
 put into a pit together, but they agreed 
 perfectly well, and disappointed the royal 
 spectators in not assaulting each other. A 
 high-spirited horse was then put in with 
 them, but neither the bear nor the lions 
 attacked him. Six mastiffs were next let 
 loose, but they directed all their fury 
 against the horse, flew upon it, and would 
 have torn it in pieces, but for the inter- 
 ference of the bear-wards, who went into 
 the pit, and drew the dogs away, the lions 
 and b'^ar remaining unconcerned. Your 
 profound antiquarian will vouch for the 
 truth of this narration, but it goes a very 
 little way to establish the fact of an ac- 
 tual fight between a lion and dogs. Per- 
 haps an extract from Stoic's Annals may 
 be more satisfactory. It is an account of 
 a contest stated to have taken place in the 
 presence of James I., and his son, prince 
 Henry. "One of the dogs being put into 
 the den, was soon disabled by the lion, 
 who took him by the head and neck, and 
 dragged him about. Another dog was 
 then let loose, and served in the same 
 manner ; but the third being put in, im- 
 mediately seized the lion by the lip, and 
 held him for a considerable time; till be- 
 ing severely torn by his claws, the dog 
 was obliged to quit his hold ; and the 
 lion, greatly exhausted by the conflict, 
 refused to renew the engagement ; but 
 taking a sudden leap over the dogs, fled 
 into the interior of his den. Two of the 
 dogs soon died of their wounds ; the third 
 survived, and was taken great care of by 
 the prince, who said, * he that had fought 
 with the king of beasts should never after 
 fight with an inferior creature.' ''* 
 
 Lion Fights in England. 
 It is more than two hundred years 
 SMice an attempt has been made in this 
 
 Lion Fight at Vienna. 
 
 Tliere was a lion fight at the amphi- 
 theatre of Vienna, in the summer of 1 790, 
 which was almost the last permitted in 
 that capita'. 
 
 The amphitheatre at Vienna embraced 
 an area of from eighty to a hundred feet 
 in diameter. The lower part of the struc- 
 ture comprised the dens of the diff'erent 
 animals. Above those dens, and^ about 
 ten feet from the ground, were the first and 
 * Morning Herald. 
 
 500 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 principal seats, over which were galleries. 
 In the course ot tlie entertainment, a den 
 was opened, out of which stalked, in free 
 and ample range, a most majestic lion ; 
 and, soon after, a fallow deer was let 
 into the circus from another den. The 
 deer instantly fled, and bounded round 
 the circular space, pursued by the lion ; 
 but the quick and sudden turnings of the 
 former continually baulked the eflbrt of 
 its pursuer. After this ineffectual chase 
 had continued for several minutes, a door 
 was opened, through which the deer es- 
 cnped ; and presently five or six of the 
 large and fierce Hungarian mastiff;; were 
 sent in. The lion, at the moment of their 
 entrance, was leisurely returning to his 
 den, the door of which stood open. The 
 dogs, which entered behind him, flew to- 
 wards him in a body, with the utmost 
 fury, making the amphitheatre ring with 
 their barkings. When they reached the 
 lion, the noble animal stopped, and deli- 
 Derately turned towards them. The dogs 
 instantly retreated a few steps, increasing 
 their vociferations, and the lion slowly 
 resumed his progress towards his den. 
 The dogs again approached ; the lion 
 turned his head ; his adversaries halted ; 
 and this continued until, on his nearing 
 his den, the dogs separated, and ap- 
 proached him on different sides. The lion 
 ihen turned quickly round, like one 
 whose dignified patience could brook the 
 harrassment of insolence no longer. The 
 dogs fled far, as if instinctively sensible 
 of the power of wrath they had at length 
 provoked. One unfortunate dog, how- 
 ever, which had approached too near to 
 effect his escape, was suddenly seized by 
 the paw of the lion; and the piercing 
 yells which he sent forth quickly caused 
 his comrades to recede to the door of en- 
 trance at the opposite site of the area, 
 where they stood in a row, barking and 
 yelling in concert with their miserable 
 associate. 
 
 After arresting the struggling and yell- 
 ing prisoner for a short time, the lion 
 couched upon him with his forepaws and 
 mouth. The struggles of the sufferer grew 
 feebler and feebler, until at length he be- 
 came perfectly motionless. We all con- 
 cluded him to be dead. In this com- 
 posed posture of executive justice, the 
 lion remained for at least ten niinutes, 
 when he majestically rose, and with a 
 ^'■ow step entered his den, and disap- 
 peared. The apparent corpse continued 
 to lie motionless for a lew minutes; oie- 
 
 sently the dog, to his amazement, and that 
 of the whole amphitheatre, found himself 
 alive, and rose with his nose pointed to 
 the ground, his tail between his hind legs 
 pressing his belly, and, as soon as he was 
 certified of his existence, he made off for 
 the door in a long trot, through which he 
 escaped with his more fortunate comoa- 
 nions.* 
 
 Another Lion Fight at Vienna. 
 
 Of late years the truth of the accounts 
 which have been so long current, respect- 
 ing the generous disposition of the lion, 
 have been called in question. Several 
 travellers, in their accounts of Asia and 
 Africa, describe him as of a more rapa- 
 cious and sanguinary disposition than had 
 formerly been supposed, although few of 
 them have had the opportunity to make 
 him a particular object of their attention. 
 
 A circumstance that occurrei; not long 
 since in Vienna seems, however, to con- 
 firm the more ancient accounts. In the 
 year 1791, at which period the custom of 
 baiting wild beasts still existed in that 
 city, a combat was to be exhibited be- 
 tween a lion and a number of large dogs. 
 As soon as the noble animal made his 
 appearance, four large bull-dogs were 
 turned loose upon him, three of which, 
 however, as soon as they came near him, 
 took fright, and ran away. One only 
 had courage to remain, and make the at- 
 tack. The lion, however, without risin'^ 
 from the ground upon which he was 
 lying, showed him, by a single stroke 
 with his paw, liow greatly his superior 
 he was in strength ; for the dog was 
 instantly stretched motionless on the 
 ground. The lion drew him towards 
 him, and laid his fore-paws upon him in 
 such a manner that only a small part of 
 his body could be seen. Every one ima- 
 gined that the dog was dead, and that 
 the lion would soon rise and devour him. 
 But they were mistaken. The dog began 
 to move, and struggled to get loose, which 
 the lion permitted him to do. He seem- 
 ed merely to have warned him not to 
 meddle with him any more ; but when 
 the dog attempted to run away, and had 
 already got half over the enclosure, the 
 lion's indignation seemed to be excited. 
 He sprang from the ground, and in two 
 leaps reached the fugitive, who had just 
 got as far as the paling, and was whinir^ 
 to have it opened for him to escape. 
 
 * Tl\? Tiiaec. 
 
 JOl 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 The flying animal had called the instinc- 
 tive propensity of the monarch of the 
 forest into action : the defenceless enemy 
 now excited his pity ; for the generous 
 Jion stepped a few paces backward, and 
 iooked quietly on, while a small door 
 was opened to let the dog out of the 
 enclosure. 
 
 This unequivocal trait of generosity 
 moved every spectator. A shout of ap- 
 plause resounded throughout the assem- 
 bly, who had enjoyed a satisfaction of a 
 description far superior to what they had 
 expected. 
 
 It is possible that the African lion, 
 when, under the impulse of hunger, he 
 goes out to seek his prey, may not so 
 ofien exhibit this magnanimous disposi- 
 tion ; for in that case he is compelled by 
 imperious necessity to satisfy the cravings 
 of nature ; but when his appetite is sa- 
 tiated, he never seeks for prey, nor does 
 he ever destroy to gratify a blood-thirsty 
 disposition.* 
 
 A Man killed by a Lion, 
 Under the reign of Augustus, king of 
 Poland and elector of Saxony, a lion 
 was kept in the menagerie at Dresden, 
 between whom and his attendant such 
 a good understanding subsisted, that the 
 'atter used not to lay the food which he 
 brought to him before the grate, but car- 
 ried it into his cage. Generally the man 
 wore a green jacket ; and a considerable 
 time had elapsed, during which the lion 
 had always appeared very friendly and 
 grateful whenever he received a visit from 
 him. 
 
 Once the keeper, having been to church 
 to receive the sacrament, had put on a 
 black coat, as is usual in that country 
 upon such occasions, and he still wore it 
 when he gave the lion his dinner. The 
 unusual appearance of the black coat 
 excited the lion's rage ; he leapt at his 
 keeper, and struck his claws into his 
 shoulder. The man spoke to him gently, 
 when the well-known tone of his voice 
 brought the lion in some degree to recol- 
 lection. Doubt appeared expressed in 
 his terrific features ; however, he did not 
 quit his hold. An alarm was raised : the 
 wife and children ran to the place with 
 shrieks of terror. Soon some grenadiers 
 of the guard arrived, and offered to shoot 
 the animal, as there seemed, in this cri- 
 tical moment, to be no other means of 
 
 * Zoological Anecdutet. 
 
 extricating the man from him; ^ut the 
 keeper, who was attached to thp lion, 
 begged them not to do it, as he hoped he 
 should be able to extricate hiraseit at a 
 less expense. For nearly a quarter of an 
 hour, he capitulated with his enraged 
 friend, who still would not let go his 
 hold, but shook his mane, lashed his sides 
 with his tail, and rolled his fiery eyes. 
 At length the man felt himself unable to 
 sustain the weight of the lion, and yet 
 any serious effort to extricate himself 
 would have been at the immediate hazard 
 of his life. He therefore desired the gre- 
 nadiers to fire, which they did through 
 the grate, and killed the lion on the spot ; 
 but in the same moment, perhaps only 
 by a convulsive dying grasp, he squeezed 
 the keeper between his powerful claws 
 with such force, that he broke his arms, 
 ribs, and spine ; and they both fell down 
 dead together.* 
 
 A ffoman killed by a Lion. 
 In the beginning of the last century, 
 there was in the menagerie at Cassel, a 
 lion that showed an astonishing degree of 
 tameness towards the woman that had 
 the care of him. This went so far, that 
 the woman, in order to amuse the c m- 
 pany that came to see the animal, uld 
 often rashly place not only her hand, but 
 even her head, between his tremendous 
 jaws. She had frequently performed this 
 experiment without suffering any injury; 
 but having once introduced her head into 
 the lion's mouth, the animal made a sud- 
 den snap, and killed her on the spot. 
 Undoubtedly, this catastrophe was unin- 
 tentional on the part of the lion ; for pro- 
 bably at the fatal moment the hair of the 
 woman's head irritated the lion's throat, 
 and compelled him to sneeze or cough ; 
 at least, this supposition seems to be con- 
 firmed by what followed : for as soon as 
 the lion perceived that he had killed his 
 attendant, the good-tempered, grateful 
 animal exhibited signs of the deepest me- 
 lancholy, laid himself down by the side 
 of the dead body, which he would not 
 suffer to be taken from him, refused to 
 take any food, and in a few days pined 
 himself to death.f 
 
 The Lions in the Tower. 
 Lions, with other beasts of prey and 
 curious animals presented to the king u< 
 
 * Zoological Anecdotes, 
 t )bid. 
 
 532 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 England, are committed to the Tower on 
 their arrival, there to remain in the cus- 
 tody of a keeper especially appointed to 
 that office by letters patent ; he has apart- 
 ments for himself, with an allowance of 
 sixpence a day, and a further sixpence 
 a day for every lion and leopard. Mait- 
 land says the office was usually filled by 
 some person of distinction and quality, 
 and he instances the appointment of Ro- 
 bert Marsfield, Esq., in the reign of king 
 Henry VI.* It appears from the patent 
 rolls, that in 1382, Richard II. appointed 
 John Evesham, one of his valets, keeper 
 of the lions, and one of the valets-at-arms 
 in the Tower of London, during pleasure. 
 His predecessor was Robert Bowyer.-f- 
 Maitland supposes lions and leopards to 
 have been the only beasts kept there for 
 many ages, except a white bear and an 
 elephant in the reign of Henry III. That 
 n)onarch, on the 26th of February, 1256, 
 honoured the sheriff of London with the 
 following precept : — " The King to the 
 Sheriffs of London, greeting : We com- 
 mand you, that of the farm of our city 
 ye cause, without delay, to be built 
 at our Tower of London one house of 
 foity feet long, and twenty feet deep, for 
 our Elephant." Next year, on the 11th 
 of October, the king in like manner com- 
 manded the sheriffs " to find for the said 
 Elephant and his keeper such necessaries 
 as should be reasonable needful." He 
 had previously ordered them to allow 
 foui pence a day for keeping the white 
 bear and his keeper ; and the sheriffs 
 were royally favoured with an injunction 
 to provide a muzzle and an iron chain to 
 hold the bear out of the water, and also 
 a long and strong cord to hold him while 
 he washed himself in the Thames. 
 
 Stow relates, that James I., on a visit 
 to the lion and lioness in the Tower, 
 caused a live lamb to be put into them ; 
 but they refused to harm it, although the 
 lamb in its innocence went close to them. 
 An anecdote equally striking was related 
 to the editor of the Every-Day Book by 
 an individual whose friend, a few years 
 ago, saw a young calf thrust into the den 
 of a lion abroad. The calf walked to the 
 lion, and rubbed itself against him as he 
 lay ; the lion looked, but did not move; 
 the calf, by thrusting its nose under the 
 side of the lion, indicated a desire to 
 suck, and the lion then slowly rose and 
 
 « Maitlaivl's London, tdit. 17"2. i. 17 
 i Gent, M<i£. 
 
 walked away, from mere disinclination to 
 be interfered with, but without the least 
 expression of resentment, although the 
 calf continued to follow him. 
 
 On the 13th of August, 1731, a litter 
 of young lions was whelped in the Tower, 
 from a lioness and lion whelped there six 
 years before. In the Gentletnan's Maga- 
 zine for February, 1739, there is an engrav- 
 ing of Marco, a lion then in the Tower. 
 
 On the 6th of April, 1775, a lion was 
 landed at the Tower, as a presen-t to his 
 late majesty from Senegal. He was taken 
 in the woods, out of a snare, by a private 
 soldier, who, being attacked by two na- 
 tives that had laid it, killed them both, 
 and brought away the lion. The king 
 ordered his discharge for this act, and 
 further rewarded him by a pension ol 
 fifty pounds a year for life. On this fact, 
 related in the Gentleman's Magazine for 
 that year, a correspondent inquires ol 
 Mr. Urban whether " a lion's whelp is 
 an equivalent for the lives of two human 
 creatures." To this question, reiterated 
 by another, it is answered in the same 
 volume, with rectitude of principle and 
 feeling, that " if the fact be true, the per- 
 son who recommended the soldier to his 
 majesty's notice, must have considered 
 the action in a military light only, and 
 must totally have overlooked the crimi- 
 nality of it in a moral sense. The killing 
 two innocent fellow-creatures,H7j/)rovofterf, 
 only to rob them of the fruits of their 
 ingenuity, can never surely be accounted 
 meritorious in one who calls himself a 
 christian. If it is not meritorious, but 
 contrary, the murderer was a very im- 
 proper object to be recommended as 
 worthy to be rewarded by a humane and 
 christian king." This settled the ques- 
 tion, and the subject was not revived 
 
 THE LION S HEAD. 
 
 Because the inundation of the Nile 
 happened during the progress of the sun 
 in Leo, the ancients caused the water of 
 their fountains to issue from the mouth o 
 a lion's head, sculptured in stone. The cir 
 cumstance is pleasant to notice at this 
 season ; a few remarks will be made on 
 fountains by-and-bye. 
 
 The Lion's Head, at Button's coffee- 
 house, is well remembered in literary 
 annals. It was a carving with an orifice 
 at the mouth, through which communica- 
 tions for the " Guardian" were thrown 
 Button had been a servant in the coun- 
 tess of Warwick's family, and by the 
 
 503 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 patronage of Addison, kept a coffee-house 
 on the south side of Russell-street, about 
 two doors from Covent-garden, where 
 the wits of that day used to assemble. 
 Addison studied all the morning, dined 
 at a tavern, and afterwards went to But- 
 ton's. " The Lion's Head " was inscribed 
 with two lines from Martial: — 
 
 Cervantur magnis isti Cervicibus ungues : 
 JS'on nisi delecta pa^citur ille fera. 
 
 This has been translated in the Gentle- 
 'nan's Magazine thus :— 
 
 liring here nice morceaus ; be it understood 
 The lion vindicates his choicest food. 
 
 Button's " Lion's Head" was afterwards 
 preserved at the Shakspeare Tavern, 
 where it was sold by auction on the 8th 
 of November, 1804, to Mr. Richardson of 
 tlie Grand Hotel, the indefatigable col- 
 lector and possessor of an immense mass 
 of materials for the history of St. Paul, 
 Covent-garden, the parish wherein he re- 
 sides. The late duke of Norfolk was his 
 ineffectual competitor at the sale : the 
 noble peer suffered the spirited commoner 
 to gain the prize for 17/. 10s. Subse- 
 quently the duke frequently dined at Mr. 
 Hichards-on's, whom he courted in vain to 
 relinquish the gem. Mr. R. had the head 
 with its inscription handsomely engraved 
 for his " great seal," from which he has 
 caused delicate impressions to be pre- 
 sented in oak-boxes, to a few whom it 
 has pleased him so to gratify ; and among 
 them the editor of the Every- Dot/ Book, 
 who thus acknowledges the acceptable 
 civility. 
 
 In the London Magazine the " Lion's 
 Head," fronts each number, greeting its 
 correspondents, and others who expect 
 announcements,with " short affable roars," 
 and inviting " communications" from all 
 " who may have committed a particularly 
 good action, or a particularly bad one — 
 or said or written any thing very clever, 
 or very stupid, during the month." By 
 too literal a construction of this compre- 
 hensive invitation, some got into the 
 " head," who, not having reach enough 
 for the " body" of the magazine, were 
 happy to get out with a slight scratch, 
 and others remain without daring to say 
 •' their souls are their own" — to the re- 
 reformation of themselves, and as exam- 
 ples to others contemplating like offences. 
 The " Lion" of the " London" is of deli- 
 cate scent, and shows high masterhood in 
 the great forest of literal uie. 
 
 Her name, which in Hebrew signifies 
 gracious, is in the church of England 
 calendar and almanacs on this day, 
 which is kept as a great holiday by the 
 Romish church. 
 
 The history of St. Anne is an old fic- 
 tion. It pretends that she and her hus- 
 band Joachim were Jews of substance, 
 and lived twenty years without issue,when 
 the high priest, on Joachim making his of- 
 ferings in the temple, at the feast of the 
 dedication, asked him why he, who had 
 no children, presumed to appear among 
 those who had ; adding, that his offerings 
 were not acceptable to God, who had 
 judged him unworthy to have children, 
 nor, until he had, would his offerings be 
 accepted. Joachim retired, and bewailed 
 his reproach among his shepherds in the 
 pastures without returning home, lest his 
 neighbours also should reproach him. 
 The story relates that, in this state, an 
 angel appeared to him and consoled him 
 by assuring him that he should have a 
 daughter, who should be called Mary, and 
 for a sign he declared that Joachim op 
 arriving at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem 
 should there meet his wife Anne, who 
 being very much troubled that he had nol 
 returned sooner, .should rejoice to set 
 him. Afterwards the angel appeared to 
 Anne, who was equally disconsolate, and 
 comforted her by a promise to the same 
 effect, and assured her by a like token, 
 namely, that at the Golden Gate she should 
 meet her husband for whose safety she had 
 been so much concerned. Accordingly 
 both of them left the places where they 
 were, and met each other at the Goldea 
 Gate, and rejoiced at each others' vision, 
 and returned thanks, and lived in cheerful 
 expectation that the promise would be 
 fulfilled. 
 
 The meeting between St. Anne and St. 
 Joachim at the Golden Gate was a fa- 
 vourite subject among catholic painters, 
 and there are many prints of it. From 
 one of them in the "Salisbury Missal,'' 
 (1534 fo. xix) the annexed engraving is 
 copied. The curious reader will find no- 
 tices of others in a volume on the "Ancient 
 Mysteries," by the editor of the Every- 
 Day Book. The wood engraving in the 
 " Missal" is improperly placed there to 
 illustrate the meeting between the Virgin 
 Mary and Elizabeth. 
 
 504 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.- JULY 26. 
 
 MEETING OF ST. ANNE AND ST. JOACHIM AT THE GOLDEN GATE 
 
 It is further pretended, that the result 
 of the angel's communication to Joachim 
 and Anne was the miraculous birth of the 
 \'irgin Mary, and that she was afterwards 
 dedicated by Anne to the service of the 
 temple, where she remained till the time 
 of her espousal by Joseph. 
 
 In the Romish breviary of Sarum there 
 aie forms of prayer to St Anne, which 
 slow how extraordinarily highly these 
 stories placed her. One of them is thus 
 triinslated by bishop Patrick-* 
 
 " O vessel of celestial gract , 
 
 Blest mother to tlie virgins' ^^veen, 
 
 By thee we beg, in the first place, 
 Remission of all former si ». 
 
 " I'arlck** Utfvot. of Horn Clinrch. 
 
 " Great mother, always keep in mind 
 The power thou hast, by thy sweet 
 daughter, 
 
 And, by thy wonted prayer, let's find 
 God's grace procur'd to us hereafter." 
 
 Another, after high commendations to 
 St. Anne, concludes thus : — 
 
 " Therefore, still asking, we remain, 
 
 And thy unwearied suitors are, 
 That, what thou canst, thou wouldst obtain. 
 
 And give us heas-en by thy pray^er. 
 Do thou appease the daughter, thou didst 
 
 bear, 
 She her own son, and thou thy grumux^i 
 dear." 
 
 T\9 nuT>s .>f St. Anne at Rome thow a 
 rude silvif ring as the wedaing-riug ut 
 
 505 
 
TIIE EVEHY-DAY book.— JULY 2fi 
 
 Anne and Joachim ; both ring and story 
 ftre ingenious fabrications. There are of 
 course plenty of her relics and miracles 
 from the same sources. They are further 
 noticed in the work on the " Mysteries" 
 referred to before. 
 
 SU.VIMER HOLIDAYS. 
 
 A. young, and not unknown correspon- 
 Qent of the Every-Day Book, has had a 
 holiday — his first holiday since he came 
 to London, and settled down into an 
 every-day occupation of every hour of his 
 time. He seems until now not to have 
 known that the environs of London 
 abound in natural as well as artificial 
 beauties. What he has seen will be pro- 
 ductive of this advantage; it will induce 
 residents in London, who never saw Dul- 
 wich, to pay it a visit, and see all that he 
 saw. Messrs. Colnaghi and Son, of Pall- 
 mall East, Mr. Clay of Ludgate-hill, or 
 any other respectable printseller, will 
 supply an applicant with a ticket of ad- 
 mission for a party, to see the noble gal- 
 lery of pictures there. These tickets are 
 gratuitous, and a summer holiday may be 
 delightfully spent by viewing the paint- 
 ings, and_ walking in the pleasant places 
 adjacent: the pictures will be agreeable 
 topics for conversation during the stroll. 
 
 MY HOLIUAY ! 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 The kind and benevolent feelings which 
 you are so wont to discover, and the 
 sparkling good-humour and sympathy 
 which characterize your Every-Day Book, 
 iencourage me to describe to you " My 
 holiday !" I approach you with fami- 
 liarity, being well known as your constant 
 reader. You also know me to be a pro- 
 vhicial cockney — a transplant. Oh! why 
 then do you so often paint nature in her 
 enchanting loveliness ? What cruelty 1 
 Y'ou know my destiny is foreign to my 
 desires : I cannot now seek the shade of 
 a retired grove, carelessly throw myself 
 on the bank of a " babbling brook," there 
 muse and angle, as I was wont to do, 
 and, as my old friend Izaak Walton bade 
 me, — 
 
 " watch the sun to rise and set. 
 There meditate my time away. 
 And beg to have a quiet passage to a 
 
 welcome grave." 
 But, I have had a holiday ! The desk 
 was forsaken for eight-and-forty hours ! 
 
 Think of that ! 1 have experienced what 
 Leigh Hunt desires every christian to 
 experience — that there is a green and 
 gay world, as well as a brick and mortar 
 one. Months previous was the spot fixed 
 upon which was to receive my choice, 
 happy spirit. Dulwich was the place 
 It was an easy distance from town ; more- 
 over, it was a " rustic" spot ; moreover, 
 it had a picture-gallery ; in a word, it 
 was just the sort of place for me. The 
 happy morning dawned. I could say 
 with Horace, with the like feelings of 
 enraptured delight — 
 
 " Insanire juvat. Sparge rosas." 
 
 Such was the disposition of my mind. 
 
 We met (for I was accompanied) at 
 that general rendezvous for carts, stages, 
 waggons, and sociables, the Elephant and 
 Castle. There were the honest, valiant, 
 laughter-loving J — ; the pensive, kindly- 
 hearted G — ; and the sanguine, romantic, 
 speculative M — . A conveyance was soon 
 sought. It was a square, covered vehicle, 
 set on two wheels, drawn by one horse, 
 which was a noble creature, creditable to 
 its humane master, who has my best 
 wishes, as I presume he will never have 
 cause to answer under Mr. Martin's Act. 
 Thus equipaged and curtained in,we mer- 
 rily trotted by the Montpelier Gardens, 
 and soon overtook the " Fox-under-the- 
 Ilill." To this " Fox" I was an entire 
 stranger, having never hunted in that 
 part of the country before. The beautiful 
 hill which brought us to the heights of 
 Camberwell being gained, we sharply 
 turned to the left, which gave us the view 
 of Dulwich and its adjoining domains in 
 the distance. Oh, ecstacy of thought ! 
 Gentle hills, dark valleys, far-spreading 
 groves, luxuriant corn-fields, magnificent 
 prospects, then sparkled before me. The 
 rich carpet of nature decked with Flora's 
 choicest flowers, and wafting perfumes of 
 odoriferous herbs floating on the breezes, 
 expanded and made my heart replete 
 with joy. What kind-heartedness then 
 beamed in our countenances ! We talked, 
 and joked, and prattled ; and so fast did 
 our transports impulse, that to expect an 
 answer to one of my eager inquiries as 
 to " who lives here or there?" was out ol 
 the question. Our hearts were redolent 
 of joy. It was our holiday ! 
 
 By the side of the neat, grassy, pictu- 
 resque burying-ground w« alighted, in 
 fiont of Dulwich-coUege. Now for the 
 picture-gallery. Some demui took place 
 
 ;06 
 
THE EVER\-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 FLS to the safety of the " ticket." After a 
 few moments' mtense anxiety, it appeared. 
 How important was that square bit of 
 card ! — It was the key to our hopes — 
 " Admit Mr. R — and friends ;o view the 
 Bourgeois Gallery." We entered hy the 
 gate which conducts into the clean, neat, 
 and well-paved courtyard contiguous to 
 the gallery. In the lodge, which is situ- 
 ate at the end of this paved footpath, you 
 .see a comely, urbane personage. With 
 a polite bend of the head, and a gentle 
 smile of good-nature on his countenance 
 on the production of the " ticket," he 
 bids you welcome. The small folding 
 doors on your right hand are then opened, 
 and this magnificent gallery is before you. 
 Tliis collection is extremely rich in the 
 works of the old masters, particularly 
 Poussin, Teniers, Vandyke, Claude, Ru- 
 bens, Cuype, Murillo, Velasquez, A nnibal 
 Caracci, Vandervelt, Vanderwerf, and 
 Vanhuysem. Here I luxuriated. With my 
 catalogue in hand, and the eye steadily 
 fixed upon the subject, T gazed, and al- 
 though neither connoisseur nor student, 
 felt that calmness, devotion, and serenity 
 of soul, which the admiration of either 
 the works of a poet, or the " sweet har- 
 .nony'' of sound, or form, alone work upon 
 my heart. I love nature, and here she was 
 imitated in her simplest and truest colour- 
 ings. The gallery, or rather the five 
 elegant rooms, are well designed, and the 
 pictures admirably arranged. We entered 
 by a door about midway in the gallery, on 
 the left, and were particularly pleased 
 with the mausoleum. The design is clever 
 and ingenious, and highly creditable to 
 the talents of Mr. Soane. Here lie sir 
 Francis Bourgeois, and Mr. and Mrs 
 Desenfans, surrounded by these exquisite 
 pictures. The masterly painting of the 
 Death of Cardinal Beaufort is observed 
 nearly over this entrance-door. But, time 
 hastens — and after noticing yonder pic- 
 lure which hangs at the farther extremity 
 ofthe gallery, I will retire. It isthe Mar/;/r- 
 dom of St. Sebastian, by Annibal Caracci. 
 Upon this sublime painting I could medi- 
 tate away an age. It is full of power, of 
 real feeling and poetry. Mark that coun- 
 tenance — the uplifted eye " with holy fer- 
 vour bright 1" — the resignation, calmness, 
 and holy serenity, which speak of truth 
 and magnanimity, contrasted with the 
 physical sufferings and agonies of a horrid 
 death. I was lo^t — my mind was slum- 
 bering on this ocean of sublimity ! 
 
 The lover of rural sights will return 
 
 from Dulwich-colJege by the retired foot- 
 path that strikes off to the right by the 
 " cage" and " stocks" opposite the bury- 
 ing-ground. On ascending the verdant 
 hill which leads to Camberwell Grove, the 
 rising objects that gradually open to the 
 view are most beautif.iUy picturesque and 
 enchanting. We reached the summit of 
 the Five Fields : — 
 
 " Heav'ns ! what a goodly prospect spread 
 
 around 
 Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, 
 
 and spires, 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams.' 
 
 This is a fairy region. The ravished 
 eye glances from villa to grove, turret, 
 pleasure-ground, hill, dale ; and " figured 
 streams in waves of silver" roll. Here 
 are seen Norwood, Sliooter's-hill, Seven 
 Droog Castle, Peckham,Walworth,Green- 
 wich, Deptford,and bounding the horizon, 
 the vast gloom of Epping Forest. What 
 a holiday ! What a feast for tlie mind, 
 the eye, and the heart 1 A few paces 
 from us we suddenly discerned a humble, 
 aged, wintry object, sitting as if in mock- 
 ery of the golden sunbeam which played 
 across his furrowed cheek. The philan- 
 thropy ofthe good and gentle Elia inspired 
 our hearts on viewing this "dim speck,'' 
 this monument of days gone by. Love is 
 charity, and it was charitable thus to love. 
 The good old patriarch asked not, but 
 received alms with humility and grati- 
 tude. His poverty was honourable : his 
 character was noble and elevated in low- 
 liness. He gracelessly doffed his many- 
 coloured cap in thanks (for hat he had 
 none), and the snowy locks floating on 
 the breeze rendered him an object as inte- 
 resting as he was venerable. Could we 
 have made all sad hearts gay, we should 
 but have realized the essayings of our 
 souls. Our imaginings were of gladness 
 and of joy. It was our holiday ! 
 
 Now, my holiday is past ! Hope, like 
 a glimmering star, appears to me through 
 the dark waves of time, and is ominous 
 of future days like these. We are now 
 " at home," homely in use as occupation 
 I am hugging the desk, and calculating. 
 I can now only request others who have 
 leisure and opportunity to take a " holi- 
 day,'" and make it a " holiday" similar to 
 this. Health will be improved, the heart 
 delighted, and the mind strengthened. 
 The grovelling sensualist, who sees plea- 
 sure only in confusion, never can know 
 pleasures compai able with these. There i» 
 
 507 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 9,0- 
 
 a moral to every circumstance of life 
 
 One may be trared in the events of " My 
 
 holiday 1" . , c- 
 
 •' 1 am, dear air, 
 
 Youis very truly, 
 
 S. R. 
 
 WEATHER. 
 
 To the F}iltor of the Every- Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 The subjoined table for foretelling 
 weather, appears strictly within the plan 
 of the Every-Day Book, for who that 
 
 purposes out-door recreation, would noi 
 seize the probability of fixing on a fint* 
 day for the purpose ; or what agricul- 
 turist would decjine information that I 
 venture to affirm may be relied on ' It 
 is copied from the Rev. Dr. Adam Clarke. 
 (See the " Wesleyan Methodist Magazine," 
 New Series, vol. iii., p. 457, 4-58.) Be- 
 lieving that it will be gratifying and 
 useful to your readers, 
 
 1 am, &c., 
 
 O. F. S 
 Doctors Commons. 
 
 THE WEATHER PROGNOSTICATOR 
 
 Through all the Lunations of each Year for ever. 
 This table and the accompanying remarks are the result of many years' actual 
 observation ; the whole being constructed on a due consideration of the attraction ol 
 the sun and moon in their several positions respecting the earth ; and will, by simple 
 inspection, show the observer what kind of weather will most probably follow the en- 
 trance of the moon into any of her quarters, and that so near the truth as to be 
 seldom or never found to fail. 
 
 Moon, 
 
 a a» 
 
 
 Time of Change. 
 
 Between midnight and 
 two in the morning . . 
 
 2 and 4 morn.,< 
 
 4 and 6 
 
 6 and 8 
 
 8 and 10 
 
 10 and 12. 
 
 At twelve o'clock at noon 
 
 .ind to two P. M 
 
 Between 2 and 4 Aftern. 
 4 and 6 
 
 6 and 8. 
 
 8 and 10 
 
 10 and midnight .. 
 
 In Sumi»ijr. 
 
 Fair 
 
 Cold with frequent \ 
 
 showers J 
 
 Rain 
 
 Wind and rain .... 
 
 Changeable 
 
 Frequent showers . . 
 
 Very rainy 
 
 Chansreable 
 
 Fair 
 
 Fair if wind NW. 
 
 Rainy, if S.orSW. 
 
 Ditto 
 
 Fair 
 
 In Winter. 
 
 Hard frost, unless the wind 
 be S. or W. 
 
 Snow and stormy. 
 
 Rain. 
 
 Stormy. 
 
 Cold rain, if wind W. ; snow 
 
 ifE. 
 Cold and high wind. 
 
 Snow or rain. 
 
 Fair and mild. 
 Fair. 
 
 Fair and frosty if wind N. 
 orNE. 
 
 Rain or snow if S. or SW. 
 
 Ditto 
 
 Fair and frosty. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 1 . The nearer the time of the moon's change, first quarter, full, and last quarter, is 
 to midnight, tlie fairer will the weather be during the seven days following. 
 
 2. The space for this calculation occupies from ten at night till two next morning. 
 
 3. The nearer to mid day or noon these phases of the moon happen, the more 
 foul or wet the weather may be expected during the next seven days. 
 
 4. The space for this calculation occupies from ten in the forenoon to two in the 
 afternoon. These observations refer principally to summer, though they affect spring 
 and autumn nearly in the same ratio. 
 
 5. The moon's change — first quarter — full — and last quarter, happening during six 
 of the afternoon hours, i. e. from four to ten, may be followed by fair weather : but 
 this is mostly dependent on the wind, as it is noted in the table. 
 
 6. Though the weather, from a variety of irregular canses, is more uncertain in the 
 laUer part of autumn, the whole of winter, and the beginning of spring ; yet, in the 
 mam. the above observations will apply to those periods also. 
 
 ;o8 
 
THE EDITOE'S VISITS TO CLAUDE AMBROISE SEUEAT, 
 
 EXHIBITED IN PALL MALL UNDER THE APPELLATION OF THE 
 
 ANATOMIE VIVANTE; or, LIVING SKELETON! 
 
 Tliou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
 
 That I will spoiik to thee. Shakspeare. 
 
 509 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 I have usited Claude Ambroise neither unhappy nor miserable. " God 
 Seurat. Some would call him an un- tempers the wind to the shorn limu. ' 
 happy or a miserable creature ; he is 
 
 How little do they see what is, who frame 
 Their hasty judgment upon that which seems. 
 
 Souther/. 
 
 If Seurat had not seen men of firmer 
 make, he would not know that the in- 
 firmity peculiar to himself is unnatural. 
 Were he dressed like other persons, there 
 is nothing in his countenance or speech 
 to denote him different from themselves ; 
 and yet the difference is so great, that it 
 is wonderful tliat he should " live, and 
 move, and have his being." 
 
 Tlie " Interesting Account and Ana- 
 tomical Description" of this extraordinary 
 individual, sold at the Chinese Saloon, 
 where he is exhibited, is to the following 
 effect : — 
 
 Claude Ambroise Seurat was born at 
 Troyes, in the department of Champaigne, 
 on the 10th of April, 1797, and is now 
 therefore twenty-eight years of age. His 
 parents were respectable, but poor, and 
 neither of them presicnted any deformity, 
 or uncommon appearance ; on the con- 
 trary, they are stated to have enjoyed 
 robust health. The child on coming into 
 the world, presented the customary baby 
 form, but in proportion as the infant 
 grew, the frame p;radualhi trusted away, 
 and so continued to decrease until the 
 attainment of its full stature, which oc- 
 curred at the usual term of life, at which 
 f)eriod Claude had attained his present 
 leight, while his frame had dwindled to 
 the skeleton form which it now so deci- 
 dedly presents. 
 
 In France, where he ate very little of 
 any animal food, a penny French roll 
 was enough for a day's sustenance ; but 
 as he now partakes of a small quantity of 
 animal diet, his bread is reduced accord- 
 ingly- 
 
 As regards his feeding, those dishes 
 which afford most nourishment satisfy 
 him the quickest ; and two or three 
 ounces a day are quite sufficient. 
 
 In France he was accustomed to drink 
 the wine of his country ; but in England 
 he partakes of wines greatly diluted with 
 water, finding the liquors here so much 
 stronger, as the Champaigne he usually 
 drank was what is denominated v'ni de 
 paj/i, or small wine, of which there is 
 none in this country. In eating, he mas- 
 ticater his victuals very much, taking 
 
 small pieces, as the passage to the sto 
 ma.ch would not admit of any great re- 
 pletion, and in drinking the same pre- 
 caution is required, otherwise suflbcation 
 would ensue. His digestion is extremely 
 good, and the consequent functions ol 
 nature are regularly performed. 
 
 It is a singular fact, that such is the 
 extreme sensitiveness of this almost non- 
 descript, or sport of nature, that when 
 touched on the left side with the finger, 
 tlie surface of the body, to a certain ex- 
 tent, is observed to manifest its sympathy, 
 by an involuntary chill, which contracts 
 the pores, and produces that roughness 
 of surface vulgarly known by the deno- 
 mination of goose's skin. In raising 
 either of his feet from the floor, the limb 
 appears to be distended uselessly from 
 the knee, and we cannot better illustrate 
 the idea \han by that sensation we com- 
 monly experience upon allowing a limb 
 to remain too long in one position, there- 
 by causing a temporary strangulation of 
 the vessels, known by the common term 
 of the foot being asleep. 
 
 Previous to the arrival of Seurat in 
 England, the French physicians who had 
 inspected him, gave it as their opinion, 
 that his lungs were placed in a different 
 position to that usually occupied in the 
 human frame. 
 
 Since liis arrival, sir Astley Cooper, 
 by whom he has been visited, finds that 
 his heart is placed so much out of the com- 
 mon reeion allotted to it, that it is pre- 
 cisely its own length lower than if pro- 
 perly placed. 
 
 Many attempts were made to have 
 Claude Ambroise Seurat presented to the 
 French king; but the father conceiving 
 that he might be consigned to some 
 wretched asylum, there to subsist upon a 
 miserable pension, uniformly objected to 
 it From the statements made by the 
 fat>ier, it appears that the French gentle- 
 men of the faculty, who visited his son, 
 handling him roughly, and pinching him in 
 every direction, the son refused to see 
 them at all afterwards, and thus imbibed 
 such a distaste for his professional country- 
 men, that he determined not to show him- 
 self to them any more. In consequence, 
 the Parisian Ecole de Medicine has never 
 
 510 
 
THE EVERY-DAY ROOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 been made acquainted with his exist- 
 ence. 
 
 Many proposals made to the father for 
 the purchase of the body of his son, 
 Claude Ambroise Seurat, in the event 
 of his demise, were uniformly rejected. 
 A medical gentleman particularly, in 
 Burgundy, oflered a carte blanche, which 
 the parent, with feelings highly honour- 
 able to himself, refused, stating his 
 determination, that in the event of his 
 son's demise, he should be peaceably 
 consigned to the cemetery of his native 
 city. While at Kouen, no less than one 
 thousand five hundred persons flocked in 
 one day to see Seurat on his road to 
 England. 
 
 The health of this singular being has 
 been very good. His respiration is some- 
 what confined, being the necessary result 
 of a contraction of the lungs ; yet, upon 
 the whole, he does not appear to be much 
 inconvenienced on that account, in con- 
 sequence of the little exercise he takes, 
 and the quiescent state of the animal 
 system. 
 
 The texture of the skin is of a dry, 
 parchment- like appearance, which, cover- 
 ing any other human form, would not 
 answer the purposes of its functions, but 
 seems calculated alone to cover the slen- 
 der, juiceless body of the being arrayed 
 with it. 
 
 The ribs are not only capable of being 
 distinguished, but may be clearly sepa- 
 rated and counted one by one, and han- 
 dled like so many pieces of cane; and, 
 together with the skin which covers them, 
 resemble more the hoops and outer cover- 
 ing of a small balloon, than any thing in 
 the ordinary course of nature. 
 
 If any thing can exceed the unearthly 
 appearance displayed by this wonderful 
 phenomenon, it is that taken by profile ; 
 which, from the projection of the shoulder, 
 pursuing the same down through the ex- 
 treme hollow of the back, and then fol- 
 lowing the line to the front of the hip, 
 nearly forms a figure of 3. In the front 
 appears the unnatural projection of the 
 j chest, from the falling in of the abdomen ; 
 j the prominence of the left side of the 
 i body, in consequence of tlie position of 
 j the heart ; and the sudden protusion of 
 ' the posteriors. 
 
 \ The action produced by the effort of 
 
 the lungs does not proceed from the chest, 
 as in ordinary cases, but from the lower 
 extremity of the abdomen, as though the 
 organs of respiration, from excessive laxity, 
 
 had absolutely descended from their pro- 
 per sphere, and that by a tenacious eftort 
 of nature, unwilling to yield possession 
 of her functions, they had accommodated 
 themselves, by time, to such an unnatural 
 and incredible a position. 
 
 Seurat is presented to view in a state 
 of nudity, save a mere covering of several 
 inches deep round the loins, through 
 which are cut large holes to admit the 
 hip bones to pass through, for the purpose 
 of keeping it in its place. His general 
 appearance is that of a person almost 
 entirely devoid of muscular substance, 
 and conveys to the mind the idea of a 
 being composed of bones, cellular sub- 
 stance and skin only on. It is true, the 
 appearances of the face, neck, fore-arm, 
 and calves of the legs, may, in some mea- 
 sure, form exceptions to this general as- 
 sertion, since in these situations there is 
 something like flesh. 
 
 His height is about five feet seven 
 inches and a half. The length of his 
 extremities proportionate to the height of 
 his body. His head is small rather than 
 otherwise. The cranium, (or skull,) at the 
 back part, over the occipital protuber- 
 ance above the neck, is much flattened ; 
 the cervical organs in this situation being 
 very sparely developed. In other respects 
 the skull is tolerably well formed. Seu- 
 rat's countenance is by no means dis- 
 pleasing ; for though the cheek-bones are 
 prominent, the cheeks themselves sunk, 
 and the other features of the face plain, 
 still there is a placid and contemplative 
 expression, which indicates the presence 
 of a serene and thoughtful mind, claim- 
 ing for itself from the spectators, feeUngs 
 of pity and regret. 
 
 The neck, on being examined from be- 
 fore, appears short, flat, and broad. The 
 shortness is principally owing to his in- 
 ability to hold the face properly elevated, 
 in consequence of which the chin drops 
 down, and conceals the upper part of the 
 neck. The flatness depends on the little 
 muscular and cellular substance present, 
 and on the great breadth of the neck, 
 which takes from its natural rotundity. 
 This great breadth is caused 1 y the pecu- 
 liar form and situation of the scapulae, 
 (or shoulder-blade,) the upper angles of 
 which, instead of laying on the poslerioi 
 portions of the uppermost ribs, are turned 
 over the shoulder, and pass so far forward 
 as nearly to reach the middle of the cla- 
 vicles, (the collar-bones,) where their situ- 
 ation may be easily seen from before. 
 
 511 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JUL/ 26 
 
 Of course, tlie muscles called levator as 
 scajmlcB, which arise from the wpper 
 vertebrae of the neck, and usually pass 
 downwards, and a very little outward?, 
 m this case, pass very much outwards, in 
 a direction towards the shoulder-joint, 
 and extend the neck considerably in a 
 lateral direction. These muscles, from 
 their size and turgidity, have the appear- 
 ance of bones in Seurat. 
 
 The larynx, as far as can be judged of 
 from an external examination, is well 
 formed, and that protuberance of the thy- 
 soir cartilage called pomum adanii, or the 
 apple of the throat, is prominent. 
 
 The formation of the upper extremities 
 and chest, is one of the most remarkable 
 features of this man. The left scapula is 
 higher than the right ; both are remark- 
 ably prominent ; so much so, that, when 
 viewed sideways, there appears to be a 
 large tumour underneath the skin, over 
 the lower angle : this arises from the great 
 projection of the lower angle itself from 
 the ribs. It has been already stated, that 
 the upper angle is placed unusually for- 
 wards, and at the laottom of the neck, 
 from this point, the scapula proceeds 
 backwards, and, to permit its closer ap- 
 plication to the upper and back part of 
 the chest, its concave surface is remark- 
 ably curved, but still not sufficiently so 
 to prevent the lower angle from projecting 
 in an unseemly manner. This arrange- 
 ment of the component parts of the sca- 
 pula and its muscles, interferes very much 
 with the freedom of its movements, par- 
 ticularly the rotatory ones, which in other 
 subjects are so varied. 
 
 Seurat can raise his hands and arms 
 from his side, in a lateral direction, to a 
 position nearly horizontal. He cannot, 
 however, pass them far forwards, when 
 tiuis elevated. He can throw the scapula 
 backwards, so as to make them almost 
 meet at their lower ends ; nevertheless, 
 he is unable to lift his hands to his mouth, 
 so as to feed himself in the ordinary way. 
 When eating, he places his elbow on the 
 table before him, then, by raising his 
 hand, thus supported, anr" passing his 
 head downwards, so as to meet it half 
 way as it were, he is able to put his food 
 into his mouth. 
 
 The humerus, or bone of the arm, from 
 the elbow to the shoulder, appears quite 
 destitute of muscle, and as if it consisted 
 of bone, skin, vessels, and cellular mem- 
 brane only. It may be remarked, how- 
 ever, that at that uart where the biceps 
 
 muscie is generally, therf is a triilmg 
 fulness, probably caused by a few fibres 
 of that muscle. 
 
 The piner, the bone of the Arm from 
 the elbow to the wrist, seems at the elbow 
 joint considerably enlarged, but, in fact. 
 It is only of its natural dimensions. The 
 muscles of the fore-arm, though small, 
 may, nevertheless, be distinctly traced. 
 The hands are perfect in appearance. 
 Seurat, however, cannot straighten his 
 fingers, but keeps them in a semi-bent 
 position ; with this exception, he can use 
 them freely. 
 
 The trunk is singularly shaped. Viewed 
 from the front, the chest is not particu- 
 larly narrow; it measures, from one 
 shoulder to the other, across the sternum, 
 or breast-bone, sixteen inches. The ster- 
 num is much flattened, as though it had 
 been driven inwards, towards the dorsal 
 vertebra, or back-bone. In well-formed 
 people, the sternum is a little convex, ex- 
 ternally, and concave, internally, permit- 
 ting all possible room for the thoraic 
 viscera. In Seurat, however, this order 
 of things is changed, the outer surface of 
 the breast-bone being concave, and the 
 internal convex. It is pushed so far in- 
 wards, as scarcely to leave more than one 
 and a half inches, or two inches between 
 itself and the opposite vcrtebrcE. 
 
 This position of the sternum, and of the 
 ribs, may probably afford an explanation 
 of the causes which produce a slight im- 
 pediment to his swallowing with despatch, 
 or such morsels as are not cut very small ; 
 and of the unnatural situation of the heart, 
 which, instead of being placed behind the 
 3d, 4th, and 5th ribs, is observed pulsat- 
 ing very low down behind the 7th, 8tli, 
 and 9th, ribs, in the situation of the left 
 hypochondrium. The five or six lower 
 ribs, called false or floating ribs, are 
 rounder, and approach nearer to nature 
 in their form, thereby affording sufficient 
 space for the heart, stomach, and liver, 
 and some other of the abdominal viscera. 
 It is conceived, that without this freer 
 sweep of the lower ribs, life could not 
 have been maintained, so much would 
 the functions of the heart, and chylopretic 
 viscera have been interrupted. The false 
 ribs descend very low down, on each side, 
 there being scarcely one and a half inch 
 between them and the crest of the ileum. 
 The pelvis is capacious, and on its front 
 aspect presents nothing very extraot- 
 dinnry. 
 
 There is an appearance of the abdomen, 
 
 512 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 vhich must not be passed over. When 
 looking at it, one might almost suppose 
 that it consisted of two cavities, an upper 
 and a lower one, so much is this poor fel- 
 low contracted round the loins. The fol- 
 lowing admeasurement may afford some 
 idea of this circumstance : — 
 
 Kl. In. 
 
 Circumference of the chest, 
 
 directly under the armpits . 2 6^ 
 
 Circumference lower down, op- 
 posite the second false rib .22 
 
 Circumference round the loins 1 9 
 
 Circumference round ihe pelvis 2 3J 
 
 The muscles of the sides of the pelvis, 
 partake of the general wasting, in conse- 
 <juence of which the trochantes stand out 
 from the glenon cavities in the same gaunt 
 manner that they do in the true skeleton, 
 being covered by integuments alone. The 
 thighs are imperfect in bulk, and the 
 knees, like the elbows, appear enlarged. 
 The calves of the legs seem to have more 
 firm good muscle, than any other part of 
 the body, particularly that of the right 
 leg, which is much more fleshy than the 
 'eft. The feet are well formed; a trifling 
 overlapping of the toes is probably acci- 
 dental. 
 
 The examination of the back part of 
 Seurat's body corresponds with the front, 
 as far as the general leanness goes. The 
 occiput is flat, the neck broad ; the sca- 
 pula projecting, the spine crooked ;.some 
 of the lower cervical vertebrce are curved 
 backwards, and there is a curve towards 
 the right side, formed by some of the 
 lower dorsal vertebra. All the bony points 
 of the back part of the body are so pro- 
 minent that every individual bone may be 
 distinctly traced by the eye, even at a con- 
 siderable distance. 
 
 On first beholding Seurat, a person 
 might almost imagine that he saw before 
 him, one returned from " that bourne 
 whence no traveller returns:" the first 
 impressions over, he begins to wonder 
 how so frail a being exists, and is sur- 
 prised, that all those functions, necessary 
 for the continuance of his own life, are 
 regularly and efi'ectively performed. He 
 eats, drinks, and sleeps — the progress of di- 
 gestion, as carried on throughout the ali- 
 mentary canal, is regularly executed. The 
 secretions of the liver, kidnies, and skin 
 are separated from the blood, in such 
 quantities as may be deemed necessary 
 for the economy of his frame. His heart 
 performs its office regulaily, and sends 
 tlie blood to the various parts of the body, 
 
 in due proportions. He can bear the 
 eflects of heat and cold, like other people 
 accustomed to lead a sedentary life, and 
 does not need unusual clothes. His mind 
 is better constituted, perhaps, than that oi 
 many a man, better formed in body. He 
 comprehends quickly, and his memory is 
 good. He has learnt to read and write 
 his own language, and is now anxious to 
 become acquainted with ours. 
 
 Such is Claude Ambroise Seurat, who 
 may justly be considered as a most ex- 
 traordinary hisus naturtsp, — an object 
 calculated to throw much and useful light 
 on many interesting questions of the high, 
 est importance, towards the advancemen 
 of anatomical study. 
 
 So far from having any disinclination 
 to being exhibited in this country, Claude 
 Ambroise Seurat has repeatedly urged his 
 wish to gratify the strong desire of the 
 public, to view him without loss of time ; 
 and healing that one of the journals had 
 expressed some harshness concerning his 
 exhibition, he indited and signed the 
 following letter 
 
 To the Editor. 
 Sir, 
 
 Havii;g learned that in an article in 
 your joumal, the motives and conduct oi 
 the persons who brought me to England 
 are severely alluded to, it is my duty, both 
 to them and to the public, to declare, that 
 so far from experiencing any thing dis- 
 agreeable, either in having been con- 
 ducted hither or at being exposed, I feel 
 great satisfaction not only in the change 
 of my situation, but also at the bounties 
 w ith which 1 have been loaded by the in- 
 dividuals who protect me. Far from 
 having " been bi ought from the tranquil- 
 lity of my native village," I was wander- 
 ing about France, and making but little 
 by the exposure of my person, when I so 
 fortunately met my present protectors, 
 whose liberality will shortly render me 
 sufficiently independent to unable me to 
 return and live at my ease in my native 
 country. I only beg leave to add, that 
 my present situation is more happy than 
 I ever yet enjoyed during my whole life, 
 and is entirely conformable to my desires. 
 
 I have the honour to be, Sir, your most 
 humble servant, 
 
 Claiide Ambroise Seurat. 
 
 Jvg. 4, 1825. 
 
 This, with what follows, will give a 
 tolerably adequate idea of this singula) 
 being, both as to his form and mind 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 513 
 
 2 L 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— JULY 26. 
 
 I have paid two visits to Seurat. His 
 public exaibition takes place in a room in 
 Pall-mall called the " Chinese Saloon;" 
 its sides are decorated with Chinese pa- 
 per; Chinese lanterns are hung from lines 
 crossing from wall to wall. In front of a 
 large recess, on one side, is a circular 
 gauze canopy over a platform covered 
 with crimson cloth, raised about eighteen 
 inches from the floor, and enclosed by a 
 light brass railing ; the recess is enclosed 
 by a light curtain depending from the cor- 
 nice to the floor of the platform, and open- 
 ing in the middle. A slight motion within 
 intimates that the object of attraction is 
 about to appear ; the curtain opens a little 
 on each side, and Seurat comes forth, as 
 he is represented in the first engraving,with 
 no other covering than a small piece of 
 fringed purple silk, supported round the 
 raiddle by a red band, with a slit like 
 pocket holes, to allow the hip-bones to 
 pass through on each side. On the finger 
 of the left hand, next to the middle one, 
 he wears a plain gold ring. An artist 
 who accompanied me at each visit, for tlie 
 purpose of making the drawings here 
 engraved, has well represented him. The 
 portraits, both front and profile, are better 
 resemblances than any that exist, and the 
 anatomy of his figure more correct. 
 
 It is justly remarked, that " the title of 
 ' Living Skeleton' does not seem exactly 
 to be well applied to this strange produc- 
 tion of nature, and may, perhaps, create 
 some disappointment ; because the cu- 
 riosity, as it really exists, lies far less in 
 the degree of attenuation which Seurat's 
 frame exhibits, than in the fact that, with 
 a frame so reduced, a human being should 
 be still in possession of most of his func- 
 tions, and enjoying a reasonable quantity 
 of health. As regards the exhibition of 
 bone, for instance, there is not so much 
 as may frequently be found (in the dead 
 subject) in cases where persons have died 
 of lingering consumption. The parch- 
 ment-like aspect attributed to the skin too 
 seems to have been a little overstated ; 
 and, in fact, most medical men who 
 served in the late war, will recollect in- 
 stances enough, where men of five feet 
 eight inches high, dying from dysentery, 
 or intermittent fever, have weighed con- 
 siderably less than 78lbs., which is the 
 weight of Seurat. The real novelty, there- 
 fore, should be looked for, not in the 
 degree to which this man's body is wasted 
 and exhausted, but in the fact that such a 
 degree of <iecay should be compatible 
 
 with life, and the po'isession of some de- 
 gree of strength and spirits. This decay 
 does not seem to have operated equally 
 upon all parts of the figure : it shows most 
 strikingly in the appearance of the neck 
 and trunk ; the upper arms, from the 
 shoulder to the elbow, and the thigh. 
 The upper part of the arm is not quite 
 destitute of flesh ; but so small, that it 
 may be spanned with ease by a very 
 moderate fore-finger and thumb. The 
 thighs are wasted very much — little re- 
 mains upon them beyond the skin. The 
 cap of the knee, which is large, and pro- 
 trudes considerably, is of a reddish colour, 
 unlike the aspect of the flesh or skin in 
 general. The trunk, from the shoulder to 
 the hip, has the appearance, more than 
 any thing else, of a large bellows, a mere 
 bag of hoops covered with leather, through 
 which the pulsation of the heart is dis- 
 tinctly visible. On the thicker part of 
 llie fore-arm there is flesh, white in ap- 
 pearance, though of a soft and unhealthy 
 character; and the division of the two 
 bones, the idna and the radius, may be 
 detected by feeling. Upon the calves of 
 the legs, again, there is some show of 
 substance, and one is larger than the 
 other. But the most curious circum- 
 stance, perhaps, in the man's condition 
 is, that while liis whole body exhibits 
 these extraordinary appearances of decay, 
 his face (which is decidedly French, and 
 not unpleasant,) displays no signs of at- 
 tenuation whatever, and scarcely any 
 symptom of disease or weakness."* 
 
 It was on the first day of Seurat's ex- 
 hibition that I first visited him ; this was 
 on Tuesday, the 9th of August, 1825; 
 a day the present sheet of the Evcry- 
 Day Book has not yet reached ; I have 
 been anxious to be before the day and the 
 public, as regards Seurat, and it is there- 
 fore, as to him, anticipated. I was at 
 the " Chinese Saloon'' before the doors 
 were opened, and was the first of the 
 public admitted, followed by my friend, 
 the artist. Seurat was not quite ready to 
 appear; in the mean time, another visitor 
 or two arrived, and after examining the 
 canopy, and other arrangements, my at- 
 tention was directed to the Chinese paper- 
 ing of the room, while Seurat had silent- 
 ly opened the curtains that concealed 
 him, and stood motionless towards the 
 front of the platform, as he is represented 
 in the engraving. On turninsc round, I 
 was instantly ri\ettod by his amazing 
 
 il4 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 26. 
 
 emac.af ion ; he seemed another " Lazarus, 
 come forth" without liis grave-clothes, and 
 for a moment I was too consternated to 
 observe more than his general appearance. 
 -My eye, then, first caught the arm as the 
 most remarkable limb; from the shoulder 
 to the elbow it is like an ivory German 
 rtute somewhat deepened in colour by age ; 
 it is nut larger, and the skin is of that hue, 
 and, not having a trace of muscle, it is as 
 perfect a cylinder as a writing rule. 
 Amazed by the wasted limbs, I was still 
 more amazed by the extraordinary de- 
 pression of the chest. Its indentation is 
 similar to that which an over-careful mo- 
 ther makes in the pillowed surface of an 
 infant's bed for its repose. Nature has 
 here inverted her own order, and turned 
 the convex inwards, while the nobler 
 organs, obedient to her will, maintain 
 life by the gentle exercise of their 
 wonted functions in a lower region. 
 Below the ribs, which are well described 
 in the accounts already given, the trunk 
 so immediately curves in, that the red 
 band of the silk-covering, though it is 
 only loosely placed, seems a tourniquet 
 to constrict the bowels within their prison 
 house, and the hip-bones, being of their 
 natural size, the waist is like a wasp's. 
 By this part of the frame we are reminded 
 of some descriptions of the abstemious 
 arid Bedouin Arab of the desert, in whom 
 it is said the abdomen seems to cling 
 to the vertebra. If the integument of the 
 bowels can be called flesh, it is the 
 only flesh on the body : for it seems to 
 have wholly shrunk from the limbs ; an^^ 
 where the muscles that have not wholly 
 disappeared remain, they are also shrunk. 
 He wears shoes to keep cold from his feet, 
 which are not otherwise shaped than those 
 ofpeople who have been accustomed to wear 
 tight shoes ; his instep is good, and by no 
 means so flat as in the generality of tavern 
 waiters. His legs are not more ill-shaped 
 than in extremely thin or much wasted 
 persons; the right leg, which is somewhat 
 larger than the left, is not less than were 
 the legs of the late Mr. Suett, the come- 
 dian. On this point, without a private 
 knowledge of Mr. Listen, I would pub- 
 licly appeal to that gentleman, whom, on 
 my second visit in the afternoon, I saw 
 there, accompanied by Mr. Jones. Mr. 
 Liston doubtless remembers Suett, and I 
 think he will never forget Senrat, at whom he 
 looked, " unutterable things,'' as if he had 
 Veen about to say — " Prodigious!" 
 
 S!eurat's head and body convey a senti- 
 
 ment of antithesis. When the siglit is 
 fixed on his face alone, there is nothing 
 there to denote that he varies from other 
 men. I examined him closely and fre- 
 quently, felt him on dififerent parts of the 
 body, and, not speaking his language, put 
 questions to him through others, which he 
 readily answered. His head has been 
 shaved, yet a little hair left on the upper 
 part of the neck, shows it to be black, 
 and he wears a wig of that colour. His 
 strong black beard is perceptible, although 
 clean shaved, liis complexion is swarthy, 
 and his features are good, without the 
 emaciation of which his body partakes ; 
 the cheek-bones are high, and the eyes 
 are dark brown, approaching to black. 
 They are represented as heavy and dull, 
 and to denote little mental capacity; 
 but, perhaps, a watchful observer, who 
 made pertinent inquiries of him in a 
 proper manner, would remark otherwise 
 lie usually inclines the head forward 
 towards his breast, and therefore, and be- 
 cause he is elevated above the spectators, his 
 eyes frequently assume a position wherein 
 he might see, and "descant on his own de- 
 formity." His features are flexible, and 
 therefore capable of great animation, and his 
 forehead indicates capacity. Depression 
 of the eyelid is by no means to be taken as 
 a mark of dulness or inefficient intellect. 
 One of our poets, I think Churchill, no 
 incompetent judge of human nature, has 
 a line concerning Genius " lowering on 
 the penthouse of the eye." Seurat, on 
 any othp'- «baii a common-place question, 
 elevates his head to an ordinaiy position, 
 answers immediately and with precision, 
 and discourses rationally and sensibly ; 
 more sensibly than some in the room, who 
 put childish questions about him to the 
 attendants, and express silly opinions as 
 to his physical and mental stincture and 
 abilities, and call him " a shocking crea- 
 ture." There is nothing shocking eiiher 
 in his mind or his face. His countenance 
 has an air of melancholy, but he expresses 
 no feeling of the kind ; it is not, how- 
 ever, so mournful as the engraving at the 
 head of this article shows The artist 
 was timid, and in form and habit the 
 reverse of Seurat ; and as " like will to 
 like," so through dislike to the life of the 
 subject before him, he imagined more 
 dolour in Seural's face than it has ; this 
 could not be remedied by the engraver 
 without hazarding the likeness, which is 
 really gooa. Seurat's voice is pleasing, 
 deep-toned, and gentle Except for the 
 
 515 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 25. 
 
 privations to which his conformation con- 
 strains him, lie is not an object of pity, 
 and perhaps very little on that account. 
 We meet many perfectly-formed beings 
 in daily society whose abject indulgences 
 or abject circumstances in life render 
 
 tliem far more pitiable, and in a mora, 
 point of view, some of them are far more 
 shocking. There is nothing in Seurat fo 
 disgust, as far as I could judge from what 
 I saw or heard of him. 
 
 Thou WHO despisest so debased a iate 
 As in the pride of wisdom thou may'st call 
 The much submissive Seurat's low estate, 
 Look round the world, and see where over all 
 Injurious passions hold mankind in thrall ! — 
 Behold the fraudful arts, the covert strife, 
 Tlie jarring interests that engross mankind ; 
 The low pui suits, the selfish aims of life ; 
 Studies that weary and contract the mind. 
 That bring no joy, and leave no peace behind ; — 
 And Death approaching to dissolve the spell ! 
 
 Soitihry's Tah of Paraguay 
 
 Death is not contemplated by Seurat 
 as near to him, and it is even probable 
 that his " last event" is far off. The 
 vital organs have wonderfully conformed 
 themselves to liis malformation, and where 
 they are seated, perform their office unin- 
 terruptedly. The quantity of solid nutri- 
 ment for the support of his feeble frame 
 never exceeds four ounces a day. The 
 pulsations of his heart are regular, and it 
 has never palpitated ; at the wrist, they 
 are slow and equally regular. He has 
 never been ill, nor taken medicine, ex- 
 cept once, and then only a small quantity 
 of manna. His skin is not more d.y than 
 the skin of many other living persons 
 who abstain, as he does, from strong 
 vinous or fermented liquors, and drink 
 sparingly ; it is not branny, but perfectly 
 smooth ; nor is it of a colour unnatural to 
 a being who cannot sustain much exercise, 
 who exists in health with very little, and 
 therefore does not require more. The 
 complexion of his body is that of a light 
 Creole, or perhaps more similar to that of 
 fine old ivory ; it must be remembered, that 
 his natural com^.lexion is swarthy. What 
 has been asserted elsewhere is perfectly 
 true, that when dressed in padded clothes, 
 he would not in any position be more 
 remarkable than any other person, except 
 that, among Englishmen, he would be 
 taken for a foreigner. On the day before 
 his public exhibition, he walked from the 
 Gothic-hall in the Haymarket, to the 
 Chinese Saloon in Pall-mall, arm-in-arm 
 with the gentleman who brought him 
 from France, and was wholly unrecog- 
 nized and unnoticed. 
 
 Until ten years of age, Seurat was as 
 healthy as other children, except that 
 
 his chest was depressed, and he was 
 much weaker ; until that year, he used to 
 run about and play, and tumble down 
 from feebleness. From that age his feeble- 
 ness increased, and he grew rapidly until 
 he was fourteen, when he attained his 
 present stature, with further increase of 
 weakness : he is not weaker now than he 
 was then. His recreation is reading, and 
 heispassionatelyfondof listening to music. 
 He cannot stoop, but he can lift a weight of 
 t'^velve pounds from a chair: of course, he 
 displays no feats of any kind, and unless 
 great care is taken, he may be injured by 
 cold, and the fatigue of the exhibition. Of 
 this, however, himself and his father, who 
 is with him, and who is a shrewd, sensible 
 man, seem aware. He remains about ten 
 minutes standing and walking before the 
 company, and then withdraws between 
 the curtains to seat himself, from obser- 
 vation in a blanketed arm-chair, till an- 
 other company arri\es. His limbs are 
 well-proportioned ; he is not at all 
 knock-kneed, nor are his legs any way 
 deformed. 
 
 Seurat is " shocking" to those who 
 have never reflected on mortality, and 
 think him nearer to the grave than them- 
 selves. Perhaps he is only sd in appear- 
 ance. The orderly operation of the vital 
 principle within him for the last thirteei 
 or fourteen years, may continue to tlm 
 ordinary duration of human life. Every 
 one of his spectators is " encompassed 
 in a ghostly frame," and exemplifies, as 
 much as Seurat, the scriptural remark, 
 that " in the midst of life we are in 
 death ;" it is not further from us fox 
 not thinking on it, nor is it nearer to iB 
 because it is under our eyes 
 
 516 
 
TPIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 27. 
 
 SEURAT'S POSITIONS WHEN EXHIBITING HIMSELF. 
 
 Seurat's existence is peculiar to himself; 
 he is unlike any being ever heard of, and 
 no other like him may ever live. But 
 if he is alone in the world, and to 
 himself useless, he may not be without 
 his use to others. His condition, and the 
 privations whereby he holds his tenure of 
 existence, are eloquent to a mind reflect- 
 ing on the few real wants of mankind, 
 and the advantages derivable from absti- 
 nent and temperate habits. Had he been 
 born a little higher in society, his mental 
 
 improvement might have advanced with 
 his corporeal incapacity, and instead of 
 being shown as a phenomenon, he might 
 have flourished as a sage. No man has 
 been great who has not subdued his pas- 
 sions ; real greatness has insisted on this 
 as essential to happiness, and artificial 
 greatness shrunk from it. When Paul 
 " reasoned of righteousness, temperance, 
 and judgment to come, Felix trembled." 
 Seurat's appearance seems an admonition 
 fiom the grave to " think on these things." 
 
 Suly 27. 
 
 St. Pantaleon, a. d. 303. Sts. Maximian, 
 Malchus, Martinian, Dionysius, John, 
 Serapion, and Constantine., the Seven 
 Sleepers, a. d. 250. St. Congail. St. 
 Luica 
 
 THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. 
 
 These saints, according to Alban Butler, 
 were Ephesians,who for their faith, under 
 Decius, in 250, were walled up together 
 in a cave, wherein they had hid them- 
 selves, till they were found, in 479 ; and 
 
 517 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 27. 
 
 hence, lie SE.ys, " some moderns have 
 imagined that they only lay asleep till 
 they were found." He designates them 
 in his title, however, as having been 
 " commonly called the seven sleepers ;'' 
 and we shall see presently who his " mo- 
 derns" are. He adds, that " the cave 
 wherein their bodies were found, became 
 famous for devout pilgrimages, and is 
 still shown to travellers, as James Spon 
 testifies." 
 
 The miraculous story of the seven 
 sleepers relates, that they remained in the 
 cave till the heresy that " denyed the 
 resurreccyon of deed bodyes" under Theo- 
 dotian, when a " burges" of Ephesus 
 causing a stable to be made in the moun- 
 tain, the masons opened the cave, " and 
 then these holy sayntes that were within 
 awoke and were reysed," and they saluted 
 each other, and they " supposed veryley 
 that they had slepte but one nyght onely," 
 •nstead of two hundred and twenty-nine 
 years. Being hungry, Malchus, one of 
 themselves, was deputed to go to Ephesus 
 and buy bread for the rest ; " and then 
 Malchus toke V shillynges, and yssued 
 out of the cave." He marvelled when he 
 saw the mason's work outside, and when 
 he came to one of the gates of Ephesus he 
 was " all doubtous," for he saw the sign 
 of the cross on the gate ; then he went to 
 another gate, and *bund another cross ; 
 and he found crosses on all the gates ; and 
 he supposed himself in a dream ; but he 
 comforted himself, and at last he entered 
 the City, and found the city also was 
 " garr^ysshed" with the cross. Then he 
 went to the " sellers of breed," and when 
 he showed his money, they were surprised, 
 and said one to another, that "this yonge 
 man" had found some old treasure ; and 
 when Malchus saw them talk together, 
 he was afraid lest they should take hmi 
 before the emperor, and prayed them to 
 let him go, and keep both the money and 
 the bread ; but they asked who he was, 
 for they were sure he had found a trea- 
 sure of the " olde emperours," and they 
 told him if he would inform them they 
 would divide it, " and kepe it secret." 
 But Malchus was so terrified he could 
 not speak ; then they tied a cord round 
 his neck, and drove him through the 
 middle of the city ; and it was told 
 that he had found an ancient treasure, and 
 " all the cite assembled aboute hym ;" and 
 he denied the charge, and when he be- 
 held the people he knew no man there ; 
 and he supposed they were carrying him 
 
 before the emperor Decius, but they car- 
 ried him to the church before St. Martin 
 and Anti pater, the consul ; and the bishop 
 looked at the money, and marvelled at it, 
 and demanded where he had found tiie 
 hidden treasure; and he answered, that 
 he had not found it, that it was his owi, 
 and that he had it of his kinsmen. Then 
 the judge said his kinsmen must come 
 and answer fur him ; and he named them 
 but none knew them ; and they deemea 
 that he had told them untruly, and the 
 judge said, how can we believe that thou 
 hadst this money of thy friends, when we 
 read " that it is more than CCC.lxxii. 
 yere syth it was made," in the time of 
 Decius, the emperor, how can it have 
 come to thee, who art so young, from 
 kinsmen so long ago; thou wouldst deceive 
 the wise men of Ephesus : I demand, 
 therefore, that thou confess whence thou 
 hadst this money. Then Malchuskneeled 
 down, and demanded where was Decius, 
 the emperor ; and they told him there 
 was no such emperor then in the world • 
 whereat Malchus said he was greatly con- 
 fused that no man believed he spoke the 
 truth, yet true it was that he and his 
 fellows saw him yesterday in that city of 
 Ephesus. Then the bishop told the 
 judge that this young man was in a hea- 
 venly vision, and commanded Malchus 
 to follow him, and to show him his com- 
 panions. And they went forth, and a 
 great multitude of the city with them to- 
 wards the cave ; and Malchus entered 
 first into the cave, and the bishop next, 
 " and there founde they amonge the 
 stones the lettres sealed with two scales 
 of syluer," and then the bishop read 
 them before all the people ; and they all 
 marvelled, "and they sawe the sayntes 
 syttynge in the caue, and theyr visages 
 lyke unto roses flouryng." And the 
 bishop sent for the emperor to come an . 
 see the marvels. And the emperor came 
 from Constantinople to Ephesus, and 
 ascended the mountain ; and as soon as 
 the saints saw the emperor come, " their 
 vysages shone like to the sonne," and the 
 emperor embraced them. And they de- 
 manded of the emperor that he would 
 believe the resurrection of the body, for to 
 that end had they been raised ; and then 
 they gave up the ghost, and the emperor 
 arose and fell on them weeping, " and 
 embraced them, and kyssed them debo« 
 nayrly." And he commanded precious 
 sepulchres of gold and silver to bury 
 their bodies therein. But the same tiight 
 
 518 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULV 2S. 
 
 they appeared to the emperor, and de- 
 manded of him to let their bodies lie on 
 the earth, as they nad lain before, till the 
 general resunection ; and the emperor 
 obeyed, and caused the place to be 
 adorned with precious stones. And all 
 the bishops that believed in the resurrec- 
 tion were absolved.* 
 
 In the breviary of the church of Salis- 
 bury, there is a prayer for tlie 27th of 
 July, beseeching the benefit of the resur- 
 rection through the prayers of the seven 
 sleepers, who proclaimed the eternal re- 
 surrection. Bishop Patrick,t who gives 
 us the prayer, says, " To show the 
 reader in what great care the heads of tlie 
 Romish church had in those days of men's 
 souls, how well they instructed them, 
 and by what fine stories their devotions 
 ■were then conducted, I cannot but trans- 
 late the history of these seven sleepers, 
 as I find it in the Salisbury breviary ; 
 which, if it had been designed to enter- 
 tain youth as the history of the Seven 
 Champions, might have deserved a less 
 severe censure ; but this was read in the 
 church to the people, as chapters are out 
 of the bible, and divided into so many 
 lessons." He then givcS the story of the 
 seven sleepers as it stands in the breviary, 
 and adds, that there was no heresy about 
 the resurrection in the days of Theodo- 
 tian, and that if any had a mind to see 
 the ground cf their prayer in the breviary, 
 and the " stufli'" of the legend of the seven 
 sleepers, they might consult " Baronius's 
 notes upon the Roman Martyrology, July 
 27." 
 
 It appears then, that the ecclesiastics 
 of the church of Salisbury were among 
 the "moderns" of Alban Butler, " who 
 imagined" of the seven sleepers as related 
 in the legend, and so imagining, taught the 
 " stuff," as bishop Patrick calls it, to their 
 flocks. Yet Alban Butler weeps over the 
 Reformation, which swept the " imagina- 
 tions" of his " moderns" away, and he 
 would fain bring us back to the religion 
 of the imaginers. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Purple Loosestrife. Ly thrum Saliruria. 
 Dedicated to St. Pantalcon. 
 
 Sts. Nazarins and Celsus, a. d 68. St. 
 
 rictor, Pope, A.D. 201. St. Innocent I. 
 Pope, A.D. 417. St. Sampson, a.d. 564, 
 
 Musical Prodigies. 
 There is at present in Berlin, a boy, 
 between four and five years old, who has 
 manifested an extraordinary precocity of 
 musical talent. Carl Anton Floriaii 
 Eckert. the son of a sergeant in the second 
 regiment of Fencible Guards, was born on 
 the 7th of December, 1820. While in the 
 cradle, the predilection of this remarkable 
 child for music was striking, and passages 
 in a minor key affected him so much as to 
 make tears come in his eyes. When 
 about a year and a quarter old, he listened 
 to his lather playing the air " Schone 
 Minka' with one hand, on an old harpsi- 
 chord : he immediately played it with 
 both hands, employing the knuckles in aid 
 of his short and feeble fingers. He continued 
 afterwards to play every thing by the ear, 
 lie retains whatever he hears in the me- 
 mory, and can tell at once whether an instru- 
 ment is too high or too low for concert 
 pitch. It was soon observed that his ear 
 was sufficiently delicate to enable him to 
 name any note or chord wdiich might be 
 struck without his seeing it. He also 
 transposes with the greatest facility into 
 any key he pleases, and executes pieces 
 of fancy extempore. A subscription has 
 been opened to buy him a pianofoite, as 
 he has got tired of the old harpsichord, 
 and two able musicians have undertaken 
 to instruct him.* 
 
 * Golden Legend. 
 
 t In his " Reflections on the Devotions of the 
 Koiiii-iU Church." 
 
 Eckert was pre-rivalled in England by 
 the late Mr. Lhailes Wesley, the son of 
 the rev. Charles Wesley, and nephew to 
 the late rev. John Wesley, the founder of 
 the religious body denominated methodists. 
 The musical genius of Charles Wesley was 
 observed when he was not quite three 
 years old ; he then surprised his father by 
 playing a tune on the harpsichord readily, 
 and in just time. Soon afterwards he 
 played several others. Whatever his mother 
 sang, or whatever he heard in the streets, 
 he could, without difficulty, make out upon 
 this instrument. Almost from his birth 
 his mother used to quiet and amuse him 
 with the harpsichord. On these occasions, 
 he would not suffer her to play only with 
 one hand, but, even before he could 
 speak, would seize hold of the other, and 
 
 • The PaTthevnv, a new muiital wnrk typolilho- 
 grapliied, notices this precorioiis mi\sician on tn« 
 aiulioritv of tlie Geiman p:iper». 
 
 519 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 29 
 
 put it upon the keys. When he played 
 by himself, she used to tie him by his 
 back-string to the chair, in order to pre- 
 vent his falling. Even at this age, he 
 always put a true bass to every tune he 
 played. From the beginning he played 
 without study or hesitation. Whenever, 
 as was frequently the case, he was asked 
 to play before a stranger, he would in- 
 variably inquire in a phrase of his own, 
 "/« he a musiker i?" and if he was answered 
 in the affirmative, he always did with the 
 greatest readiness. His style on all oc- 
 casions was con spirito ; and there was 
 something in his manner so much beyond 
 what could be expected from a child, that 
 his hearers, learned or unlearntd, were 
 invariably astonished and delighted. 
 
 When he was four years old, Mr. Wes- 
 ley took him to London ; and I3eard, who 
 ,was the first musical man who heard him 
 there, was so much pleased with his 
 abilities, that he kindly offered his inte- 
 rest with Dr. Boyce to get him admitted 
 among the king's boys. This, however, his 
 father declined, as he then had no thoughts 
 of bringing him up to the profession of 
 music. He waj also introduced among 
 others to Stanley and Worgan. The 
 latter in particular, was extremely kind 
 to him, and would frequently entertain 
 him by playing on the harpsichord. 
 The child was greatly struck by his bold 
 and full manner of playing, and seemed 
 even then to catch a spark of his fire. 
 Mr. Wesley soon afterwards returned 
 with him to Bristol; and when he was 
 nbout six years old, he was put under the 
 tuition of Rooke, a very good-natured 
 man, but of no great eminence, who al- 
 lowed nim to run on ad UbHum, whilst he 
 sat by apparently more to observe than to 
 control him. Rogers, at that time the 
 oldest organist in Bristol, was one of his 
 first friends. He would often sit him on 
 his knee, and make the boy play to him, 
 declaring, that he was more delighted in 
 Hearing him then himself. For some years 
 his study and piactice were almost en- 
 tirely confined to the works of Corelli, 
 Scarlatti, and Handel ; and so rapid was 
 his progress, that, at the age of twelve or 
 thirteen, it was thought that no person 
 ■was able to excel him in performing the 
 compositions of these masters. He was 
 instructed on the harpsichord by Kelwav, 
 and in the rules of composition by D.-. 
 Boyce. His first work, <' A Set of Six 
 Concertos for the Organ or Harpsichord," 
 published under the immediate inspection 
 
 of that master, as a first attempt, was a 
 wonderful production ; it contained fugues 
 which would have done credit to a pro- 
 fessor of the greatest experience and the 
 first eminence. His performance on the 
 organ, and particularly his extempore 
 playing on that sublime instrument, was 
 the admiration and delight of all his au- 
 ditors 
 
 The present Mr. Samuel Wesley, brother 
 of the preceding, and born in 1766, also 
 gave a very early indication of musical 
 genius. When only three years of age, he 
 could play on the organ; and, when eight 
 years old, attempted to compose an ora- 
 torio. Some of the airs which he wrote 
 for the organ were shown to Dr. Boyce, and 
 occasioned the doctor to say, " This boy 
 unites, by nature, as true a bass as I can 
 do by rule and study.'' Mr. Wesley's 
 compositions are in the highest degree 
 masterly and grand ; and his extempore 
 performance of fugues on the organ asto- 
 nishing. He produces from that solemn 
 instrument all the grand and serious graces 
 of which it is capable. His melodies, 
 though struck out on the instant, are sweet 
 and varied, and never common-place ; his 
 harmony is appropriate, and follows thera 
 with all the exactness and discrimination 
 of the most studious master ; his execu- 
 tion, which is very great, is always sacri- 
 ficed to the superior charms of expression.* 
 
 To this be it added, that the intellectual 
 endowments of Mr. Samuel Wesley 
 equal his musical talents, and that the 
 amiable and benevolent qualities of his 
 nature add lustre to his acquirements. He 
 is a man of genius without pretension, and 
 a good man without guile. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mountain Groundsel. Senecio montumis- 
 Dedicated to St. Innocent 
 
 Suli) 29. 
 
 St. Martha V. Hts. Simpllcms and 
 Faustinus, brothers, and Beatrice, their 
 sister, a. d. 303. St. ffilliam, Bp. 
 A. D. 1234. St. Olaus, or Olave, kinij 
 of Norway, a. d. 1030. St. Olaus, 
 king of Sweden. 
 
 * These anecdotes of tlie present Mr. Samuel 
 V\'e^ley and liis deceased brotlier, Charles, are lioni 
 tlie " Bingraiihiciil Diclionartj of Musicians," a w.iik 
 before quoted, and praibcd as a inoit pleas.\ut book. 
 
 520 
 
TTIF, EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 29, 
 
 WATER IN WARM WEATIim. 
 
 Fountains and Pumps. 
 By the process of boring, springs may 
 DC reached more expeditiously and eco- 
 nomically than by the old method of well 
 digging. The expense of boring from one 
 to two hundred feet de^ep is little more 
 than one-fourth of digging, seventy feet is 
 less than a fourth, thirty feet is less than a 
 fifth, and from ten to twenty feet it is not 
 so much as a sixth. In 1821, the water 
 for the fountain at Tottenham High Cross, 
 represented in the engraving, was obtained 
 by boring to a depth of one hundred and 
 five feet, at the expense of the parish, for 
 public accommodation. The water rises 
 six feet above the surface, and flowing 
 over a vase at the top of the column into 
 a basin, as represented in the engraving, 
 it pours from beneath. The boring for 
 this spring and the fountain were suggested 
 by Mr. Mathew, who first obtained water 
 in Tottenham, by that method, and 
 
 introduced the practice there. Tlie pillar 
 was designed by Messrs. Mathew and 
 Chaplin, and executed by Mr Turner of 
 Dorset-street, Fleet-street, the well known 
 manufacturer of the cast iron pumps ; and 
 not to withhold from him any of " his 
 blushing honours," be it noted that he 
 was till lately a common-councilman of 
 the ward of Farringdon Without, where 
 he still maintains his reputation as a " cun- 
 ning workman in iron," and his good 
 name as a good punap-maker, and as a 
 worthy and respectable man. Public 
 spirit should rise to the height of giving 
 Inm, and others of the worshipful company 
 of pump-makers, more orders. Many 
 places are sadly deficient of pumps for 
 raising spring-water where it is most 
 wanted. Every body cries out for it in 
 not weather, but in cool weather they 
 all forget their former want ; and hot 
 weather comes again and they call out for 
 it again in vam, and again forget to put up 
 a public pump. At Pentonville, a place 
 abounding in springs, and formerly 
 abounding in conduits, all the conduits aie 
 destroyed, and the pumps there, in the 
 midst of that healthy and largely growing 
 suburb, during the hot days of July, 18'25, 
 were not equal to supply a tenth of the 
 demand for water ; they were mostly dry 
 and chained up during the half of each 
 day without notice, and persons who came 
 perhaps a mile, went back with empty 
 vessels. So it was in other neighbour- 
 hoods. Well may we account for ill. 
 Mischievous liquors sold, in large quan- 
 tities, at some places, for soda water and 
 ginger beer were drank to the great comfort 
 of the unprincipled maruifacturers, tlie 
 great discomfort of the consumers' bowels, 
 and the great gain of the apothecary. 
 
 Were the doings in the New River 
 during summer, or one half of the 
 wholesale nuisances permitted in the 
 Thames described, the inhabitants of Lon- 
 don would give up their tea-kettles. 
 Health requires that these practices should 
 be abated, and, above all, a good supply of 
 spring-water. The water from pumps and 
 fountains would not only adorn our pub- 
 lic streets and squares, but cool the heated 
 atmosphere, by the surplus water bemg 
 diverted into the gutters and open chan- 
 nels. Besides, if we are to have dogs, and 
 a beast-market in the heart of the metro- 
 polis, the poor overheated animals might 
 by such means slake their thirst from pure 
 and refreshing streams. The condition 
 vherein sheep and cuttle are driiren fof 
 
 521 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 29 
 
 many miles before they reach the metro- 
 polis, is a disgrace to the appellation as- 
 sumed by men who see the cruelty, and 
 have power to remedy it ; "a merci- 
 ful man is merciful to his beast," and he 
 is not a really merciful man who is not 
 merciful to his neighbours' beasts. 
 
 May these wants be quickly supplied. 
 Give us spring water in summer ; and no 
 more let 
 " Maids with bottles cry aloud for pinnpa." 
 
 London has but one fountain ; it is in 
 the Tempie : you pass it on the way from 
 Essex-street, or " the Grecian'' to Garden- 
 court. It is in the space at the bottom 
 of the first flight of stone steps, within the 
 railings enclosing a small, and sometimes 
 "smooth shaven green," the middle 
 whereof it adorns, surrounded, not too 
 thickly, by goodly trees and pleasant 
 shrubs. The jet proceeds from a copper 
 pipe in the middle of a stone-edged basin, 
 and rises to its full height of at least 
 nine feet, if water from the cock by the 
 hall with which it communicates is not 
 drawing ; when that process is going on 
 the jet droops, and seems dying away till 
 the drawing ceases, and then the " Tem_ple 
 Fountain" goes up again " famously." 
 
 There tvas a fountain in the great square 
 of Lincolns Inn, but it had ceased to play 
 " in my time." I only remember the co- 
 lumn itself standing there 
 
 " For ornament, nol use," 
 with its four boys blowing through shells. 
 
 In the Kent-road, on the left hand from 
 ♦.he Elephant and Castle towards the 
 Bricklayers Arms, there is a fountain in a 
 piece of water opposite a recently built 
 terrace. A kneeling figure, the size of 
 life, blows water through a shell ; it is 
 well conceived, and would be a good or- 
 nament were it kept clean and relieved by 
 trees. 
 
 A " professional" gentleman who to 
 the " delightful task" of improving country 
 residences by laying out grounds in beau- 
 tiful forms, has added the less " cheerful 
 labour" of embodying others' theories and 
 practice in an " Encyclopedia of Garden- 
 ing," views a fountain as an essential de- 
 coration where the "ancient" style of land- 
 scape is introduced in any degree of per- 
 fection.* As the first requisite, he directs 
 auention to the obtaining a sufficiently 
 
 * Mr. Loudon's " Enryclopacdia of Gardening," a 
 book i)t'praciiral and curioos lacts, witli Imndrtds of 
 inlerestinK muravings. is a mos* rsefnl vohime to 
 any one who has a garden, or wisliea to form one. 
 
 elevated source or reservoir of supply for 
 the jets, or projected spouts, or threads ol 
 water. Some are contrived to throw the 
 water in the form of sheaves, fans, and 
 showers, or to support balls ; others to 
 throw it horizontally or in curved lines, 
 but the most usual form is a simple open- 
 ing to throw the jet or spout upright. Mr. 
 L. judiciously rejects a jet from a naked 
 tube falling from the middle of a basin or 
 canal on a smooth surface as unnatural, 
 without being artificially grand. Gran- 
 deur was the aim of the " ancient" gar- 
 dener, and hence he made a garden " aftei 
 nature," look as a garden of nature never 
 did look. Mr. L. suggests that "the 
 grandest jet of any is a perpendicular 
 column, issuing from a rocky base 0T\ 
 which the water falling produces a double 
 effect both of sound and visual display. 
 
 In the " Century of Inventions of the 
 Marquis of Wor-cester," explained and 
 illustrated by Mr. Paitington, there is 
 mention by the marquis of " an artificial 
 fountain, to be turned like an hour glass 
 by a child, in the twinkling of an eye, it 
 yet holding great quantities of water, and 
 of force sufficient to make snow, ice, and 
 thunder, with the chirping and singing of 
 birds, and showing of several shapes and 
 effects usual to fountains of pleasure." 
 Mr. Partington observes on this, that 
 " how a fountain of water can produce 
 snow, ice, thunder, and the singing of 
 birds, is not easy to comprehend.'' 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton discoursing on archi- 
 tecture remarks thus : — " Fountains are 
 figured, or only plain watered works ; of 
 either of which I will describe a matchless 
 pattern. The first, done by the famous 
 hand of Michael Angelo da Buonaroti, is 
 the figure of a sturdy woman, washing and 
 winding linen clothes ; in which act 
 she wrings out the water that made the 
 fountain ; which was a graceful and natu- 
 ral conceit in the artificer, implying this 
 rule, that all designs of this kind should 
 be proper.* The other doth merit some 
 larger expression : there went a long, 
 straight, mossie walk of competent breadth, 
 green and soft under foot, listed on both 
 sides with an aqueduct of white stone, 
 breast-high, which had a hollow channel on 
 the top, where ran a pretty trickling stream; 
 on the edge whereof were couched very 
 thick, all along, certain small pipes of lead, 
 
 * Any nne possessing a figure of tins fonntain 
 designed by Michael Angelo, and prohably seen hy 
 Wouon dining his travels in Italy, will nuK'h oblige 
 the editor by lending it to him for the purpose of 
 being copied and insetted in the Every-Duy Book 
 
 522 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 20. 
 
 in i.tt'e holes ; so neatly, that they could 
 not be well perceived, till by the turning of 
 a cock, they did sprout over interchange- 
 ably, from side to side, above man's height, 
 in forms of arches, without any intersec- 
 tion or meeting aloft, because the pipes 
 were not exactly opposite ; so as the 
 beholder, besides that which was fluent 
 in the aqueduct on both hands in his view, 
 did walk as it were under a continuril 
 bower and hemisphere of water, with- 
 out any drop falling on him ; an in- 
 vention for refreshment, surely far excel- 
 ling all the Alexandrian delicacies, and 
 pnuematicks of Hero."* An invention of 
 greater solace could not have been desired 
 in the canicular days, by those who sought 
 shelter from the heat; nor more coveted 
 by any than by him, who is constrained 
 to supply the " every-day'* demand of 
 " warm" friends for this little work — no 
 " cool" task ! 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Red Chironia. Chironia Centaurerim. 
 Dedicated to St. Martha. 
 
 %m 30. 
 
 Sts. Abden and Sennen, a. u. 250. St. 
 Jiditta, A. D. 303. 
 
 Witchcraft. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 30lh of July, 1751, 
 Thomas CoUey, William Humbles, and 
 Charles Young, otherwise Lee, otherwise 
 Red Beard, were tried at Hertford for the 
 murder of Ruth Osborne, by drowning her 
 in a pond at Marlston-green, in the 
 parish of Tring. The trial is exceedingly 
 curious. It appeared that William Dell, 
 the town crier of Hamel-Hempstead, on 
 the 1 8th of April preceding, was desired 
 by one Nichols, who gave him a piece of 
 paper and fourpence, to cry the words at 
 the maiket-place that were wrote thereon, 
 which he accordingly did. The paper 
 was as follows : — " This is to give notice, 
 that on Monday next, a man and woman 
 are to be publicly ducked at Tring, in this 
 county, for their wicked crimes." 
 
 Matthew Barton, the overseer of Tring, 
 on hearing that this had been cried at 
 Winslow, Leightou-Buzzard, and Hamel- 
 Hempstead, in order to prevent the out- 
 
 Itillq. Wottoii. 
 
 rage, and believing them to be very lioriest 
 people, sent them into the workhouse 
 On the Monday, a large mob of 5,000 
 people and more, assembled at Tring ; 
 but Jonathan Tomkins, master of the 
 workhouse, in the middle of the night, 
 had removed them into the vestry-room 
 adjoining the church. The mob rushed in 
 and ransacked the workhouse, and all the 
 closets, boxes, and trunks ; they pulled 
 down a wall, and also pulled out the 
 windows and window-frames. Some of 
 the mob perceiving straw near at hand 
 said, let us get the straw, and set fire to 
 the house, and burn it down. Some cried 
 out and swore, that they would not only 
 burn the workhouse down, but the whole 
 town of Tring to ashes. Tomkins being 
 apprehensive that they would do so told 
 them where the two unhappy people were, 
 they immediately went to the vestry-ioom, 
 broke it open, and took the two people 
 away in great triumph. 
 
 John Holmes deposed, lliat the man and 
 woman were separately tied up in a cloih 
 or sheet ; that a rope was tied under the 
 arm-pits of the deceased, and two men 
 dragged her into the pond ; that the men 
 were one on one side of the pond, and the 
 other on the other ; and they dragged her 
 sheer through the pond several times; and 
 that Colley, having a stick in his hand, 
 went into the pond, and turned the de- 
 ceased up and down several times, 
 
 John Humphries deposed, that Colley 
 turned her over and over several times 
 with the stick ; that after the mob had 
 ducked her several times, they brought 
 her to the shore, and set her by the pond 
 side, and then dragged the old man in 
 and ducked him ; that after they had 
 brought him to shore, and set him by the 
 pond side, they dragged the deceased in 
 a second time ; and that Colley went again 
 into the pond, and turned and pushed 
 the deceased about with his stick as 
 before ; that then she being brought to 
 shore again, the man was also a second 
 time dragged in, and underwent the same 
 discipline as h« had before ; and being 
 brought to shore, the deceased was a 
 third time dragged into the pond ; that 
 Colley went into the pond again, and 
 took hold of the cloth or sheet in which 
 she was wrapt, and pulled her up and 
 down the pond till the same came from 
 off her, and then she appeared naked ; 
 that then Colley pushed her on the breast 
 with his stick, which she endeavoured 
 with her left hand to catch held of, but 
 
 523 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 3J. 
 
 he pulled it away, and that was the last 
 time life was in her. He also deposed, 
 that after CoUey came out of the pond, he 
 went round among the people who were 
 the spectators of this tragedy, and col- 
 lected money of them as a reward for the 
 great pains he had taken in showing them 
 sport in ducking the old witch, as he then 
 called the deceased. 
 
 The jury found the prisoner CoUey 
 —guilty. 
 
 deceased wife had bewitched them. And 
 even after the trial, a great number of 
 people in that part of the country thought 
 the man a vizard, and that he could cast 
 up pins as fast as he pleased. Though- 
 a stout able man of his age, and ready 
 and willing to work, yet none of the 
 farmers thereabouts would employ him, 
 ridiculously believing him to be a vizard, 
 so that the parish of Tring were obliged 
 to support him in their workhouse aftei 
 his wife's death. 
 
 So far is reported by the editor of the 
 trial. 
 
 The reporter of liiS trial states, from 
 the mouth of John Osborne, the follow- 
 ing particulars not deposed to in court, 
 namely : that as s <cu as the mob entered 
 the vestry-room, 'hey seized him and his 
 wife, and Red Beard carried her across 
 his shoulders, like a calf, upwards of two 
 miles, to a place called Gubblecul ; where 
 not finding a pond they thought conve- 
 nient, they then carried them to Marlston- 
 green, and put them into separate rooms 
 in a house there ; that they there stripped 
 him naked, and crossed his legs and arm?, 
 and bent his body so, that his right 
 thumb came down to his right great toe, 
 and his left thumb to his left great toe, 
 and then tied each thumb and great toe 
 together ; that after they had so done, 
 they got a cloth, or an old sheet, and 
 wrapped round him, and then carried him 
 to the Mere on the green, where he un- 
 derwent the discipline as has been related 
 in the course of the trial. What they did 
 with his wife he could not say, but he 
 supposed they had stripped her, and tied 
 her in the same manner as himself, as she 
 appeared naked in the pond when the 
 sheet was drawn from off her, and her 
 thumbs and toes tied as his were. After 
 the mob found the woman was dead, they 
 carried him to a house, and put him into 
 a bed, and laid his dead wife by his side ; 
 all which he said he was insensible of, 
 having been so ill-nsed in the pond, as 
 not to have any sense of the world for 
 some time; but that he was well assured 
 it was so, a number of people since in- 
 forming him of it who were present. His 
 wife, if she had lived till Michaelmas, 
 would have been seventy years of age ; 
 he himself was but fifty-six. 
 
 The infatuation of the people in those 
 parts of Hertfordshire waa so great, in 
 thinking that thpse people were a wi ^h 
 and a vizard, that when any cattle died, 
 u waa always said that Osborne and his 
 
 On the '24th of August, 1751, Colley 
 was hung at Gubblecut-cross, and after- 
 wards in chains. Multitudes would not 
 be spectators of his death; yet " many 
 thousands stood at a distance to see him 
 die, muttering that it was a hard case to 
 hang a man for destroying an old wicked 
 woman that had done so much mischief 
 by her withcraft." Yet Colley himself 
 had signed a public declaration the day 
 before, wherein he affirmed his conviction 
 as a dying man, that there was no such 
 a thing as a witch, and prayed that the 
 " good people" might refrain from think- 
 ing that they had any right to persecute a 
 fellow-creature, as he had done, through 
 a vain imagination, and under the influ- 
 ence of liquor : he acknowledged his cru- 
 elty, and the justice of his sentence.* 
 
 The pond wherein this poor creature 
 lost her life was in mud and water toge- 
 ther not quite two feet and a half in 
 depth, and yet her not sinking was deem- 
 ed " confirmation strong as proof of holy 
 writ" that she was a witch. Ignorance is 
 mental blindness. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 NVhite Mullen. Verbuscum Lychnitit 
 Dedicated to St. Julilta, 
 
 m^ 31. 
 
 St. Ignatius, of Loyola, a. d. 1556. St 
 John Columbini, a. d. 1367 St. Helen^ 
 of Sweden, a. d. 1160. 
 
 • Gent. Mag. K.\i. M8. 
 
 524 
 
THE EVEEY-t)AY BOOK.— JULY 31. 
 
 
 ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA-IOUNDER UF THE JESUITS. 
 
 Ignatius was born in 1495, in the cas- 
 tle of Loyola in Guipuscoa, a part of 
 I5i-r,cay adjoining the Pyrenees. In his 
 childhood he was pregnant of wit, dis- 
 creet above his years, affable and obliging, 
 with a choleric disposition, and an ardent 
 passion for glorj. Bred in the coA:rt 
 of Ferdinand V., under the duke of 
 Najara, nis kinsman and patron, as page 
 o the king, he was introduced into the 
 army, wherein he signalised himself by 
 dextcious talent, personal courage, ad- 
 diction to licentious vices and pleasures. 
 
 and a taste for poetry ; he at that time 
 composed a poem in praise of St. Peter. 
 In 1521, he served in tV e garrison o{ 
 Pampeluna, against the French who be- 
 sieged it : in resisting an attack, he 
 mounted the breach sword-in-hand; a 
 piece of stone struck off by a cannon 
 ball from the ramparts bruised his left 
 leg, while the ball in its rebound broke 
 his right. * 
 
 Dr. Southey ir a note to his recenlly 
 
 B'iUt-r'i aaiiils. 
 
 525 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 31. 
 
 puHished "Tale of Paraguay," cites the 
 Jesuit Ribadeneira's account of tlii& ac- 
 cident to Ignatius from his life of him in 
 the " Actse Sanctorum," where il is some- 
 what more at length than in the English 
 edition of Ribadeneira's " Lives of the 
 Saints," which states that St. Peter ap- 
 peared to Ignatius on the eve of his 
 feast, with a sweet and gracious aspect, 
 and said that he was come to cure him. 
 " With this visitation of the holy apostle," 
 says Ribadeneira, " Ignatius grew much 
 better, and not long after recovered his 
 perfect health : but, as he was a spruce 
 young gallant, desirous to appear in the 
 most neat and comely fashion, he caused 
 the end of a bone which stuck out under 
 
 his knee, and did somewhat disfigure his 
 leu, to be cut off, that so his boot might 
 sit more nandsomely, as he himself told 
 me, thinking it to be against his honour 
 that such a deformity should be in his 
 leg: nor would he be bot nd while the 
 bone was sawed off." Father Bouhours, 
 also a Jesuit, and another biographer of 
 Ignatius, says, that one of his thighs 
 having shrunk from the wound, lest lame- 
 ness should appear in his gait, he pu» 
 himself for many days together upon a 
 kind of rack, and with an engine of iron 
 violently stretched and drew out his leg, 
 yet he could never extend it, and ever 
 after his right leg remained shojter than 
 his left. 
 
 When long care 
 
 Restored his shattered leg and set him free. 
 
 He would not brook a slight deformity, 
 
 As one who being gay and debonair, 
 
 In courts conspicuous, as in camps must be : 
 
 So he forsooth a shapely boot must wear ; 
 
 And the vain man, with peril of his life, 
 
 Laid the recovered limb again beneath the knife. 
 
 Long time upon the bed of pain he lay 
 Whiling with books the weary hours away. 
 And from that circumstance, and this vain man, 
 A train of long events their course "legan, 
 Whose term it is not given us yet to see. 
 Who hath not heard Loyola's sainted name. 
 Before whom kings and nations how'd the knee .' 
 Tale of Paraguay. 
 
 Ribadeneira says, that one night while 
 Ignatius kept h;s bed and was praying, 
 a great noise shook all the chamber and 
 broke the windows, and the Virgin Mary 
 appeared to him " when he was awake, 
 with her precious Son in her arms ;" in 
 consequence of this vision he resolved to 
 embrace a life wherein he might afflict his 
 body. For this purpose, he determined 
 to go a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and 
 bought a cassock of coarse canvass for a 
 coat, a pair of country buskins, a bottle, 
 and a pilgrim's staff; he gave his horse 
 to the monastery of our blessed lady at 
 Montserrat ; hung up his sword and dag- 
 ger at our lady's altar; and having spent 
 the night of Lady-day, 1522, at the said 
 altar, departed to institute the Society of 
 Jesus, in his canvass coat, girded with his 
 cord, walking with his pilgrim's staff 
 bare-headed : he would have gone bare- 
 footed but he was forced to wear one 
 shoe on the foot of the broken leg. Thus 
 lie went, 
 
 " One shoe otT, 
 
 And t'other shoe on 
 
 till he came to the hospital of St. Lucy 
 at Manresa, where he lived by begging 
 among the poor, and exhausting his body, 
 not paring his nails, letting the hair of his 
 head and beard both grow, and never 
 using a comb ; sleeping on a board or the 
 bare ground ; passing the greater part of 
 the night in watching, praying, and weep- 
 ing ; scourging himself three times a day, 
 and spending seven hours upon his knees. 
 Ribadeneira says, " he was so set upon 
 curbing, and taming, and mortifying his 
 flesh, that he allowed it no manner of 
 ease or content, but was continually per- 
 secuting it, so that in a very short time 
 from a strong lusty man, he became weak 
 and infirm." In 1523, he was so feeble 
 and weak that he could hardly set one 
 leg before the other ; where the night 
 overtook him, whether in the fields or 
 high-road, there he lay ; till at last, as 
 well as he could, often falling and rising 
 aorain, he made a shift to reach Rome, on 
 Palm Sunday, where he " made the holy 
 citations,'' and visited the churches, and 
 after remaining tiiere fifteen days, begged 
 
 526 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 31, 
 
 his way from door to door to Venice, 
 afterwards went to Cyprus, and arrived 
 at Jerusalem on the 4th of September. 
 He returned from thence in the depth of 
 winter, through frost and snow, with 
 scarcely clothes to cover him, and ar- 
 riving at Cyprus, wanted to ship himself 
 on board a Venetian man of war, but 
 the captain disliking his appeaiance said, 
 if he was a saint, as he said he was, he 
 might securely walk upon the water and 
 not fear to be drowned. Ignatius, hov- 
 ever, did not take the hint and set sail 
 upon his coat or a millstone, as other 
 saints are said to have done, but em- 
 barked in " a little paltry vessel, quite 
 rotten and worm-eaten," which carried 
 him to \'enice in January, 1524 On iiis 
 way from thence to Genoa, he was taken 
 by the Spaniards who thought him a spy, 
 and afterwards thought him a fool ; when 
 he got to Spain, at thirty-three years of 
 atce, he began to learn grammar, fasted 
 as he did before, cut off the soles of his 
 shoes that he might walk barefoot, and 
 cut down a man that had iianged himself, 
 who, through his prayers " returned to 
 life." At Paris, in 1528, he thought fit 
 to perfect himself in the Latin tongue, 
 and " humanity ;" then, also, he studied 
 philosophy and divinity, and made jour- 
 nies into Flanders and England to beg 
 alms of the Spanish merchants, where- 
 with he got together a fraternity under 
 tlie name of the Fathers of the Society of 
 Jesus, whom he persuaded John HL of 
 Portugal to send to the East Indies as 
 missionaries. He afterwards increased 
 the number, and retired with two of 
 liis order for forty days into a ruined 
 and desolate hermitage without doors or 
 windows, open on all sides to wind and 
 rain, where they slept on the ground on 
 a little straw, and lived by begging hard 
 mouldy crusts, which they were obliged 
 to steep in water before they could eat : 
 they then went to Rome on foot, begging 
 all the way. Before entering that city, 
 Ignatius going into an old church alone, 
 had, according to Ribadeneira's account, 
 a celestial interview of a nature that 
 cannot be here described without vicJ.ence 
 10 the feelings of the reader. After the 
 remova" of certain difficulties, the pope 
 confirmed the order of the Jesuits, and 
 Ignatius was unanimously elected Us 
 general. He entered upon his dignity by 
 t?king upon himself the office of cook, 
 and doing other menial services about 
 the house, " which he executed," says 
 
 Ribadeneira, " with that readiness and 
 desire of contempt, that he seemed a 
 novice employed therein for his pvofit 
 and mortification : all this 1 myself can 
 testify, who at that time being a youth, 
 was a scholar and brother in the society, 
 and every day repeated St. Ignatius's 
 catechism. Our blessed father St. Ig- 
 natius was general of the society fifteen 
 years, three months, and nine days, from 
 the 22d of April in the year 1541, unfi 
 the last of July, 1556, when he departed 
 this world." 
 
 Ribadeneira largely diffuses on the 
 austerities of Ignatius, in going almost 
 naked, sufT'ering hunger and cold, 
 self-inflictions with a whip, hair-cloth, 
 " and all manner of mortifications that 
 he could invent to afflict and subdue his 
 body." He accounts among his virtues, 
 that Ignatius lived in hospitals like a 
 poor man, amongst the meanest soit of 
 people, being despised and contemned, 
 and desirous to be so : his desire was to 
 be mocked and laughed at by all, and if 
 he would have permitted himself to be 
 carried on by the fervour of his mind, he 
 would have gone up and down the streets 
 almost naked, and like a fool, that the 
 boys of the town might have made sport 
 with him, and thrown dirt upon him. 
 He had a singular gift of tears which he 
 .'^hed most abundantly at his prayers, to 
 the great comfort of his spirit and no less 
 damage to his body, but at length, be- 
 cause the doctors told him so continual 
 an effusion did impair his health, he 
 prayed for command over his tears, and 
 afterwards he could shed or repress his 
 tears as he pleased. 
 
 It is especially insisted on by Riba- 
 deneira, that " Ignatius had a strange 
 dominion and command over the devils, 
 who abhorred and persecuted him as 
 their greatest enemy. Whilst he was in 
 his rigorous course of penance at Man- 
 resa, Satan often appeared to hmi in a 
 shining and glistening form, but he dis- 
 covered the enemy's fraud and deceit. 
 Several other times, the devil appeared to 
 him in some ugly and foul shape, which 
 he was so little terrified with, that he 
 would contemptibly drive him away with 
 his staff, like a cat, or some troublesome 
 cur. He laboured all he could one day 
 10 lerrify him, whilst he lived at Alcala, 
 in the hospital, but he lost his labour. 
 At Rome, he would have choked him ir. 
 his sleep, and he was so hoarse, and his 
 throat so .sore, with the violence it'c 
 
 527 
 
THE £VERY-DAY BOOK.— JULY 31 , 
 
 devil ofiered him, that he could hardly 
 speak for a fortnight after. Another 
 time whilst he was in his bed, two devils 
 fell upon him, and whipped him most 
 cruelly, and brother John Paul Castelan, 
 who lay nigh, him, and afterwards told 
 •t me, heard the blows, and rose up 
 twice that night to help him." In the 
 year 1545, the college of the society (of 
 Jesuits) which we have at our blessed 
 Lady's of Loretto, was first begun, and 
 the devils presently began to make war 
 against oar fathers in that college, and to 
 molest and disquiet them both by day 
 and by nigh-t, making a most terrible 
 clatter and noise, and appearing in sun- 
 dry shapes and forms, sometimes of a 
 blackamoor, then of a cat and bear, and 
 other beasts, and neither by saying holy 
 mass, praying, sprinkling holy water, using 
 exorcisms, applying relics of saints and the 
 like, could they rid themselves of that 
 molestation, wherefore St. Ignatius, by 
 letters, recommended a firm and strong 
 confidence, and that he on his part would 
 not be wanting to recommend it in his 
 prayers ; and from that very hour, (a 
 very remarkable thing,) all those troubles 
 ceased, nor were there seen any more 
 spirits. This happened whilst St. Ig- 
 natius was living." To this, Ribadeneira 
 adds story upon story, of women and 
 maids being tormented by devils, who 
 were discomfited by the mere sight of 
 Ignatius's picture, " which kept off all 
 the blows and assaults of the ghostly 
 pnemy, yet so great was his malice and 
 aesire of doing mischief, that he fell 
 furiously upon the chamber walls, and 
 cupboards, chests, coffers, and what- 
 soever else was in the room, beating 
 upon them with horrible strokes, though 
 ne never touched any box wherein was 
 kept a picture of the saint." He affirms, 
 that the like happened in the year 1599, 
 to a schoolmaster of Ancona : — " These 
 damned spirits," says Ribadeneio-a, 
 " opened the doors of his house when 
 they were locked, and shut them when 
 they were left open, swept the chambers, 
 made the beds, lighted the lamps, and 
 then on a sudden put all into disorder 
 and confusion, and removed things from 
 one room into another; but when the 
 good man had hung up a picture of 
 our blessed father in his house, all was 
 quiet within doors, yet a most terriblr 
 ♦umult there was without, for they flung 
 to and fro the doors and windows, and 
 oeat as it were, the drum round about 
 
 his house till he put more pictures of the 
 saint upon the doors, and several parts 
 of the house, when the molestation 
 wholly ceased." Of the numerous de- 
 vilries raised and abolished by the 
 saint's holiness, these specimens may 
 suffice. 
 
 To so distinguished and efficient a 
 member of the Romish Church, as Ig- 
 natius, the gift of prophecy is, of course, 
 awarded, and the power of working 
 miracles, of necessity, follows; accord- 
 ingly we find instances of them, " too 
 numerous to mention in this particular." 
 It is to be expected that his relics were 
 equally miraculous, and hence Ribade- 
 neira's account is seasoned sufficiently 
 high, for the most discriminating palate 
 of the most miracle-loving epicure. 
 Water wherein a bit of a bone of Igna- 
 tius's body had been dipped, cured the 
 sick at the hospital at Burgos. The 
 letters he wrote were preserved as relics 
 for miraculous purposes ; and a latei 
 saint carried the autograph of Ignatius 
 about him as a relic. If one of Igna- 
 tius's autographs be coveted in England 
 it may probably be discovered in the 
 reliquary of Mr. Upcott at the London 
 Institution. 
 
 Enough has certainly been said of St 
 Ignatius Loyola ; yet less space could 
 hardly have been devoted to the founder 
 of the celebrated order of the Jesuits, a 
 body which perforates and vermiculates 
 through every part of the civilized world 
 wlierein the Romish religion ptedomi- 
 uates, or has ever prevailed. Concern- 
 ing the present state of an order, com- 
 posed of men of talent under a vow of 
 poverty ; devoted to the papacy, and 
 possessing more wealth than any other 
 catholic fraternity ; wearing or not wear- 
 ing a habit to distinguish them from 
 ordinary citizens in catholic and protest- 
 ant countiies, as may suit their private 
 purposes ; prowling unknown, and se- 
 cretly operating; there can be little ga- 
 thered, and therefore little to communi- 
 cate. The coexistence of a free govern- 
 ment and a free press is a sure and safe 
 defence from all their machinations. 
 
 One circumstance, however, related by 
 all the biographers of Ignatius, must not 
 be forgotten. It stands in Ribadeneira' 
 life of him thus: " As he was sitting, 
 one day upon the steps of St. Domi 
 nick's church, and reading our blessCfl 
 lady's office wlch much devotion, our 
 Lord on a sudden illustrated his under- 
 
 528 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUG OST 
 
 slnnrlir.e. snd represented to him a figure 
 of ih^ most btessed trinity, which ex- 
 teriourly expressed to him what inte- 
 riourly God gave him to understand. 
 This caused in him so great comfort and 
 spiritual joy, tliat be could not restrain 
 his sobs and tears, nor speak of any 
 thing but this holy mystery, delivering 
 the high conceit he had of it with so 
 many similitudes and examples, that all 
 who heard him were amazed and asto- 
 nished, and from that time forward, this 
 ineffable mystery was so imprinted in 
 his soul, that he writ a book of this pro- 
 found matter which contained fourscore 
 leaves, though at that time he had never 
 studied, and could but only read and 
 write ; and he always retained so clear 
 and distinct a knowledge of the trinity 
 cf persons, of the divine essence, and of 
 
 the distinction and propriety of tlie per- 
 sons, that he noted in a treatise which 
 was found aftei" his death, written in his 
 own hand, that he couid not have learnt 
 so much with many years' study." This 
 pretended revelation with figments 
 equally edifying has employed the pen- 
 cil of the painter. Rubens has left a 
 well-known picture representing Igna- 
 tius in his rapture. From a fine print of 
 it, by Bolswert, the engraving at the head 
 of this article has been taken ; the pic- 
 ture is in the collection at Warwick 
 Castle. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Mullen. Verbuscum FirgatiLm. 
 Dedicated to St. Ignatius. 
 
 AUGUST. 
 
 TV,^ eighth was August, being; rich arrr.y'd 
 
 in garment all of gold downe to the ground 
 Vet rorle be not, but led a lovely maj-d 
 
 Forth by the lily hand, tlie -wliicli was crown'd 
 ^Vilh eares of cornCj and full l;er hand was found. 
 
 That was the righteous Virgin, wliicli of old 
 l.Iv'd here ou earth, and plenty made abound; 
 
 But after wrong was lov'd, and justice solde, 
 Sl.v; left th' unrighteous world, and was to heav'n 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 529 
 
 2 U 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST. 
 
 August is the eighth month of the year. 
 It was called Sextilis by tiie Romans, 
 from its being the sixth month in their 
 calendar, until the senate complimented 
 the emperor Augustus by naming it after 
 him, and through them it is by us denom- 
 inated August. 
 
 Our Saxon ancestors called it " Arn- 
 monat, (more rightly bar7i-monetk,)\ntend- 
 ing thereby the then filling of their barnes 
 with corne."* Am is the Saxon word for 
 harvest. According to some they also 
 called it IFoedmonath, as they likewise 
 called June.f 
 
 The sign of the zodiac entered by the 
 sun this month is V^irgo, the Virgin. 
 Spenser's personation of it above is pen- 
 cilled and engraved by Mr. Samuel Wil- 
 liams. 
 
 " Admire the deep beauty of this alle- 
 gorical picture," says Mr. Leigh Hunt. 
 
 flowers, they sung, they shouted, they 
 danced, they invited each other, or met 
 to feast, as at Christmas, in the halls of 
 rich houses; and what was a very ami- 
 able custom, and wise beyond the com- 
 moner wisdom that may seem to lie on 
 the top of it, every one that had been 
 concerned, man, woman, and child, re- 
 ceived a little present — ribbons, laces, or 
 sweatmeats. 
 
 " The number of flowers is now sen- 
 sibly diminished. Those tliat flower 
 newly are nigella, zinnias, polyanthuses, 
 love-apples, mignionette, capsicums, Mi- 
 chaelmas daisies, auriculus, asters, or 
 stars, and China-asters. The additional 
 trees and shrubs in flower are the tam- 
 arisk, altheas, Venetian sumach, pome- 
 granates, the beautiful passion-flower, the 
 trumpet-flower, and the virgin's bower, 
 or clematis, which is such a quick and 
 
 " Spenser takes advantage of the sign of handsome climber. But the quantity of 
 
 the zodiac, the Virgin, to convert her 
 into Astrea, the goddess of justice, who 
 seems to return to earth awhile, when the 
 exuberance of the season presents enough 
 for all." 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt notes in his Months, 
 that, — "This is the month of harvest. The 
 crops usually begin with rye and oats, 
 proceed with wheat, and finish with peas 
 and beans. Harvest-home is still the 
 greatest rural holiday in England, be- 
 cause it concludes at once the most labo- 
 rious and most lucrative of the farmer's 
 employments, and unites repose and 
 profit. Thank heaven there are, and 
 must be, seasons of some repose in agri- 
 cultural employments, or the countrymi.n 
 would work with as unceasing a mad- 
 ness, and contrive to be almost as dis- 
 eased and unhealthy as the citizen. But 
 here again, and for the reasons already 
 mentioned, our holiday-making is not 
 what it was. Our ancestors used to 
 burst into an enthusiasm of joy at the 
 end of harvest, and appear even to have 
 mingled their previous labour with con- 
 siderable merry-making, in which they 
 imitated the equality of the earlier ages. 
 They crowned the wheat-sheaves with 
 
 The garden blooms with vegetable gold. 
 And all Pomona in the orchard glows. 
 
 Her racy fruits now glory in the sun, 
 The wall-enamour'd flower in saffron blows, 
 Gay annuals their spicy sweets unfold, 
 
 To cooling brooks the panting cattle run 
 Hope, the forerunner of the farmer's gain. 
 Visits his dreams and multiplies the grain. 
 
 fruit is considerably multiplied, espe- 
 cially that of pears, peaches, apricots, 
 and grapes. And if the little delicate 
 wild flowers have at last withdrawn from 
 the hot sun, the wastes, marshes, and 
 woods are dressed in the luxuriant attire 
 of ferns and heaths, with all their varie- 
 ties of green, purple, and gold. A piece 
 of waste land, especially where the 
 ground is broken up into little inequal 
 ities, as Hampstead-heath, for instance, is 
 now a most bright as well as picturesque 
 object ; all the ground, which is in light, 
 giving the sun, as it were, gold for gold. 
 Mignonette, intended to flower in the 
 winter, should now be planted in pots 
 and have the benefit of a warm situation 
 Seedlings in pots should have the morn- 
 ing sunshine, and annuals in pots be 
 frequently watered 
 
 " In the middle of this month, the 
 young goldfinch broods appear, lapwings 
 congregate, thistle-down floats, and birds 
 resume their spring songs : — a little after- 
 wards flies abound in windows, linnets 
 congregate, and bulls make their shriL 
 autumnal bellowing; and towards the 
 end the beech tree turns yellow, — th<? 
 first symptom of approaching autumn." 
 
 • V'ei8!8gan. 
 
 t Oi. P. Save*. 
 
 530 
 
TIIE EVERY-P/AY BOOK.— AUGUST 1. 
 
 INFore hot it grows ; ye fi^rvours of the sky 
 Attend the virgin — lo ! she comes lo hail 
 
 Your sultry radiance. — Now the god of day 
 Meets her chaste star — be present zephyr's gale 
 To fan her bosom — let the breezes fly 
 
 On silver pinions to salute his ray ; 
 Bride of his soft desires, with comely grace 
 He clasps the virgin to his warm embrace. 
 
 The reapers now their shining sickles bear 
 A band illustrious, and the sons of Health I 
 
 They bend, they toil across the wide champaign, 
 Before them Ceres yields her flowing wealth ; 
 The partridge-covey to the copse repair 
 
 For shelter, sated with the golden grain, 
 Bask on the bank, or thro' the clover run 
 Yet safe from fetters, and the slaughtering gun. 
 
 ^ttgiieit 1. 
 
 St. Peter ad Fincula, or St. Peter's chains. 
 The seven Machabees, Brothers, with 
 their Mother. Sts. Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity. St. Etholwold, Bp. a.d. 984. 
 St. Pellegrini, or Peregrinus, a. d. 643. 
 
 St. Peter ad Fincula, or the Feast of St. 
 Peter's chains. 
 The Romish church pretending to 
 Dossess one of the chains wherewith Peter 
 *v'as bound, and from which the angel de- 
 livered him, indulges its votaries with a 
 festival in its honour on this day. " Pa- 
 gan Rome," says Alban Butler, " never 
 derived so mvch honour from the spoils 
 and trophies of a conquered world, as 
 christian Rome receives from the corporal 
 remains of these two glorious apostles, 
 (Peter and Paul,) before which the greatest 
 emperors lay down their diadems, and 
 prostrate themselves." Be it observed, 
 that the papacy also pretends to possess 
 the chains of Paul : pope Gregory writing 
 to the empress Constantia tells her he 
 will quickly send her some part of Paul's 
 chains, if it be possible for him to file any 
 off; — "for," says Gregory, "since so 
 many frequently come begging a bene- 
 diction from the chains, that they may 
 receive a little of the filings thereof, there- 
 fore a priest is ready with a file ; and 
 when some persons petition for it, pre- 
 sently in a moment something is filed off 
 for them from the chains ; but when others 
 petition, though the file be drawn a great 
 while through the chains, yet cannot the 
 least jot be got off." Upon this, bishop Pa- 
 trick says, — " One may have leave to ask, 
 why should not this miraculous chain of 
 St. Paul have a festival appointed in me- 
 mory of it, as well as that of St. Peter ? 
 you may take Baronius's answer to it till 
 
 you can meet with a better." Bavonius, 
 the great Romish luminary and authority 
 in the affairs of papal martyrs, relics, and 
 miracles, says, — " Truly the bonds of St. 
 Peter seem not without reason to be wor- 
 shipped, though the bonds of the other 
 apostles are not : for it is but fit, that 
 since he has the chief power in the church 
 of binding and loosing otiier men's bonds, 
 that his bonds also should be had ic 
 honour of all the faithful." This is a suffi- 
 cing reason to the believers in the " bind- 
 ing and loosing" according to the gloss 
 put upon that power by Romish writers. 
 
 The empress Eurlocia is affirmed tc 
 have brought the two chains of St. Pete: 
 from Jerusalem, in the year 439, one 
 whereof she gave to a church in Constan- 
 tinople, and sent the other to Rome, where 
 the old lady's chain has yielded, or not 
 yielded, to the raspings of the file from 
 time immemorial. This chain was pleased 
 to part with some of its particles to the 
 emperor Justinian, who sent ambassadors 
 begging to the pope for a small portion, 
 " The popes," says Butler, " were accus- 
 tomed to send the filings as precious relics 
 to devout princes — they were often instru- 
 ments of miracles — and the pope himself 
 rasped them off for king Childebert, and 
 enclosed them in a golden kei/ to be hung 
 about the neck." 'Childebert, no doubt, 
 experienced its aperient qualities. They 
 would be very serviceable to the papal 
 interest at this period. 
 
 Gtile of August. 
 The first day of August is so called. 
 According to Gebelin, as the month of 
 August was the first in the Egyptian' 
 year, it was called Gule, which being 
 latinized, makes Gula, a word in that 
 language signifying throat. " Our le- 
 gendaries," says Brand, " surprised at 
 
 531 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— AUGUST 1. 
 
 seeing this word at the head of the month 
 of August, converted it to their own pur- 
 pose." They made out of it the feast of 
 the daughter of the tribune Quirinus, who 
 they pretend was cured of a disorder in 
 the throat, (Gula,)by kissing the chain of 
 St. Peter on the day of its festival. Forc- 
 ing the Gule of the Egyptians into the 
 throat of the tribune's daughter, they 
 instituted a festival to Gule upon the 
 festival-day of St Peter ad Vincnla 
 
 Lammas-day. 
 So stands the first of August in our 
 English almanacs, and so it stands in the 
 printed Saxon Chronicle. " Antiqua- 
 ries,*' says Brand, " are divided in their 
 opinions concerning the origin of Lam- 
 mas-Day; some derive it from Lamb- 
 Mass, because on that day the tenants 
 who held lands under the cathedral 
 church in York, which is dedicated to 
 St. Peter ad Vincula, were bound by 
 their tenure to bring a live lamb into the 
 church at high mass: others derive it 
 ft cm a supposed offering or tything of 
 lambs at this time." Various other de- 
 rivations have been imagined. Blount, 
 the glossographer, says, that Lammas is 
 called Hlaf-Mass, that is Loaf-Mass, or 
 Bread-Mass, which signifies a feast of 
 thanksgiving for the first fruits of the 
 corn. It was observed with bread of 
 new wheat, and in some places tenants 
 are bound to bring new wheat to their 
 lord, on, or before, the first of Au- 
 gust. New wheat is called Lammas- 
 Wheat. Vallancey affirms that this day 
 was dedicated, in Ireland, to the sacrifice 
 of the fruits of the soil ; that La-ith-mas 
 the day of the obligation of grain, is 
 pronounced La-ee-mas, a word readily 
 corrupted to Lammas ; that ith, signifies 
 all kinds of grain, particularly wheat, and 
 that mas signifies fruit of all kinds, espe- 
 cially the acorn, whence the word mast.* 
 From these explications may easily be 
 derived the reasonable meaning of the 
 word Lammas. 
 
 Juliet, Capulet, and Petrarch. 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sii, 
 As in your little calendar of worthy 
 oVervancies you sometimes notice the 
 birthdays of tho:5e whom we most desire, 
 and who most deserve to be remembered, 
 and as I am one, who like yourself, am 
 
 • Branrt. 
 
 unwilling any thing should be forgotten, oi 
 trodden down under the feet of thought- 
 less and passing generations, that has 
 pleasant speculation in it, pray remember 
 that on the first day of August, Franciscc 
 Petrarca was born. — But remember also, 
 that on that same day, in 1578, was born 
 our Juliet Capulet. " On Lammas eve 
 at night shall she he fourteen. That shall 
 she, marry ; I remember it well. 'Tis 
 since the earthquake now eleven years, 
 an' she was weaned." Shakspeare's 
 characters, as we all know, be they of 
 what country or of what age they may, 
 speak as an Englishman would have done 
 in his own times, and the earthquake here 
 referred to was felt in 1580. Tliat Juliet, 
 our Juliet, should have been born on the 
 very same day as Petrarch was certainly 
 accidental ; yet it is a coincidence worth 
 observing ; and if a calendar of birthdays 
 be to recall pleasant recollections, over 
 "our chirping cups," why may not Juliet 
 be remembered, and her sweetly poetical 
 existence be associated with the reality of 
 Petrarca's life. And where is the dif- 
 ference ? Petrarca is, 
 
 nor linnd nor foot 
 
 Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
 Belonging to a man. 
 
 And what are all the great men that have 
 ever lived but such mocking names ? 
 Montaigne, who translated a theological 
 work by Raimondi di Sibondi, on being 
 told by some learned friend that he sus- 
 pected it was but an abstract of St. Tho- 
 mas of Aquin, says " 'tis a pity to rob 
 Sibondi of his honours on such slight au- 
 thority :" — what honours ? when are they 
 offered? to whom? it is not known that 
 such a man ever had existence ! Not 
 love, nor reverence, nor idolatroo.' admi- 
 ration can stay the progress of oblivion : 
 the grave shuts us out for ever from our 
 fellows, and our generation is the limit of 
 our personal and real existence: — mind 
 only is immortal. Francisco Petrarca 
 was dead, and buried, and forgotten, five 
 hundred years ago : he is now no 
 more in reality than Juliet ; nay, to my- 
 self, not so much so. The witches in 
 Macbeth, though pure creations, have 
 more of flesh and blood reality, are more 
 familiar to the thoughts of all, than the 
 Lancashire witches that lived cotempo 
 rary with the poet, and suffered deatn 
 from the superstition of the age. Tiieie 
 have been many Shakspeares, we hioro 
 but one ; that one indeed, from association 
 
 i32 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST ?, 3, 4. 
 
 and recollection, has a real character in 
 our minds, and a real presence in our 
 Aearts: — have we neither association nor 
 recollection with the name Juliet Capulet .' 
 
 D. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Stramony. Datura Stramonium. 
 Dedicated to St. Peter ad Vincula. 
 
 giucnisit 2. 
 
 St. Stephen, Pope, a.d. 257. St. Ethel- 
 dritha, or AlJ'rida. a. d. 834. 
 
 FLORAL DIREClORy. 
 
 Tiger Lily. Liliiim tlgrinum. 
 Dedicated to St. Alfrida. 
 
 augusit 3. 
 
 The Invention of St. Stephen, or the dis- 
 covery of his lelics, a. d. 415. St. 
 Nicodemus. St. Gamaliel, a. d, 415. 
 St. JValthen, or IFaltheof, a. d. 1160. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Holyhock. Althea rosea. 
 Dedicated to The Invention of St. Ste- 
 phen's Relics 
 
 ^ugudt 4. 
 
 St. Dominic, Confessor, founder of the 
 friar preachers, a.d. 1221 St. Lua- 
 nus, or Lugid, or Molua, of Ireland, 
 A. D. 622. 
 
 Chronology. 
 Ilolinshed records, that in the year 
 1577, " on Sundaie the fourth of August, 
 betweene the houres of nine and ten of 
 the clocke in the forenone, whilest the 
 minister was reading of the second lesson 
 in the parish church of Biiborough, a 
 towne in Suffolke, a strange and terrible 
 tempest of lightening and thunder strake 
 thorough the wall of the same church into 
 the ground almost a yard deepe, draue 
 downe all the people on that side aboue 
 twentie persons, then renting the wall up 
 to the veustre, cleft the doore, and return- 
 ing to the steeple, rent the timber, brake 
 the chimes, and fled towards Bougie, a 
 towne six miies off. The people that 
 were striken downe w-jre found groueling 
 more than halfe an noure after, whereof 
 one man more than fortie yeares, and a 
 boie of fifteene yeares, old were found 
 Starke dead : the other were scorched. 
 
 The same or the like flash of lightening 
 and cracks of thunder rent the parish 
 church of Bongie, nine miles from Nor- 
 wich, wroong in sunder the wiers and 
 wheels of the clocks, slue two men which 
 sat in the belfreie, when the other were at 
 the procession or suffrages, and scorched 
 an other which hardlie escaped.' 
 
 This damage by lightning to the churc^ 
 of Bungay, in Suffolk, is most curiously 
 narrated in an old tract, entitled " A 
 stiaunge and terrible Wunder wrought 
 very late in the parish Church of Bongay, 
 a Town of no great distance from the 
 citie of Norwich, namely the fourth of 
 this August in y' yeere of our Lord, 1577, 
 in a great tempest of violent raine, light- 
 ning, and thunder, the like whereof hath 
 been seldome scene. With the appeer- 
 ance of an horrible shaped thing, sen- 
 sibly perceiued of the people then and 
 there assembled. Drawen into a plain 
 method, according to the written copye, bv 
 Abraham Fleming.'' 
 
 Mr. Rodd, bookseller, in Great New- 
 port-street, Leicester-square, well known 
 to collectors by his catalogues and collec- 
 tions of rare and curious works, has re- 
 printed this tract, and says, on the autho- 
 rity of Newcourt's "Repertorium," vol i., 
 p. 519, wherein he is corroborated by An- 
 tony Wood, in his '• Athenae Oxoniensis ;" 
 that of the narrator, Abraham Fleming, 
 nothing more is known than that he was 
 rector of St. Pancras, Soper-lane, from 
 October, 1593, till 1607, in which year he 
 died. " He was probably," says Mr. 
 Rodd, " a schoolmaster, as his almost 
 literal translation of ' Virgil's Pastorals' 
 into English metre without rhime, and his 
 edition of ' Withall's Dictionary,' were in 
 tended for the use of beginners in Latin. 
 From his numerous writings and transla- 
 tions, (a list of which may be seen in 
 Ames, Tanner, &c.,) he appears to have 
 been an industrious author, and most pro- 
 bably subsisted on the labours of his 
 pen." 
 
 In a monitory preface, well befitting 
 the context, Abraham Fleming says, 
 " The order of the thing as I receiued the 
 sae I have committed to paper, for the 
 present viewe and perusing of those that 
 are disposed. It is grounded uppou 
 trueth, and therefore not only worthie the 
 writing and publishing, but also the hear- 
 ing and considering." He then proceeds 
 to " reporte" his " straungeand wonderful 
 spectacle," in tliese words : — 
 
 " Sunday, being the fourth of this Au- 
 
 533 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 4. 
 
 gwsl, in Y^ yeerof our Lord, 1577, to Uie 
 amazing and singular astonishment of the 
 present beholders, and absent hearers, at 
 a certain towne called Bongay, not past 
 tenne miles distant from the citie of Nor- 
 wiche, there fell from heaven an exceed- 
 ing great and terrible tempest, sodein and 
 violent, between nine of the clock in the 
 morning and tenne of the day aforesaid. 
 
 " This tempest took beginning with a 
 rain, which fel with a wonderful force and 
 with no lesse violence then abundance, 
 which made the storme so much the more 
 extream and terrible. 
 
 " This tempest was not simply of rain, 
 but also of lightning and thunder, the 
 flashing of the one whereof was so rare 
 and vehement, and the roaring noise of 
 the other so forceable and vislent, that it 
 made not only people perplexed in minde 
 and at their wits end, but ministred such 
 straunge and unaccustomed cause of 
 feare to be coceived, that dumb creatures 
 with ye horrour of that which fortuned, 
 were exceedingly disquieted, and sense- 
 lesse things void of all life and feeling, 
 shook and trembled, 
 
 " There were assembled at the same 
 season, to hear divine service and com- 
 mon prayer, according to order, in the 
 parish church of the said towne of Bon- 
 gay, the people thereabouts inhabiting, 
 who were witnesses of the straungenes, 
 the rarenesse and sodenesse of the storm, 
 consisting of raine violently falling, fear- 
 ful flashes of lightning, and terrible cracks 
 of thuder, which came witli such un- 
 wonted force and power, that to the per- 
 ceiving of the people, at the time and in 
 the place aboue named, assembled, the 
 church did as it were quake and stagger, 
 which struck into the harts of those that 
 were present, such a sore and sodain 
 feare, that they were in a manner robbed 
 of their right wits. 
 
 " Immediately hereupo, there appeared 
 in a most horrible similitude and like- 
 nesse to the congregation then and there 
 present, a dog as they might discerne it, 
 of a black colour ; at the sight whereof, 
 togither with the fearful flashes of fire 
 which then were scene, moved such ad- 
 miration in the mindes of the assemblie, 
 that they thought doomes day was already 
 come. 
 
 " This black dog, or the divel in such a 
 likenesse (God hee knoweth al who 
 worketh all,) runing all along down the 
 b( dy of the church with great swiftnesse, 
 and incredible haste, among the people, 
 
 in a visible fourm and shape, passed be- 
 tween two persons, as they were kneeling 
 uppon their knees, and occupied in prayer 
 as it seemed, wrung the necks of them 
 bothe at one instant clene backward, in 
 somuch that even at a momet where they 
 kneeled, they stragely dyed. 
 
 " This is a woderful example of God's 
 wrath, no doubt to terrifie us, that we 
 might feare him for his iustice, or pullimr 
 back our footsteps from the pathes c 
 sinne, to love him for his mercy. 
 
 " To our matter again. There was at 
 ye same time another wonder wrought : 
 for the same black dog, stil continuing 
 and remaining in one and the self same 
 shape, passing by an other man of the 
 congregation in the church, gave him 
 such a gripe on the back, that therwith 
 all he was presently drawen togither and 
 shrunk up, as it were a peece of lether 
 scorched in a hot fire ; or as the mouth of 
 a purse or bag, drawen togither with a 
 string. The man, albeit hee was in so 
 straunge a taking, dyed not, but as it is 
 thought is yet alive : whiche thing is mer- 
 velous in the eyes of men, and offereth 
 much matter of amasing the minde. 
 
 " Moreouer, and beside this, the dark 
 of the said church beeing occupied in 
 cleansing of the gutter of the church, with 
 a violent clap of thunder was smitter 
 downe, and beside his fall had no further 
 harme : unto whom beeing all amased 
 this straunge shape, whereof we have be- 
 fore spoken, appeared, howbeit he escaped 
 without daunger : which might peradven- 
 ture seem to sound against trueth, and to 
 be a thing incredible : but, let us leave 
 thus or thus to iudge, and cry out with 
 the prophet, Domhie, &c. — O Lord, 
 how wonderful art thou in thy woorks. 
 
 " At the time that these things in this 
 order happened, the rector, or curate of 
 the church, beeing partaker of the peo- 
 ple's perplexitie, seeing what was seen, 
 and done, comforted the people, and ex- 
 horted them to prayer, whose counsell, in 
 such extreme distresse they followed, 
 and prayed to God as they were assem- 
 bled togither. 
 
 " Now for the verifying of this report, 
 (which to soe wil seem absurd, although 
 the sensiblenesse of the thing it self con 
 firmeth it to be a trueth,) as testimonies 
 and witnesses of the force which rested in 
 this straunge shaped thing, there are re- 
 maining in the stones of the church, and 
 likewise in the church dore which are 
 mervelously reten and tome, y^ marks us 
 
 0^4: 
 
THE E^TUY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 5. 
 
 it were of his clawes or talans. Besido, 
 that all the wires, the wheeles, and otlier 
 things belonging to the clock, were 
 wrung in sunder, and broken in^^peces. 
 
 " And (which I should haue tolde you 
 in the beginning of this report, if I had 
 regarded the observing of order,) at the 
 time that this tempest lasted, and while 
 these stormes endured, y^ whole church 
 was so darkened, yea with such a palpa- 
 ble darknesse, that one persone could not 
 perceive another, neither yet might dis- 
 cern any light at all though it were lesser 
 the the least, but onely when y^ great 
 flashing of fire and lightning appeared. 
 
 " These things are not lightly with si- 
 lence to be over passed, but precisely and 
 throughly to be considered. 
 
 " On the self same day, in like manner, 
 into the parish church of another towne 
 called Blibery, not above seve miles dis- 
 tant from Bongay above said, the like 
 thing entred, in the same shape and simi- 
 litude, wliere placing himself uppon a 
 maine balke or beam, whereon some y^ 
 Rood did stand, sodainly he gave a swinge 
 downe through ye church, and there also, 
 as before, slew two men and a lad, and 
 burned the hand of another person that 
 was there among the rest of the company, 
 of whom divers were blasted. 
 
 " This mischief thus wrought, he flew 
 with wonderful force to no little feare of 
 the assembly, out of the church in a hi- 
 derus and hellish likenes." 
 
 For " a necessary prayer," and other 
 particulars concerning this" straunge and 
 terrible wunder," which was " Imprinted 
 at London, by Frauncis Godly, dwelling 
 at the West End of Panics," the cu- 
 rious reader may consult Mr R )dd's ver- 
 batim reprint of the tract itself, which is 
 a " rare" distortion of a thunder storm 
 with lightning, well worthy to be pos- 
 sessed by collectors of the marvellous un- 
 truths with which Abraham Fleming's age 
 abounded. 
 
 1825. Tliis day at the Northumber- 
 land assizes, James Coates, aged twenty- 
 two, and John Blakie, aged sixteen, were 
 found guilty of robbing Thomas Hind- 
 march of his watch, on Sunday, the 20th 
 of March last. It appeared that Hindmarch, 
 who lived at Howden Panns near Shields, 
 had been at Newcastle on Catling S*iuiday, 
 a day so called, because it is the custonr. 
 of the lower orders in the north of Eng- 
 land to eat immense quantities of small 
 peas, called oarlings fried in butter, pep- 
 
 per, and salt, on the second Sunday be- 
 fore Easter, and that on his way home 
 about half-past ten at night his watch was 
 snatched from him. The circumstance is 
 noticed as an instance of the practice of 
 keeping Care Sunday at the present time. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Blue Bells. Campanula rotundifoUa. 
 Dedicated to St. Dominic. 
 
 9[U5U£Jt 5 
 
 The Dedication of St. Mary ad Nives. St. 
 Otwald, King. St. Afroy and Compa- 
 nions, A. D. 304. St. Memmius, or 
 Menge, Bp. a. d. 290. 
 
 An Every-Day Complaint. 
 
 In the " London Chronicle" of the 5th 
 of August, 1758, there is an advertisement 
 from a sufferer under a disease of such a 
 nature that, though the cure is simple, a 
 description of the various afflictions and 
 modes of relief peculiar to the progress of 
 the disorder would fill many volumes. 
 To guard the young wholly against it is 
 impossible; for like the small pox, every 
 one must expect to have it once, and when 
 it is taken in the natural way, and if the 
 remedy is at hand, and the patient 
 follows good advice, recovery speedily 
 follows. The advertisement alluded to 
 runs thus : — 
 \ YOUNG LADY who was at 
 
 Vauxhall on Thursday night last, iu 
 company with two gentlemen, could not but 
 observe a young gentleman in blue and a 
 gold-laced hat, who, being near her by the 
 orchestra during the performance, especi- 
 ally the last song, gazed upon her with the 
 utmost attention. He earnestly hopes (if 
 unmarried) she will favour him with a line 
 directed to A. D. at the bar of the Temple 
 Exchange CoiTee-house, Temple-bar, to in- 
 form him whether fortune, family, and 
 character, may not entitle him upon a fur- 
 ther knowledge, to hope an interest in her 
 heart. He begs she will pardon the method 
 he has taken to let her know the situation 
 of his mind, as, being a stranger, he de- 
 spaired of doing it any other way, or even 
 of seeing her more. As his views are 
 founded upon the most honourable princi- 
 ples, lie presumes to hope the occasion will 
 justify it, if she generously breaks through 
 this trifling formality of the sex, rather 
 than, by a cruel silence, render unhappy 
 one, who must ever expect to continue so, 
 if debarred from a nearer acquaintance with 
 her, in whose power alone it is to complete 
 his felicity. 
 
 535 
 
TflE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 6, 7, 
 
 FLORAL EIRECTORY. 
 
 Egyptian Water Lily. Ndnmho Nilotica. 
 Dedicated to Our Lady ad Nives. 
 
 i^lugu^t 6, 
 
 7 he Transjiguration of our Lord. St. 
 Xystus, or Sistiis II., Pope and Mar- 
 tyr. Sts. Justus and Pastor, a. d. 304. 
 
 Transfiguration. 
 This, which stands in the English 
 ahiianacs on the present day, is the name 
 of a popish festival, in celebration of the 
 glorified appearance of Christ on mount 
 Tabor. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Meajjvv Satlron. Colchicum rmtumnale. 
 Dedicated to the Transfiguration. 
 
 9[ugii!gt 7. 
 
 St. Cajetan, a. d. 1547. St. Donatas, 
 Bp. A. D. 361. 
 
 Name of Jesus. 
 
 There is no satisfactory reason for this 
 nomination of the present day in our 
 almanacs. 
 
 The Princess Amelia. 
 On the 7th of August, 1783, the prin- 
 :e3s Amelia, daughter to his late ma- 
 
 jesty, was born ; and on the 2d of No- 
 vember, 1810, she died at Windsor. Hei 
 constitution was delicate, and subject to 
 frequent and severe indisposition. On her 
 death-bed she anxiously desired to present 
 his majesty with a token of her filial duty 
 and affection; himself was suffering under 
 an infirmity, the most appalling and humi- 
 liating in our nature, and in that state he 
 approached her death-bed. She placed 
 on his finger a ring containing a small 
 lock of her hair, set beneath a crystal 
 tablet, enclosed by a few sparks of dia- 
 monds, and uttered with her dying breath 
 " Remember me !" The words sunk deep 
 into the paternal heart, and are supposed 
 to have increased a malady in the king, 
 which suspended his exercise of the royal 
 functions, and ended in the extinction of 
 man's noblest faculty. 
 
 The princess Amelia's character has 
 hitherto lain in the oblivion of silent 
 merit. The editor of these sheets is en- 
 abled to disclose sentiments emanating 
 from her, imder circumstances peculiarly 
 affecting. Dignity of station and absence 
 of stain upon her leputation, commanded 
 towards her the respect and sympathy 
 which accident of birth, and abstinence 
 from evil, always command in the public 
 mind : but there are higher claims upoK 
 it. 
 
 Homage, by rule and precedent prescribe;!, 
 
 To royal daughters from the courtier-ring 
 
 Amelia had ; and, when she ceased to live. 
 
 The herald wrote her death beneath her birth ; 
 
 And set out arms for scutcheons on her pall; 
 
 And saw her buried in official state ; 
 
 And newspapers and magazines doled out 
 
 The common praise of common courtesy ; 
 
 She was " most" good, " most" virtuous, and— so forth- 
 
 Thus, ere the Chamberlain's gazetted order 
 
 To mourn, so many days, and then half-mourn, 
 
 Had half expired, Amelia was forgotten ! 
 
 Unknown by one distinguish'd act, her fate, 
 
 The certain fate of undistinguished rank. 
 
 Seems only to have been, and died ; no more. 
 
 Vet shall this little book send down her name, 
 
 By her own hand inscribed, as in an album, 
 
 With reverence to our posterity. 
 
 It will revive her in the minds of those 
 
 Who scarce remember that she was; and will 
 
 Enkindle kind affection to her memory. 
 
 For worth we knew not in her when she lived ; 
 
 While some who living, shared her heart, perchance. 
 
 May read her sentences with wetted eyes, 
 
 and suy, « She, being dead, yet spealcetlv.*' 
 
 536 
 
THT5 EVERY-DAY ROOK— AUGUST 7. 
 
 The princess Amelia relieved the in- Girl. You may depend on my nevei 
 digent friends of three infant females from 
 
 care, as to their wants, by fostering them forsaking you as long as I can be you' 
 
 at her own expense. She caused them to /• • , -.t , • , 
 
 be educated, and placed them out to ^"^"'^- ^°^^'"S ^"* ^°"'' ^^O"^"^^ not 
 businesses, by learning which they might being what it ought to be, can make m- 
 acquire the means of gaining their sub- 
 sistence in comfort and respectability, give you up. Forget you, I never could 
 They occasionally visited her, and to one ^ 
 
 of them she was peculiarly attached; Believe me, nothing shall be wanting, on 
 
 her royal highness placed her with Mrs. j^y -^j.^, ^ restore vou to h 
 
 Bingley, her dressmaker, in Piccadilly. J ir > j yo'i 
 
 In this situation were; but you must be honest, open, 
 
 " long she flourisli'd. 
 
 Grew sweet to sense and lovely to the eye, and true. Make Mrs. K , who is so 
 
 Until at length the cruel spoiler came, 
 
 Pluck 'd this fair flow'r and rifled all its sincerely your wellwisher, your friend. 
 
 sweetness, 
 
 Then flung it like a loathsome weed awny." <-onceal nothmg from her, and believe 
 
 The seduction of this young female me, much as it may cost you, at the 
 deeply aiflicted the princess's feelings ; 
 
 and she addressed a letter to her, written moment, to speak out, you will find relief 
 
 throughout by her own hand, which ,. i j t 
 
 marks her reverence for virtue, and her afterwards, and I trust it may enable us 
 pity for one who diverged from its pre- to make you end your days happily, 
 scriptions. It is in the possession of the rr j 
 editor, and because it has never been To Mrs. Bingley, and all with her, you 
 published, he places it to note the anni- 
 versary of her royal highness's birth in "^^^r can sufficiently feel grateful. Her 
 
 the Every-Day Book. It is a public me- „ j . i, u ^\, . c .^ ^ ■ ■, 
 
 • 1 f u .u .1, 1 If conduct has been that of the kindest 
 morial of her worth ; the only record of 
 
 her high principles and affectionate dispo- mother and friend, and, I trust, sucn 
 
 sition. 
 
 (copy.) friends you will ever try to preserve ; for, 
 
 The accounts I have received of you, if with propriety they can continue their 
 My poor Mary from Mrs. Bingley, have kindness to you, it will be an everlasting 
 given me the greatest concern, and have blessing for you : but, after all that has 
 surprised me as well as hurt me ; as I happened, My dear Mary, I cannot con- 
 had hoped you were worthy of the kind- sent to leaving you there. Though I 
 ness you experienced from Mrs, Bingley, trust, from all I hear, your conduct 
 and were not undeserving, of all that had now is proper, and will continue so, yet, 
 been done for you. tor the sake of the other young people, it 
 
 Much as you have erred, I am willing must be wrong, and if you possess that 
 
 to hope, My poor Girl, that those reli- feeling, and repent, as I hope you do, 
 
 gious principles you possessed are still you cannot but think I am right. I trust 
 
 firm, and that they will, with the good- you feel all your errors, and with the 
 
 ness of God, show you your faults, and assistance of God you will live to make 
 
 make you to repent, and return to what I amends; yet your conduct must be made 
 
 ht'ped you were — a good and virtuous an example of. The iflisfortune of <Mr?i?n^ 
 
 537 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— ATJGUST 7. 
 
 out of the right path, cannot be too renew all our feelings of regard for her, 
 
 strongly impressed on the minds of all and that I shall have the comfort to hear 
 
 young people. — Alas ! you now know it many good accounts of your conduct and 
 
 from experience. All I say I feel doubly, health. Unless your mind is at ease you 
 
 from wishing you well. cannot enjoy health. 
 
 Be open and true, and whatever can Be assured I shall be happy to find I 
 
 be done, to make you happy, will, have reason, always, to subscribe my 
 
 Truth is one of the most necessary Vir- self, 
 tues, and whoever deviates from that. 
 
 ^^Z^^Zg.^^iCLS> 
 
 runs from one error into another — not to 
 say Vice. I have heard you accused 
 Mrs, Bingley of harshness ; that I con- 
 ceive to be utterly impossible; but I So wrote one of the daughters o( 
 
 . , . , England. We hail her a child of the na- 
 attribute your saymg so to a mmd m the ji^n by her affiance to virtue, the creator 
 
 greatest affliction, and not knowing what oj! ^""^ ™o'"3l grandeur, and the preserver 
 
 of our national dignity. Private virtue is 
 you were about. I pity yoa from my the stability of states. 
 
 In the princess Amelia's letter there is 
 heart, but you have brought this on your- a natural union of powerful sense and ex- 
 
 ,» , , . ^ J /■ quisite sensibility ; it has an easy, com- 
 
 selt, and you must now pray to (jod, tor ^ , ■.■' . • j xi, ,. • 
 
 oc. , a. lyx jyj^ uo iiu. y °-j ••" '^"", yj mon-place dir, but a mind that examines 
 
 his assistance, to enable you to return to ^^^ grounds, and searches into the rea- 
 sons of things, will discover the " root of 
 
 ihe right path. the matter." Comment upon it is ab- 
 
 stained from, that it may be read and 
 Why should you fear Me? I do rot studied. 
 
 j„„„ -x „„ 1 r„ i; «i „ /. e The crime of seduction is fashionable, 
 
 deserve it, and your feeling ttie force ot , , . , r i • . i ■ • 
 
 •^ ° •' because tiitherto tasruon rias been crimi- 
 
 your ov/n faults can only occasion it; for "al with impunity. The selfish destroyer 
 
 of female innocence, can prevail on some 
 
 1 feel I am, and wish to be, a friend to wives and mothers by varnish of manner, 
 
 and forcefulness of wealth, to the degra- 
 
 three young people I have the charge of, Nation of sanctioning his entertainments 
 
 and to make them fit to gain their own ^y ^heir presence Like the fabled upas- 
 " tree of Java, he lives a deadly poison to 
 
 bread, and assist their families. For you wither and destroy all within his shadow. 
 
 Uneasiness from a lash of small cords in 
 
 I have felt particularly, being an orphan, a feeble hand, he retaliates by a horse- 
 whip : monstrous sensualists must be pu- 
 
 and I had never had cause to regret the nighed by scourges of flame from vigorous 
 
 I T u J V it, arms, and be hunted by hue and cry, 
 
 charge I had. Your poor parents have ,„ . /. j •'■ •' 
 
 ° r r till they find sanctuary m some remote 
 
 been saved a heavy blow. Conceive hiding-place for blood-guiltiness, 
 what their affliction must have been, had ' 
 
 FI.ORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 they lived to know of your conduct. I n a .u ^ u. r ^ 
 
 •' .7 ^"^ ^ Common Amaranth, Aniaranthns hypn 
 
 trust my poor Mai'y may yet live to chondriacus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Cujetan 
 
 i>dt 
 
THE EVERY-DAY B(")OK.— AUGUST 8. 
 
 August 8. 
 
 Sts. Cyriucuft, Largiis, Smaragdus, and 
 their Companions, Martyrs, a. u. 303. 
 St. Hormhdns. 
 
 FUNERALS IN CUMBERLAND. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 
 The variety of funeral-rites and cere- 
 monies, prevalent in different ages and 
 countries, has been so great as to forbid 
 any attempt to enumerate them ; but it is 
 consistent with the character and design 
 of the Every-Day Book, to record the 
 peculiar customs which have existed in 
 different districts of our native land : for 
 although your motto from old Ilernck, 
 does not refer to any thing of a serious 
 kind,yet,in the numberof those which you 
 promise the world to " tell of" I perceive 
 that such matters are sometimes related. 
 1 proceed, therefore, to detail the circum- 
 stances which preceded and attended the 
 interment of the dead in the county of 
 Cumberland, within the last twenty 
 years : they are now discontinued, ex- 
 cept, perhaps, in some of the smaller 
 villages, or amongst the humblest class in 
 society. Whether the customs I am about 
 to describe, have been observed in the 
 southern parts of England, I know not; 
 I shall, therefore, confine myself to what 
 has frequently passed under my own ob- 
 servation in my native town. 
 
 No sooner had the passing-bell rnti- 
 mated to the inhabitants that an acquaint- 
 ance or neighbour had departed for that 
 " bourne whence no traveller returns," 
 than they began to contemplate a call at 
 the " Corse-house," (for such was the de- 
 nomination of the house of mourning,) 
 within which preparations were made by 
 the domestics to receive all who might 
 come. To this end all the apartments 
 were prepared for the reception of visitors 
 with the exception of the chamber of 
 death : one for the seclusion of the sur- 
 vivors of the family, and the domestic 
 offices. 
 
 The interval between the death and the 
 interment is at present, I believe, ex- 
 tended beyond what was usual at the 
 time I refer to : it was then two days and 
 two nights, varying accordingly as the 
 demise took place in the early or latter 
 part of tiie day. 
 
 The assemb.dge at the Corse-house, 
 was most numerous during the evening; 
 at which time many persons, who were 
 engaged during the oay in their several 
 
 avocations, found leisure to be present : 
 many of the females made their call, how- 
 ever, during the afternoon. The con- 
 course of visitors rendered the house like 
 a tavern ; their noise and tumult being 
 little restrained, and their employment 
 being the drinking of wine or spirits with 
 the smoking of tobacco ; and if only some 
 made use of the " stinking herb,'' all par- 
 took of the juice of the grape. Instances 
 could be adduced in which moderation 
 gave way to excess. 
 
 The conversation turned, often upon 
 the character of the deceased, at least 
 when generally respected ; " de mortuis 
 nil nisi bonum ;" the ordinary topics of 
 the day were discussed : perhaps the Irish 
 people were ridiculed for their barbarism 
 in leaking their dead : and each indivi- 
 dual as inclination prompted him, retired 
 to make room for another, thus maintain- 
 ing a pretty rapid succession of arrivals 
 and departures, with the exception of, 
 perhaps, one or two who embraced so fa- 
 vourable an opportunity for economical 
 indulgence. " \\ here the carcase is there 
 will the eagles be gathered together." 
 
 I must, however, observe in justice td 
 the good taste of my townsmen, that many 
 of them rather assented to the custom 
 than approved it ; but an omission to at- 
 tend a Corse-house, with the occupants of 
 which you were even slightly acquainted, 
 was considered a mark of disrespect to 
 the memory of the dead, and the feelings 
 of the survivors. 
 
 It happened, however, that a gentleman 
 (a stranger to this custom,) settled in the 
 town I refer to, and, after a short resi- 
 dence, a death occurred in his family : h-e 
 at once resolved to deviate from a prac- 
 tice which he did not approve. The first 
 visitors to his house observed that no 
 preparations were made for their recep- 
 tion, and were respectfully told by a ser- 
 vant, that open house would not be kept 
 on the occasion : the news soon spread, 
 and so did the example ; a native of the 
 town soon followed it, and a custom fell 
 into desuetude, which the warmest admi- 
 rers of ancient practices could scarcely 
 desire to perpetuate. Originating pro- 
 bably in the exercise of the social affec- 
 tions, and of that hospitality which was 
 convenient enough in periods when po- 
 pulation was thin and widely scattered, 
 they degenerated from their original use, 
 and were " more honoured in the breach 
 than the observance." Antiquity might, 
 perhaps, plead in their defeuce. The an- 
 
 539 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.—AUGUST 9. 
 
 cient Jews made great use of music in 
 their funeral rites ; before Christ exerted 
 his power in the restoration of the ruler's 
 daughter, who was supposed to be dead, 
 he caused to be put forth " the minstrels 
 and the people making a noise." Matt. 
 c. 9, V. 23, et seq. 
 
 The ceremonies, which I am now going 
 to describe, are still in existence ; and 
 evince no symptoms of decay. On the 
 evening preceding the day appointed for 
 the interment, the parish-clerk perambu- 
 lates the town, carrying a deep and so- 
 lemn-toned bell, by means of which he 
 announces his approach to various places 
 at which he is accustomed to stop, and 
 give utterance to his mournful message. 
 Well do I remember the deep interest with 
 which I and my youthful associates 
 listened to the melancholy tones of his 
 sepulchral voice, whilst toys were disre- 
 garded, and trifling for a moment sus- 
 pended ! As the sounds of the " Death- 
 bell" died away, it was proclaimed thus : 
 " All friends and neighbours are desired 
 
 to attend the funeral of from 
 
 street, to Mary's Chapel : the corpse to be 
 taken up at — o'clock." What crowds 
 of little urchins feeling a mixed sensa- 
 tion of fear and curiosity were congre- 
 gated ! What casements were half-opened 
 whilst mute attention lent her willing ear 
 to seize upon the name of the departed, 
 and the hour of burial ! 
 
 1 have known a party at " a round 
 game" hushed into silence: and a whist 
 party thrown into a sort of reverie, and 
 there remain till Mrs. What-d'ye-call-'em 
 asked Mrs. What's-her-name, if clubs 
 were trumps? or chid her partner for 
 being guilty of a revoke on account of so 
 common a thing as the " Death-bell." 
 
 On the following day the clerk proceeds 
 to the Corse-house, about an hour before 
 the procession is formed. A small table 
 covered with a white napkin, on which 
 are placed wines and spirits, is put at 
 the door of the house within and around 
 which tlxe people assemble : the clerk 
 takes his place by the table, to assist to a 
 glass of liquor, any person who may ap- 
 proach it. The coffin being brought forth, 
 the clerk takes his place in front of the 
 procession, and is usually attended by a 
 number of those who form the choir on 
 Sunday, all being uncovered. A psalm 
 is sung as the cavalcade moves slowly 
 through the streets. The rest of the 
 " friends and neighbours" follow the 
 corpse to the church, where the ordinar}' 
 
 services conclude ; and thus concludes 
 the " strange eventful history," related by, 
 sir, Yours faithfully, 
 
 J. B . 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Love lies bleeding. Amaranthus pro- 
 
 ciimbens. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Hormisdas. 
 
 St. Romanns. St. Nathy, or David, a. d. 
 530. <S^ Fedlemid, or Felimy, Bp. of 
 Kilmore, 6th Cent. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Jacobaean Ragweed. Senecio jacohea. 
 Dedicated to St. Romanus. 
 
 The Willow. 
 According to T. N., a Cambridge cor- 
 respondent, this tree is, in that county, 
 called the Cambridge oak. Old Fuller 
 calls it " a sad tree, whereof such who 
 have lost their love make their mourniH^ 
 garlands ; and we know that exiles hun^' 
 up their harps upon such doleful sup, 
 porters. The twigs hereof are physick to 
 drive out the fully of children. This tree 
 delighteth in moist places, and is trium- 
 phant in the Isle of Ely, where the roots 
 strengthen their banks, and top affords 
 fuell for their fire. It groweth incredibly 
 fast, it being a by-word in this county, 
 that the profit by willows will buy the 
 owner a horse before that by other trees 
 will pay for his saddle. Let me add, that if 
 green ashe may burne before a queen, 
 withered willows may be allowed to 
 burne before a lady." The old saying, 
 " She is in her willows" is here illus- 
 trated ; it implies the mourning of a fe- 
 male for her lost mate. 
 
 The JFillow (Salix) 
 
 In Sylvan Sketches, to an account of 
 the willow, elegant poetical illustrations 
 are attached, from whence are extracted 
 the subjoined agreeable notices. 
 
 According to some botanists, there are 
 more than fifty British willows only. The 
 sweet, or bay-leaved willow, salix pentmi 
 dria, is much used in Yorkshire for making 
 baskets ; its leaves afford a yellow dye. 
 Baskets are also made from the osier, 
 which belongs to this genus ; but of the 
 willows, the bitter purple willow, salix 
 jmrpnrea, is the best adapted for the finest 
 
 )40 
 
THE EVERY-DAY 'bOOK.— AUGUST 9. 
 
 luisket-worlc. Tlie common, or white 
 willow, salix alba, takes its specific name 
 from the white silken surface of the leaves 
 on the under side. The bark is used to 
 tan leather, and to dye yarn of a cinna- 
 mon colour. It is one of the trees to 
 which the necessitous Kamtschatdales are 
 often obliged to recur for their daily 
 bread, which they make of the inner bark, 
 ground into flour. The bark of this wil- 
 low has in some cases been found a good 
 substitute for the Peruvian bark. The 
 grey willow, or sallow, salix cinerca, 
 grows from six to twelve feet high. In 
 many parts of England, children gather 
 the flowering branches of this tree on 
 Palm Sunday, and call them palms. 
 With the bark, the inhabitants of the 
 Highlands and the Hebrides tan leather. 
 The wood, which is soft, white, and flex- 
 ible, is made into handles for hatchets, 
 spades, &c. It also furnishes shoemakers 
 with their cutting-boards, and whetting- 
 boards to smooth the edges of their knives 
 upon. 
 
 The weeping willow, saliv Babylonwa, 
 a native of the Levant, was not cultivated 
 in this country till 1730. This tree, with 
 its long, slender, pendulous branches, is 
 one of the most elegant ornaments cf 
 English scenery. The situation which it 
 aflTects, also, on the margins of brooks 
 or rivers, increases its beauty ; like Nar- 
 cissus, it often seems to bend over the 
 water for the purpose of admiring the 
 reflection : — 
 
 ■ Shadowy trees, that lean 
 
 So elegantly o'er the water's brim." 
 
 There is a fine weeping willow in a 
 garden near the Paddington end of the 
 New Road, and a most magnificent one, 
 also, in a garden on the banks of the 
 Thames, just before Richmond-bridge, on 
 the Rifihmond side of the river. Several 
 of the arms of this tree are so large, that 
 one of them would in itself form a fine 
 tree. They are propped by a number of 
 stout poles ; and the tree appears in a 
 flourishing condition. If that tree be, as 
 it is said, no more than ninety-five years 
 old, the quickness of its growth is indeed 
 astonishing. 
 
 Martyn relates an interesting anecdote, 
 which he gives on the authority of the 
 St. James's Chronicle, for August, 1801 : 
 
 " ITie famous and admired weeping 
 willow planted by Pope, which has lately 
 oeen felled to the ground, came from 
 Spain, en'^losing a present for lady Suf- 
 
 folk. Mr. Pope was in company when 
 the covering was taken ofl"; he observed 
 that the pieces of stick appeared as if 
 they had some vegetation ; and added, 
 ' Perhaps they may produce something 
 we have not in England.' Under this 
 idea, he planted it in his garden, and it 
 produced the willow-tree that has given 
 birth to so many others." It is said, that 
 the destruction of this tree was caused by 
 the eager curiosity of the admirers of the 
 poet, who, by their numbers, so disturbed 
 the quiet and fatigued the patience of the 
 possessor, with applications to be per- 
 mitted to see this precious relic, that to 
 put an end to the trouble at once and for 
 ever, she gave orders that it should be 
 felled to the ground. 
 
 The weeping willow, in addition to 
 the pensive, drooping appearance of its 
 branches, weeps little drops of water, 
 which stand like fallen tears upon the 
 leaves. It will grow in any but a dry 
 soil, but most delights, and best thrives, in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of water. 
 The willow, in poetical language, com- 
 monly introduces a stream, or a forsaken 
 lover: — 
 
 " We pass a gulph, in which the wi]low» 
 dip 
 Their pendent boughs, stoopioa: as if to 
 drink." Cowyer, 
 
 Chatterton describes 
 
 " The willow, shadowing the bubbling 
 brook." 
 
 Churchill mentions, among other trees 
 
 " The willow weeping o'er the fatal wave. 
 Where many a lover finds a watery grave ; 
 The cypress, sacred held when lovers 
 
 mourn 
 Their true love snatched away." 
 
 Besides Shakspeare's beautiful mention 
 of the willow on the death of Ophelia, 
 and notices of it by various other poets, 
 there are several songs in which despair- 
 ing lovers call upon the willow-tree : — 
 
 " Ah, willow ! willow 
 The willow shall be 
 A garland for nie, 
 Ah, willow ' willow !" 
 
 Chatterton has one, of which the bur 
 then runs — 
 
 " Mie love ys dedde, 
 
 Gon to hys deatJse-bcdde. 
 Al imder the wyllowe tree." 
 
 In the " Two Noble Kinsmen," said Ir 
 have been written by Shakspeare and 
 
 541 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 Fletcher, a young girl, who loses her wit 
 with hopeless love for Palarnon — 
 
 -" Sung 
 
 Nothing but ' Willow I willow ! willow !' 
 
 and between 
 Ever was ' Palarnon, fair Palarnon !' " 
 
 Herrick thus addresses the willow-tree : 
 
 * Thou art to all lost love the best, 
 
 The only true plant found ; 
 Wherewith young men and maids distrest. 
 And left of love, are crowned. 
 
 • When once the lover's rose is dead, 
 
 Or laid aside forlorn, 
 Then willow garlands 'bout the head. 
 Bedewed with tears, are worn. 
 
 " When with neglect, the lover's bane, 
 Poor maids rewarded be 
 For their love lost, their only gain 
 Is but a wreath from thee. 
 
 •' And underneath thy cooling shade, 
 When weary of the light, 
 The love-spent youth and love-sick maid 
 Come to weep out the night." 
 
 This poet has some lines addressed to 
 u willow garland also : — 
 
 ** A willow garland thou didsr*. send 
 Perfumed, last day, to me ; 
 Which did but only this portend, 
 I was forsook by thee. 
 
 " Since it is so, I'll tell thee what ; 
 To-morrow thou shalt see 
 Me wear the willow, after that 
 To die upon the tree. 
 
 " As beasts unto the altars go 
 With garlands dressed, so I 
 Will with my willow-wreath also 
 Come forth, and sweetly die." 
 
 The willow seems, from the oldest 
 times, to have been dedicated to grief; 
 under them the children of Israel lamented 
 their captivity : — " By the rivers of Baby- 
 on, there we sat down, yea, we wept 
 when we remembered Zion : we hanged 
 our harps upon the willows in the midst 
 thereof."* 
 
 The wicker-baskets made by our fore- 
 fathers are the subject of an epigram by 
 Martial :— 
 
 *' From Britain's painted sons I came, 
 And basket is my barbarous name ; 
 Yet now I am so modish grown. 
 That Rome would claim me for her own.' 
 
 It is worthy to be recollected, that 
 some of the sntullest trees known aif wil- 
 
 lows ; nay, the smallest tree known, with- 
 out any exception. The herbaceous 
 willow, salix herbacea, is seldom highe' 
 than three inches, sometimes not moig 
 than two ; and yet it is in every respea 
 a tree, notwithstanding the name herba- 
 ceous, which, as it has been observed, is 
 inappropriate. Dr. Clarke says, in his 
 " Travels in Norway," " We soon recog- 
 nised some of our old Lapland acquaint- 
 ances, such as Betula nana, with its 
 minute leaves, 1 ke silver pennies; moun- 
 tain-birch ; and the dwarf alpine species 
 of willow : of which half a dozen trees, 
 with all their branches, leaves, flowers, 
 and roots, might be compressed within two 
 of the pages of a lady's pocket-book, with- 
 out coming into contact with each other. 
 After o-ur return to England, specimens 
 of the salij: herbacea were given to our 
 friends, which, when framed and glazed, 
 had the appearance of miniature draw- 
 ings. The author, in collecting them for 
 his herbiary, has frequently compressed 
 twenty of these trees between two of the 
 pages of a duodecimo volume.'' Yet in 
 the great northern forests. Dr. Clarke 
 found a species of willow " that would 
 make a splendid ornament in our English 
 shrubberies, owing to its quick growth, 
 and beautiful appearance. It had much 
 more the appearance of an orange than 
 of a willow-tree, its large luxuriant leaves 
 being of the most vivid green colour, 
 splendidly shining. We believed it to be 
 a variety of salix amygdalina, but it may 
 be a distinct species : it principally flou- 
 rishes in Westro Bothnia, and we never 
 saw it elsewhere." 
 
 So much, and more than is here quoted, 
 respecting the willow, has been gathered 
 by the fair authoress of Sylvan Sketches. 
 
 In conclusion, be it observed, that the 
 common willow is in common language 
 sometimes called the sallow, and under 
 that name it is mentioned by Chaucer : — 
 
 " Whoso buildeth his hous all of salowes, 
 And pricketh his blind hors over the 
 
 falowes, 
 And suffreth his wife for to seche hal- 
 
 lowes. 
 He is wortiiy to be honged on the gal- 
 
 lowes." Chaucer, 
 
 ^llStldt 10. 
 
 * The Psalms. 
 
 Si. Lairrenne, a. d. 258. St Densdedit. 
 St. Blaan, Bp. of Kinngaradha, a. u 
 446. 
 
 i=J 
 
 542 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 His name stands in the church of Eng- 
 land calendar. He suffered martyrdom 
 at Rome, under Valerian. Mr. Audley 
 relates of St. Lawrence, " that being pecu- 
 liarly obnoxious, the order for his punish- 
 ment was, ' Bring out the grate of iron; 
 ind when it is red hot, on with him, roast 
 kim, broil him, turn him : upon pain of 
 cur high displeasure, do every man his 
 office^ O ye tormentors.' These orders 
 were obeyed, and after Laivrence had 
 been pressed down with fire-forks for a 
 long time, he said to the tyrant, ' This 
 side is now roasted enough; O tyrant, do 
 you think roasted meat or raw the best ?' 
 Soon after he had said this he expired. 
 The cliurch of St. Lawrence Jewry, in 
 London, is dedicated to him, and has a 
 gridiron on the steeple for a vane, that 
 being generally supposed the instrument 
 of his torture. The ingenious Mr. Robin- 
 son, in his ' Ecclesiastical Researches,' 
 speaking about this saint, says, 'Philip II. 
 of Spain, having won a battle on the 10th 
 of August, the festival of St. Lawrence, 
 vowed to consecrate a Palace, aCHURCH, 
 and a Monastery to his honour. He 
 did erect the Escurial, which is the 
 largest Palace in Europe. This immense 
 quarry consists of several courts and 
 quadrangles, all disposed in the shape of 
 a GRIDIRON. Tiie bars form several 
 courts ; and the Royal Family occupy the 
 handle.' ' Gridirons,' says one, who 
 examined it, ' are met with in every part 
 of the building. There are sculptured 
 gridirons, iron gridirons, painted grid- 
 irons, marble gridirons, &c. &c. There 
 are gridirons over the doors, gridirons in 
 the yards, gridirons in the windoivs, grid- 
 irons in the galleries. Never was an in- 
 strument of martyrdom so multiplied, so 
 honoured, so celebrated : and thus much 
 for grridirons.' "* 
 
 Chronology. 
 On the 10th of August, 1575, Peter 
 Bales, one of our earliest and most emi- 
 nent writing-masters, finished a perfor- 
 mance which contained the Lord's prayer, 
 the creed, the decalogue, with two short 
 prayers in Latin, his own name, motto, 
 the day of the month, year of our Lord, 
 and reign of the queen, (Elizabeth,) to 
 whom he afterwards presented it at 
 Hampton-court, all within the circle of 
 
 * Companiun to the Almanac. 
 
 a single penny, enchased in a ring with 
 borders of gold, and covered with a crys- 
 tal, so accurately wrought, as to be plainly 
 legible, to the great admiration of her 
 majesty, her ministers, and several am- 
 bassadors at court. 
 
 In 1590, Bales kept a school at the 
 upper end of the Old Baile^, and the 
 same year published his " Writing School- 
 Master." In 1595, he had a trial of skill 
 in writing with a Mr. Daniel (David) 
 Johnson, for a *' golden pen " of £'20 
 value, and won it. Upon this victory, 
 his contemporary and rival in penman- 
 ship, John Davies, made a satirical, ill- 
 natured epigram, intimating that penury 
 continually compelled Bales to remove 
 himself and his " golden pen," to elude 
 the pursuit of his creditors. The particu- 
 lars of the contest for the pen, supposed 
 to be written by Bales himself, are in the 
 British Museum, dated January 1, 1596. 
 
 So much concerning Peter Bales is 
 derived from the late Mr. Butler's " Chro- 
 nological Exercises," an excellent arrange- 
 ment of biographical, historical, and mis- 
 cellaneous facts for the daily use of young 
 ladies. 
 
 Peter Bales according to Mr. D 
 Israeli, " astonished the eyes of beholders 
 by showing them what they could not 
 see." He cites a narrative, among the 
 Harleian MSS., of " a rare piece of work 
 brought to pass by Peter Bales, an Eng- 
 lishman, and a clerk of the chancery." 
 Mr. D'Israeli presumes this to have 
 been the whole Bible, " in an English 
 walnut no bigger than a hen's egg. The 
 nut holdeth the book : there are as many 
 leaves in his little book as the great Bible, 
 and he hath written as much in one of 
 his little leaves, as a great leaf of the 
 Bible." This wonderfully unreadable copy 
 of the Bible was " seen by many thou- 
 sands." 
 
 Peter Huet, the celebrated bishop of 
 Avranches, long doubted the story of an 
 eminent writing-master having comprised 
 " the Iliad in a nut-shell," but, after tri- 
 fling half an hour in examining the matter 
 he thought it possible. One day, in com- 
 pany at the dauphin's, with a piece of 
 paper and a common pen, he demonstra- 
 ted, that a piece of vellum, about ten 
 inches in length, and eight in width, 
 pliant and firm, can be folded up and 
 enclosed in the shell of a large walnut, 
 that in breadth it can contain one line of 
 thirty verses, perfectly written with a 
 crow-quill, and in length two hundred 
 
 543 
 
THE EVEEY-DAT BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 ana fifty lines; that one side will then 
 contain seven thousand five hundred 
 \erses, the other side as much, and that 
 therefore the piece of vellum will hold the 
 whole fifteen thousand verses of the Iliad. 
 The writing match between Peter Bales 
 and David Johnson, mentioned by Mr. 
 Butler, " was only traditionally known, 
 till, with my own eyes," says Mr. D' 
 Israeli, " I pondered on this whole trial 
 of skill in the precious manuscript of the 
 cfiampion himself; who, like Caesar, not 
 only knew how to win victories, but also 
 to record them." Johnson for a whole 
 year gave a public challenge, " To any 
 one who should take exceptions to this 
 my writing and teaching." Bales was 
 magnanimously silent, till he discovered 
 that since this challenge was proclaimed, 
 ne " was doing much less in writing and 
 teaching." Bales then sent forth a chal- 
 lenge, "To all Englishmen and strangers," 
 to write for a gold pen of twenty pounds 
 value, in all kinds of hands, " best, 
 straightest, and fastest," and most kind 
 of ways; " a full, a mean, a small, with 
 line and without line ; in a slow-set 
 liand, a mean facile hand, and a fast run- 
 ning hand ;" and further, " to write 
 Iruest and speediest, most secretary and 
 clerk-like, from a man's mouth, reading 
 or pronouncing, either English or Latin." 
 Within an hour, Jolu'son, though a young 
 friend of Bales, accepted the challenge, 
 and accused the veteran of arrogance. 
 " Such an absolute challenge," says he, 
 *'' was never witnessed by man, without ex- 
 ception of any in the world 1" Johnson, 
 a few days after, met Bales, and showed 
 nim a piece of " secretary's hand," which 
 he had written on fine parchment, and 
 said, " Mr. Bales, give me one shilling 
 out of your purse, and, if within six 
 months you better or equal this piece of 
 writing, I will give you forty pounds for 
 it." Bales accepted the shilling, and the 
 parties were thereby bound over to the 
 trial of skill. The day before it took 
 place, a printed paper posted through the 
 city taunted Bales's " proud poverty," 
 and his pecuniary motives as " ungentle, 
 base, and mercenary, not answerable to 
 the dignity of the golden pen !" Johnson 
 declared that he would maintain his chal- 
 enge for a thousand pounds more, but 
 (hat Bales was unable to make good a 
 thousand groats. Bales retorted by af- 
 firming the paper a sign of his rival's 
 weacness, "yet who so held," says Bales, 
 '' as blind Bayard, tnat iial.n aot a word 
 
 of Latin to cast at a dog, or say * Bo !' tc 
 a goose 1" The goose was mentioned 
 perhaps, in allusion to Michaelmas-daj 
 1595, when the trial commenced before 
 five j\idges ; an '' ancient gentleman" 
 was intrusted with " the golden 
 pen." The first trial was for the manner 
 of teaching scholars; this terminated in 
 favour of Bales. The second, for secretary 
 and clerk-like writing, dictated in Eng- 
 lish and in Latin, was also awarded to 
 Bales; Johnson confessing that he wanted 
 the Latin tongue, and was no clerk. On 
 the third and last trial, for fair writing in 
 sundry kinds of hands, Johnson prevailed 
 in beauty and most " authentic propor 
 tion," and for superior variety of the 
 Roman hand ; but in court-hand, and 
 set-text. Bales exceeded, and in bastard 
 secretary was somewhat perfecter than 
 Johnson. For a finishing blow, Bales 
 drew forth his " master-piece,'' and, offer- 
 ing to forego his previous advantages if 
 Johnson could better this specimen, his 
 antagonist was struck dumb. In com- 
 passion to the youth of Johnson, some of 
 the judges urged the others not to give 
 judgment in public. Bales remonstrated 
 against a private decision in vain, but he 
 obtained the verdict.and secured the prize. 
 Johnson, however, reported that he had 
 won the golden pen, and issued an " Ap- 
 peal to all impartial Penmen," wherein 
 he affirmed, that the judges, though his 
 own friends, and honest gentlemen, were 
 unskilled in judging of most hands, and 
 again offered forty pounds to be allowed 
 six months to equal Bales's " master- 
 piece.'' Finally, he alleged, that the 
 judges did not deny that Bales- possessed 
 himself of the golden pen by a trick: he 
 relates, that Bales having pretended that 
 his wife was in extreme sickness, he de- 
 sired that she might have a sight of the 
 golden pen, to comfort her, that the " an- 
 cient gentleman," relying upon the kind 
 husband's word, allowed the golden pen 
 to be carried to her, and that thereupon 
 Bales immediately pawned it, and after- 
 ward?; to make sure work, sold it at a 
 great loss, so that the judges, ashamed of 
 their own oonduct, were compelled to 
 give such a verdict as suited the occasion. 
 Bales rejoined, by publishing to the uni- 
 verse the day and hour when the judges 
 brought the golden pen to his house, and 
 painted it with a hand over his door for ,n 
 sign.* This is shortly the history of a 
 
 * Mr D'Israeli's Curiositifis of Literature 
 
 544 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK-AUGUST 10. 
 
 long contest, which, if it has not been 
 j)aralleled in our own time, we have been 
 reminded of by the open challenges of 
 living calligraphers. 
 
 On the 10th of August, 1675, the foun- 
 dation stone of the Royal Observatory, 
 for watching and noting the motions of 
 the celestial bodies, was laid on the hill 
 where it now stands, in Greenwich Park. 
 
 The edifice was erected by order of king 
 Charles II., at the instance of sir Jonas 
 Moor, under the direction of sir Christo- 
 pher Wren ; and it is worthy of record 
 here, that the celebrated Fhmsteed, con- 
 structed a " Scheme of the Heavens," at 
 the very minute when the foundation 
 stone was laid. It has never appeared in 
 any work, and as the public are wholly 
 unacquainted with its existence, it is 
 subjoined exactly as Flamsteed drew it 
 with his own hand. 
 
 ^^:'vu 
 
 
 
 Xv 
 
 Few men rightly temper with the stars." — Shakspeare. 
 
 Flamsteed was the first astronomer- 
 royal, and from him the Observatory at 
 Greenwich derives its pop-ular name, 
 " Flamsteed-house." His " Scheme of 
 the Heavens,'' may be found there in a 
 folio vellum-bound manuscript on the 
 secono page. Opposite to it, also drawn 
 by himself, with great exactness, and 
 signed by his own name within it, is a 
 
 ground plan of the Observatory. On the 
 following, being the fourth page, is a list 
 of "Angles, betwixt eminent places ob- 
 st rved with the sextant in the months of 
 February and March, 1679— 80." The re- 
 mainder of the book consists of about one 
 hundred and seventy pages of " Observa- 
 tions," also in Flam?\e*>d's tanc-writing. 
 Whatever ajtrological observations 1 e may 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 545 
 
 2 N 
 
THE EVERY-DaY book.— august 10. 
 
 have exerjsed upon the positions of the 
 stars in his horoscope, he has not left his 
 opinion in writing ; but the circum- 
 stance of his having been at some pains 
 to ascertain and set them down among 
 his other " Oliservations," may be taken 
 as presumptive that this great astronomer 
 practised astroloey. 
 
 In another folio manuscript in calf 
 binding, containing also one hundred and 
 thirty-two pages of his " Observations,", 
 there is a document of more general im- 
 portance ; namely, a series of notices or 
 memoranda also in his own hand-writing of 
 circumstances in his life which he deemed 
 most worthy of committing to paper. 
 Tlie most curious portion of this labour 
 relates to a difference which is well known 
 to have existed between himself, and sir 
 
 Isaac Newton. The whole of these me- 
 moirs, with the astrological scheme, a 
 scientific gentleman was permitted by 
 Dr. Maskelyne, the late astronomer-royal, 
 to transcribe from the MSS. at the Ob- 
 servatory. Until n.ow, they have been un- 
 printed, and having been obligingly com- 
 municated to the Editor of the Every-Day 
 Book, the latter conceives that the public 
 will be gratified by their perusal, and 
 therefore preserves them in the pages of 
 this work without comment. Without 
 any view of detracting sir Isaac Newton, 
 or Mr. Flamsteed, by their publication, 
 he offers the singular statements as 
 Flamsteed wrote them. His birth is 
 stated at their commencement ; he died at 
 Greenwich, on the 31st of December 
 1719. 
 
 iBtmoir*5 of i!-lr. iol^n Jlam^tee)}, Ijp \)\\mt\l 
 
 I was borne At Denby, 5 miles from 
 Derby, August 19, 1646 — my father ha- 
 ving removed his family thither because 
 the Sickness was then in Derby. 
 
 Educated in the free school at Derby 
 till 16 years old 
 
 At 14 years of Age 1660, Got a great 
 cold — was followed by 5 years sickness — 
 a Consumption. 
 
 Recovered, by God's blessing, on a 
 journey into Ireland 1665, in the irontlis 
 of August and Sept. 
 
 Began to study Mathematics in 1662. 
 Tae first book I read was Sacrobusco de 
 Sphaera, which I turned into English. 
 
 In 1665 Calculated Eclipses and the 
 planets, places from Street's Caroline ta- 
 bles, and wrote my Treatise of the sequa- 
 tion of Days. 
 
 In 1666 observed the Eclipse of ye 
 Sun. 
 
 In 1669 observed a Solar Eclipse and 
 some appulses, and presented the prae- 
 dictions of more for the year 1670 to the 
 R. S. * this brought on a Correspondence 
 with Mr. Oldenburg — Collins. 
 
 Mr. Oldenburg's first letter to me is 
 dated Jan. 14. 1669—70. 
 
 Mr. Collins 2° Feb. 3. 1669—70. 
 
 My Predn. of Appulses 1670, printed 
 in ye Ph. Tr. No. 55 for Jan. 1669—70. 
 
 Mr. N's.f The. of light and Colors, 
 80. Feb. 19.1671—2. 
 
 I was in London after Whitsuntide 
 1670 ; came acquainted with Sir. Jo. 
 
 • f Royal Society.] 
 t LNewioii's ThKury.] 
 
 Moor ; bought telescope glasses, and 
 had Mr. Townly's Micrometer presented 
 to me by Sir Jonas Moor. 
 
 Set a Pole up to raise my glasses, March 
 21, 1671, at Derby. 
 
 Began to measure distances in the 
 heavens, Octo. 17, 1672. 
 
 Continued them there till Jan. 167:^^. 
 
 1672. Sept. Observed ^ — deduced his 
 parellax from the Observations "= to his 
 diameter 
 
 1674. May the 2d. came to London 
 
 29, went to Cambridge. 
 
 June the 5th. My degree. 
 
 July 13, returned to London. 
 
 Aug. 1 3, left London. 
 
 29, Got to Derby. 
 
 1674. First acquaintance with Sir I. N. 
 at C'ambridge, occasioned by my fixing 
 there the Microscope, which he could 
 not ; the object glass being forgot by him. 
 
 1675. feb. 2. Came to London Again. 
 Mar. 4. Warrant for my Sallary. 
 
 Sieur de St. Piex proposes to find the 
 Longitude by Observations of the D^. 
 * * * Letters hereon.* 
 
 1675. June 22. Warrant dated for 
 building the Royl. Observatory. 
 
 5 August 10. foundation layd. 
 
 1676. July 10. entred into it to inhabit 
 w"> T.Smith, and Cutler Denton Servant. 
 
 Sept. 19. began to measure dis- 
 tances in the heavens w''' the sextant. 
 
 76. Sir Jonas Moor gave me the sex- 
 tant, some books, and glasses, with charge 
 
 * [I'istaiicet of t)\e jiars ?] 
 
 546 
 
TIIE 2VERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 to dispose of them by my Will : all the 
 other instruments and tubes provided at 
 my own charge. 
 
 1679. Au;/. 17. Sir Jonas Moor died. 
 His Sonn Sir J. M. thrown from his 
 horse, died, 
 
 1680. Made the Fb/HiJe [?] Quadrant at 
 my own Charge. 
 
 1680. Dec. 12. O first saw and obser- 
 ved y^ great Comet ; observed it till Feb. 
 5,(80—81.) 
 
 1680. Mr. Newton's first Letter to me 
 about the Comet. 
 
 81 . Imparted my observations of the 
 Comet with ye may 
 
 [be] derived from them. 
 
 85 or 86. gave him* the diamecers of 
 the planets in all Positions of the earth, 
 and them in their orbits : got it back 
 with much difficulty after 2 years deten- 
 tion. 
 
 He disputed against the comets of 
 Nov. and Dec. being the same, in 2 long 
 letters in Feb. and March 81"; now, in 
 85, he owned they might be so as 1 had 
 asserted, and slightly mentioned me as 
 disputing for their being the same as in 
 ye 4tl) book of his principles ; whereas I 
 affirmed it, and himself disputed against it. 
 
 1687. his principles published : little 
 notice taken of her Ma''^'** Observatory. 
 
 1688 8c 9. made the New large Arch 
 rnd Staff* * * Sharp. 
 
 89. Began my observations of the * * s 
 distances from our vertex with it. 
 
 Sept. 12. ? & 13 l/'got the Clock 
 removed by Nov. 15 $ : 
 
 89 Dec. 10. first observation of the 
 D 's place compared with my lunar Ta- 
 bles in ye 4th book of calculations, pag.5. 
 
 After tins I observed the ([ and 
 planets frequently w"* the New Arch ; 
 examined the lunar observations, com- 
 monly the morning after they were got, 
 and compared them with my Tables, till 
 April, 1692, whereby I saw the faults of 
 the Tables sometimes were near one-third 
 of a degree. 
 
 1694. Sept. 1 Tj Mr. Newton come 
 to visit me; I shewed him these Collations 
 drawn up in 3 large Synopses, and on 
 liis request gave him copys of them, 
 lie promising me not to impart or com- 
 municate them to any body; this pro- 
 mise I required of him because, as I then 
 told him, I made use of some places of 
 the fixed Stars which I had derived from 
 
 observations made with the Sextant, 
 which were not so exact as those taken 
 with the Murall Arch ; that I had now 
 gotteri a good stock of observations of 
 the fixed * * s, should make a larger and 
 much exacter Catalogue, that the <[ 's 
 observed places should be derived from 
 the pJaces of the stars in my New Cata- 
 logue, and then I wculd impart them to 
 him, which he approved, and by a Letter 
 of his dated confest. 
 
 Nevertheless he imparted what he de- 
 rived from them both to Dr. Gregory and 
 Mr. H :* contra datam fidem. 
 
 After he had got the 3 Synopses of 
 }) 's observations to him he desired more 
 of them, and this caused an Intercourse 
 of letters betwixt us, wherein I imparted 
 to him about 100 more of y* ]) places, but 
 finding this took up much time, and 
 being now entered in my Rectification of 
 the places of the fixed stars, and very 
 busy in it, I was forced to leave off my 
 correspondence w'*" him at that time, 
 having found that his corrections of my 
 numbers still gave y' Moon's places 8 
 or 9 minutes erroneous, tho' Dr. G. and 
 Dr. Halley had boasted they would agree 
 w"" in 2' or 3' — I was ill of the stone 
 very oft and had [illegible] ye head noh 
 till Sept. when freed of it by a violent fit 
 of ye stone and my usuall medicine — 
 Deo Laus. 
 
 1695 or 1G96. Sir I.N.f being made an 
 Officer in the Mint came to London. I 
 sometimes visited him there or at his 
 own house in Jermin Street : we con- 
 tinued civil, but he was not so friendly 
 as formerly, because I could 
 
 Mr. H. and Dr. G. assertions con- 
 cerning his corrections of ye Horroccian 
 lunar theorys. 
 
 1696. A Correspondence begun w"' 
 Mr. Bosseley an Apothecary of Bakewell 
 in Derbyshire and Mr. Luke Leigh a 
 poor Kinsman of Mr. Halleys of the same 
 clan, and myself. Mr. Bosseley wanted ob- 
 servation for correcting the planets places 
 I furnished him, and set him on Tj and 1/ . 
 
 Mr. Leigh I hired to calculate the 
 places of the fixed Stars from their Right 
 Ascentiorts and distances from the North- 
 ern Pole determined by myself. 
 
 1696. Dec. Ill received from him 
 the places of the Stars in the Constella- 
 tions of n 23 and ^ . which whilst he 
 had been doing the same, were done by 
 
 * [Sir Isaac Newton.] 
 
 [Halley.] 
 
 •» [SirTsaaf Newloii] 
 
 547 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 10. 
 
 my then servant Mr. Hodgson in y* Ob- 
 servatory, so that I easily found the errors 
 of either and corrected them. 
 
 T & 
 
 Cetus 
 Eridanus 
 Lupus 
 Canis Maj. 
 Canis Min. 
 Navis 
 
 Orion 
 Hydra 
 Cratera 
 Corvus 
 
 I rec"* 
 
 Jan. 22.1696 
 
 - Mar. 27. 1697 
 
 - Jan. 16. 1697 
 
 I Jan. 10 1698 
 
 r -' 
 
 y Au/. 19. 1699 
 J " 
 
 1 
 
 > July 25. 1 700 
 
 > Jan. 5 ■}/_ 1701 
 
 Serpens 
 
 Serpen tarius 
 
 Aquila cum Antinoo 
 
 Sagitta 
 
 Delphinos 
 
 Equuleus 
 
 Pegasus 
 
 Triangulum 
 
 Andromeda 
 
 Perseus 
 
 Auriga 
 
 Coma Beren. 
 
 Bootes 
 
 Corona Borea 
 
 Hercules 
 
 Lyra & Cygnus 
 
 Cassiopeia and Cepheus Apr. 26. 1701 
 
 The Stars in Hevelius his Sextant and 
 Monsceros. y* Linx, Camelopardalus, 
 Canes, Vanatici, were calculated after- 
 wards in 1705. 6. 7. 8 by my servants, 
 J. Woolferman and J. Crosthwaite, and 
 the Constellations of Hercules and Cas- 
 siopea enlarged with y^ addition of many 
 Stars observed in the years 1705. 6. 7. 8. 
 by them and Mr. Ab. Ryley. 
 
 In the mean time as often as I met 
 with Sir I. N. he was very inquisitive 
 how the Catalogues went on, I answered 
 as it stood ; and when he came here com- 
 monly shewed him how it stood in my 
 books, not suspecting any design, but 
 hoping he might serve me as kindly as I 
 had assisted him freely with my pains 
 when he desired me. 
 
 1698. At Michaelmas was at Derby 
 and Bakewell. 
 
 1 697—8. Feb. 6, y« CZAR first came 
 to Greenwich. 
 
 1704. April 11. (J Mr. Newton came 
 to the Observat' dined with me, saw 
 
 the Volumes of Observations, so much of 
 the Catalogue as was then finished, 
 with the Charts of the Constellation* 
 both J. W's* and those copied by Van 
 somer : desired to have the recommend 
 ing of them to y Prince : I knew his 
 temper, that he would be my fr. no fui - 
 ther than to serve his own ends, and tha* 
 he was spiteful! and swayed by those 
 that were worse than himself; this made 
 me refuse him: however, when he went 
 away he promised me he would recom- 
 mend them, tho he never intended 
 me any good by it, but to get me under 
 him, that I might be obliged to boy him 
 up as E H t has done hitherto. 
 
 1704. Nov. 8. Wrote the Estimate, 
 which was read without my knowledge 
 at the R. S. The Members thought it 
 ought to be recommended to the Prince ; 
 the President joynd with them, a Com- 
 mittee was appointed to attend his 
 R. H. even without acquainting me 
 with it, an estimate of the charges drawn 
 up without my knowledge: the Prince 
 allows it — Mr. N. says [illegible.] 
 
 He concludes me now in his power, 
 does all he can to hinder the work, or 
 spoyls it by encouraging the printers to 
 commit faults. 
 
 We must print the Observations, tho 
 T had shewed in my printed ^Estimate, 
 that for very good reasons the Charts of 
 the Constellations ought first to be set 
 upon. 
 
 Mr. N. told me he hoped I would give 
 a Note under my hand of security for the 
 Prince's Money ; this I knew was to 
 oblige me to be his slave : I answered 
 that I had, God be thanked, some esUiie 
 of my own which I hoped to leave for my 
 wife's support, to her during her life, to 
 my own Relations &fter ; that therefore I 
 would not cumber my own estate with 
 imprests or securi ys, but if they would 
 please to take his R' H'* moneys into 
 their hands I would sign the workmen's 
 bill to them, whereby they would see if 
 they were reasonable at the same time. 
 
 I was told I should have all the printed 
 copys save what his R. H. should have to 
 present to the Universitys. 
 
 And Mr. N. granted that since I 
 refused to handle any of his R. H. money 
 there was no need of securitys or Articles 
 — Nevertheless 
 
 [J. Woolferman, AntA 
 
 t [Dr. Edmund Halley.; 
 
 643 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST ti. 
 
 Tlie preceding are all the memoranda 
 by Mr. Flamsteed respecting himself: he 
 breaks off with the word " Nevertheless." 
 
 To conclude this article a fac-simile is 
 added of Mr. Flamsteed's autograph from 
 his copy of " Streete's Caroline Tables," 
 mentioned in the preceding memoir, and 
 now in the possession of the Editor of the 
 Every-Duy Book. It is to a memoran- 
 dum made in that book by Mr. Flam- 
 steed, in these words : — 
 
 "The greatest declination of ye sun is 
 not more y" 23°. 29' 00 his hoiizontall 
 p irallax but 10 seconds ; the semidiame- 
 lers ofy^ Sunn in the Caroline tables less 
 }" they ought to be by 12 seconds." 
 
 arri^^hi<f^ 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Balsam. Impatiens balsama. 
 Dedicated to St. Lawrence. 
 
 ^iugiiSt 11 
 
 Sts. Tiburtius and Chromatius, a. d. 286. 
 
 St. Susanna, 3rd Cent. St. Gery, or 
 Gaugericus, Bp. a. d. 619. St. Equl 
 this, A. D. 540. 
 
 The dog-days end on this day. This 
 period in the year 1825, was remarkable 
 for longer absence of rain and greater 
 heat than usual. It was further remarkable 
 for numerous conflagrations, especially 
 in the metropolis and its environs. 
 
 TH>; SEASON. 
 
 Dr. Forster in his Perennial Calendar^ 
 observes, that the gentle refreshing 
 breezes by day, and the delicious calms 
 by night, at this time of year, draw a vast 
 concourse of persons of leisure to the 
 shores of Great Britain and France in the 
 months of August and September. There 
 is perhaps no period of the year when the 
 seaside is more agreeable. Bathing, sail- 
 ing, and other marine recreations, are at 
 no time better suited to beguile the hours 
 of the warm summer day than at present; 
 and the peculiar stillness of a seaside 
 evening scene, by moonlight, is now to be 
 enjoyed in perfection, as Cynthia begins 
 to ascend higher in her car after the ter- 
 mination of the nightless summer solstice, 
 and when the unremitted heat of the dog- 
 days at length gives place to the more 
 refreshing dews of a longer period of 
 nocturnal coolness. The peculiar bc!».u- 
 ties of a sea-scene by night are thu^ 
 described by a cotemporary poet :— 
 
 The sky was clear and the breeze was still, 
 
 The air was soft and the night was fine, 
 And all was hush save the tinkling rill, 
 
 While the moonbeams played on the sparkling brine ; 
 Scylla had pulled off her glacous vest. 
 
 No longer responsive to whirlwinds' roar, 
 But in white flowing silvery mantle drest. 
 
 With silken slioons danced along the shore. 
 
 But the imagery of a calm sea is more than Dy any other author wl ei; he tells 
 poetically described by Milton, perhaps, us : — 
 
 That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed, 
 The air was calm, and on the level brine 
 Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
 
 Thie swift, hirundo apns, is missed, 
 says Dr. Forster, in its usual haunts 
 about this time. The great body of these 
 ^irds m.igrate at once, so that we are 
 struck witn their absence about the old 
 steeples of churches and other edifices 
 which they usually inhabit, and from 
 whence they sally forth on rapid wings 
 each morning and evening in search of 
 food, wheeling round and round, and ut- 
 
 tering a very loud piercing and peculiar 
 cry, wherefore they are called squeakers. 
 For the last month past, these birds 
 may have been seen flying in lofty gyra- 
 tions in the air, and seemingly exercising 
 their wings and preparing for their aerial 
 voyage. It is not precisely ascertained to 
 what countries they go when they leave 
 Europe. 
 
 549 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 12. 
 
 Insects, says Dr. Forsttr, still con- 
 .inue to swarm and to sport in the sun 
 from flower to flower. It is very amus- 
 ing to observe, in the bright sun of an 
 August morning, the animation and de- 
 light of some of the lepidopterous insects. 
 That beautiful little blue butterfly, papilio 
 argns, is then all life and activity, flit- 
 ting from flower to flower in the grass 
 with remarkable vivacity : there seems to 
 be a constant rivalship and contention 
 between this beauty, and the not less 
 elegant little beau, papilio phlceas. Fre- 
 quenting the same station, attached to the 
 same head of clover, or of harebell, 
 whenever they approach, mutual ani- 
 mosity seems to possess them ; and dart- 
 ing on each otiier with courageous ra- 
 pidity, they buffet and contend until one 
 is driven from the field, or to a consider- 
 able distance from his station, perhaps 
 many hundred yards, when the victor 
 leturns to his post in triumph; and this 
 contention is renewed, as long as the 
 brilliancy of the sun animates their cou- 
 rage. When the beautiful evening of 
 this season airives, we again see the 
 bat : — 
 
 The bat begins with giddy wing 
 
 His circuit round the shed and tree ; 
 
 And clouds of dancing gnats to sing 
 A summer night's serenity. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 China Aster. Aster Chinensis. 
 Dedicated to St. Susanna. 
 
 gncrudt 12. 
 
 St. C/are, Abbess, a. d. 1253. St. Evn 
 pl'ins, A. D. 304. St. Muredack, First 
 Bp. of Kiliala, a. d. 440. 
 
 Chronology 
 King George IV. was born on the 12th 
 of August, 1762; but the anniversary is 
 kept on St. George's-day, the 23d of 
 April. 
 
 To the Editor cf the Every-Day Book. 
 
 THE HUMBLE PETITION OF AN UNFOR- 
 TUNATE UAY. 
 
 Sir, 
 I am a poor wronged Day. I appeal 
 to you as the general patron of u;e 
 
 family of the Days. The candour with 
 which you attended to the expostulations 
 of a poor relative of ours — a sort of cousin 
 thrice removed* — encourages me to hope 
 that you will listen to the complaint of a 
 Day of rather more consequence. I am 
 the Day, Sir, upon which it pleased the 
 course of nature that your gracious So- 
 vereign should be born. As such, before 
 his Accession, I was always observed and 
 honoured. But since that happy event, 
 in which naturally none had a greater in- 
 terest than myself, a flaw has been disco- 
 vered in my title. My lustre has been 
 eclipsed, and — to use the words of one of 
 your own poets, — 
 
 " I fade into the light of common day." 
 
 It seems, that about that time, an Im- 
 postor crept into Court, who has the ef- 
 frontery to usurp my honours, and to 
 style herself the King' s-birth- Day, upon 
 some shallow pretence that, being St 
 George's-Day, she must needs be King- 
 George's-Day also. All- Saints- Day we 
 have heard of, and All- Souls-Day we are 
 willing to admit ; but does it follow 
 that this foolish Twenty-third of April 
 must be All-George's- Day, and enjoy a 
 monopoly of the whole name from George 
 of Cappadocia to George of Leyden, and 
 from George-a-Green down to George 
 Dyer ? 
 
 It looks a little oddly that I was dis- 
 carded not long after the dismission of a 
 set of men and measures, with whom 1 
 have nothing in common. I hope no 
 whisperer has insinuated into the ears of 
 Royaky, as if I were any thing Whiggishly 
 inclined, when, in my heart, I abhor all 
 these kind of Revolutions, by which I am 
 sure to be the greatest sufferer. 
 
 I wonder my shameless Rival can have 
 the face to let the Tower and Park Guns 
 proclaim so many big thundering fibs as 
 they do, upon her Anniversary — making 
 your Sovereign too to be older than he is, 
 by an hundred and odd days, which is no 
 great compliment one would think. Con- 
 sider if this precedent for ante-daiing of 
 Births should become general, what con- 
 fusion it must make in Parish Registers; 
 what crowds of young heirs we should 
 have coming of age before they are one- 
 arid-twenty, with numberless similar 
 grievances. If these chops and changes 
 are suffered, we shall have Lord-AIayor's- 
 Day eating her custard unauthentically in 
 
 * Twenty-ninth Z^ai/ of February, 
 
 550 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 1 2 
 
 May, and Gtq/ Fuiix preposterously- 
 blazing twice over in the Dog-daj/s. 
 
 I humbly submit, that it is not within 
 tlie prerogatives of ItoYalty itself, to be 
 born twice over. We have read of the 
 supposititious births of Princes, but where 
 are the evidences of this first Birth? why 
 are not the nurses in attendance, the mid- 
 wife, &c. produced ? — the silly story has 
 not so much as a Warming Pan to sup- 
 port it. 
 
 My legal advisers, to comfort me, tell 
 me that I have the right on my side; that 
 I am the true Birth- Day, and the other 
 Day is only kept. But what consolation 
 is this to me, as long as tiiis naughty- 
 kept creature keeps me out of my dues 
 and privileges ? 
 
 Pray take my unfortunate case into 
 your consideration, and see that I am 
 restored to my lawful Rejoicings, Firings, 
 Bon-Firings, Illuminations, &c. 
 
 And your Petitioner shall ever pray, 
 Tioelfth Day of August 
 
 TuE Editor's Answer. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 You mistake my situation : I am not 
 the " patron," but a poor servant of the 
 Days — engaged to attend their goings out 
 and comings in, and to teach people to 
 pay proper respect to them. Mine is no 
 trifling post. Madam ; for without dis- 
 respect to you, many of your a-ncient 
 family were spoiled long ago, by silly 
 persons having taken undue notice of 
 them ; and in virtue of my office, I am a 
 sort of judge in their court of claims, 
 without authority to enforce obedience to 
 my opinions. However, I shall continue 
 to do my duty to the Days, and to their 
 friends, many of whom are mere hangers- 
 on, and, in spite of their pretended re- 
 gard, grossly abuse them : — but this only 
 verifies the old saying, " Too much fami- 
 liarity r.reeds contempt :" such liberties 
 must not be allowed, nor must the anti- 
 quity of the Days be too much insisted 
 on. It is said, " there's reason in every 
 thing," but there's very little in some of 
 the Old Days — excuse me. Madam, you 
 are a young one ; and I have something 
 to excuse in you, which I readily do, on 
 acco-unt of your inexperience, and of your 
 bringing up. 
 
 That you are " the King's-birth-Day' 
 13 undisputed : you are stated so to be in 
 the almanac ; as witness this line in Au- 
 gust, 1823:— 
 
 "12. F. B, 6tO,IV.I)." 
 
 Can any thing be plainer than the b. or 
 more certain than that it stands for bovu.'* 
 So much then for your rank in the Day 
 family, and at Court, where you are 
 acknowledged, and received as the birth- 
 Day once a year, and " kept " as well as 
 His Majesty can keep ycu. A king re- 
 presents the majesty of the public welfare, 
 and maintains the dignity of the throne 
 whereon l>e is placed by promoting the 
 interests of the people. His present 
 Majesty regards your, and their, and his 
 own, interest by remembering you, when 
 you are not entitled to especial recollec- 
 tion with another day in the almanac, 
 and this remembrance stands in April 
 1825, thus— 
 
 23. S. ^t #fci*i\*I)*tr*fe* 
 
 St George's-Day does not supersede you ; 
 it is not called the King' s-birth-Day ; 
 the almanac by l^.tJ.b.k. denotes that 
 you, the King's-birth-Day, are kept with 
 all the honours due to your .^^m^ms^ qua- 
 lity on St. George's-Day. If it had not 
 " pleased the course of nature," you 
 would only have been distinguished as 
 the first Day after the Day whereon the 
 almanac says " Dog-Days end " — a fine 
 distinction ! 
 
 " It looks a little oddly " you say that 
 you should have been " discarded not 
 long after the dismission of a set of men 
 and measures with whom yo?( have nothing 
 in common ;" and you " hope," that " no 
 whisperer has insinuated " that you are 
 " whiggishly inclined." Allow me to tell 
 you. Madam, that if the family of the 
 Days had not been " whiggishly inclined '' 
 in "the year 1688, you might still have 
 been a " common Day." I know not 
 how you Jnclinenow, and it is of very little 
 consequence ; for all " parties " are busy 
 in promoting the happiness of the com- 
 monwealth, and I hope, in my lifetime 
 at least, that no Day will be dishonoured 
 by dissensions about trifles at home, or 
 war upon any pretence abroad. And 
 now. Madam, after this indispensable 
 notice of your little flaunt, let me add, 
 that the prorogation of parliament during 
 that season when " in the course of na- 
 ture '' you arrive, and the king's attention 
 to the manufacturing and trading of the 
 country', are obvious reasons for keeping 
 the King's-birth-Day, in customary splen- 
 dour on the 23d Day of April, instead of 
 the 12lh Day of August. You are ho- 
 
 551 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 13. 
 
 nouied again in your own season at the 
 nalace ; and your complaint amounts to 
 no more than this, that having received 
 your honours in the presence of a full 
 court circle before you are entitled to 
 ihem, they are not all repeated to a semi- 
 rircle: — how^ childish! Then, you talk 
 about the " ante-dating of bitths " and 
 *' Parish Registers " as if you were the 
 daughter of a parish clerk — remeiBber 
 yourself. Madam. 
 
 St. George's-Day has far more cause 
 for vexation than you. The little respect 
 usually paid to A(^r celebration is eclipsed 
 by the uproar of yours. " The Tower and 
 Park guns proclaim so many big thun- 
 dering fibs upon her anniversary " for 
 you ; and you call her, your elder sister, 
 a " naughty kept creature ;" poor thing ! 
 How eloquent is her silence compared with 
 your loquacity ! how dignified ! yet she 
 has antiquity to boast of — the antiquity of 
 many generations, while you at the utmost, 
 are only of sixty-three years standing; 
 indeed, as the KiNc's-ft/r^A-Day, you are 
 not halfway to your teens. A quarrel 
 among the Days would be odious ; this 
 would be detestable. Happily the Day- 
 family is saved from this disgrace by the 
 prudence of your more experienced sister, 
 who will no doubt declme provocation 
 even under your spiteful collocation of 
 George of Leyden with George of Cap- 
 padocia — she understands the taunt well 
 enough; and can see through the whim- 
 sical association of George-a-Green with 
 George Dyer. The dead George-a-Green 
 no one can harm, and the living George 
 Dyer is as harmless. This is pitiful 
 work, and if you were not the King's- 
 birth-Day you would be made to suffer 
 for it. " However, " as my friend Dyer 
 would say, " let that pass :" he is a good 
 creature, and maintains his innocence 
 spite of his union — with George-a-Green. 
 
 On the presentation of your petition 
 I had some doubt whether I ought to 
 entertain such a petition for a moment ; 
 but Oil reconsideration I doubted whe- 
 ther the justice of the case would not be 
 better answered by dealing with it in 
 another way ; and I give you the benefit 
 of that doubt : the petition is dismissed. 
 The Editor. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Sowthistle. Sonchus palustris. 
 Dedicated to St. Clare 
 
 au9:u^t 13. 
 
 St. Hippolytas, a. d. 252. St. Cassian. 
 St. Radegundes, queen of France, a o. 
 587. St. IVigbert, Abbot, a. d. 747. 
 
 Catsf. 
 
 Once upon a time — on or about the 
 1 3th of August, 1819; it might have been 
 a few or many days before or after that 
 day. or a month or so before or after that 
 month — the day or month is of less con- 
 sequence to the reader, than to the editor, 
 who desires to " bring in " an interesting 
 anecdote or two on the 1 3th day of August. 
 Once upon a time, a cat — it is a fact 
 — for it is in The Scotsman news- 
 paper of the 23d of October, 1819 — once 
 upon a time, a cat, belonging to a ship- 
 master, was left on shore, by accident, 
 when his vessel sailed from the harbour 
 of Aberdour, Fifeshire, which lies about 
 half a mile from the village. The vessel 
 was absent about a month, and, on her 
 return, to the astonishment of the ship- 
 master, puss came on board with a fine 
 stout kitten in her mouth, apparently 
 about three weeks old, and went directly 
 down to the cabin. Two others of her 
 young were afterwards caught, quite wild, 
 in a neighbouring wood, where she must 
 have remained with them till the return 
 of the vessel. The shipmaster did not 
 allow her again to go on shore, otherwise 
 it is probable she would have brought the 
 whole litter on board. What is more 
 remarkable, vessels were daily entering 
 and leaving the harbour, none of which 
 she ever thought of visiting till the one 
 she had left returned.* This extraordi- 
 nary instance of feline sagacity, on the 
 day before mentioned or imagined, is pa- 
 ralleled by another : — 
 
 A lady lately living at Potsdam, when 
 a child of six years, ran a splinter into 
 her foot, sat down upon the floor, and 
 cried most violently. At first her cries 
 were not regarded, as they were considered 
 to be more the effect of a pettish and 
 obstinate temper, than of any great pain 
 which the accident could have occasioned 
 her. At length the elder sister of the 
 child, who had been lying asleep in bed, 
 was roused by her cries, and as she was 
 just about to get out of bed, in order to 
 quiet her sister, she observed a cat, who 
 was a favourite playmate of the children, 
 and otherwise of a very gentle disposition, 
 leave her seat under the stove, go to the 
 
 * iiuiiiogKal AiietUole*, 
 
 552 
 
THE EVERY-UAY BOOK.— AUGUST 13. 
 
 crying girl, and having given her with 
 one of her paws so smart a blow upon the 
 cheek as to draw blood, walk back again 
 with the utmost gravity to her place under 
 the stove. As this cat was by no means 
 of a malicious disposition, for she had 
 grown up together with the younger chil- 
 dren of the family, and never designedly 
 scratched any of them, it seems that her 
 intention upon this occasion was to chas- 
 tise the pettish girl, and put an end to 
 her troublesome cries, in order that she 
 might herself be able to finish her morn- 
 ing nap without further interruption.* 
 
 * Zoological Anecdotes. 
 
 In the " Orleans Collection" of pictures 
 there was a fine painting: of a " Concert 
 of Cats," by F. Breughel, from whence 
 there is a print, among the engravmgs of 
 that gallery, sufficiently meritorious and 
 whimsical to deserve a place here; and 
 therefore it is represented in the sketch on 
 the present page. In justice, to the jus- 
 tice done to it, Mr. Samuel Williams mus.* 
 be mentioned as the artist who both drew 
 and engraved it. The fixed attention or 
 the feline performers is exceedingly amus- 
 ing, and by no means unnatural : for it 
 appears by the notes that mice is their 
 theme,, and they seem engaged in a catch. 
 
 BHEUGHEL'S C0:NCERT OF CATS. 
 
 Ye rats, in triumph elevate your ears ! 
 Exult, ye mice ! for fate's abhorred shears 
 Of Dick's nine lives have slit the cat-^ts nine ; 
 Henceforth he mews midst choirs of cats divine ! 
 
 So sings Mr. Huddesford, in a "Monody 
 Oi. the Death of Dick, an Academical 
 Cat," with tnis motto, — ■ 
 
 "MI-CAT inter omnes." 
 
 Hor. Carm. Lib. i. Ode 12. 
 
 He brings his cat Dick from the Hood, 
 and consequently through Rutterkin, a 
 cat who was "cater-cousin to the great- 
 great-great-great- great-great- great-great- 
 grcat -grandmother of Grimalkin, and first 
 
 cat in the caterie of an old woman, who 
 was tried for bewitching a daughter of the 
 countess of Rutland in the beginning c? 
 the sixteenth century." The monodi^ 
 connects him with cats of great renowi 
 in the annals of witchcraft ; a scienct 
 whereto they have been allied as closely as 
 poor old women, one of whom, it appears 
 on the authority of an old pamphlet enti. 
 tied " Newes from Scotland," &c. printed 
 
 553 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK-AUGLST 13 
 
 in the year 1 591, " confessed that she took rest of the shippes then being in his con^i- 
 
 a cat and christened it, &c. and that in panie, which thing was most straunge and 
 
 the night foiiowing, the said cat was con- true, as the kinges majestic acknowledgeth^ 
 
 veyed into the middest of the sea by all for when the rest of the shippes had a fair 
 
 these witches sayling in their Riddles, or and good winde, then was the winde con- 
 
 CivES, and so left the said cat right before trarie, and altogether against his ma- 
 
 the towne of Leith in Scotland. This jestie," &c, 
 
 done, there did arise such a tempest at All sorts of cats, according to Iluddes- 
 
 sea as a greater hath not been seen, &c. ford, lamented the death of his favourite, 
 
 Againe it is confessed, that the said chris- whom he calls "premier cat upon the cata- 
 
 tened cat was the cause of the kinges ma- logue," and who, preferring sprats to ail 
 
 jfestie's shippe, at his coming forthe of other fish,^ 
 Denmarke, had a contrarie winde to the 
 
 " Had swallow'd down a score without remorse. 
 And three fat mice slew for a second course, 
 But, wliile the third his grinders dyed with gore. 
 Sudden those grinders clos'd — to grind no more I 
 And, dire to tell ! commission'd by Old Nick, 
 A catalepsy made an end of Dice. 
 
 " Calumnious cats who circulate faux pas. 
 And reputations maul with murd'rous claws ; 
 Shrill cats whom fierce domestic brawls delight. 
 Cross cats who nothing want but teeth to bite, 
 Starch cats of puritanic aspect sad. 
 And learned cats who talk their husbands mad ; 
 Confounded cats who cough, and croak, and cry, 
 And maudlin cats who drink eternally; 
 Fastidious cats who pine for costly caies. 
 And jealous cats wiio citechise their mates ; 
 Cat prudes who, when they're ask'd the question, siiunll 
 And ne'er give answer categorical ; 
 Uncleanly cats, who never pare their nails, 
 Cat-gossips full of Canterbury tales. 
 Cat grandams vex'd with asthmas and catarrhs. 
 And superstitious cats who curse their stars ; 
 Cats of each class, craft, calling, and degree 
 Mourn Dick's calamitous catastrophe ! 
 
 " Yet, while I chant the cause of Richard's end. 
 Ye sympathizing cats, your tears suspend \ 
 Tlien shed enough to float a dozen whales. 
 And use, for pocket-handkerchiefs, your tails ! — > 
 
 " Ah ! tho' thy bust adorn no sculptur'd shrine, 
 ^o vase thy relics rare to fame consign, 
 ^Jo rev'rend characters thy rank express. 
 Nor hail thee, Dick ! D.D. nor F.R.S. 
 Tho' no funereal cypress shade thy tomb 
 For thee the wreaths of Paradise shall bloom. 
 There, while Grimalkin's mew her Richard greet*, 
 A thousand cats shall purr on purple seats : 
 E'en now I see, descending from his throne. 
 Thy venerable cat, O Wlnttingfon ! 
 The kindred excellence of Richard hail. 
 And wave with joy his gratulating tail ! 
 There shall the worthies of the whisker'd race 
 Elysian mice o'er floors of sapphire chase. 
 Midst beds of aromatic marnm stray, 
 Or raptur'd rove beside the Milky Way. 
 Kittens, than eastern liouris fairer seen, 
 Whose bright eyes glitt'lli with immortal green. 
 
 ;54 
 
THE EVERY-DAV BOOK.— AUGUST 13. 
 
 Shall smooth foi tabby swains their yielding fur, 
 And to their amorous mews assenting purr. — 
 There, like Alcmena's, shall Grimalkin's Son 
 In bliss repose, — his mousing labours done. 
 Fate, envy, curs, time, tide, and traps defy, 
 And caterwaul to all eternity." 
 
 Huddesford. 
 
 Cats neither like to be put out of their 
 way, nor to be kept out of their food : — 
 
 In cloisters, wherein people are im- 
 mured in Roman catholic countries, to 
 keep or make them of that religion, it is 
 customary to announce the hours of meals 
 by ringing a bell. In a cloister in France, 
 a cat that was kept there was used never 
 to receive any victuals till the bell rung, 
 and she therefore never failed to be withm 
 hearing of it. One day, however, she 
 happened to be shut up in a solitary 
 apartment, and the bell rang in vain, as 
 far as regarded her. Being some hours 
 after liberated from her confinement, she 
 ran, half famished, to the olace where a 
 plate of victuals used generally to be 
 set for her, but found none this time. In 
 the afternoon the bell was heard ringing 
 at an unusual hour, and when the people 
 of the cloister came to see what was the 
 cause of it, they found the cat hanging 
 upon the bell-rope, and setting it in mo- 
 tion as well as she was able, in order that 
 she might have her dinner served up to 
 her.* 
 
 There is a surprising instance of the sen- 
 sibility of cats to approaching danger : — 
 la the year 1783, two cats, belonging 
 to a merchant at Messina, in Sicily, an- 
 nounced to him the approach of an earth- 
 quake. Before the first shock was felt, 
 these two animals seemed anxiously to 
 endeavour to work their way through the 
 floor of the room in which they were. 
 Their master observing their fruitless 
 eflbrts, opened the door for them. At a 
 second and third door, which they like- 
 wise found shut, they repeated their efforts, 
 and on being set completely at liberty, 
 they ran straight through the street, 
 and out of the gate of the town. The 
 merchant, whose curiosity was excited by 
 this strange conduct of the cats, followed 
 them into the fields, where he again saw 
 them scratching and burrowing in the 
 earth. Soon after there was a violent 
 shock of an earthquake, and many of the 
 
 houses in the city fell down, of which the 
 merchant's was one, so that he was in 
 debted for his life to the singula'- fore- 
 bodings of his cats.* 
 
 Few who possess the faculty of hear- 
 ing, and have heard the music of cats, 
 would desire the continuance of their 
 " sweet voices," yet a concert was exhi- 
 bited at Paris, wherein cats were the per- 
 formers. Tliey were placed in rows, and 
 a monkey beat time to them. Accord mg 
 as he beat the time, so the cats mewed ; 
 and the historian of the fact relates, that 
 the diversity of the tones which they 
 emitted produced a very ludicrous effect. 
 Tiiis exhibition was announced to the 
 Parisian public by the title of Concert 
 Miuulant.f 
 
 Cats were highly esteemed by the 
 Egyptians, who under the form of a cat 
 symbolized the moon, or Isis, and placed 
 it upon their systrum, an instrument of 
 religious worship and divination. Count 
 Cayius engraved a cat with two kittens, 
 which, while he supposes one of the 
 kittens to be black and the other white, 
 he presumes to have represented the 
 phases of the moon. 
 
 Cats are supposed to have been brought 
 into England from the island of Cyprus, 
 by some foreign merchants who came 
 hither for tin. In the old Welsh laws, 
 a kitten from its biith till it could see 
 was valued at a penny ; when it began to 
 mouse at twopence ; and after it had 
 killed mice at Iburpence, which was the 
 price of a calf. Wild cats were kept by 
 our ancient kings for hunting. The offi- 
 cers who had the charge of these cvits 
 seem to have had appointments of equal 
 consequence with the masters of the 
 king's hounds ; they were called catatores 
 
 Gray's elegy on a cat drowned in a 
 globe of watrr with gold fishes is well- 
 known. Dr. Jortin wrote a Latin epi- 
 taph on a favourite cat. 
 
 Zoological AnetdoteJ. 
 
 * Zoological Anecdotes. 
 
 ♦ Ibid 
 
 555 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 14. 
 
 JORTINS EPITAPH ON HIS CAf 
 
 Imitated m English 
 
 Worn out with age and dire disease, a cat, 
 Friendly to all, save wicked mouse and rat 
 I'm sent at last to ford the Stygian lake, 
 And to the infernal coast a voyage make. 
 Me Proserpine receiv'd, and smiling said, 
 "Be bless'd within these mansions of the dead . 
 Enjoy among thy velvet-footed loves, 
 Elysium's sunny banks and shady groves." 
 " But if I've well deserv'd, (O gracious queen,) 
 If patient under sufferings I have been, 
 Grant mi at least one night to visit home again 
 Once mire to see my home, and mistress dear. 
 And purr these grateful accents in her ear. 
 Thy faithful cat, thy poor dejjarted slave. 
 Still loves her mistress ev'n beyond the grave."* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mars' Grounsel. Senecio palndotns. 
 Dedicated to St. Radigundes. 
 
 ^iUgU^t 14. 
 
 Euxeblus, 3rd Cent. 
 PriesU 
 
 St. Ensebhis, 
 
 It is stated in The Times, on the autho- 
 rity of an " Evening Paper," that two 
 beautiful old trees in Nottingham park 
 during the hot weather (of July and 
 August, 1825,) shed all their leaves, and 
 were as completely stripped as they are 
 usually in November. Their appearance 
 afterwards was more surprising. Wet 
 weather came, they put forth new leaves 
 and were as fully clothed in August as 
 they were before the long season of the 
 dry hot weather. 
 
 THE WITHERED LEAF. 
 
 Rcver'd from thy slender stalk, 
 
 Wither'd wand'rer I knowest thou ? 
 
 Would'st thou tell, if leaves might talk, 
 Whence thou art ? — Where goest thou ? 
 
 Nothing know I' — tempests' strife 
 
 From the proud oak tore me ; 
 Broke my every tie to life, 
 
 Whelm'd the tree that bore«rae. 
 
 Zephyr's fickle breath, — the blaet 
 
 From the northern ocea-n. 
 Since that day my lot have cast 
 
 By their varying motion. 
 
 From the mountain's breezy height 
 
 To the silent valley. 
 From the forest's darksome night 
 
 To the plain I sally. 
 
 Wheresoever wafts the wind. 
 
 Restless flight constraining. 
 There I wander unconfin'd. 
 
 Fearless, uncomplaining. 
 
 On I go — where all beside 
 
 Like myself are going ; 
 Where oblivion's dreamless tide 
 
 Silently is flowing. 
 
 There like beauty, frail and brief. 
 
 Fades the pride of roses ; 
 There the laurel's honour'd leaf — 
 
 Sear d and scorn'd-reposes. 
 
 Bernard Hary.n] 
 
 * bisr, Nov. 3, \!U 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— A L GUST 14. 
 
 About the middle of Auoust, the viper which, -when hatched, her offspring come 
 brings forth her young. She produces forth nearly of the size of earthworm?. 
 from twelve to twenty-five eggs, from « Aikin'.Nat.H.st.of theYcii. * 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Elegant Zinnia. Zinnia elegans. 
 Dedicated to St. Etisebius. 
 
 FANTOCCINI. 
 
 " He gives me the motions." 
 
 Shakipeare. 
 
 Mr. George Cruikshank's pencil has Tliis exhibition took place in a street 
 
 been put in requisition for a faiitoccini, at Pentonville, during the present month, 
 
 and his drawing, engraved by Mr. Henry 1825. Its coming was announced by a 
 
 White, appears above. man playing the Fiu pipes, or "mouth 
 
 557 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 14. 
 
 organ," which he accompanied by beating 
 the long drum; after him followed the 
 theatre, consisting of a square frame-work 
 about ten feet high, boarded in front, 
 and painted as represented in the print, 
 carried by a man within the frame ; the 
 theatrical properties were in a box strap- 
 ped on the inside towards the bottom. 
 The musician was preceded by a foreign- 
 looking personage — the manager. As 
 soon as he had fixed on a station he 
 deemed eligible, the trio stopped, the 
 -neatre was on its legs in a minute, and 
 some green baize furled towards the top 
 of each side, and at the back, was let down 
 by the manager himself, who got within 
 the frame and thus concealed himself. 
 The band of two instruments was set in 
 motion by its performer, who took his sta- 
 tion on one side, and the carrier of the 
 theatre assuming the important office of 
 money collector. " Come ladies and gen- 
 tlemen," he said, " we can't begin without 
 you encourage us — some money if you 
 please — please to remember what you are 
 going to see !" Boys came running in 
 from the fields, Avomen with children got 
 " good places," windows were thrown up 
 and well filled, the drummer beat and blew 
 away lustily, the audience increased every 
 minute, a collection was made, and the 
 green curtain at length drew up, and dis- 
 covered a stage also lined with green 
 cloth at the top, bottom, and sides. In 
 about a minute the tune altered, and the 
 show began. 
 
 Scene 1. A jolly-looking puppet per- 
 formed the tricks of a tumbler and pos- 
 ture master with a hoop. 
 
 Scene 2. The money taker called out, 
 " This is the representation of a skele- 
 ton." The music played solemnly, and the 
 puppet skeleton came slowly through a 
 trap door in the floor of the stage ; its 
 under jaw chattered against the upper, it 
 threw its arms up mournfully, till it was 
 fairly above ground, and then commenced 
 a " grave" dance. On a sudden its head 
 dropped off", the limbs separated from the 
 trunk in a moment, and the head moved 
 about the floor, chattering, till it resumed 
 Its place together with the limbs, and in 
 an instant danced as before ; its efftirts 
 appeared gradually to decline, and at last 
 it sank into a sitting posture, and remain- 
 ed still. Then it held down its skull, 
 elevated its arms, let them fall on the 
 ground several times dolorously ; fell to 
 pieces again ; again the head moved 
 about the stagf; and chattered ; a-gain it 
 
 resumed its place, the limbs reunited, and 
 the figure danced till the head fell off 
 with a gasp ; the limbs flew still furthe. 
 apart; all was quiet; tlie head made one 
 move only towards the body, fell side- 
 ways, and the whole re-descended to a 
 dirge- like tune. Thus ended the second 
 scene. 
 
 Scoie 3. This scene was delayed for 
 the collector again to come round with 
 his hat : — " You can't expect us to shov9 
 you all for what you've given. Money ii 
 you please; money; we want your mo- 
 ney 1" As soon as he had extracted the 
 last extractable halfpenny, the curtain 
 drew up, and — enter a clown without a 
 head, who danced till his head came from 
 between his shoulders to the wonder of 
 the children, and, almost to their alarm, 
 was elevated on a neck the full length 
 of his body, which it thrust out ever and 
 anon ; after presenting greater contortions 
 than the human figure could possibly re- 
 present, the curtain fell the third time. 
 
 Scene 4. Another delay of the curtain 
 for another collection, " We have four 
 and twenty scenes," said the collec- 
 tor, " and if you are not liberal we can't 
 show 'em all — we must go." This ex- 
 torted something more, and one person 
 at a window, who had sent three-pence 
 from a house where other money had been 
 given, now sent out a shilling, with a re- 
 quest that " all" might be exhibited. The 
 showman promised, the curtain drew up, 
 and another puppet-tumbler appeared 
 with a pole which, being placed laterally 
 on the back of two baby-house chairs, he 
 balanced himself on it, stood heels upwards 
 upon it, took the chairs up by it, balanced 
 them on each end of it, and down fell the 
 curtain. 
 
 A puppet sailor danced a 
 
 A puppet Indian juggler 
 
 Scene 5. 
 hornpipe. 
 
 Scene 6. 
 threw balls. 
 
 Scene 7. Before the curtain drew up 
 the collector said, "This is the representa- 
 tion of Billy Waters, Esq." and a puppet, 
 Billy Waters, appeared with a wooden 
 leg, and danced to the sound of his fiddle 
 for a minute or two when the curtain 
 dropped, and the manager and perform- 
 ers went cfl' with their theatre, leaving 
 the remaining seventeen scenes, if they 
 had them, unrepresented. On the show 
 was painted, "Candler's Fantoccini, pa 
 tronised by the Royal Family." Our old 
 acquaintance, " Punch," will survive all 
 thiii 
 
 fi58 
 
TflE RVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 15. 
 
 angusJt 15. 
 
 The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin 
 Mar II. St. Alipius, Bp. a. d, 429. St. 
 Arnold, or Arnulphns, Bp. a.u. 1087. 
 St. Mac-Cartin, or Aid, or Aed, Bp. of 
 Clogher, a. d. 506. 
 
 Assumption, B. V. M. 
 
 So stands this high festival of the Ro- 
 mish church in the church of England 
 calendar. No reason can be imagined 
 for its remaining there ; for the assump- 
 tion of the virgin is the pretended mira- 
 culous ascent of her body into heaven. 
 Butler calls it " the greatest of all the 
 festivals the Romish church celebrates in 
 her honour." In his account of this day, 
 he especially enjoins her to be invoked as 
 a mediator. The breviaries and offices 
 of her worship embrace it as an opportu- 
 nity for edifying the devotees with stories 
 to her honour ; one of these may suffice. 
 
 There was a monk very jolly and light 
 of life, who on a night went forth to do 
 his accustomed folly; but when he passed 
 before the altar of our lady, he saluted 
 the virgin, and then went out of the 
 church ; and as he was about to pass a 
 river he fell in the water, and the devils 
 took his soul. Then angels came to res- 
 cue it, but the devils maintained that it 
 was their proper prey. And anon came 
 tlie blessed virgin, and rebuked the de- 
 vils, and said tlie soul belonged to her ; 
 and they answered, that they had found 
 the monk finishing his life in evil ways ; 
 and she replied, that which ye say is 
 false, for I know well, that when he went 
 into any place, he saluted me first, and 
 that when he came out again he did the 
 same, and if ye say that I do you wrong, let 
 us have the judgment of the sovereign 
 king thereon. Then they contended be- 
 fore our Lord on this matter; and it 
 pleased him that the soul should return 
 again to the body, and that the monk 
 should repent him of his sins. In the 
 while, the monks had missed their bro- 
 ther, for he came not to matins, and they 
 sought the sexton and went to the river, 
 and found him there drowned ; and when 
 they had drawn the body out of the water, 
 they knew not what to think, and mar- 
 velled what he had done. Then suddenly 
 he came to life, and told them what had 
 happened to him, and finished his life in 
 good works.* 
 
 * Golden r-egtnd 
 
 Durandus, the great Romish ritualist 
 anxious for devotion to be maintained to 
 the virgin, observes, that though her office 
 is not to be read on the Sundays between 
 Easter and Whitsuntide, as on every other 
 Sunday, yet there is not any danger to be 
 apprehended for introducing it on the 
 Sundays not appointed. A priest once did 
 actually intrude the virgin's office on one 
 of these non-appointed Sundays, for which 
 the bishop suspended him ; " but he was 
 soon forced to take off the suspension, in 
 consequence of the virgin appearing to 
 him, and scolding him for his unjust 
 severity." 
 
 It is stated by Mr. Brady, that the fes- 
 tival of the assumption of the Virgin Mary 
 was first regularly instituted in 813 ; and, 
 that the assumption commemorated actu- 
 ally took place, is what none within the 
 power of the late Inquisition would dare to 
 disbelieve ; and, that since its first intro- 
 duction, further, there has been a zeal dis- 
 played on this holiday, which must be consi- 
 dered truly commendable, in all those who 
 believe in thefact, and are amiably desirous 
 of convincing others. The pageantry used 
 in celebrating this festival has often been 
 the subject of remark by travellers, but 
 that at Messina seems tor its grandeur and 
 ingenuity to claim the preference : Mr. 
 Howel. in his descriptive travels through 
 Sicily, gires a very particular account of 
 the magnificent manner in which this fes- 
 tival is kept by the Sicilians under the 
 title ofBara; which, although expressive 
 of the machine he describes, is also, it ap- 
 pears, generally applied as a name of the 
 feast itself. An immense machine of about 
 fifty feel high is constructed, designing to 
 represent heaven; and in the midst is 
 placed a young female personating the 
 virgin, with an image of Jesus on her 
 right hand ; round the virgin twelve little 
 children turn vertically, representing so 
 many seraphim, and below them. twelv(- 
 more children turn horizontally, as che- 
 rubim ; lower down in the machine a sun 
 turns vertically, with a child at the ex- 
 tremity of each of the four principal radii 
 of his circle, who ascend and descend 
 with his rotation, yet always in an erect 
 posture ; and still lower, reaching within 
 about seven feet of the ground, are placed 
 twelve boys, who turn horizontally with- 
 out intermission around the principal 
 figure, designing thereby to exhibit the 
 twelve apostles, who were collected from 
 all corners of the earth, to be present at 
 
 559 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 16. 
 
 the decease of tlie virgin, and witness her 
 tniraculous assumption. This huge ma- 
 chine is drawn about the principal streets 
 by sturdy monks, and it is regarded as a 
 particular favour to any family to admit 
 their children in this divine exhibition, 
 although the poor infants themselves do 
 not seem long to enjoy the honours they 
 receive as seraphim, cherubim, and apos- 
 tles ; the constant twirling they receive in 
 the air making some of them fall asleep, 
 many of them sick, and others more 
 grievously ill.* 
 
 SfUtJUSSt 16 
 
 St. Hi/nchith, a. d. 1257. St 
 1327. 
 
 It is stated of a poor Frenchwoman a 
 century ago, when invention was not so 
 quick as it is in the present generation, 
 that finding herself really incapable, from 
 extreme poverty, of nourishing her infant, 
 she proceeded with it near the church of 
 Notre-Dame at Paris, during the proces- 
 sion in honour of the virgin, on the 15th 
 of August; and holding up her meagre 
 infant, whilst the priest was giving his 
 solemn benediction to the populace, be- 
 50ught him so earnestly to ^' bless the 
 child," that the crowd instinctively made 
 a passage for her approach. The good 
 priest took the infant in his arms, and, 
 whilst all eyes were fixed on his motions, 
 in the act of complying with the parent's 
 request, she escaped back through the 
 crowd, and was nowhere to be found ; so 
 that the infant became appendixed to its 
 rich mother — the church. 
 
 In a very rare print of the Death of the 
 Virgin, by Wenceslaus of Olmutz, she is 
 drawn surrounded by her family and 
 others ; St. John places a holy candle in 
 her right hand, St. Peter' with a brush 
 sprinkles holy water upon her before the 
 Romish church existed, and therefore be- 
 fore that devise was contrived ; and an- 
 other apostle with an ink-horn hanging 
 from his side, looks through a pair of 
 spectacles, to assist his sight, before spec- 
 tacles were invented, in reading a book 
 which another person holds. This sub- 
 ject has also been represented by Martin 
 Sciioen, Israel van Mechelen, and other 
 artists. 
 
 TLORAL DIKECTORY. 
 
 Virgin's Bower. Clematis Vitalbn. 
 Dedicated to the Assumption, B. V. M. 
 
 • Clavis Caltndaria. 
 
 ST. ROCHE. 
 
 Sound as a roach." 
 
 All that Butler can affirm of him is, 
 that making a pilgrimage from Montpellier 
 to Rome, during a pestilence, he devoted 
 himself to the sick, became infected, made 
 a shift to crawl into a neighbouring forest, 
 bore incredible pains with patience and 
 joy, returned to France, practised austere 
 penance and piety, and died at Mont- 
 pellier. 
 
 In the "Golden Legend'' he is called 
 St. Rock ; and it relates that when in- 
 fected by the pestilence, and lacking 
 bread in the forest, a hound belonging to 
 one Gotaid daily took bread away from 
 his master's board, and bare it to Rock, 
 whom Gotard thereby discovered, and 
 visited, and administered to his necessi- 
 ties ; wherefore the hound came no more; 
 and Rock was healed by revelation of an 
 angel ; and with touching and blessing he 
 cured the diseased in the hospital, and 
 healed all the sick in the city of Placentia 
 Being imprisoned, and about to die, he 
 
 5G0 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 17. 
 
 prayed that he might live three days 
 longer in contemplation of the Passion, 
 which was granted hun; and on the third 
 day an angel came to him, saying, " O ! 
 Rock, God sendeth me for tny toul; what 
 thou now desirest thou shouldsiask." Then 
 St. Rock implored that wlioever prayed 
 to him after death might be delivered 
 from pestilence ; and then he died. And 
 anon an angel brought from heaven a 
 table whereon was divinely written, in 
 letters of gold, that it was granted — " That 
 who that calieth to Saynte Rocke mekely, 
 tie shall not be hurte with ony hurte of 
 pestylence ;" and the angel laid the table 
 under Rock's head ; and the people of the 
 city buried St. Rock solemnly, and he was 
 canonized by the pope gloriously. His 
 life in the " Golden Legend" ends thus : 
 "The feest of Saynte Hocke is alwaye 
 holden on the morowe after the daye of 
 the assumpcyon of our lady, whiche life 
 is translated out of latyu into englysshe 
 by me, Wyllyam Caxton." 
 
 There is an entry among the extracts 
 from the churchwardens' accounts of St, 
 Michael Spurrier-gale, York, printed by 
 Mr. Nichols, thus : " 1518. Paid for writ- 
 ing of Saint Royke Masse, 0/. 0*. 9d" * 
 His festival on this day was kept like a 
 wake, or general harvest-home, with 
 dances in the churchyard in the evening.f 
 
 The phrase " sound as a roach " may 
 have been derived from familiarity with 
 the legend and attributes of this saint. 
 He is esteemed the patron saint of ail 
 afflicted with the plague, a disease of 
 common occurrence in England when 
 streets were narrow, and without sewers, 
 houses were without boarded floors, and 
 our ancestors without linen. They be- 
 lieved that the miraculous intermission of 
 St. Roche could make them as " sound " 
 %s himself. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Belladonna Lily. Amaryllis Belladon- 
 na. 
 Dedicated to St. Hyacinth. 
 
 The engraving of St. Roche at the head 
 of this article is from a print published by 
 Marriette. He gathers up his garment to 
 show the pestilence on his thigh, whereat 
 the angel is looking; the dog by his side 
 with a loaf in his mouth is Gotard's 
 hound. 
 
 There is a rare print of this saint, with 
 an angel squeezing the wound, by D. 
 Hopfer. 
 
 ^Uglli 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 t fosbroke's Diet, of Antiq. 
 
 \^i 17, 
 
 St. Manns, a. d. 275. Sfs. Liberaius, 
 Abbot, and six monks, a. d. 483, 
 
 WIFE OF TWO husbands- 
 Jo the Editor of the Everrj-Day Book 
 
 Sir, 
 I know nothing more respecting the 
 subjoined narrative than that 1 am almost 
 certain I copied it some years ago from 
 tliat mass of trifling, the papers of old 
 Cole, in the British Museum. It pur- 
 ports to be an extract from the Cambridge 
 journal, from whence he no doubt took it. 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 D. 
 Account of the Earl of Roseberry's Soit, 
 
 and a Clergyman's ff'ife, in Essex. 
 In the Cambridge Journal of October, 
 
 1752, is the following Article. 
 Extract of a Letter from Colchester, 
 August 18. 
 " Perhaps you have heard that a chest 
 was seized by the Custom-house ofhcers, 
 which was landed near this place about 
 a fortnight ago : they took it for smug- 
 gled goods, though the person with it 
 produced the king of France's signature 
 to Mr. Williams, as a Hamburgh mer- 
 chant: but people not satisfled wiih the 
 account Mr. Williams gave, opened the 
 chest, and one of them was going to run 
 his hanger in, when the person to whom 
 it belonged clapt iiis hand upon his sword, 
 and desired him to desist (in French,) 
 for it was the corpse of his dear wife. 
 Not content with this, the officers plucked 
 off the embalming, and found it as he 
 had said. The man, who appeared to be 
 a person of consequence, was in the ut- 
 most agonies, while they made a spectacle 
 of the lady. They sat her in the high 
 church, where any body might come and 
 look on her, and would not suffer him to 
 bury her, till he gave a further account 
 of himself. There were other chests of 
 fine clothes, jewels, &c. &c. belonging to 
 the deceased. He acknowledged at last 
 that he was a person of quality, that his 
 name was not Williams, that he was born 
 at Forence, and the lady was a native of 
 England, whom he married, and she de- 
 sii-edto be buried in Essex : that he had 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 561 
 
 2 O 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 18. 
 
 brought her from Verona, in Italy, to 
 France, by land, there hired a vessel for 
 Dover, discharged the vessel there, and 
 took another for Harwich, but was drove 
 \iither by contrary winds. This account 
 t/is not enough to satisfy the people : he 
 must tell her name and condition, in 
 order to clear himself of a suspicion of 
 murder. He was continually in tears, 
 and had a key of the vestry, where he sat 
 every day with the corpse : my brother 
 went to see him there, and the scene so 
 shocked him he could hardly bear it, he 
 said it was so like Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 " He was much pleased with my brother, 
 as he talked both Latin and French, and 
 to his great surprise, told him who the 
 lady was : which proving to be a person 
 he knew, he could not help uncovering 
 the face. In short, the gentleman con- 
 fessed he was the earl of Roseberry's 
 son, (the name is Primrose,) and his title 
 lord Delamere, [Dalmeny,] that he was 
 born and educated in Italy, and never 
 was in England till two or three years 
 ago, when he came to London, and was 
 in company with this lady, with whom he 
 fell passionately in love, and prevailed on 
 her to quit the kingdom, and marry him: 
 that having bad health, he had travelled 
 with her all over Europe ; and when she 
 was dying, she asked for pen and paper, 
 and wrote, ' I am the wife of the rev. 
 Mr. G. — , rector of Th — , in Essex : 
 my maiden name was C. Cannom ; and 
 my last request is to be buried at Th — .' 
 " The poor gentleman, who last married 
 her, protests he never knew, (till this 
 confession on her death-bed,) that she 
 was another's wife : but in compliance 
 with her desire, he brought her over, and 
 should have buried her at Th — (if the 
 corpse had not been stopped) without 
 making any stir about it. After the 
 nobleman had made this confession, they 
 sent to Mr. G— , who put himself in a 
 passion, and threatened to run her last 
 husband through the body ; however, he 
 was prevailed on to be calm : it was re- 
 presented to him, that this gentleman had 
 been at great expense and trouble to ful- 
 fil her desire ; and Mr. G — consented to 
 see him. They say the meeting was very 
 moving, and that they addressed each 
 other civilly. The stranger protested his 
 affection to the lady was so strong, that 
 it was his earnest wish, not only to attend 
 her to the grave, but to be shut up for 
 ever with her there. 
 
 *' Nothing in romance ever came up to 
 
 the passion of this man. He had a very fine 
 coffin made for her, with six large silver 
 plates over it : and at last, was very loth 
 to part with her, to have her buried : he put 
 himself in the most solemn mourning, 
 and on Sunday last in a coach, attended 
 the corpse to Th — , where Mr, G — met it 
 in solemn mourning likewise. 
 
 " The Florentine is a genteel person of 
 a man, seems about twenty-five years of 
 age, and they say, a sensible man : but 
 there was never any thing like his beha- 
 viour to his dear, dear wife, for so he 
 would call her to the last. Mr. G — at- 
 tended him to London yesterday, and they 
 were .very civil to each other ; but my 
 lord is inconsolable : he says he must fly 
 England, which he can never see more. 
 I have heard this account from many 
 hands, and can assure you it is fact. Kitty 
 Cannom is, I believe, the first woman in 
 England that had two husbands attended 
 her to the grave together. You may re- 
 member her to be sure : her life would 
 appear more romantic than a novel." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Snapdragon Toadflax. AnterrheiLum Lin- 
 aria. 
 Dedicated to St. Manus, 
 
 gugus^t 18. 
 
 St. Helen, Empress, a., d. 328. St. Aga- 
 petus, A. D. 275. St. Clare of Monte 
 Falco, A. D. 1308. 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 August 18 to 23. 
 
 " Rare doings at Camberwell." — "All 
 holiday at Peckham." 
 
 I do not know Mr. Capper's authority 
 for saying in his " Topographical Dic- 
 tionary," that the fair, held at Camberwell 
 from time immemorial, is suppressed. 
 
 Although much has been done towards 
 accomplishing this end, it does not seem 
 likely to prevail. It commenced for- 
 merly on the 9th of August, and conti- 
 nued three weeks, ending on St. Giles- 
 day. Booths were erected in the church- 
 yard, for the sale of " good drinke, pies, 
 and pedlerie trash :" but these doings 
 were suppressed by a clause, in the sta- 
 tute of Winchester, passed in the 1 3th of 
 Edward I., which enacts " que feire, ne 
 marche desoremes ne soient tenuz en 
 cimet pur honur de Seinte Eglise " Id 
 
 562 
 
THE EVERY-DAV £O0K.— AUGUST 19. 
 
 the evidence adduced before a petty ses- 
 sion at Union-hall, on the subject of 
 putting down the fair on the 4th of July, 
 1823, it is said that " Domesday Book" 
 speaks of the custom of holdinff it. I 
 cannot find that this statement rests on 
 good grounds, but something like it seems 
 to have obtained as early as 127^, for in 
 that year Gilbert de Clare was summoned 
 before John of Ryegate and his fellow 
 justices at Guildford, to show by what 
 right he claimed the privilege of holding 
 the assize of ale and bread in " his Vill. 
 of Camivell."* Mention is made in the 
 following reign of " eme'das in Stoke et 
 Pechaui." Camberwell fair was held 
 " opposite the Cock public-house" till 
 the Green was broken in upon. 
 
 Peckham is said to be only a continu- 
 ation of Camberwell, and not a district 
 f;iir, though there is a tradition that king 
 John hunting there killed a stag, and 
 was so well pleased with his day's sport, 
 that he granted the inhabitants a charter 
 for it. It may be inferred from the " right 
 merrie" humour of this monarch at the 
 close of his sport, that it was somewhat 
 in different style to that of Henry the 
 Fifth : for he, '■ in his beginning thought 
 it meere scofferie to pursue anie fallow 
 deere with hounds or greihounds, but 
 supposed himselfe always to have done a 
 sufficient act when he had tired them by 
 his own travell on foot."f 
 
 Lector. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 African Marigold. Tagites erecta. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Helen. 
 
 SUffll<^t 19. 
 
 Sfs Thnothy,^gaphis, and T/iecla,A.v. 304. 
 St. Lewis, Bp., A. D. 1297. St. Moch- 
 teus, A. D. 535. St. Cumin, Bp. 7th 
 Cent. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On the 19th of August, 1823, Robert 
 Bloomfield died at Shefford, in Bedford- 
 shire, aged 57. He was born at Honing- 
 
 * Placitu de Quo Warranto 7 Ed. 1. Abuses of 
 the laws regulating these assizes were in no respect 
 uncommon. Few were " anie what looked unto 
 but ech one suffered to seH and set up what and how 
 himself listeth." And such "headieale and beer" 
 were vended, that the people stood peculiarly open 
 to imposition. •' They will drinke" says Holling- 
 shed, (i.202.) till they be red as cocks, and little 
 wiser than their combes." 
 
 t HoUingshed i. 226. 
 
 ton, near Bury, m Suffolk, where he re- 
 ceived instruction in reading and writing 
 at a common school, and became a " J'ar- 
 mer's boy;" which occupation he haa 
 related with simplicity and beauty in 
 poem under that title. He wrote that pro- 
 duction when a journeyman shoemaker 
 under the auspices of the late Mr. Capei 
 Llofft it was ushered into the world ; and 
 Bloomfield, unhappily for himself, subse- 
 quently experienced the insufficient and 
 withering patronage of ostentatious great- 
 ness. His first poem was succeeded by 
 " Rural Tales," " Good Tidings, or News 
 from the Farm," "Wild Flowers," "Banks 
 of the Wye," and " May-Day with the 
 Muses." In his retirement at Shefibrd, 
 he was afflicted with the melancholy con- 
 sequent upon want of object, and died a 
 victim to hypochondria, with his mini 
 in ruins, leaving his widow and orphans 
 destitute. His few books, poor fellow, 
 instead of being sent to London, where 
 they would have produced their full value, 
 were dissipated by an auctioneer unac- 
 quainted with their worth, by order of his 
 creditors, and the family must have per- 
 ished if a good Samaritan had not inter- 
 posed to their temporary relief. Mr. 
 Joseph Weston published the " Remainj 
 of Robert Bloomfield," for their benefit, 
 and set on foot a subscription, with the 
 hope of securing something to Mrs 
 Bloomfield for the exclusive and permanent 
 advantage of herself and her fatherless 
 children. It has been inadequately con- 
 tributed to, and is not yet closed. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Thou shouldst not to the grave descend 
 
 Unmourned, unhonoured, or unsung ; — 
 Could harp of mine record thy end, 
 
 For thee that rude harp should be strung ; 
 And plaintive sounds as ever rung 
 
 Should all its simple notes employ, 
 Lamenting unto old and young 
 
 The Bard who sang The Farmer's Boy. 
 
 Could Eastern Anglia boast a lyre 
 
 Like that which gave thee modest fame. 
 How justly might its every wire 
 
 Thy minstrel honours loud proclaim • 
 And many a stream of humble name, 
 
 And village-green, and common wild. 
 Should witness tears that knew not shame 
 
 By Nature won for Nature's chitd. 
 
 It is not quaint and local terms 
 Besprinkled o'er thy rustic lay. 
 
 Though well such dialect confirms 
 Its power unlettered minds to \way , 
 
 563 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 20, 21, 22. 
 
 It is not these that most display 
 
 Thy sweetest charms, thy gentlest 
 thrall, — 
 Words, phrases, fashions pass away. 
 
 But Truth and Nature live through all. 
 
 These, these have given thy rustic lyre 
 
 Its truest and its tenderest spell ; 
 These amid Britain's tuneful choir 
 
 Shall give thy honoured name to dwell : 
 And when Death's shadowy curtain fell 
 
 Upon tliy toilsome earthly lot. 
 With grateful joy thy heart might swell 
 
 To feel that these reproached thee not. 
 How wise, how noble was thy choice 
 
 To be the Bard of simple swains, — 
 In all their pleasures to rejoice. 
 
 And sooth with sympathy their pains ; 
 To paint with feelings in thy strains 
 
 The themes their thoughts and tongues 
 discuss, 
 And be, though free from classic chains, 
 
 Our own more chaste Theocritus. 
 
 For this should Suffolk proudly own 
 
 Her grateful and her lasting debt ; — 
 How much more proudly — had she known 
 
 That pining care, and keen regret, — 
 Thoughts which the fevered spirits fret. 
 
 And slow disease, — 'twas thine to bear ;—- 
 And, ere thy sun of life was set, 
 
 Had won her Poet's grateful prayer. — 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORy. 
 
 Branched Herb Timothy. Pkleum pan- 
 
 niculatam. 
 
 Dedicated to Si. Timothy. 
 
 giugudt 20. 
 
 St. Bernard, Abbot, a. d. 1153. St. 
 Osivin, King, 6th Cent. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Autumnal Dandelion. Apargia Autum- 
 
 iialis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Bernard. 
 
 SlUgUSt 21. 
 
 Sts. Bonosus and MaxmiUan, a. d, 363. 
 St. Jane Frances de Ckantal, a. d. 1641. 
 St. Richard, Bp. 12th Cent. St. Ber- 
 nard Ptolemy, Founder of the Oliv- 
 etans, a. d. 1348. 
 
 lUSU^t 22. 
 
 FLORAL riRFXTORY, 
 
 French Marigold. Tagetes patula. 
 Dedicated to St. Jane Francis, 
 
 St. Hippohjtus, Bp. 3d Cent. Si!. Sym- 
 phorian, a. d. 178. St. Ti^nothy, a. d 
 311. .S^ Andrew, Deacon, a. d. 880, 
 St. Philibert, Abbot, a. d. 684. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On the 22d of August, 1818, Warren 
 Hastings, late governor-general of India, 
 died; he was born in 1 7:^3. His govern- 
 ment in India, the subject of parliament- 
 ary impeachment, which cost the nation 
 above a hundred thousand pounds, and 
 himself more than sixty thousand, is 
 generally admitted to have been conducted 
 with advantage to the interests of the 
 native powers, and the East India com- 
 pany. His translation of Horace's cele- 
 brated ode, beginning, " Otium divos 
 rogat," &c., is admitted to be superior tc 
 all others : — 
 
 Imitation of Horace, Book xvi., Ode 2 
 On the Passage from Bengal tu England. 
 
 For ease the harassed seaman prays, 
 When equinoctial tempests raise 
 
 The Cape's surrounding wave ; 
 When hanging o'er the reef he hears 
 The cracking mast, and sees or fear.s. 
 
 Beneath, his watery grave. 
 
 For ease the slow Mahratta spoils 
 And hardier Sic erratic toils, 
 
 While both their ease forego ; 
 For ease, which neither gold can buy, 
 Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belie 
 
 The covered heart, bestow ; 
 
 For neither gold nor gems combined 
 Can heal the soul, or suffering mind : 
 
 Lo ! where their owner lies ; 
 Perched on his couch distemper breathes 
 And care, like smoke, in turbid wreathes 
 
 Round the gay ceiling flies. 
 
 He who enjoys, nor covets more, 
 The lands his father held before, 
 
 Is of true bliss possessed ; 
 Let but his mind unfettered tread. 
 Far as the paths of knowledge lead. 
 
 And wise as well as blest. 
 
 No fears his peace of mind annoy. 
 Lest printed lies his fame destroj'. 
 
 Which laboured years have won ; 
 Nor packed committees break his rest. 
 Nor av'rice sends him forth in quest 
 
 Of climes beneath the sun. 
 
 Short is our span , then why engage 
 
 In schemes, for whicii man's transient age 
 
 Was ne'er by fate designed ? 
 Why slight the gifts of nature's hand ? 
 What wanderer from his native land 
 
 E'er left himself behind ? 
 
 )Gi 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK. -AUGUST 22. 
 
 Tlie restless thought and wayward will, 
 And discontent, attend him still, 
 
 Nor quit him while he lives ; 
 At sea, care follows in the wind ; 
 At land, it mounts the pad behind. 
 
 Or with the postboy drives. 
 
 He who would happy lire to-day, 
 Must laugh the present ills away. 
 
 Nor think of woes to come ; 
 For come they will, or soon or late. 
 Since mixed at best is man's estate. 
 
 By heaven's eternal doom. 
 
 In allusion to his own situation, he wrote the following lines in Mickle's 
 translation of Camoen's " Lusiad," at the end of the speech of Pacheo : — 
 
 Yet shrink not, gallant Lusiad, nor repine 
 That man's eternal destiny is thine ; 
 Whene'er success the advent'rous chief befriends. 
 Fell malice on his parting steps attends ; 
 On Britain's candidates for fame await. 
 As now on tliee, the hard decrees of fate ; 
 Thus are ambition's fondest hopes o'erreach'd. 
 One dies imprison'd, and one lives impeach'd. 
 
 Mr. Seward, who published these lines upon but half a meal a day — that he 
 with a portrait of Air. Hastings, from a should be constantly attended by a con- 
 
 bust by the late Mr. Banks, observes, 
 that his head resembles the head of 
 Aratus, the founder of the Achaean league, 
 in the Ludovisi gardens at Rome. 
 
 ANOTHER LIVING SKELETON. 
 
 The " Dramatist " of the present day, 
 " stop him who can," ever on tl^e alert 
 for novelty, has seized on the " Living 
 Skeleton." Poor Seurat is "as well as 
 can be expected ;" but it appears, from a 
 " Notice " handed about the streets, that 
 he has a rival in a British " Living 
 Skeleton." This " Notice," printed by 
 W. Glindon, Newport-street, Haymarket, 
 and signed "Thomas Feehvell, 104, High 
 Holborn," states, that a " humane indi- 
 vidual, in justice to his own feelings and 
 those of a sensitive public," considers it 
 necessary to " expose the resources " by 
 which the proprietors of the " Coburg 
 Theatre " have produced " a rival to the 
 Pall-Mall object." One part of his un- 
 dertakmg, the " resources," honest " Tho- 
 mas Feel well " leaves untouched, but he 
 tells the following curious story : — 
 
 "A young man of extraordinary lean- 
 ness, was, for some days, observed shuf- 
 fling about the Waterloo-road, reclining 
 
 against the posts and walls, apparently 
 
 from excessive weakness, and earnestly 
 
 gazing through the windows of the eating who played the starved apothecary in 
 
 houses in the neighbourhood, for hours to- Romeo and Juliet till he got fat, and was 
 
 stable, to prevent his purchasing any other 
 sustenance, and be allowed no pocket- 
 money, till the expiration of his engage- 
 ment — that he should be nightly buried 
 between a dozen heavy blankets, to pre- 
 vent his growing lusty, and to reduce him 
 to the lightness of a gossamer, in order 
 that the gasping breath of the astonished 
 audience might so agitate his frame, that 
 he might be tremblingly alive to their 
 admiration." 
 
 If this narrative be true, the situation 
 ^f the " young man of extraordinary 
 leanness" is to be pitied. The neiv liv- 
 ing skeleton may have acceded to the 
 manager's terms of " half a meal" a day 
 on the truth of the old saying, that " half 
 a loaf is better than no bread,'' and 
 it is clearly the manager's interest to keep 
 him alive as long as he will " run ;" yet, 
 if the " poor creature" is nightly buried 
 between a dozen heavy blankets "to reduce 
 him to the lightness of a gossamer," he 
 may outdo the manager's hopes, and 
 " run" out of the world. Seriously, if 
 this be so, it ought not so to be. The 
 " dozen heavy blankets to prevent his 
 growing lusty" might have been spared ; 
 for a man with " half a meal a day" can 
 hardly he expected to arrive at that obesity 
 which destroyed a performer formerly, 
 
 gether. One of the managers of the 
 Coburg theatre, accidentally meeting him, 
 and being struck with his attenuated ap- 
 pearance, instantly seized him by the bone 
 of his arm, and leading him into the 
 saloon of the theatre, made proposals that 
 he should be produced on the stage as a 
 source of attraction and delight for a 
 British audience ; at the same time stipu- 
 lating that he should contrive to exist 
 
 only reduced to the wonted " extraor- 
 dinary leanness" which qualified him for 
 the character, by being struck off the pay- 
 list. The condition of the poor man 
 should be an object of public inquiry as 
 well as public curiosity, 
 
 FLORAL DIRFCTOBY. 
 
 Herb Timothy. Phlenrn pratense. 
 Dedicated to St. Timothy. 
 
 565 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 23, 24. 
 
 giUSUdt 23. 
 
 St. Philip Beniti, a. d. 1285. Sts. Clau- 
 dius, Astemis, Neon, Domnina, and 
 Theonilla, a. d. 285. St. Apollinaris 
 Sidonius, Bp. of Clermont, a. d. 482. 
 St. Theonas, Abp. of Alexandria, 
 A. D. 300. St. Engenius., Bp. in Ireland, 
 A. D. 618. St. Justinian, Hermit, a. v. 
 529. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Tanzey. Tanacetnm vulgare. 
 Dedicated to St. Philip Beniti. 
 
 giugudt 24. 
 
 St. Bartholomew, Apostle. The Martyrs 
 of Utica, A. V. 258. St. Ouen, or 
 
 Audoen, Abp. a. d. 683. St. Irchard, 
 
 or Erthad, Bp. 
 
 St. Bartholomew the Apostlt. 
 
 Mr.Audley says, "There is no scriptural 
 account of his birth, labour, or death. It 
 is commonly said, he preached in' the 
 Indies, and was flayed alive by order of 
 Astyae:es, brother to Palemon, king of 
 Armenia. I have heard this day called 
 black Bartholomew. The reason, I sup- 
 pose, for this appellation is, on account of 
 the two thousand ministers who were 
 ejected on this day, by the Act of Unifor- 
 mity, in 1662. As it respects France, 
 there is a shocking propriety in the 
 epithet, for the horrid Massacre of the 
 Protestants commenced on this day, 
 in the reign of Charles IX. In Paris 
 only, ten thousand were butchered in a 
 fortnight, and ninety thousand in the 
 provinces, making, together, one hundred 
 thousand. This, at least, is the calcula- 
 tion of Perefixe, tutor to Louis XIV. and 
 archbishop of Paris : others reduce the 
 number much lower."* 
 
 The " Perennial Calendar" quotes, that 
 — " In that savage scene, the massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew, planned with all the 
 coolness of deliberation, five hundred 
 gentlemen, protestants, and ten thousand 
 persons of inferior rank were massacred 
 in one night at Paris alone, and great 
 numbers in the provinces. The Roman 
 pontiff, on hearing of it, expressed great 
 joy, announcing that the cardinals should 
 return thanks to the Almighty for so 
 signal an advantage obtained for the holy 
 see, and that a jubilee should be observed 
 all over Christendom." Dr. Forster adds, 
 that " nothing like this scene occurred till 
 the bloody and terrible times of the French 
 Revolution. It is shocking to reflect that 
 
 persons professing a religion -which s-ays, 
 ' Love your enemies, do good to tbem 
 that despitefuUy use you,' should perse- 
 cute and slay those whose only offence is 
 difference of opinion. ' The Quakers and 
 Moravians seem to be almost the only 
 Christian sects of any note and character 
 whose annals are uii^tained by the blood 
 of their fellow-creatures, and who have 
 not resorted to persectition in defence and 
 promulgation ol' their particular doctrines. 
 Must we, therefore, not judge a good tree 
 from this distinguished good fruit V " 
 
 It was an ancient custom at Croyland 
 Abbey, until the time of Edward IV. to 
 give little knives to all comers on St. 
 Bartholomew's day, in allusion to the 
 knife wherewith Bartholomew was flead. 
 Many of these knives of various sizes 
 have been found in the ruins of the abbey, 
 and the river. A coat borne by the 
 religious fraternity of the abbey, quarters 
 three of them, with three whips of St. 
 Guthlac, a scourge celebrated for the 
 virtue of its flagellations. These are 
 engraved by Mr. Gough in his history of 
 Croyland Abbey, from drawings in the 
 minute books of the Spalding Society, in 
 whose drawers, he says, one was pre- 
 served, and these form a device in a town 
 piece called the " Poure's Halfepeny of 
 Croyland, 1670." 
 
 St. Ouen. 
 
 He was in great credit with king Clo- 
 taire II. and his successor Dagobert I. of 
 France, who made him keeper of his seal 
 and chancellor, and he became archbishop 
 of Rouen, in Normandy. Butler refers 
 to a long history of miracles performed 
 by the intercession and relics of St. 
 Ouen. The shrine of this saint, at Rouen, 
 had a privilege which was very enviable ; 
 it could once in a year procure the pardon 
 of one criminal condemned to death in 
 the prisons of that city : the criminal 
 touched it, and pardon was immediate. 
 
 In all civilized countries justice has been 
 tempered with mercy; and, where the 
 life could not be spared, the pain of the 
 punishment has been mitigated. Wine 
 mingled with myrrh was known amongst 
 the Jews for this purpose, and was offered 
 to the Saviour of mankind by the very 
 persons who hurried him on to his painful 
 and ignominious death. In many cities 
 of Italy a condemned criminal is visited 
 by the first nobility the night before his 
 execution, and supplied with every dainty 
 in meat and in drink that he can desire; 
 and some years ago, in the parish of St. 
 
 666 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK— AUGUST 25. 
 
 Giles in the Fields, wine mixed with 
 spices was presented to the poor con- 
 demned wretches in that part of their 
 progress from Newgate to Tyburn.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sunflower. Helianthns Annuus. 
 Dedicated to St. Barthulumew . 
 
 August 25. 
 
 St. Lewis, king of France, a. d. 1270, 
 St. Grei^ory, Administrator of the dio- 
 cess of Uirecht, a. d. 776. St. Ebba. 
 in English, St. Tubhs, a. d. 683. 
 
 PRINTERS. 
 
 An exact old writerf says of printers at 
 this season of the year, that " It is cus- 
 tomary for all journeymen to make everv 
 year, new paper windows about Bartholo- 
 mew-tide, at which time the master prin- 
 ter makes them a feast called a way- 
 goose, to which is invited the corrector, 
 founder, smith, ink-maker, &c. who all 
 open their purses and give to the work- 
 men to spend in the tavern or ale-house 
 after the feast. From which time they 
 begin to work by candle light." 
 
 Paper ivindotvs are no more: a well 
 regulated printing-office is as well glazed 
 and as light as a dwelling-house. It is 
 curious however to note, that it appears 
 the windows of an office were formerly pa- 
 uered ; probably in the same way that we 
 
 * European Magazine, 1798. 
 
 ♦ Handlt Holine, ltip8. 
 
 see them in some caroenters' workshops 
 with oiled paper. The ivay-goose, how 
 ever, is still maintained, and these feasts 
 of London printing-houses are usually 
 held at some tavern in the environs. 
 
 In " Tlie Doome warning all men to 
 the Judgment, by Stephen Batman,! 581," 
 a black letter quarto volume, it is set 
 down among "the straunge prodigies hap- 
 ned in the worlde, with divers figures of 
 revelations tending to maunes stayed 
 conversion towardes God," whereof the 
 work is composed, that in 1450, "The 
 noble science of printing was aboute thys 
 time founde in Germany at Magunce, (a 
 famous citie in Germanie called Ments,) 
 by Cuthembergers, a knight, or rather 
 John Faustus, as sayeth doctor Cooper, 
 in his Chronicle; one Conradus, an Al- 
 maine broughte it into Rome, William 
 Caxton of London, mercer, broughte it 
 into England, about 1471 ; in Ilenrie the 
 sixth, the seaven and thirtith of his raign, 
 in Westminster was the first printing." 
 John Guttemberg, sen. is affirmed to have 
 produced the first printed book, in 1442, 
 although John Guttemberg, jun. is the 
 commonly reputed inventor of the ait. John 
 Faust, or Fust, was its promoter, and Pe- 
 ter Schoeffer its improver. It started to 
 perfection almost with its invention ; yet, 
 although the labours of the old printer 
 have never been outrivalled, their presses 
 have ; for the information and amuse- 
 ment of some readers, a sketch is subjoined 
 of one from a wood-cut in Batman's book. 
 
 iHiutcnt ^rinttng^office. 
 
 567 
 
THE EVERY DAY BUOK.— AUGUST 23. 
 
 In this old print we see the compositor 
 featecl at. his work, the reader engaged 
 with his copy or proof, and the pressmen 
 at their labours. It exhibits the form of 
 the early press better, perha' s, than any 
 other engraving that has been produced 
 for that purpose ; and it is to be noted, 
 as a " custom of the chapel," that papers 
 are stuck on it, as we still see practised 
 by modern pressmen. Note, too, the 
 ample flagon, a vessel doubtless in use ud 
 libitum, by that beer-drinking people with 
 whom printing originated, and therefore 
 not forgotten in their printing-houses ; it 
 is wisely restricted here, by the interest of 
 employers, and the growing sense of pro- 
 priety in press-men, who are becoming 
 as respectable and intelligent a class of 
 " operatives" as they were, within rec 1- 
 lection, degraded and sottish. 
 
 The Chapel. 
 
 •' Every printing-house," says Randle 
 Holme, " is termed a chappel." Mr. 
 John M'Creery in one of the notes to 
 " The Press," an elegant poem, of which 
 he is the author, and which he beautifully 
 printed, with elaborate engravings on 
 wood, as a specimen of his typograpliy, 
 says, that " The title of chapel to the in- 
 ternal regulations of a printing-house 
 originated in Caxton's exercising the pro- 
 fession in one of the chapels in West- 
 minster Abbey ; and may be considered 
 as an additional proof, from the antiquity 
 of the custom, of his being the first Eng- 
 lish printer. In extensive houses, where 
 many workmen are employed, the calling 
 a chapel is a business of great importance, 
 and generally takes place when a member 
 of the office has a complaint to allege 
 against any of his fellow workmen ; the 
 first intimation of which he makes to the 
 father of the chapel, usually the oldest 
 printer in the house : who, should he con- 
 ceive that the charge can be substantiated, 
 and the injury, supposed to have beau 
 received, is of such magnitude as to call 
 for the interference of the law, summon- 
 ses the members of the chapel before him 
 at the imposing stone, and there receives 
 the allegation and the defence, in solemn 
 assembly, and dispenses justice with ty- 
 pographical rigour and impartiality. 
 These trials, though they are sources of 
 neglect of business and oi her irregulari- 
 ties, often afford scenes of gtimine hu- 
 mour. The punishment generally emsists 
 in the criminal providing a libAtiun, by 
 
 which the offending workmen may wash 
 away the stain that his misconduct has 
 laid upon the body at large. Should the 
 plaintiff not be able to substantiate his 
 charge, the fine then falls upon himself 
 for having maliciously arraigned his com- 
 panion ; a mode of practice which is 
 marked with the features of sound policy, 
 as it never loses sight of the good of the 
 chapel." 
 
 Returning to Randle Holme once more, 
 we find the " good of the chappeC con- 
 sists of " forfeitures and other chappel 
 dues, collected for the good of the chap- 
 pel, viz. to be spent as the chappel ap- 
 proves." This indefatigable and accurate 
 collector and describer of every thing he 
 could lay his hands on and press into he- 
 raldry, has happily preserved the ancient 
 rules of government instituted by the 
 worshipful fraternity of printers. This 
 book is very rare, and this perhaps may 
 have been the reason that the following 
 document essentially connected with the 
 history of printing, has never appeared in 
 one of the many works so entitled. 
 
 Customs of the Chappel. 
 
 Every printing-house is called a chap- 
 pel, in which tFiere are these laws and 
 customs, for the well and good govern- 
 ment of the chappel, and for the orderly 
 deportment of all its members while in 
 the chappel. 
 
 Every workman belonging to it are 
 members of the chappel, and the eldest 
 freeman is father of the chappel ; and the 
 penalty for the breach of any law or cus- 
 tom is in printers' language called a solace, 
 
 1. Swearing in the chappel, a solace. 
 
 2. Fighting in the chappel, a solace. 
 
 3. Abusive language, or giving the lie 
 in the chappel, a solace. 
 
 4. To be drunk in the chappel, a solace. 
 
 5. For any of the workmen to leave his 
 candle burning at night, a solace. 
 
 6. If a compositor fall his composing 
 stick and another take it up, a solace. 
 
 7. For three letters and a space to lie 
 under the compositor's case, a solace. 
 
 8. If a pressman let fall his ball or 
 balls, and another take them up, a solace 
 
 9. If a pressman leave his blankets in 
 the timpan at noon or night, a solace. 
 
 10. For any workman to mention 
 joyning their penny or more a piece to 
 send for drink, a solace. 
 
 11. To mention spending chappel mo- 
 iiey till Saturday night, or any other before 
 agreed time, a solace. 
 
 568 
 
THE EVEET-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 25. 
 
 J "2. To play at quadrats, or excite 
 others in the chappel to play for money 
 or drink, a solace. 
 
 13. A stranger to come to the king's 
 printing-house, and ask for a ballad, a 
 solace. 
 
 14. For a stranger to come to a com- 
 positor and inquire if he had news of 
 such a galley at sea, a solace. 
 
 15. For any to bring a wisp of hay 
 directed to a pressman, is a solace. 
 
 16. To call mettle lead m a founding- 
 house, is a forfeiture. 
 
 17. A workman to let fall his mould, a 
 forfeiture. 
 
 18. A workman to leave his ladle in 
 the mettle at noon, or at night, a forfeiture. 
 
 And the judges of these solaces, or for- 
 feitures, and other controversies in the 
 chappel, or any of its members, was by 
 plurality of votes in the chappel ; it being 
 asserted as a maxime, that the chappel 
 cannot err. Now these solaces, or fines, 
 were to be bought off for the good of the 
 chappel, which never exceeded I5., 6d., 
 Ad., 2d., Id., ob., according to the nature 
 and quality thereof. 
 
 But if the delinquent proved obstinate 
 and will not pay, the workmen takes him 
 by force, and lays him on his belly, over 
 the correcting stone, and holds him there 
 whilest another with a paper board gives 
 him 10/. in a purse, viz., eleven blows on 
 his buttocks, which he lays on according 
 to his own mercy. 
 
 Customs for Payi^cnts of Money. 
 
 Every new workman to pay for his 
 entrance half a crown, which is called his 
 benvemie, till then he is no member, nor 
 enjoys any benefit of chappel money. 
 
 Every journeyman that formerly worked 
 at the chappel, and goes away, and after- 
 wards comes again to work, pays but half 
 a henvenue. 
 
 If journeymen smout * one another, 
 they pay half a benvemie. 
 
 Ail journeymen are paid by their mas- 
 ter-printer for all church holidays that 
 fall not on a Sunday, whether they work 
 or no, what they can earn every working- 
 day, be it 2, 3, or 4*. 
 
 If a journeyman marries, he pays half 
 a crown to the chappel. 
 
 When his wife comes to the cnappel, 
 she pays Qd., and then all the journeymen 
 
 * Smout. Workmen wlien they are out of con- 
 ttant work, soinetimes accept of a day or two's 
 work, or a week's work at anoiher priming home; 
 Uiii b> work tlicy call smouUng.—UoUnv. 
 
 joyn their 2d. a piece to make her drink, 
 and to welcome her. 
 
 If a journeyman have a son born, t.s 
 pays Is., if a daughter r^d. 
 
 If a master-printer have a son born, he 
 pays 2*. 6d., if a daughter l*. 6rf. 
 
 An apprentice, when he is bound, pays 
 half a crown to the chappel, and when he 
 is made free, another half crown : and if 
 he continues to v/ork journeywork in tlie 
 same house he pays another, and then is a 
 member of the chappel. 
 
 Probably there will manj a conference 
 be held at imposing-stones upon ihe pre- 
 sent promulgation of these ancient ru'^? 
 and customs; yet, until a general assem- 
 bly, there will be difficulty in determining 
 how far they are conformed to, or departed 
 fiom, by different chapels. Synods have 
 been called on less frivolous occasions, 
 and have issued decrees more " frivolous 
 and vexatious," than the one contem 
 plated. 
 
 In a work on the origin and present 
 state of printing, entitled " Typographia, 
 or the Printer's Instructor, by J. Johnson, 
 Printer, 1 824, 2 vols.," there is a list of 
 " technical terms made use of by the pro- 
 fession," which Mr. Johnson prefaces by 
 saying, '• we have here introduced the 
 ivhole of the technical terms, that pos- 
 terity may know the phrases used by the 
 early nursers and improvers of ou: art." 
 However, they are not " the whole" nor 
 will it detract from the general merit of 
 Mr. Johnson's curious and useful work, 
 nor will he conceive offence, if the Editor 
 of the Every-Day Book adds a few 
 from Holme's " Academy of Armory, 
 a rare store-house of " Created Beings, 
 with the terms and instruments used in 
 all trades and arts," and printers are es- 
 pecially distinguished. 
 Additions to Mr. Johnson's List of Prin 
 ters' Terms. 
 
 Bad Copy. Manuscript sent to be 
 printed, badly or imperfectly written. 
 
 Bud JVork. Faults by the compositor 
 or pressman. 
 
 Broken Letter. Tlie breaking of the 
 orderly succession the letters stood in. 
 either in a line, page, or form ; also the 
 mingling of the letters, technically called 
 pie. 
 
 Case is Low. ComposUors say this 
 when the boxes, or holes of the case, have 
 few letters in them. 
 
 Case is full. When no sorts are wanting 
 
 569 
 
THE E VERY-DA f BOOK.— AUGUST 25. 
 
 Case sfands still. When the compo- 
 sitor is not at liis case 
 
 Cassie Paper. Quires made up of torn, 
 wrinkled, stained, or otherwise faulty 
 sheets. 
 
 Cassie Quires. The two outside quires 
 of the ream, also called cording quires. 
 
 Charge. To fill the sheet with large 
 or heavy pages. 
 
 Companions. The two press-men work- 
 ing at one press : the one first named has 
 his choice to pull or beat; the second 
 takes the refuse office. 
 
 Comes off. When the letter in the 
 form delivers a good impression, it is said 
 to come off well ; if an ill impression, it is 
 said to come off bad. 
 
 Dance. When the form is locked up, 
 if, upon its rising from the composing- 
 stone, letters do not rise with it, or any 
 drop out, the form is said to dance. 
 
 Distribute. Is to put the letters into 
 their several places in the case after the 
 form is printed off. 
 
 Devil. Mr. Johnson merely calls him 
 the errand-boy of a printing-house ; but 
 though he has that office, Holme properly 
 says, that he is the boy that takes the 
 sheets from the tympan, as they are print- 
 ed off. " These boys," adds Holme, " do 
 in a printing-house commonly black and 
 dawb themselves, whence the workmen 
 do jocosely call them devils, and some- 
 times spirits, and sometimes flies." 
 
 Drive out. " When a compositor sets 
 wide," says Mr. Johnson. Whereto 
 Holme adds, if letter be cast thick in the 
 shank it is said to drive out, &c. 
 
 Easy TFork. Printed, or fairly written, 
 copy, or full of breaks, or a great letter 
 and small form " pleaseth a compositor," 
 and is so called by him. 
 
 Empty Press. A press not in work : 
 most commonly every printing-office has 
 one for a proof-press : viz., to make 
 proofs on. 
 
 Even Page. The second, fourth, sixth, 
 &c. pages. 
 
 Odd Page. The first, third, fifth, &c. 
 pages. 
 
 Folio. Is, in printer's language, the 
 two pages of a leaf of any size. 
 
 Form rises. When the form is so well 
 locked up in the chase, that in the raising 
 of it up neither a letter nor a space drops 
 out, it is said that the form rises. 
 
 Froze out. In winter, when the paper 
 is frozen, and the letter frozen, so as the 
 workmen cannot work, they say they are 
 
 froze out. [Such accidents never occur 
 in good printing-houses.] 
 
 Going up the form. A pressman's 
 phrase when he beats over the first and 
 third rows or columns of the form with his, 
 ink-balls. 
 
 Great bodies. Letter termed " English,'' 
 and all above that size: small bodies are 
 long primer, and all smaller letter. 
 
 Great numbers. Above two thousand 
 printed of one sheet. 
 
 Hard work, with compositors, is copy 
 badly written and difficult ; [such as they 
 too frequently receive from the Editor of 
 tlie Every-Day Book, who alters, and 
 interlines, and never makes a fair copy,] 
 hard work, with pressmen, is small letter 
 and a large form. 
 
 Hole. A place where private printing 
 is used, viz. the printing of unlicensed 
 books, or other men's copies. 
 
 [Observe, that this was in Holme's time ; 
 now, licensing is not insisted on, nor 
 could it be enforced ; but the printing 
 " other men's copies'' is no longer con- 
 fined to a hole. Invasion of copyright is 
 perpetrated openly, because legal reme- 
 dies are circuitous, expensive, and easily 
 evaded. So long as the law remains un- 
 altered, and people will buy stolen pro- 
 perty, criminals will rob. The pirate's 
 " fence'' is the public. The receiver is 
 as bad as the thief: if there were no re- 
 ceivers, there would be no thieves. Let 
 the public look to this.] 
 
 Imperfections of books. Odd sheets 
 over the number of books made perfect. 
 They are also, and more generally at this 
 time, called the ivaste of the book. 
 
 M thick. An m quadrat thick. 
 
 N thick. An n quadrat thick. 
 
 Open matter, or open work. Pages 
 with several breaks, or with white spaces 
 between the paragraphs or sections. 
 
 Over-run Is the getting in of words 
 by putting out so much of the forepart of 
 the line into the line above, or so much 
 of the latter part of the line into the line 
 below, as will make room for the word or 
 words to be inserted : also the derangement 
 and re-arrangement of the whole sheet, 
 in order to get in over-matter. [Young 
 and after-thought writers are apt to 
 occasion much over-running, a process 
 distressing to the compositor, and in the 
 end to the author himself, wiio has to 
 pay for the extra-labour he occasions.] 
 
 Pigeon holes. Whites between words 
 as large, or greater than between line and 
 line The term is used »o scandalize 
 
 570 
 
THK EVEHY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 26. 
 
 such composition ; it is never suffered to 
 remain in good work. 
 
 Printing-house. The house wherein 
 printing is carried on ; but it is more 
 peculiarly used for the printing imple- 
 ments. Such an one, it is said, hath re- 
 moved his printing-house; meaning the 
 implements used in his former house. 
 
 Revise. A proof sheet taken off after 
 the first or second proof has been cor- 
 rected. Tlie corrector examines the faults, 
 marked in the last proof sheet, fault by 
 fault, and carefully marks omissions on 
 the revise. 
 
 Short page. Having but little printed 
 in it ; [or relatively, wlien shorter than 
 another page of the work.] 
 
 Stick-full. The composing-stick filled 
 with so many lines that it can contain no 
 liore. 
 
 Token. An hour's work for half a press, 
 viz. a single pressman ; this consists of 
 five quires. An hour's work for a whole 
 press is a token of ten quires. 
 
 Turn for it. Used jocosely in the 
 chapel : when any of the workmen com- 
 plain of want of money, or any tliins: 
 else, he shall by another be answered 
 " turn for it," viz, make shift for it. 
 
 [This is derived from the term turn 
 for a letter, which is thus : — when a 
 compositor has not letters at hand of the 
 sort he wants while composing, and finds 
 it inconvenient to distribute letter for it, 
 he turns a letter of the same thickness, 
 face downwards, which turned letter he 
 takes out when he can accommodate him- 
 self with the right letter, which he places 
 in its stead.] 
 
 is now disputed whether typography and 
 architecture may not be accounted Liberal 
 Sciences, being so famous Arts 1" Serious- 
 ly, however, communications respecting 
 printing are earnestly desired, 
 
 FLORAL PIRECTORY. 
 
 Perennial Sunflower. Helianthus multi- 
 
 Jtorus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Lewis. 
 
 Thus much has grown out of the notice, 
 that printers formerly papered their 
 v/indows about " Bartlemy-tide," and 
 more remains behind. But before farther is 
 stated, if chapels, or individuals belonging 
 to them, will have the goodness to commu- 
 nicate any thing to the Editor of the 
 Every-Day Buok respecting any old or 
 present laws, or usages, or other mat- 
 ters of interest connected with print- 
 ing, he will make good use of it. Notices 
 or anecdotes of this kind will be accept- 
 able when authenticated by the name and 
 address of the contributor. If there are 
 any who doubt the importance of printing, 
 they may be reminded that old Holme, a 
 man seldom moved to praise any thing 
 but for its use 'n heraldry, says, that " ii 
 
 an0tis?t 26. 
 
 St. Zephyrimts, Pope, a. d. 219. St. Ge^ 
 nesius, a Comedian, a. d. 303. St. 
 Gelasinus, a Comedian at Heliopolis, 
 A. D. 297. St. Genesius, of Aries, 
 about the 4th Cent. 
 
 MLisrc. 
 *' II cantnr, che ntl' animosi sente." 
 
 Nay, tell me not of lordly halls ! 
 
 My minstrels are the trees, 
 The moss and the rock are my tapestried 
 walls. 
 
 Earth's sounds my symphonies. 
 There's music sweeter to my soul 
 
 In the weed by the wild wind fanned — 
 In tlie heave of the surge, than ever stole 
 
 From mortal minstrel's hand. 
 
 There's mighty music in the roar 
 
 Of the oaks on the mountain's side, 
 When the wliirhvind bursts on their fore- 
 heads hoar, 
 
 And tlie lightnings flash blue and wide. 
 There's mighty music in the swell 
 
 Of winter's midnight wave — 
 When all above is the thunder peal, 
 
 And all below is the grave. 
 
 There's music in the city's hum. 
 
 Heard in the noontide glare, 
 When its thousand mingling voic^pi! come 
 
 On the breast of the sultry air. 
 
 There's music in the mournful swing 
 
 Of the lonely village hell — 
 And think of the spirit upon the wing, 
 
 Releas'd by its solemn knell. 
 
 There's music in the forest-stream. 
 As it plays thro' the deep ravine, 
 
 AMicre never summer's breath or beam 
 Has pierced its woodland screen. 
 
 There's music in the thundering sweep 
 
 Of the mountain waterfall, 
 As its torrents struggle, and foam and leap 
 
 From the brow of its marble wall. 
 
 Tliere's music in the dawning morn. 
 Ere the lark his pinion dries — 
 
 'Tis the rusli of the breeze thro' the dewy 
 corn — 
 Thro' the garden's perfumed dyes. 
 
 671 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— AUGUST 27,28, 29, 30. 
 
 T!iere s music on the twilight cloud 
 As the clanging wild swans spring, 
 
 As homewards the screaming ravens crowd, 
 Like squadrons upon the wing. 
 
 There's music in the depth of night, 
 When the world is still and dim, 
 
 'Vnd the stars flame out in their pomp of 
 light. 
 Like thrones of the cheruhim ! 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Banded Amaryllis. AmarijlUs vittata. 
 Dedicated to St. Zephyrhius. 
 
 ^ugu^it 27. 
 
 St. Ccesarius, Abp. of Aries, a. d. 542. 
 St. Pcemen, or Pastor, Abbot about 
 A. D. 385. St. Hugh of Lincoln, a. d. 
 1255. St. Joseph Calasanc*ius, a. d. 
 1648. St. Malrubius, about a. d. 1040. 
 S/. Syagrius, Bp. of Autun, a.d. 600. 
 
 The Gloivivorm. 
 
 Dr. Forster in liis "Perennial Calendar" 
 quotes the mention of this and other lumin- 
 ous insects from " a late entomological 
 work," in the following passage : — " This 
 little planet of the rural scene may be 
 observed in abundance in the month of 
 August, when the earth is almost as 
 thickly spangled with them as the cope 
 of heaven is with stars. It is not only 
 the glowworm that will not bear inspec- 
 tion when its lustre is lost by the 
 light of day ; but all those luminous 
 insects that bear the same phosphoric fire 
 about them, such as the lanthorn Hy cf 
 the West Indies and of China, of which 
 there are several sorts ; some of which 
 carry their light in a sort of snout, so that 
 when they are seen in a collection, they 
 are remarkably ugly. There is also an 
 insect of this luminous sort common in 
 Italy, called the lucciola. An intelligent 
 traveller relates, that some Moorish ladies 
 having been made prisoners by the Ge- 
 noese, lived in a house near Genoa till 
 they could be exchanged, and, on seeing 
 some of the lucciola, or flying glowworms, 
 darting about in the evening in the gar- 
 den near them, they caused the windows 
 to be shut in a great alarm, from a strange 
 idea which seized them, that these shining 
 flies were the souls of their deceased re- 
 lations." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Hedge Hawkweed. Hieracium iimhellatum 
 Dedicated to St. Ccesarius. 
 
 giugust 28. 
 
 St. Augustine, Bp. and Doctor of the 
 Church, A. D. 430. St. Hermes, about 
 a. d. 132. St. Julian, Martyr. 
 
 St. Augustine. 
 Ilis name is in the church of England 
 calendar. He was born at Tagasta, in 
 Numidia, in 354. Lardner awards to him 
 the character of an illustrious man, and 
 says, that '' a sublime genius, an uninter- 
 rupted and zealous pursuit of truth, at 
 indefatigable application, and invincible 
 patience, a sincere piety, and a subtle 
 and lively wit, conspired to establish his 
 fame upon the most lasting foundation :" 
 yet he adds, that " the accuracy and so- 
 lidity of his judgment were not propor- 
 tionable to his eminent talents ; and that 
 upon many occasions he was more guided 
 by the violent mipulse of a warm imagi- 
 nation than by the cool dictates of reason 
 and prudence." He pronounced that all 
 infants dying before baptism were de- 
 prived of the sight of God ; wherein he 
 is followed, says Daille, by Gregorius 
 Arminiensis, a famous theological doctor, 
 who from thence was called Tormentnm 
 Infantium. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golaenrod. Solidago Virgaurea. 
 Dedicated to St. Augustine. 
 
 aucpiSt 29. 
 
 The Decollation of St. John Baptist. St. 
 Subina. St. Sebbi, or Sebba, King, about 
 A. D. 697. St. Merri, in Latin, Mede- 
 rictiS, Abboi, about a. d. 700. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Hollyhock. Althea jlava. 
 Dedicated to St. Sabina. 
 
 ^iigu^t 30, 
 
 St. Jiose; of Lima, Virgin, a. d. 1617. Sts. 
 Felix and Adanctus, about a. d. 303. 
 St Fiaker, Anchoret, called by the 
 French, Fiacre, and anciently, Fefre, 
 about A.D. 670. <S^. Pammachius, a.d 
 410. iS;. Agilus, commonly called St 
 Aile, about a.d. 650. 
 
 floral DIRECTORY, 
 
 Guernsey Lily. AmarylUs Sarniensii 
 Dedicated to iS7. Rose. 
 
 m 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— AUGUST 31.— SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Siugiidt 31. 
 
 St. liaymund Nonnatns, a. d. 1240. St. 
 Isabel, A. D. 1270. St. Cuthbnrge, 
 8lh Cent. St.Aidan, otjEdan, a. d. 651. 
 
 St. Aidan. 
 
 He wasborn in Ireland, and was bishop 
 of Lindisfarne, which from the number of 
 reputed saints there buried, is called the 
 Holy Island. Bede relates many mira- 
 
 cles and prophecies of him. His cart am' 
 two oxen laden with wood as he drove 
 them, falling down a high rock into tne 
 sea, he only made the sign of the cross as 
 they fell, and received all safe and sound 
 out of the waters, &c. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Autumnal Pheasant's Eye. Adonis at> 
 
 tumnalis. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Raymund 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Next him September marched eke on foot ; 
 
 Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle 
 Of harvest's riches, which he made his boot. 
 
 And him enriched with bounty of the soyle ; 
 
 In his one hand, as> fit for harvest's toyle, 
 He held a knife-hook ; and in th' other band 
 
 A paire of weights, with wl;icli hi did assoyle 
 Both more and IcEse, where it in doubt did stand, 
 And equal gave to each as justice duly scanned. 
 
 573 
 
'IflE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Tliis is the ninth month of the year : 
 anciently it was tlie seventh, as its name 
 imports, which is compounded of septem, 
 seven, and hnber, a shower of rain, from 
 the rainy season usually commencing at 
 this period of the year. 
 
 Our Saxon ancestors called this month 
 " Gerst-monat, for that barley which that 
 moneth commonly yeelded was antiently 
 called gerst, the name of barley being 
 given unto it by reason of the drinke 
 therewith made, called beere, and from 
 beerlegh it come to be berlegh, and from 
 berleg to barley. So in like manner 
 beereheym, to wit, the overdecking or co- 
 vering of beere, came to be called berhani, 
 and afterwards banne, having since got- 
 ten I wot not how many names besids. — 
 This excellent and healthsome liquor, 
 beere, antiently also called ael, as of the 
 Danes it yet is (beere and ale being in 
 effect all one,) was first of the Germans 
 invented, and brought in use."* 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt notices, that Spenser 
 takes advantage of the exuberance oi" 
 harvest, and the sign of the zodiac, libra, 
 m this month, to read another lesson on 
 iustice. " This is the month," Mr. Hunt 
 continues, " of the migration of birds, of 
 the finished harvest, of nut-gathering, ot 
 cyder and perry-making, and, towards the 
 conclusion, of the change of colour in 
 trees. The swallows and many other soft- 
 billed birds that feed on insects, disap- 
 pear for the warmer climates, leaving only 
 a few stragglers behind, probably fiom 
 weakness or sickness, who hide themselves 
 in caverns and other sheltered places, and 
 occasionally appear upon warm days. The 
 remainder of harvest is got in ; and no 
 sooner is this done, than the husbandman 
 ploughs up his land again, and prepares 
 It for the winter grain. The oaks and 
 beeches shed their nuts, which in the fo- 
 rest that still remain, particularly the New 
 Forest in Hampshire, furnish a luxurious 
 repast for the swine, who feast of an even- 
 ing in as pompous a manner as any alder- 
 man, to the sound of the herdsman's horn. 
 But the acorn must not be undervalued 
 because it i? food for swine, nor thought 
 only robustly of, because it furnishes our 
 ships with timber. It is also one of the 
 most beautiful objects of its species, pro- 
 truding its glossy green nut from its rough 
 
 • Vcrstegan. 
 
 and sober-coloured cup, and dropping it 
 in a most elegant manner beside the sunny 
 and jagged leaf. We have seen a few of 
 them, with their stems in water, make a 
 handsome ornament to a mantle-piece, in 
 this seasonof departing flowers. — The few 
 additional flowers this month are corn- 
 flowers, Guernsey-lilies, starwort, and 
 saftVon, a species of crocus, which is cul- 
 tivated in separate grounds. The sta- 
 mens of this flower are pulled, and dried 
 into flat square cakes for medicinal pur- 
 poses. It was formerly much esteemed 
 in cookery. The clown in the fVinfer's 
 Tale, reckoning up what he is to buy for 
 the sheepshearing feast, mentions ' saffron 
 to colour the warden-pies.' The fresh 
 trees and shrubs in flower are bramble, 
 chaste-tree, laurustinus, ivy, wild honey- 
 suckle, spirea, and arbutus, or straw- 
 berry-tree, a favourite of Virgil, which, like 
 the garden of Alcinous, in Homer, pro- 
 duces flower and fruit at once. Hardy 
 annuals, intended to flower in the spring, 
 should now be sown ; annuals of curious 
 sorts, from which seed is to be raised, 
 should be sheltered till ripened ; and au- 
 riculas in pots, which were shifted last 
 month, moderately watered. The stone- 
 curlew clamours at the beginning of this 
 month, wood-owls hoot, the ring-ouzel 
 reappears, the saffron butterfly is seen, 
 hares congregate ; and, at the end of it, 
 the wood lark, thrush, and blackbird, are 
 heard." 
 
 Mr. Hunt further observes that, Sep- 
 tember, though its mornings and evenings 
 are apt to be chill and foggy, and therefore 
 not wholesome to those who either do not,or 
 cannot, guard against them, is generally a 
 serene and pleasant month, partaking of 
 the warmth of summer and the vigour of 
 autumn. But its noblest feature is a cer- 
 tain festive abundance for the supply of 
 all the creation. There is grain for men, 
 birds, and horses, hay for the cattle, loads 
 of fruit on the trees, and swarms of fish 
 in the ocean. If the soft-billed birds 
 which feed on insects miss their usual 
 supply, they find it in the southern coun- 
 tries, and leave one's sympathy to be 
 pleased with an idea, that repasts appa- 
 rently more harmless are alone offered to 
 the creation upon our temperate soil. The 
 feast, as the philosophic poet says on a 
 higher occasion— 
 
 574 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BdOK.— SEPTEMBER 1, 2. 
 
 The feast is such as earth, the general mother. 
 
 Pours from her fairest bosom, when she smiles 
 In the embrace of Autumn. To each other 
 
 As some fond parent fondly reconciles 
 Her warring children, she their wrath beguiles 
 
 With their own sustenance ; they, relenting, weep. 
 Such is this festival, which from the^r isles, 
 
 And continents, and winds, and oceans deep. 
 All shapes may throng to share, that fly, or walk, or cret'p. 
 
 Shelley 
 
 ^eptemtn* i. 
 
 St. Giles, Abbot, 7th Cent. Twelve Bro- 
 thers, Martyrs, a. d. 258. St. Lupus, 
 or Leu, Abp. a. d. 623. St. Firminus 
 IL, Bp. of Amiens, a. d. 347. 
 
 St. Giles. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar. He was born at Athens, and 
 came into France in 715, having first dis- 
 posed of his patrimony to charitable uses. 
 After living two years with Csesarius, 
 bishop of Aries, he commenced hermit, 
 and so continued till he was made abbot 
 of an abbey at Nismes, which the king 
 built for his sake. He died in 750.* 
 
 St. Giles is \\\e patron of beggars. Go- 
 ing to church in his youth, he gave his 
 coat to a sick beggar who asked alms of 
 him, the mendicant was clothed, and the 
 garment miraculously cured his disorder. 
 He was also the patron of cripples. Af- 
 ter he had retired to a cave in a solitary 
 desert, the French king was hunting near 
 his thicket, and Giles was wounded by 
 an arrow from a huntsman's bow while 
 at prayers; whereupon being found un- 
 moved from his position, the king fell at 
 his feet, craved his pardon, and gave 
 orders for the cure of his wound, but this 
 the saint would not permit, because he 
 desired to suffer pain and increase his 
 merits thereby, and so he remained a 
 cripple, and received reverence from the 
 king whom he counselled to build a mo- 
 nastery; and the king did so, and Giles be- 
 came ai)bot thereof, " and led the life of 
 an angel incarnate," and converted the 
 king.f It is related of him that he rais- 
 ed the dead son of a prince to life, and 
 made a lame man walk : our church of 
 St. Giles, Cripplegate, is dedicated to him. 
 It IS further told, that at Rome he cast 
 two doors of cypress into the Tiber, and 
 recommended them to heavenly guid- 
 ance, and on his return to France found 
 them at the gates of his monastery, and set 
 
 * Audley's Companion to the Almanac. 
 1 Ribadeneira 
 
 them up as the doors of his own church 
 These are some only of the marvels grave- 
 ly told of him, " many wytnisse that they 
 herde the company of aungelles beiynge 
 the soule of hym into heven."* 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Great Sedum. Sedum Tdephium. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Giles. 
 
 St. Stephen, king of Hungary, a. d. 1038. 
 St. Justus, Abp. of Lyons, a. d. 390. 
 St. JViUiam, Bp. of Roschild, a. d. 
 1067. B. Margaret, 13th Cent. 
 
 Eonticin 33urnt, 1666. 
 
 The " Great Fire" of London is de- 
 noted as above in our almanacs on this 
 day. It broke out at Pudding-lane and 
 ended at Pie-corner. The monument or. 
 Fish-street-hill to commemorate the cala- 
 mity, bears the following inscription on 
 the north side : — 
 
 " In the year of Christ, 1666, the 2d day 
 of Septemijer, eastward from hence, at 
 the distance of 202 feet, the height of this 
 column, a terrible fire broke out about 
 midnight; which, driven on by a strong 
 wind, not only wasted the adjacent parts, 
 but also very remote places, with incredi- 
 ble noise and fury. It consumed eighty- 
 nine churches, the city gates, Guildhall, 
 many public structures, hospitals, schools, 
 libraries, avast number of stately edifices^ 
 13,200 dwelling-houses, and 430 streets, 
 of the twenty-six wards it utterly destroy- 
 ed fifteen, and left eight others shattered 
 and half burnt. The ruins of the city 
 were 436 acres, from the Tower by the 
 Thames side to the Temple church, and 
 from the north-east along the City-waU 
 to Holborn-bridge. To the estates and 
 fortunes of the citizens it was merciless, 
 but to their lives very favourable, that it 
 might in all things resemble the confla- 
 gration of the woild. The destrurtior 
 
 * Golden Le?end. 
 
 575 
 
fHE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 was sudden ; for in a small space of time 
 the city was seen most flourishing, and 
 reduced to nothing. Three days after, 
 when this fatal fire had baffled all human 
 counsels and endeavours, in the opinion 
 of all, it stopped, as it were, by a com- 
 mand from heaven, and was on every side 
 extinguished. But papistical malice, 
 which perpetrated such mischiefs, is not 
 yet restrained." 
 
 A line, beginning on the west side, 
 contains the following words ; on James 
 II. coming to the crown, they were eras- 
 ed, but restored under William III. : — 
 
 "This pillar was setup in perpetual 
 remembrance of the most dreadful burn- 
 ing of thi's protestant city, begun and car- 
 ried on by the treachery and malice of the 
 popish faction, in the beginning of Sep- 
 tember, in tlie year of our Lord, 1666, in 
 order to the carrying on their horrid plot 
 for extirpating the piotestant religion, 
 and old English liberty, and introducing 
 popery and slavery." 
 
 The south side is thus inscribed : — 
 " Charles the Second, son of Charles the 
 Martyr, king of Great Britain, France and 
 Ireland, defender of the faith, a most gra- 
 cious prince, commiserating the deplora- 
 ble state of things, whilst the ruins were 
 yet smoaking, provided for the comfort 
 of his citizens, and the ornament of his 
 city; remitted their taxes, and referred 
 the petitions of the magistrates and inhab- 
 itants to the parhament; who immedi- 
 ately passed an act, that public works 
 should be restored to greater beauty, with 
 public money, to be raised by an imposi- 
 tion on coals ; that churches, and the ca- 
 thedral of St. Paul's, should be rebuilt 
 from their foundations, with all magnifi- 
 cence; that the bridges, gates, and pri- 
 sons should be new made, the sewers 
 cleansed, the streets made straight and 
 • egular, such as were steep levelled, and 
 those too narrow made wider, markets 
 and shambles removed to separate places. 
 They also enacted, that every house should 
 be built with party walls, and all in front 
 raised of an equal height, and those walls 
 all of square stone or brick ; and that no 
 man should delay building beyond thi 
 space of seven years," 
 
 An estimate of the value of property 
 consumed by Ihe fire amounted to ten 
 millions six hundred and eighty-nine 
 thousand pounds, wherein was included 
 llie value of St. Paul's cathedral, which 
 was set down at nearly one-tifth of the 
 total. The occasion of the conflagration 
 
 was the subject of parliamentary investi- 
 gation. It is imputed to the Roman Ca- 
 tholics, but a dispassionate consider- 
 ation of all the circumstances by impartial 
 men tends to acquit them of the crime, 
 and most persons at this time believe 
 that — 
 
 '■^ London s column pointing to the 
 
 skies. 
 Like a tall bully, rears its head aad lies" 
 
 Thomas Vincent, a non-conformist 
 minister, who was ejected from the living 
 of St. Mary Magdalen, in Milk-street, and 
 during the great plague remained in the 
 city, and preached regularly to the great 
 comfort of the inhabitants under the afflic- 
 tion of the raging pestilence, was an eye- 
 witness of the subsequent conflagration, 
 lie wrote " God's terrible Judgments in 
 the City by Plascue and Fire," and has 
 left a circumstantial relation in that work 
 of the progress made by the flames, and 
 their effects on the people. 
 
 VincenVi, Narrative. 
 It was the 2d of September, 1666, that 
 the anger of the Lord was kindled against 
 London, and the fire began : it began in 
 a baker's house, in Pudding-lane, by Fish- 
 street-hill ; and now the Lord is making 
 London like a fiery oven in the time of 
 his anger, and in his wrath doth devour 
 and swallow up our habitations. It was 
 in the depth and dead of the night, when 
 most doors and fences were locked up in 
 the city, that the fire doth break forth and 
 appear abroad ; and, like a mighty giant 
 refreshed with wine, doth awake and arm 
 itself, quickly gathers strength, when it 
 had made havoc of some houses ; rusheth 
 down the hill towards the bridge; crosseth 
 Thames-street, invadeth Magnus church, 
 at the bridge foot ; and, though that church 
 were so great, yet it was not a sufficient 
 barricado against this conqueror; but, 
 having scaled and taken this fort, it shoot- 
 eth flames with so much the greater ad- 
 vantage into all places round about ; and 
 a great building of houses upon the bridge 
 is quickly thrown to the ground : then 
 the conqueror, being stayed in his course 
 at the bridge, marcheth back to the city 
 again, and runs along with great noise 
 and violence through Thames-street, west- 
 ward ; where, having such combustible 
 matter in its teeth, and such a fierce wind 
 upon its back, it prevails with little 
 resistance, unto the astonishment of the 
 behol'lers. 
 
 576 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 Fire ! fire 1 fire ! doth resound the 
 streets; many citizens start out of their 
 sleep, look out of their windows; some 
 dress themselves and run to the place. 
 The lord mayor of the city comes with 
 his officers; a confusion there is; counsel 
 is taken away ; and London, so famous 
 for wisdom and dexterity, can now find 
 neither brains nor hands to prevent its 
 ruin. The hand of God was in it; the 
 decree was come forth ; London must 
 now fall, and who could prevent it? No 
 wonder, when so many pillars are re- 
 moved, if the building tumbles; the pray- 
 ers, tears, and faith, which sometimes 
 London hath had, might have quenched 
 the violence of the fire ; might have opened 
 heaven for rain, and driven back the wind : 
 but now the fire gets mastery, and burns 
 dreadfully. 
 
 That night most of the Londoners had 
 taken their last sleep in their houses ; 
 they little thought it would be so wlien 
 they went into their beds; they did not 
 in the least suspect, when the doors of 
 their ears were unlocked, and the case- 
 ments of their eyes were opened in the 
 mornmg, to hear of such an enemy invad- 
 ing the city, and that they should see 
 him, with such fury, enter the doors of 
 their houses, break into every room, and 
 look out of their casements with such a 
 threatening countenance. 
 
 That which made the ruin the more 
 dismal, was, that it was begun on the 
 Lord's-day morning : never was there the 
 like sabbath in London; some churches 
 were in flames that day ; and God seems 
 to come down, and to preach himself in 
 them, as he did in Mount Sinai, when 
 the mount burned with fire ; such warm 
 preaching those churches never had ; such 
 lightning dreadful sermons never were 
 before delivered in London. In other 
 churches ministers were preaching their 
 farewell sermons, and people were hearing 
 with quaking and astonishment : instead 
 of a holy rest which christians have taken 
 on this day, there is a tumultuous hurry- 
 ing about the streets towards the place 
 that burned, and more tumultuous hurry- 
 ing upon the spirits of those that sat still, 
 and had only the notice of the ear of the 
 quick and strange spreading of the fire. 
 
 Now the train-bands are up in arms 
 watching at every quarter for outlandish- 
 men, because of the general fear and 
 »ealousies, and rumours, that fire-balls 
 were thrown into houses by several of 
 them to help on and provoke the too 
 
 furious flames. Now goods are hastily 
 removed from the lower parts of llie city , 
 and the body of the people begin to retire, 
 and draw upwards, as the people did 
 from the tabernacles of Korah, Dathan, 
 and Abiram, when the earth did cleave 
 asunder and swallow them up : or rather 
 as Lot drew out from his house in Sodom 
 before it was consumed by fire from 
 heaven. Yet some hopes were retained 
 on the Lord's-day that the fire would be 
 extinguished, especially by them who 
 lived in the remote parts; they could 
 scarcely imagine that the fire a mile oti 
 should be able to reach their houses. 
 
 But the evening draws on, and now 
 the fire is more visible and dreadful : 
 instead of the black curtains of the night, 
 which used to be spread over the city, 
 now the curtains are yellow ; the smoke 
 that arose from the burning parts seemed 
 like so much flame in the night, which 
 being blown upon the other parts by the 
 wind, the whole city, at some distance, 
 seemed to be on fire. Now hopes begin 
 to sink, and a general consternation seiz- 
 eth upon the spirits of people ; little 
 sleep is taken in London this night; the 
 amazement which the eye and ear doth 
 effect upon the spirit, doth either dry up 
 or drive away the vapour which used to 
 bind up the senses. Some are at work 
 to quench the fire with water ; others en- 
 deavour to stop its course, by pulling 
 down of houses ; but all to no purpose • 
 if it be a little allayed, or beaten down, 
 or put to a stand in some places, it is but 
 a very little while ; it quickly recruits, 
 and recovers its force ; it leeps and 
 mounts, and makes the more furious 
 onset, drives back its opposers, snatcheth 
 their weapons out of their hands, seizeth 
 upon the water-houses and engines, burns 
 them, spoils them, and makes them unfit 
 for service. 
 
 On the Lord's-day night the fire had 
 run as far as Garlick-hithe, in Thames- 
 street, and had crept up into Cannon- 
 street, and levelled it with the ground ; 
 and still is making forward by the water- 
 side, and upward to the brow of the hill, 
 on which the city was built. 
 
 On Monday, (the 3d) Gracechurch- 
 street is all in flames, with Lombard-street, 
 on the left hand, and part of Fenchurch 
 street, on the right, the fire working 
 (though not so fast) against the wind that 
 way : before it were pleasant and stately 
 houses, behind it ruinous and desolate 
 heaps. The burning then was in fashion 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 577 
 
 2 P 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 of a bow, a dreadful bow it was, such as 
 mine eyes never before had seen ; a bow 
 which had God's arrow in it, with a flam- 
 ing point: it was a shining bow ; noi like 
 tliat in the cloud, which brings water 
 witli it; and withal signified God's co- 
 venant not to destroy the world any more 
 with water : but it was a bow which had 
 fire in it, which signified God's anger, 
 and his intention to destroy London with 
 fire. 
 
 Now the flames break in upon Corn- 
 hill, that large and spacious street, and 
 quickly cross the way by the train of 
 wood that lay in the streets untaken away, 
 which had been pulled down from houses 
 to prevent its spreading : and so they lick 
 the whole street as they go : tliey mount 
 up to the top of the highest houses ; they 
 descend down to the bottom of the lowest 
 vaults and cellars ; and march along on 
 both sides of the way, with such a roaring 
 noise, as never was heard in the city of 
 London ; no stately building so great as 
 to resist their fury : the Royal Exchange 
 itself, the glory of the merchants, is now 
 invaded with much violence ; and when 
 once the fire was entered, how quickly 
 did it run round the galleries, filling them 
 with flames; then came down stairs, 
 compasseth the walks, giving forth flaming 
 volleys, and filleth the court with sheets 
 of fire : by-and-by down fall all the kings 
 upon their faces, and the greatest part of 
 the stone-building after them, (the foun- 
 der's statue only remaining,) with such a 
 noise as was dreadful and astonishing. 
 
 Then, then the city did shake indeed ; 
 and the inhabitants did tremble, and flew 
 away in great amazement from their 
 houses, lest the flames should devour 
 them ; rattle, rattle, rattle, was the noise 
 which the fire struck upon the ear round 
 about, as if there had been a thousand 
 iron chariots beating upon the stones : 
 and if you opened your eye to the opening 
 of the streets, where the fire was come, 
 you might see, in some places, whole 
 streets at once in flames, that issued forth 
 as if they had been so many great forges, 
 from the opposite windows, which folding 
 together, were united into one great flame 
 throughout the whole street ; and then 
 you might see the houses tumble, tumble, 
 tumble, from one end of the street to the 
 other, with a great crash, leaving the 
 foundations open to the view of the 
 heavens. 
 
 Now Tearfulness and terror doth sur- 
 prise the citizens of London; confusion 
 
 and astonishment doth fall upon them at 
 this unheard-of, unthought-of, judgment. 
 It would have grieved the heart of an 
 unconcerned person to see the rueful 
 looks, the pale cheeks, the tears trickling 
 down from the eyes, (where the greatness 
 of sorrow and amazement could give leave 
 for such a vent,) the smiting of the breast, 
 the wringing of the hands ; to hear the 
 sighs and groans, the doleful and weep- 
 ing speeches of the distressed citizens, 
 when they were bringing forth their 
 wives, (some from their child-bed,) and 
 their little ones (some from their sick- 
 bed,) out of their houses, and sending 
 them into the country, or somewhere into 
 the fields with their goods. Now the 
 hopes of London are gone, their heart is 
 sunk ; now there is a general remove in 
 the city, and that in a greater hurry than 
 before the plague, their goods being in 
 greater danger by the fire than their per- 
 sons were by the sickness. Scarcely are 
 some returned, but they must remove 
 again, and, not as before, now without 
 any more hopes of ever returning and 
 living in those houses any more. 
 
 Now carts, and drays, and coaches, and 
 horses, as many as could have entrance 
 into the city, were loaden, and any money 
 is given for help ; 51. 10/. 20/. 30/. for a 
 cart, to bear forth into the fields some 
 choice things, which were ready to be 
 consumed ; and some of the carmen had 
 the conscience to accept of the highest 
 price, which the citizens did then offer in 
 their extremity ; I am mistaken if such 
 money do not burn worse than the fire 
 out of which it was raked. Now casks of 
 wine, and oil, and other commodities, are 
 tumbled along, and the owners shove as 
 much of their goods as they can towards 
 the gate : every one now becomes a porter 
 to himself, and scarcely a back either of 
 man or woman, that hath strength, but 
 had a burden on it in the streets : it was 
 very sad to see such throngs of poor citi- 
 zens coming in and going forth from the 
 unburnt parts, heavy laden with some 
 pieces of their goods, but more heavy 
 laden with weighty grief and sorry of 
 heart, so that it is wonderful they did not 
 quite sink under these burdens. 
 
 Monday night was a dreadful night: 
 when the wings of the night had shadowed 
 the light of the heavenly bodies, there was 
 no darkness of night in London, for the 
 fire shines now round about with a fearful 
 blaze, which yield eth such light in the 
 streets, as it had been the sun at noon 
 
 78 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 (lay. Now tlie fire having wrought back- 
 ward strangely against tlie wind, to Bil- 
 jngsgate, &:c., along Thames-street, east- 
 ward, runs up the hill to Tower-street, 
 and having marched on from Gracechurch- 
 street, making further progress in Fen- 
 thurch-street, and having spread its wing 
 oeyond Queenhithe, in Thames-street, 
 westward, mounts up from the water-side, 
 through Dowgate, and Old Fish-street, 
 nto Watling-street : but the great fury of 
 the fire was in the broader streets ; in the 
 midst of the night it was come down 
 Cornhill, and laid it in the dust, and runs 
 along by the Stocks, and there meets with 
 another fire, which came down Thread- 
 needle-street; a little further with an- 
 other, which came up from Wallbrook; a 
 little further with another, which comes 
 up from Bucklersbury ; and, all these four, 
 joining together, break into one great 
 flame at the corner of Cheapside, with 
 such a dazzling light, and burning heat, 
 and roaring noise, by the fall of so many 
 houses together, that was very amazing ; 
 and though it were something stopt in its 
 swift course at Mercers'-chapel, yet witli 
 great force in a while it conquers the 
 place, and burns through it ; and then, 
 with great rage, proceedeth forward in 
 Cheapside. 
 
 On Tuesday (the 4th) was the fire burn- 
 ing up the very bowels of London ; Cheap- 
 side is all in a light, (fire in a few hours 
 time,) many fires meeting there, as in the 
 centre ; from Soper-lane, Bow-lane, Bread- 
 street, Friday-street, and Old Change, the 
 fire conies up almost together, and breaks 
 furiously into the Broad-street, and most 
 of that side of the way was together in 
 flames, a dreadful spectacle; and then, 
 partly by the fire which came down by 
 Mercers'-chapel, partly by the fall of the 
 houses cross the way, the other side is 
 quickly kindled, and doth not stand long 
 after it. Now the fire gets into Black- 
 friars, and so continues its course by the 
 water, and makes up towards Paul's 
 church, on that side, and Cheapside fire 
 besets the great building on this side, 
 and the church, though all of stone out- 
 ward, though naked of houses about it, 
 and though so high above all buildings in 
 the city, yet, within a while, doth yield to 
 the violent assaults of the conquering 
 flames, and strangely takes fire at the 
 top : now the lead melts and runs down, 
 as if it had been snow before the sun ; and 
 the great beams and massy stones with a 
 great noise fall on the pavement, and 
 
 break through into Fait'.i church under- 
 neath; now great flakes of stone scale and 
 peel oflf strangely from the side of the 
 wails ; the conqueror having got this high 
 fort, darts its flames round about. Now 
 Paternoster-row, Newgate-market, the 
 Old Bailey, and Ludgate-hill, have sub- 
 mitted themselves to the devouring fire, 
 which with wonderful speed rushethdown 
 the hill into Fleet-street. Now Cheapside 
 fire marcheth along Ironmonger-lane, Old 
 Jewry, Lawrence-lane, Milk-street, Wood- 
 street, Gutter-lane, Foster-lane. Now it 
 runs along Lothbury, Cateaton-street, &c. 
 From Newgate-market, it assaults Christ- 
 church, and conquers that great building, 
 and burns through Martin's-lane towards 
 Aldersgate, and all about so furiously, as 
 if it would not leave a house standing 
 upon the ground 
 
 Now horrible flakes of fire mount up 
 the sky, and the yellow smoke of London 
 ascendeth up towards heaven, like the 
 smoke of a great furnace ; a smoke so 
 great, as darkened the sun at noonday : 
 (if at any time the sun peeped forth, it 
 looked red hke blood :) the cloud ot 
 smoke was so great, that travellers did 
 ride at noonday, some miles together, in 
 the shadow thereof, though there were no 
 other cloud beside to be seen in the sky. 
 
 And if Monday night was dreadful, 
 Tuesday night was more dreadful, when 
 far the greatest part of the city was con- 
 sumed : many thousands who on Satur- 
 day had houses convenient in the city, 
 both for themselves, and to entertain 
 others, now have not where to lay their 
 head ; and the fields are the only recep- 
 tacle which they can find for themselves 
 and their goods ; most of the late in- 
 habitants of London lie all night in the 
 open air, with no other canopy over them 
 but that of the heavens : the fire is still 
 making towards tliem, and threateneth 
 the suburbs ; it was amazing to see how 
 it had spread itself several times in com- 
 pass ; and, amongst other things that 
 night, the sight of Guildhall was a fearful 
 spectacle, which stood the whole body of 
 it together in view, for several hours to- 
 gether, after the fire had taken it, without 
 flames, (I suppose because the timber was 
 such solid oak,) in a bright shining coal, 
 as if it had been a palace of gold, or a 
 great building of burnished brass. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, (the 5th) when 
 people expected that the suburbs would 
 be burnt, as well as the city, and with 
 speed were preparing their flight, as well 
 
 579 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2. 
 
 as they could, with their luggage into the 
 countries, and neighbouring villages, then 
 the Lord hath pity on poor London ; his 
 bowels began to relent ; his heart is turned 
 within him, and he stays his rough wind 
 in the day of the east wind; his fury be- 
 gins to be allayed ; he hath a remnant of 
 people in London, and there shall a rem- 
 nant of houses escape: the wind now is 
 husht ; the commission of the fire is with- 
 drawing, and it burns so gently, even 
 where it meets with no opposition, that it 
 was not hard to be quenched, in many 
 places, with a few hands: now the citi- 
 zens begin to gather a little heart, and 
 encouragement in their endeavours to 
 quench the fire. A check it had at 
 Leadenhall by that great building; a stop 
 it had in Bishopsgate-street, Fenchurch- 
 street. Lime-street, Mark-lane, and to- 
 wards the Tower; one means, under God, 
 was the blov/ing up of houses with gun- 
 powder. Now it is stayed in Lothbury 
 Broad-street, Coleman-street ; towards the 
 gates it burnt, but not with any great 
 violence; at the Temple also it is stayed, 
 and in Holborn, where it had got no great 
 footing ; and when once the fire was got 
 under, it was kept under, and on Thurs- 
 day the flames were extinguished. 
 
 But on Wednesday night, when the 
 people, late of London, now ot the fields, 
 hoped to get a little rest on the ground, 
 where they had spread their beds, a more 
 dreadful fear falls upon them than they 
 had before, through a rumoui that the 
 French were coming armed against them 
 to cut their throats, and spoil them of what 
 they had saved out of the fire : they were 
 now naked and weak, and in ill condition 
 to defend themselves, and the hearts, es- 
 pecially of the females, do quake and 
 tremble, and are ready to die within 
 them ; yet many citizens, having lost their 
 houses, and almost all that they had, are 
 fired with rage and fury : and they begin 
 to stir up themselves like lions, or like 
 bears bereaved of their whelps, and now 
 " Arm ! Arm !" doth resound the fields 
 and suburbs with a dreadful voice. We 
 may guess at the distress and perplexity of 
 ttie people this night, which was some- 
 thing alleviated when the falseness of the 
 alarm was perceived. 
 
 The ruins of the city were 396 acres ; 
 [viz. 333 acres within the walls, and 63 
 m the liberties of the city,] of the six and 
 twenty wards, it utterly destroyed fif- 
 teen, and left eight others shattered, 
 and half burnt ; ai^d it consumed 400 
 
 streets, 13,200 dwelling-houses, eighty 
 nine churches, [besides chapels,] four of . 
 the city gates, Guildhall, many public 
 structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, and 
 a vast number of stately edifices. 
 
 The preceding relation by Thomas 
 Vincent, with the philosophic Evelyn's, 
 will ac<}uaint the reader with as much as 
 can here be told of the most direful visi- 
 tations the metropolis ever suffered. Eve- 
 lyn's account is in his" Diary," or " Me- 
 moirs" of himself, a manuscript which is 
 known to have been preserved from pro- 
 bable destruction by Mr. Upcott. 
 
 John Evelyn's Narrative. 
 
 Sept. 2, 1666. This fatal night, about 
 ten, began that deplorable fire near Fish- 
 streete in London. 
 
 Sept, 3. The fire continuing, after 
 dinner I took coach with my wife and 
 sonn, and went to the Bankside in South- 
 wark, where we beheld that dismal spec- 
 tacle, the whole citty in dreadful flames 
 neare the waterside; all the houses from 
 the bridge, all Thames-street, and up- 
 wards towards Cheapeside downe to the 
 Three Cranes, were now consum'd. 
 
 The fire having continu'd all this night 
 (if I may call that night which was as 
 light as day for ten miles round about, 
 after a dreadful manner,) when conspiring 
 with a fierce eastern wind in a very drie 
 season : I went on foote to the same 
 place, and saw the whole south part of 
 the citty burning from Cheapeside to the 
 Thames, and all along Cornehill, (for it 
 kindl'd back against the wind as well as 
 forward,)Tower-streete,Fenchurch-streete, 
 Gracious-streete, and so along to Bai- 
 nard's-castle, and was now taking hold ot 
 St. Paule's church, to which the scaffolds 
 contributed exceedingly. The conflagra- 
 tion was so universal, and the people so 
 astonish'd, that from the beginning, I 
 know not by what despondency or fate, 
 they hardly stirr'd to quench it, so that 
 there was nothing heard or seene but 
 crying out and lamentation, running about 
 like distracted creatures, without at all 
 attempting to save even their goods, such 
 a strange consternation there was upon 
 them, so as it burned both in breadth and 
 length, the churches, public halls, ex- 
 change, hospitals, monuments, and orna- 
 ments, leaping after a prodigious manner 
 from house to house and streete to streete, 
 at greate distances one from the other; 
 for the heate with a long ret of faire and 
 
 580 
 
THE EVERY-DAY EOOK.-SEPTEMCER 2. 
 
 waime weatlier, had even ignited the air, 
 and prepar'd the materials to conceive 
 the fire which devour'd after an incredible 
 aianner, houses, furniture, and every 
 /hing. Here we saw the Thames cover'd 
 ^ith goods floating, all tne oarges and 
 ooates laden with what some had time 
 and courage to save, as, on the other, the 
 carts, &c. carrying out to the fields, which 
 for many miles were strew'd with move- 
 ables of all sorts, and tents erecting to 
 shelter both people and what goods they 
 could get away. Oh, the miserable and 
 calamitous spectacle ! such as haply the 
 world had not scene the like since the 
 foundation of it, nor to be outdone till 
 tlie universal conflagration. All the skie 
 was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a 
 burning oven, the light scene above forty 
 miles round about for many nights. God 
 grant my eyes may never behold the like, 
 now seeing above 10,000 houses all in one 
 flame; the noise and cracking and thun- 
 der of the impetuous flames, the shrieking 
 of women and children, the hurry of peo- 
 ple, the fall of towers, houses, and 
 churches, was like an hideous storme, and 
 the aire all about so hot and inflam'd that 
 at last one was not able to approach it, 
 so that they were forc'd to stand still and 
 let the flames burn on, which they did for 
 neere two miles in length and one in 
 breadth. The clouds of smoke were dis- 
 mall, and reach'd upon computation neer 
 fifty miles in length. Thus I left it this 
 afternoone burning, a resemblance of 
 Sodom, or the last day. London was, 
 but is no more ! 
 
 Sept. 4. The burning still rages, and 
 it was now gotten as far as the Inner 
 Temple, alll leete-streete, the Old Bailey, 
 Ludgate-hiU, Warwick- lane, Newgate, 
 Paul's Chain, Watling-streete, now flam- 
 ing, and most of it reduc'd to ashes ; the 
 stones of Paules flew like granados, the 
 melting lead running downc the streetes 
 in a stieame, and the very pavements 
 glowing with fiery rednesse, so as no 
 horse nor man was able to tread on them, 
 and the demolition had stopp'd all the 
 passages, so that no help could be ap- 
 plied. The eastern wind still more im- 
 petuously drove the flames forward. 
 Nothing but the Almighty power of God 
 was able to stop them, for vaine was the 
 helo of man. 
 
 Sept. 5. It crossed towards White- 
 hull ; Oh, the confusion there was then at 
 that court ! it pleased his majesty to com- 
 mand me among the rest to looke after the 
 
 quenching of Fetter-lane end, to preserve 
 if possible that part of liolborn, while 
 the rest of the gentlemen tooke their se- 
 veral posts (for now they began to bestir 
 themselves, and not till now, who hitherto 
 had stood as men intoxicated, with their 
 hands acrosse), and began to consider 
 that nothing was likely to put a stop but 
 the blowing up of so many houses as 
 might make a wider gap than any had 
 yet ben made by the ordinary method ot 
 pulling them down with engines; this 
 some stout seamen propos'd early enough 
 to have sav'd neare the whole citty, but 
 this some tenacious and avaritious men, 
 aldermen, &c. would not permit, because 
 their houses must have ben of the first. 
 It was therefore now commanded to be 
 practic'd, and my concern being particu- 
 larly for the hospital of St. Bartholomew 
 neere Smithfield, where I had many 
 wounded aud sick men, made me the 
 more diligent to promote it, nor was my 
 care for the Savoy lesse. It now pleas'd 
 God by abating the wind, and by the in- 
 dustry of the people, infusing a new spi- 
 rit into them, that the fury of it began 
 sensibly to abate about noone, so as it 
 came no farther than the Temple west- 
 ward, nor than the entrance ot Smithfield 
 north ; but continu'd all this day and 
 night so impetuous towards Cripplegate 
 and the Tower, as made us all despaire : 
 it also broke out againe in the Temple, 
 but the courage of the multitude persist- 
 ing, and many houses being blown up, 
 such gaps and desolations were soone 
 made, as with the former three days' con- 
 sumption, the back fire did not so vehe- 
 mently urge upon the rest as formerly. 
 There was yet no standing neere the 
 burning and glowing ruines by neere a 
 furlong's space. 
 
 The poore inhabitants were dispers'd 
 about St. George's Fields, and Moore- 
 fields, as far as Ilighgate, and severall 
 miles in circle, some under tents, some 
 under miserable huts and hovells, many 
 without a rag or any necessary utensills, 
 bed or board, who from d<ilicatenesse, 
 riches, and easy accommodations in state- 
 ly and well furnish'd houses, were now 
 reduc'd to extreamest misery and poverty. 
 
 In this calamitous condition I return'd 
 with a sad heart to my house, blessing 
 and adoring the mercy of God to me and 
 mine, who in the midst of all this mine 
 was like Lot, in my little Zoar, sefe and 
 •"ound. 
 
 Sept 7. I went this morning on foote 
 
 581 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2 
 
 -frjm Whitehall as far as London Bridge, 
 thro' tlie late Fleete-streete, Ludgate-hill, 
 by St. Paules, Cheapeside, Exchange, 
 Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and out to 
 Moorelields, thence thro' Cornehille, &c. 
 with extraordinary difficulty, clambering 
 over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and 
 frequently mistaking where I was. The 
 ground under my feete was so hot, that it 
 even burnt the soles of my shoes. In the 
 mean time his majesty got to the Tower 
 by water to demolish the houses about 
 the graff, which being built intirely about 
 it, had they taken fire and attack'd the 
 White Tower where the magazine of pow- 
 der lay, would undoubtedly not only have 
 beaten downe and destroy 'd all the bridge, 
 but sunke and torne the vessells in the 
 river, and render'd the demolition be- 
 yond all expression for several miles 
 about the countrey. 
 
 At my return I was infinitely concern'd 
 to find that goodly church St. Paules 
 now a sad mine, and that beautifuU por- 
 tico (for structure comparable to any in 
 Europe, as not long before repair'd by 
 the kmg,) now rent in pieces, flakes of 
 vast stone split asunder, and nothing re- 
 maining intire but the inscription in the 
 architrave, shewing by whom it was built, 
 which had not one letter of it defac'd. 
 It was astonishing to see what immense 
 stones the heat had in a manner calcin'd, 
 so that all the ornaments, columns, freezes, 
 and projectures of massie Portland stone 
 flew off, even to the very roofe, where a 
 sheet of lead covering a great space was 
 totally mealted ; the ruines of the vaulted 
 roofe falling broke into St. Faith's, which 
 being fiU'd with the magazines of bookes 
 belonging to the stationers, and carried 
 thither for safety, tliey were all consum'd, 
 burning for a weeke following. It is also 
 observable that the lead over the altar at 
 the east end was untouch'd, and among 
 the divers monuments, the body of one 
 bishop remain'd intire. Thus lay in 
 ashes that most venerable church, one of 
 the most antient pieces of early piety in 
 the christian world, besides neere one 
 hundred more. The lead, yron worke, 
 bells, plate. &c. niealted ; the exquisitely 
 wrought Mercers'-chapell, the sumptuous 
 Exchange, the august fabriq of Christ 
 church, all the rest of the companies 
 halls, sumptuous buildings, arches, all in 
 dust ; the fountaines dried up and luin'd 
 whilst the very waters remain'd boiling ; 
 the vorrago's of subterranean cellars, wells, 
 and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still 
 
 burnmg in stench aua dark clouds of 
 smoke, so that in five or six miles tra- 
 versing about I did not see one load of 
 timber unconsum'd, nor many stones but 
 what were calcin'd white as snow. The 
 people who now walk'd about the ruines 
 appear'd like men in a dismal desart, or 
 rather in some groat citty laid waste by a 
 cruel enemy ; to which was added the 
 stench that came from some poore crea- 
 tures bodies, beds, &c. Sir Tho. Gres- 
 ham's statue, tho' fallen from its nich in 
 the Royal Exchange, remain'd intire, 
 when all those of the kings since the con- 
 quest were broken to pieces, also the 
 standard in Cornehill, and Q. Elizabeth's 
 effigies, with some amies on Ludgate, 
 continued with but little detriment, whilst 
 the vast yron chaines of the cittie streetes, 
 hinges, bars and gates of prisons, were 
 many of them mealted and reduced to 
 cinders by the vehement heate. I was 
 not able to passe through any of the 
 narrow streetes, but kept the widest, the 
 ground and aire, smoake and fiery va- 
 pour, continu'd so intense that my haire 
 was almost sing'd, and my feete unsuflTer- 
 ably surheated. The bie lanes and nar- 
 rower streetes were quite fiU'd up with 
 rubbish, nor could one have knowne 
 where he was, but by the ruines of some 
 church or hall, that had some remarkable 
 tower or pinnacle remaining. I then went 
 towards Islington and Highgate, where 
 one might have scene 200,000 people of 
 all ranks and degrees dispers'd and lying 
 along by their heapes of what they could 
 save from the fire, deploring their losse, 
 and tho' ready to perish for hunger and 
 destitution, yet not asking one penny for 
 relief, which to me appear'd a stranger 
 sight than any I had yet beheld. His 
 majesty and council indeede tooke all 
 imaginable care for their reliefe by pro- 
 clamation for the country to come in and 
 refresh them with provisions. In the 
 midst of all this calamity and confusion, 
 there was, I know not how, an alarme 
 begun, that the French and Dutch, with 
 whom we were now in hostility, were not 
 onely landed, but even entering the citty, 
 There was in truth some days before 
 greate suspicion of those two nations 
 joyning ; and now, that they had been the 
 occasion of firing the towne. This report 
 did so terrific, that on a suddaine there 
 was such an uproare and tumult that they 
 ran from their goods, and, taking what 
 weapons they could come at, they could 
 not be stopp'd fromffalling on some of 
 
 ^82 
 
THE EVERY-DAY ROOK.— SEPTEMBER 3. 
 
 those nations whom tliey casually met, 
 without sense or reason. The clamour 
 and peril grew so excessive, that it made 
 the whole court amaz'd, and they did with 
 infinite paines and greate difficulty reduce 
 and appease the people, sending troopes 
 of soldiers and guards to cause them to 
 ■etire into the fields againe, where they 
 were watch'd all this night. I left them 
 pretty quiet, and came home sufficiently 
 weary and broken. Their spirits thus a 
 little calmed, and the affright abated, they 
 now began to repaire into the suburbs 
 about the citty, where such as had friends 
 or opportunity got shelter. 
 
 The essential particulars of Evelyn's 
 narrative being ended, it may be observed 
 that a discontinued periodical miscellany 
 notices at the end of" Littleton's Diction- 
 ary," an inscription for the monument (on 
 Fish-street-hill), wherein this very learned 
 scholar proposes a name for it, in a word 
 which extends through seven degrees of 
 longitude. It is designed to commemo- 
 rate the names of the seven lord mayors 
 of London, under whose respective 
 mayoralties the monument was begun, 
 continued, and completed : — 
 
 Quam non unA, aliqua ac simplici voce, uti 
 istam quondam Duilinnam ; 
 
 Sed.utvero earn Nomine indigites, Vocabu- 
 lo constructiliter Heptastego, 
 
 Fordo — VVatekmanno — Hansono — Hook- 
 
 ERO 
 ViNERO— SHELDONO— DaVISIANAM 
 
 Appellites oportebit. 
 Well might Adam Littleton call this an 
 heptastic vocable, rather than a word.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Rod SuUdugo virgaurea 
 Dedicated to St. Margaret. 
 
 ^t^Umhtv 3. 
 
 5^ Simeon Stijlites, the younger, a. d, 
 592. St. Remaclus, Bp. of Maestricht, 
 A. D. 664. St. Mansnet, first Bp. of 
 Toul, in Lorrain, a. d. 375. St. Macri- 
 sius, first Bp. of Connor, in Ireland, 
 A. D. 513. 
 
 Proclamation oj' 
 Bartholomew Fair, 
 This is the only Fair now held within 
 
 * Athaneum. 
 
 the city of London, and, as introductory 
 to an account of this annual scene, it is 
 necessary to notice that it has been the 
 custom from time immemorial for one of 
 the four attorneys of the lord mayor's 
 court, who may happen to be what is 
 termed the attorney in waiting, (and 
 which duty in respect of proclaiming the 
 Fair for the last seven years has devolved 
 upon Mr. Carter,) to accompany the lord 
 mayor in his state carriage from the 
 Mansion-house to Smithfield, on the day 
 whereon the Fair is proclaimed, which is 
 on the 3d of September, unless Sunday 
 should fall on that day. The proclama- 
 tion is read at the gate leading into 
 Cloth-fair by the lord mayor's attorney, 
 and repeated after him by a sheriff's offi- 
 cer, in the presence of the lord mayor 
 and sheriffs, and also of the aldermen, 
 (if they attend, but who, though sum- 
 moned for that purpose, seldom appear. 
 The procession afterwards proceeds routu 
 Smithfield, and returns to the Mansion- 
 house, where, in the afternoon, the gen- 
 tlemen of his lordship's household dine 
 together at the sword-bearer's table, and 
 thus the ceremony is concluded. It was 
 also the custom of the procession to stop 
 at Newgate to diink to the governor's 
 health, but this practice was discontinued 
 in the second mayoralty of Mr. Alderman 
 Wood. 
 
 Tiie following is a copy of the procla- 
 mation from the parchment-roll now 
 used : — 
 "dTorm of the Proclamation o/i3art]^0- 
 
 lomth) dTatl* made at the Great Gate 
 
 going into the Cloth Fair, Smithfield. 
 
 " Oyez, 3 times. 
 
 " Clje %iqi)t f^oncurablc [John 
 
 Garratt] HorlJ iHaoor of the Cn v of 
 London, and his right Worshipful Bre- 
 thren the Aldermen of the said City, 
 streightly charge and command, on the 
 behalf of our Sovereign Lord the King, 
 That all manner of Persons of whatsoever 
 Estate, Degree, or Condition they be, 
 having recourse to this Fair, keep the 
 Peace of our said Sovereign Lord tlie 
 King. 
 
 " That no manner of Persons shall 
 make any Congregation, Conventicles, or 
 Affrays, by the which the same peace 
 may be broken or disturbed, upon pain 
 of Imprisonment, and Fine, to be made 
 after the discretion of the Lord Mayor 
 and Aldermen. 
 
 " Also, that all manner of Sellers ol 
 
 583 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 4, 5, 
 
 Wme, Ale, or Beer, sell by measures 
 ensealed, as by Gallon, Pottle, Quart 
 and Pint, upon pain that will fall thereof. 
 
 " And, that no person sell any Bread, 
 but it be good and wholesome for Man's 
 Body, upon pain that will fall thereof. 
 
 " And, that no manner of Cook, Pye- 
 baker, nor Huckster, sell, nor put to sale, 
 any manner of Victual, except it be good 
 and wholesome for Man's Body, upon 
 pain that will fall thereof. 
 
 " And, that no manner of Person buy 
 nor sell, but with true weights and mea- 
 sures, sealed according to the Statute, in 
 that behalf made, upon pain that will fall 
 thereof. 
 
 " And, that no manner of person or 
 persons take upon him, or them, within 
 this Fair, to make any manner of arrest, 
 attachment, summons, or execution ; ex- 
 cept it be done by the Officers of this 
 City, thereunto assigned, upon pain that 
 will fall thereof. 
 
 " And, that no person or persons what- 
 soever, within the limits and bounds of 
 this Fair, presume to break tbe Lord's 
 day in selling, shewing, or offering to 
 Sale, or in buying, or in offering to buy, 
 any Commodities whatsoever ; or in sit- 
 ting tippling, or drinking in any Tavern, 
 Inn, Alehouse, Tipling House or Cook 
 house ; or in doing any other thing that 
 may tend to the breach thereof, upon the 
 pain and penalties contained in several 
 Acts of Parliament, which will be severe- 
 ly inflicted upon the Breakers thereof. 
 
 " And, finally, that what person so- 
 ever find themselves agc^rieved, injured, 
 or wronged, by any manner of Person m 
 tiiis Fair, that they come with their Plaints 
 before the Stewards in this Fair assigned 
 to hear and determine Pleas, and they 
 will minister to all parties, Justice, ac- 
 cording to the Laws of this Land, and the 
 Customs of this City. 
 
 " It is ordered that this Fair do fi- 
 nally close on \^lVednesday'\ next, 
 
 " N. B. This Fair continues 3 days, ex- 
 clusive of the day of Proclamation." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Fleabane. Inula di/sentericA 
 Dedicated to St. Simeon Stylites jun. 
 
 Widow, 9th Cent. St. Rosalia, L.h. 1160 
 St. Rosaoi Viterbo, a. d. 1252. St. Ll- 
 tan, Irish Bp. a.d. 655. 
 
 Bartholomew Fair. 
 
 This day in the year, 1825, being Sun- 
 day, Bartholomew Fair was wholly sus- 
 pended. Yet many thousands of persons 
 walking for recreation, repaired to Smith- 
 field and viewed its appearance. The city 
 officers most strictly enforced observance 
 of the day : one keeper of a gingerbread- 
 stall who plied for custom, and refracto- 
 rily persisted, was taken into custody, and 
 held in prison, till he could be carried 
 before a magistrate on the following day, 
 when he was fined for his offence. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sapwort. Saponaria officinalis. 
 Dedicated to St. Rosalia. 
 
 ^tptcmljer 4. 
 
 Sts. Marcellus and Valerian, a.d. 179. 
 Translation of St. Cuthbert. St. Ida, 
 
 ^eptemljer 5. 
 
 St. Laurence Justinian, first Patriarch of 
 Venice, a.d. 1455. St. Berlin, Abbot, 
 A.D. 709. St. Alto, Abbot, 8th Cent. 
 
 Bartholomew Fair. 
 
 1825. On this day, Monday the 5th, 
 the Fair was resumed, when the editor of 
 the Every-Day Book accurately surveyed 
 it throughout. From his notes made on 
 the spot he reports the following particu- 
 lars of what he there observed. 
 
 VISIT TO 
 3lJartI)olomfh) jTatr. 
 
 At ten o'clock this morning I entered 
 Smithfield from Giltspur-street. \^Mem. 
 This way towards Smithfield was ancient- 
 ly called Gilt Spurre, or Knight-Riders 
 Street, because of the knights, who in 
 quality of their honour wore gilt spurs, and 
 who, with others, rode that way to the 
 tournaments, justings, and other feats of 
 arms used in Smithfield.*] 
 
 On this day there were small uncovered 
 stalls, from the Skinner-street corner of 
 Giltspur-street, beginning with the begin- 
 ning of the churchyard, along the whole 
 length of the churchyard. On the op- 
 posite side of Giltspur-street there were 
 like stalls, uncovered, from Newgate-street 
 corner, in front of the Compter-prison, in 
 Giltspur-street. At these stalls were 
 
 * Siowe 
 
 584 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 sold oysieia, iruit, inferior kinds of cheap 
 toys, common gingerbread, small wicker- 
 baskets, and other articles of trifling 
 value. They seemed to be mere casual 
 standings, taken up by petty dealers, and 
 chapmen in small ware, who lacked means 
 to purchase room, and furnish out a 
 tempting display. Their stalls were set 
 out from the channel into the roadway. 
 One man occupied upwards of twenty 
 feet of the road lengthwise, with discon- 
 tinued wood-cut pamphlets, formerly pub- 
 lished weekly at twopence, which he 
 spread out on the ground, and sold at a 
 halfpenny each in great quantities ; he 
 also had large folio bible prints, at a 
 halfpenny each, and prints from maga- 
 zines at four a penny. The fronts of these 
 standings were towards the passengers in 
 the carriage-way. They terminated, as 
 before observed, with the northern ends 
 of St. Sepulchre's churchyard on one 
 side, and the Compter on the other. 
 Then, with occasional distances of three 
 or four feet for footways, from the road 
 to the pavement, began lines of covered 
 stalls, with their open fronts opposite the 
 fronts of the house, and close to the curb 
 stone, and their enclosed backs in the 
 road. On the St. Sepulchre's side, they 
 extended to Cock-lane, fiom Cock-lane to 
 the house of Mr. Blacket, clothier and 
 mercer, at the Smithheid corner of Gilt- 
 spur-street ; then, turning the corner of 
 his house into Smithfield, they continued 
 to Hosier-lane, and from thence all along 
 the west side of Smithfield to the Cow- 
 lane corner, where, on that side, they ter- 
 minated at that corner, in a line with the 
 opposite corner leading to St. John-street, 
 where the line was resumed, and ran 
 thitherward to Smithfield-bars, and there 
 on the west side ended. Crossing over 
 to the east side, and returning south, 
 these covered stalls commenced opposite 
 to their termination on the west, and ran 
 towards Smithfield, turning into which 
 they ran westerly towards the pig-market, 
 and from thence to Long-lane ; from 
 Long-lane, they ran along the east side 
 of Smithfield to the great gate of Cloth- 
 fair, and so from Duke-street, went on 
 the south side, to the great front gate 
 of Bartholomew-hospital, and from thence 
 to the carriage entrance of the hospital, 
 from whence they were continued along 
 Giltspur-street to the Compter, where 
 they joined the uncovered stalls before 
 described. These covered stalU liius sur- 
 rounding Smithfield, beloi.gevl vu dealers 
 
 in gingerbread, toys, hardware, garters, 
 pocket-books, trinkets, and articles of all 
 prices, from a halfpenny to a half sove- 
 reign. The gingerbread stalls varied in 
 size, and were conspicuously fine, from 
 the dutch gold on their different shaped 
 ware. The largest stalls were the toy- 
 seller's ; some of these had a frontage of 
 five and twenty feet, and many of eigh- 
 teen. The usual frontage of the stalls 
 was eight, ten, and twelve feet ; they were 
 six feet six inches, or seven feet, high in 
 front, and from four feet six inches, to 
 five feet, in height at the back, and 3II 
 formed of canvass, tightly stretched across 
 light poles and railing; the canvass roof- 
 ings declined pent-house-ways to the 
 backs, which were enclosed by canvass to 
 the ground. The fronts, as before men- 
 tioned, were entirely open to the throng- 
 ing passengers, for whom a clear way 
 was preserved on the pavements between 
 the fronts of the stalls and the fronts of 
 the houses, all of which necessarily had 
 their shutters up and their doors closed. 
 
 The skotvs of all kinds had their fronts 
 towards the area of Smithfield, and their 
 backs close against the backs of the stalls, 
 without any passage between them in any 
 part. There not being any shows or 
 booths, save as thus described, the area 
 of Smithfield was entirely open. Thus, 
 any one standing in the carriaae-way 
 might see all the shows at one view. 
 They surrounded and bounded Smithfield 
 entirely, except on the north side, which 
 small part alone was without shows, for 
 they were limited to the other three sides ; 
 namely. Cloth-fair side, Baitholomew- 
 hospital side, and Hosier-lane side. 
 Against the pens in the centre, there 
 were not any shows, but the space be- 
 tween the pens and the shows quite free 
 for spectators, and persons making their 
 way to the exhibitions. Yet, although no 
 coach, cart, or vehicle of any kind, was 
 permitted to pass, this immense unob- 
 structed carriage-way was so thronged, as 
 to be wholly impassable. Officers were 
 stationed at the entrance of Giltspur- 
 street, Hosier-lane, and Duke-street, to 
 prevent carriages and horsemen from en- 
 tering. The only ways by which they 
 were allowed ingress to Smithfield at all, 
 were through Cow - lane. Chick - lane, 
 Smithfield-bars, and Long-lane ; and then 
 they were to go on, and pass without 
 stopping, through one or other of these 
 entrances, and without turning into the 
 body of the Fair, wherein were the shows* 
 
 585 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5.* 
 
 Thus the extent of carriage-way was 
 bounded from Cow-lane to Loiig-lane, 
 in a right line, nor were carriages or 
 horses sufl'ered to stand or linger, but the 
 riders or drivers were compelled to go 
 about their business, if business they had, 
 or to alight for their pleasure, and enter 
 the Fair, if they came thither in search of 
 pleasure. So was order so far preserved ; 
 and the city officers, to whom was com- 
 mitted the power of enforcing it, exercised 
 their duty rigorously, and properly; be- 
 cause, to their credit, they swerved not 
 from their instructions, and did not give 
 just cause of offence to any whom the re- 
 gulations displeased. 
 
 The sheep-pens occupying the area of 
 Smithfield, heretofore the great public 
 cookery at Fair times, was this day re- 
 sorted to by boys and others in expect- 
 ation of steaming abundance ; nor were 
 they disappointed. The pens immediately 
 contiguous to the passage through them 
 from Bartholomew-hospital-gate towards 
 Sniithfield-bars, were not, as of old, 
 decked out and denominated, as they 
 were within recollection, with boughs 
 and inscriptions tempting hungry errand 
 boys, sweeps, scavengers, dustmen, drov- 
 ers, and bullock-hankers to the "princely 
 pleasures" within the " Brighton Pavi- 
 lion," the " Royal Eating Room," " Fair 
 Rosamond's Bower," the " New London 
 Tavern," and the "Imperial Hotel :" these 
 names were not : — nor were there any de- 
 nominations ; but there was sound, and 
 smell, and sight, from sausages almost as 
 large as thumbs, fried in miniature d''^ 
 ping-pans by old women, over fires in 
 saucepans ; and there were oysters, which 
 were called " fine and fat," because their 
 shells were as large as tea saucers. Cloths 
 were spread on tables or planks, with 
 plates, knives and forks, pepper and salt, 
 and, above all, those alluring condiments 
 to persons of the rank described, mustard 
 and vinegar. Here they came in crowds; 
 each selecting his talile-d'-hote, dined 
 handsomely for threepence, and sumptu- 
 ously for fourpence. The purveyors 
 seemed aware of the gi owing demand for 
 cleanliness of appearance, and whatever 
 might be the quality of the viands, they 
 ■were served up in a more decent way 
 than many of the consumers were evi- 
 dently accustomed to. Some of them 
 seemed appalled by being in "good com- 
 pany," and handled their knives and forks 
 in a manner which bespoke the embar- 
 rassment of " dining in public" with such 
 implements. 
 
 My object in going to Bartholomew 
 Fair was to observe its present state, and 
 record it as I witnessed it in the Every- 
 Day Book. I therefore first took a per» 
 ambulatory view of the exterior, from 
 Giltspur-street, and keeping to the left, 
 went completely round Smithfield, on the 
 pavement, till I returned to the same spot; 
 from thence I ventured "to take the road" 
 in the same direction, examined the pro- 
 mising show-cloths and inscriptions on 
 each show, and shall now describe or 
 mention every show in the Fair. It may 
 be more interesting to read some years 
 hence than now. Feeling that our ances- 
 tors have slenderly acquainted us with 
 what was done here in their time, and 
 presuming that our posterity may culti- 
 vate the " wisdom of looking backward" 
 in some degree, as we do with the higher 
 wisdom of " looking forward," I write as 
 regards Bartholomew Fair, rather to 
 amuse the future, than to inform the pre- 
 sent, generation. 
 
 Show I. 
 
 Tliis was the first show, and stood at the 
 corner of Hosier-lane. The inscription 
 outside, painted in black letters, a little 
 more than an inch in height, on a piece 
 of white linen, was as follows : — 
 
 " Murder of Mr. JFeare, and ProberVs 
 cottage. — The Execution of fVilUitm Pro- 
 bert. 
 
 '^A View to be seen here of the Visit of 
 Queen Sheba to King Soloman on the 
 Throne. — Daniel in the Den of Lions. — 
 St. Paul's Conversion. — The Toiver oj 
 Babel. — The Greenland J Vhale- Fishery. — 
 The Battle of IFaterloo. — A Vieio of the 
 City of Dublin. — Coronation of George 
 
 This was what is commonly, but errone- 
 ously called a puppet-show ; it consisted 
 of scenes rudely painted, successively let 
 down by strings pulled by the showman ; 
 and was viewed through eye-glasses of 
 magnifying power, the spectators stand- 
 ing on the ground. A green curtain from 
 a projecting rod was drawn round them 
 while viewing. " Only a penny — only a 
 penny," cried the showman ; I paid my 
 penny, and saw the first and the meanest 
 show in the Fair. 
 
 Show II. 
 " Only a penny — only a penny, walk 
 up — pray walk up." So called out a man 
 with a loud voice, on an elevated stage, 
 while a long drum and hurdy-gurdy play- 
 ed aw ay ; I complied with the invitation, 
 
 586 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 and went in to see what the show-cloths 
 described, '"Miss Wivioti, the Middlesex 
 IFonder ; the Largest Child in the King- 
 dom, ivhen young the Handsomest Child 
 in the World. — I'he Persian Giant. — 7'Ae 
 Fair Circassian with Silver Hair. — The 
 Female Dwarf, Tivo Feet, Eleven Inches 
 high. — Tivo J f'ild Indians from the Malay 
 
 Islands in the East,'' and other wonders. 
 One of these " Wild Indians" had figur- 
 ed outside the show, in the posture repre- 
 sented in the engraving ; in that position 
 he was sketched by an artist who accom- 
 panied me into the show, and who there 
 drew the "little lady" and the "gigantic 
 child," Miss Hipson. 
 
 MISS HIPSON; THE FEMALE DWARF; AND THE MALAY. 
 
 When a company had collected, they 
 were shown from the floor of a caravan on 
 wheels, one side whereof was taken out, 
 and replaced by a curtain, which was 
 either drawn to, or thrown back as occa- 
 sion required. After the audience had 
 dispersed, I was permitted by the pro- 
 prietor of the show, Nicholas Maughan, 
 of Ipswich, Suffolk, to go " behind the 
 curtain," where the artist completed his 
 sketches, while I entered into conversation 
 with the persons exhibited. Miss Hipson, 
 only twelve years of age, is remarkably 
 gigantic, or rather corpulent, for her age, 
 pretty, well-behaved, and well-informed ; 
 she weighed sixteen stone a few months 
 before, and has since increased in size ; 
 she has ten brothers and sisters, nowise 
 remarkable in appearance: her father, 
 who is dead, was a bargeman at Brentford, 
 The name of the " little lady" is Lydia 
 Walpole, she was born at Addiscombe, 
 
 near Yarmouth, and is sociabl°, agree- 
 able, and intelligent. The fair Circassian 
 is of pleasing countenance and manners. 
 The Persian giant is a good-natured, tall, 
 stately negro. The two Malays could not 
 speak English, except, however, three 
 words, " drop o' rum," which they re- 
 peated with great glee. One of them, with 
 long hair reaching below the waist, ex- 
 hibited the posture of drawing a bow ; 
 Mr. Maughan described them as being 
 passionate, and showed me a severe 
 wound on his finger which the little one, 
 in the engraving, had given him by biting, 
 while he endeavoured to part him and his 
 countryman, during a quarrel a few days 
 ago. A " female giant" was one of the 
 attractions to this exhibition, but she could 
 not be shown for illness : Miss Hipson 
 described her to be a very good young 
 woman. 
 
 There was an appearance of ease and 
 
 587 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 good condition, with content of mind, in 
 the persons composing this show, which 
 induced me to put several questions to 
 them, and I gathered that I was not mis- 
 taken in my conjecture. They described 
 themselves as being very comfortable, and 
 that they were taken great care of, and 
 well treated by the proprietor, Mr. Maug- 
 han, and his partner in the show. The 
 " little lady" had a thorough good character 
 from Miss Hipson as an affectionate 
 creature ; and it seems the females ob- 
 tained exercise by rising early, and being 
 carried into the country in a post-chaise, 
 where they walked and thus maintained 
 their health. Tliis was to me the most 
 pleasing show in the Fair. 
 
 Show III. 
 
 The inscription outside was. 
 Ball's Theatre. 
 
 Here I saw a man who balanced chairs 
 on his chin, and holdmg a knife in his 
 mouth, balanced a sword on the edge of 
 the knife ; he then put a pewter plate on 
 the hilt of the sword horizontally, and so 
 balanced the sword wilh the plate on the 
 edge of the knife as before, the piate hav- 
 ing previously received a rotary motion, 
 which it communicated to the sword and 
 was preserved during the balancing. He 
 then balanced the sword and plate in like 
 manner, with a crown-piece placed edge- 
 wise between the point of the sword and 
 the knife, and afterwards with two crown- 
 pieces, and then with a key. These feats 
 were accompanied by the grimaces of a 
 clown, and succeeded by children tum- 
 bling, and a female who danced a horn- 
 pipe. A learned horse found out a lady 
 in the company who wished to be married; 
 a gentleman who preferred a quart of beer 
 to going to church to hear a good sermon ; 
 a lady who liked to lie abed in the morn- 
 ing ; and made other discoveries which he 
 was requested to undertake by his master 
 in language not only " offensive to ears 
 polite," but to common decency. The ad- 
 mission to this show was a penny. 
 
 Show IV. 
 Atkin's Menagerie. 
 This inscription was in lamps on one of 
 the largest shows in the fair. The display 
 of show-cloths representing some of the 
 animals exhibited within, reached about 
 forty feet in heighth, and extended prob- 
 ably the same width. Thf admission was 
 sixpence. As a curiosity, and because it 
 is a singularly descriptive list, the printed 
 bill o<" the show is subjoined. 
 
 *' MORE WONDERS IJJ 
 
 ATKINS'S ROYAL MENAGERIE. 
 
 " Under the Patronage of HIS MA- 
 JESTY. 
 
 G. V| 
 
 " Wonderful Phenomenon in Nature ! 
 The singular and hitherto deemed impos- 
 sible occurrence of a LION and TI- 
 GRESS cohabiting and producing young, 
 has actually taken place in this mena- 
 gerie, at Windsor. The tigress, on Wed- 
 nesday, the 27th of October last, produced 
 three fine cubs ; one of them strongly 
 resembles the tigress ; the other two are 
 of a lighter colour, but striped. Mr. Atkins 
 had the honour (through the kind inter- 
 vention of the marquis of Conyngham,) 
 of exhibiting the lion-tigers to his ma- 
 jesty, on the first of November, 1824, at 
 the Royal Lodge, Windsor Great Park, 
 when his majesty was pleased to observe, 
 they were the greatest curiosity of the 
 beast creation he ever witnessed. 
 
 •' The royal striped Bengal Tigress has 
 again whelped three fine cubs, (April 
 22,) two males and one female: the males 
 are white, but striped ; the female resem- 
 bles the tigress, and singular to observe, 
 she fondles them with all the care of an 
 attentive mother. The sire of the young 
 cubs is the noble male lion. This re- 
 markable instance of subdued temper and 
 association of animals to permit the 
 keeper to enter their den, and introduce 
 their young to the spectators, is the great- 
 est phenomenon in natural philosophy, 
 
 "That truly singular and wonderful ani- 
 mal, the AUROCHOS. Words can only 
 convey but a very confused idea of this 
 animal's shape, for there are few so re- 
 markably formed. Its head is furnished 
 with two large horns, growing from the 
 forehead, in a form peculiar to no other 
 animal ; from the nostrils to the forehead, 
 is a stiff tuft of hair, and underneath the 
 jaw to the neck is a similar brush of hair, 
 and between the fore legs is hair growing 
 about a foot and a half long. The mane is 
 like that of a horse, white, tinged wilh 
 black, with a beautiful \oug flowing white 
 tail ; the eye remarkably keen, and as 
 large as the eye of the elephant : colour ot 
 the animal, dark chesnut ; the appear- 
 ance of the head, in some degree similar 
 to the buffalo, and in some part formed 
 
 )88 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 like tlie goat, the hoof being divided ; 
 such is the general outline of this quad- 
 ruped, which seems to partake of several 
 specie?. This beautiful animal was 
 brought over by captain White, from the 
 south of Africa, and landed in England, 
 September 20, 1823, and is the same 
 animal so frequently mistaken by travel- 
 lers for the unicorn : further to describe 
 its peculiarities would occupy too much 
 space in a handbill. The only one in 
 England. 
 
 " That colossal animal, the wonderful 
 performing 
 
 Upwards of ten feet high ! ! — Five tons 
 v/eight ! ! His consumption of hay, corn, 
 straw, carrots, water, &.c , exceeds SOOlbs. 
 daily. The elephant, the human race 
 excepted, is the most respectable of ani- 
 mals. In size, he surpasses all other ter- 
 restrial creatures, and by far exceeds any 
 other travelling animal in England. He 
 has ivory tusks, four feet long, one stand- 
 ing out on each side of his trunk. Bis 
 trunk serves him instead of hands and 
 arms, with which he can lift up and seize 
 the smallest as well as the largest objects. 
 He alone drags machines which six horses 
 cannot move. To his prodigious strength, 
 he adds courage, prudence, and an exact 
 obedience. He remembers favours as long 
 as injuries: in short, the sagacity and 
 knowledge of this extraordinary animal 
 are beyond any thing human imagination 
 can possibly suggest. He will lie down 
 and get up at the word of command, not- 
 withstanding the many fabulous tales of 
 their having no joints in their legs. He 
 will take a sixpence from the floor, and 
 place it in a box he has in the caravan ; 
 bolt and unbolt a door ; take his keeper's 
 hat off, and replace it ; and by the com- 
 mand of his keeper will perform so many 
 wonderful tricks, that he will not only 
 astonish and entertain the audience, but 
 justly prove himself the half-reasoning 
 beast. He is the only elephant now tra- 
 velling. 
 
 " A full grown LION and LIONESS, 
 with four cubs, produced December 12, 
 1824, at Cheltenham. 
 
 " Male Bengal Tiger. Next to the lion, 
 the tiger is the most tremendous of the 
 carnivorous class ; and whilst he possesses 
 all the bad qualities of the former, seems 
 .'o be a stranger to the got d ones : to 
 pride, to strength, to courage, the lion 
 adds greatness, and sonietinif-s, perhaps, 
 
 clemency ; while the tiger, without pro- 
 vocation, is fierce — without necessity, is 
 cruel. Instead of instinct, he hath no- 
 thing but a uniform rage, a blind fury, 
 so blind, indeed, so undistinguishing, that 
 he frequently devours his own progeny ; 
 and if the tigress offers to defend them, 
 he tears in pieces the dam herself. 
 
 " The Onagra, a native of the Levant, 
 the eastern parts of Asia, and the north- 
 ern parts of Africa. Tins race differs 
 from the zebra by the size of the body, 
 (^which is larger,) slenderness of the legs, 
 and lustre of the hair. The only one now 
 alive in England. 
 
 " Two Zebras, one full grown, the other 
 in its infant state, in which it seerns as 
 if the works of art liad been combined 
 with those of nature in this wonderful 
 production. In symmetry of shape, and 
 beauty of colour, it is the most elegant of 
 all quadrupeds ever presented ; uniting 
 the graceful figure of a horse, with the 
 fleetness of a stag : beautifully striped 
 with regular lines, black and white. 
 
 " A Nepaul Bison, only twenty-four 
 inches high. 
 
 " Panther, or spotted tiger of Buenos 
 Ayres, the only one travelling. 
 
 " A pair of rattle-tail Porcupines. 
 
 " Striped untameable Hi/cPua, or tiger 
 wolf. 
 
 " An elegant Leopard, the handsomest 
 marked animal ever seen. 
 
 " Spotted Laughing Hycena, the same 
 kind of animal described never to be 
 tamed ; but singular to observe, it is per- 
 fectly tame, and its attachment to a dog 
 in the same den is very remarkable. 
 
 " Tlie spotted Cavy. 
 
 "■ Pair of Jackalls. 
 
 " Pair of interesting Sledge Dogs 
 brought over by captain Parry from one 
 of the northern expeditions : they are 
 used by the Esquimaux to draw the 
 sledges on the ice, which they accomplish 
 with great velocity. 
 
 " A pair of Rackoons, from North 
 America. 
 
 *' The Oggouta, from Java. 
 
 " A pair of Jennetts, or wild cats. 
 
 " The Coatimondi, or ant-eater. 
 
 " A pair of thoso extraordinary and 
 rare birds, PELICANS of the wilderness. 
 The only two alive in the three kingdoms 
 — These birds have been represented on 
 all crests and coats of arms, to cut their 
 breasts open with the points of their bills, 
 and feed their young with their own blood, 
 and are justly allowed by all authors to 
 
 589 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 be the greatest cur'osity of the feathered 
 tribe. 
 
 " Ardea Dnbia, or adjutant of Bengal, 
 gigantic emew, or Linnaius's southern 
 ostrich. The peculiar characteristics that 
 distinguish this bird from the rest of the 
 feathered tribe ;— it comes from Brazil, 
 in the new continent ; it stands from 
 eight to nine feet high when full grown ; 
 it is too large to fly, but is capable o. 
 out-running the fleetest horses of Arabia ; 
 what is still more singular, every quill 
 produces two feathers. The only one 
 travelling. 
 
 " A pair of rapacious Condor-Minors, 
 from the interior of South America, the 
 largest birds of flight in the world when 
 full grown ; it is the same kind of bird 
 the Indians have asserted to carry off a 
 deer or young calf in their talons, and 
 two of them are sufficient to destroy a buf- 
 falo, and the wings are as much as eigh- 
 teen feet across. 
 
 " The great Horned Owl of Bohemia. 
 Several species of gold and silver phea- 
 sants, of the most splendid plumage, from 
 China and Peru. Yellow-crested cock- 
 atoo. Scarlet and buff macaws. — Admit- 
 tance to see the whole menagerie, \s. — 
 Children, 6rf. — Open from ten in the 
 forenoon till feeding-time, half-past-nine, 
 2*." 
 
 Here ends Atkins's bill; which was 
 plentifully stuck against the outside, and 
 the people " tumbled up" in crowds, to 
 the sound of clarionets, trombones, and a 
 long drum, played by eight performers in 
 scarlet beef-eater coats, with wild-skin 
 caps, v/ho sat fronting the crowd, while a 
 stentorian showman called out " don't be 
 deceived ; the great performing elephant 
 — the only lion and tigress in one den 
 that are to be seen in the Fair, or the pro- 
 prietor will forfeit a thousand guineas! 
 Walk in ! walk in !" I paid my sixpence, 
 and certainly the idea of the exhibition 
 raisedby the invitation and the programme, 
 was in no respect overcharged. The 
 " menagerie" was thoroughly clean, and 
 the condition of the assembled animals, 
 told that they were well taken care of. 
 The elephant, with his head through the 
 oars of his cage, whisked his proboscis 
 diligently in search of eatables from the 
 spectators, who supplied him with fruit 
 or biscuits, or handed him halfpence, 
 which he uniformly conveyed by his 
 trunk to a retailer of gingerbread, and 
 got the money's-worth in return. Then 
 he unbolted the door to let in his keeper, 
 
 and bolted it after him; took up a six- 
 pence with his trunk, lifted the lid of a 
 little box fixed against the wall and de- 
 posited it within it, and some time after- 
 wards relifted the lid, and taking out the 
 sixpence with a single motion, returned it 
 to the keeper; he knelt down when told, 
 fired off a blunderbuss, took off the 
 keeper's hat, and afterwards replaced it 
 on his head with as fitting propriety as 
 the man'sown hand could have done; in 
 short, he was perfectly docile, and pei- 
 formed various feats that justified the re- 
 putation of his species for high under- 
 standing. The keeper showed every 
 animal in an intelligent manner, and 
 answered the questions of the company 
 readily and with civility. His conduct 
 was rewarded by a good parcel cf half- 
 pence, when his hat went round with a 
 hope, that " the ladies and gentlemen 
 would not forget the keeper before he 
 showed the lion and the tigress." The 
 latter was a beautiful young animal, with 
 two playful cubs about the size of bull- 
 dogs, but without the least fierceness. 
 When the man entered the den, they 
 frolicked and climbed about him like kit- 
 tens ; he took them up in his arms, bolted 
 them in aback apartment, and after play- 
 ing with the tigress a little, threw back a 
 partition which separated her den from 
 the lion's, and then took the lion by the 
 beard. This was a noble animal; he was 
 couching, and being inclined to take his 
 rest, only answered the keeper's command 
 to rise, by extending his whole length, 
 and playfully putting up one of his mag- 
 nificent paws, as a cat does when in a 
 good humour. The man then took a 
 short whip, and after a smart lash or two 
 upon his back, the lion rose with a yawn, 
 and fixed his eye on his keeper with a 
 look that seemed to say — " Well, I sup 
 pose I must humour you." The man then 
 sat down at the back of the den, with his 
 back against the partition, and after some 
 ordering and coaxing, the tigress sat on 
 his right hand, and the lion on his left, 
 and, all three being thus seated, he threw 
 his arms round their necks, played with 
 their noses, and laid their heads in his 
 lap. He arose and the animals with him ; 
 the lion stood in a fine majestic position, 
 but the tigress reared, and putting one 
 foot over his shoulder, and patting him 
 with the other, as if she had been frolick- 
 ing with one of her cubs, he was obliged 
 to check her playfulness. Then by coax- 
 ing, and pushing him about, he caused the 
 
 590 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY ROOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 lion to sit down, and while in that posi- 
 tion opened the animal's ponderous jaws 
 with his hands, and tiirust his face down 
 into the lion's throat, w herein he s. routed, 
 and there held his head nearly a minute. 
 After this he held up a common hoop for 
 the tigress to leap through, and she did it 
 frequently. The lion seemed more difri- 
 cult to move to this sport. He did not 
 appear to be excited by command or en- 
 treaty ; at last, however, he went through 
 the hoop, and having been once roused, 
 repeated the action several times ; the 
 hoop was scarcely two feet in diameter. 
 The exhibition of these two animals con- 
 cluded by the lion lying down on his side, 
 when the keeper stretched himself to 
 his whole length upon him, and then 
 calling to the tigress she jumped upon 
 the man, extended herself with her paws 
 upon his shoulders, placed her face side- 
 ways upon his, and the whole three lay 
 quiescent till the keeper suddenly slippp.l 
 himself off the lion's side, with the tigress 
 on him, and the trio gambolled and rolled 
 about on the flo r of the den, like playful 
 children on the floor of a nursery. 
 
 Of the beasts there is not room to say 
 more, than that their number was sur- 
 prising, considering that they formed a 
 better selected collection, and showed in 
 higher condition from cleanliness and 
 good fe<'d:ng, than any assemblage I ever 
 saw. Their variety and beauty, with the 
 usual accessory of monkeys, made a 
 splendid picture. The birds were equally 
 admirable, especially the pelicans, and 
 the emew. This sixpenny " show" would 
 have furnished a dozen sixpenny " shows," 
 at least, to a " Bartlemy Fair" twenty 
 years ago. 
 
 Show V. 
 
 This was a mare with seven feet, in a 
 small temporary stable in the passage-way 
 from the road to the foot-pavement, op- 
 posite the George Inn, and adjoining 
 to the next show : the admission to this 
 " sight" was threepence. The following 
 is a copy of the printed bill : — 
 
 " To Sportsmen and Naturalists. — Now 
 exhibiting, one of the greatest living na- 
 tural curiosities in the world ; namely, a 
 thorough-bred chesnut MARE, with seven 
 legs ! four years of age, perfectly sound, 
 free from blemish, and shod on six of her 
 feet. She is very fleet in her paces, being 
 descended from that famous horse Julius 
 C'Esar, out of a thorouc:h-bred race mare 
 descended from Eclipse, and is re- 
 
 markably docile and temperate. She i? 
 the property of Mr. T. Checketts, of Bel 
 grave-hall, Leicestershire , and will bt 
 exhibited for a few days as above." 
 
 This mare was well worth seeing. 
 Each of her hind legs, besides its natural 
 and well-formed foot, had another grow- 
 ing out from the fetlock joint : one of these 
 additions was nearly the size of the natu- 
 ral foot ; the third and least grew from the 
 same joint of the fore-leg. Mr. Andrews, 
 the proprietor, said, that they grew slow- 
 ly, and that the new hoofs were, at first, 
 very soft, and exuded during the process 
 of growth. This mdividual, besides his 
 notoriety from the possession of this extra- 
 Cjj'dinary mare, attamed further distinc- 
 tion by having prosecuted to conviction, 
 at the Warwick assizes, in August, 1825, 
 a person named Andrews^ fur swindling. 
 He complained bitterly of the serious ex- 
 pense he had incurred in bringing the de- 
 predator to justice; his own costs, he 
 said, amounted to the sum of one hun- 
 dred and seventy pounds. 
 
 Snow VI. 
 
 Rkkardson's Theatre. 
 
 The outside of this show was in height 
 upwards of thirty feet, and occupied one 
 hundred feet in width. The platform on 
 the outside was very elevated ; the back 
 of it was lined with green baize, and 
 festooned with deeply-fringed crimson 
 curtains, except at two places where the 
 money-takers sat, which were wide and 
 roomy projections, fitted up like gothic 
 shrine-work, with columns and pinna- 
 cles. There were fifteen hundred varie- 
 gated illumination-lamps disposed over 
 various parts of this platform, some of 
 them depending from the top in the shape 
 of chandeliers and lustres, and others in 
 wreaths and festoons A band of ten 
 performers in scarlet dresses, similar to 
 those worn by beef-eaters, continually 
 played on clarionets, violins, trombones, 
 and the long drum ; while the perform.ers 
 paraded in their gayest " properties" be- 
 fore the gazing multitude. Audiences ra- 
 pidly ascended on each performance 
 being over, and paying their money to 
 the receivers in their gothic seats, had 
 tickets in return ; which, being taken at 
 the doors, admitted them to descend into 
 the " theatre." The following " bill of 
 the play" was obtained at the doors upon 
 L^ing requested : — 
 
 591 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 ^* Change of Performance each Day. 
 
 RICHARDSON'S 
 
 THEATRE. 
 
 2'hiit Day will he performed, an entire New 
 
 Melo-Drama, called the 
 
 WANDERING 
 
 OUTLAW, 
 
 Or, the Hour of Retribution. 
 
 Gustavus, Elector of Saxony, Mr. f Fright. 
 
 Orsina, Baron of Holstein, Mr. Cooijer. 
 
 U'ric and Albert,Vassals to Orsina, 
 
 Messrs. Grove and Moore. 
 
 St.CUir, theWanderingOutlaw,A/r.Sm?7A. 
 
 \linalda, tVe Accusing Spirit,Mr.Da}-//Hg-. 
 
 Monks, Vassals, Hunters, &c. 
 
 Rosabella, Wife to the Outlaw, Mrs. Smith. 
 
 Nuns and Ladies. 
 
 Tlie Piece concludes with the Death of 
 Orsina, and the Appearance of the 
 
 ACCUSING SPIRIT. 
 
 The Entertainments to conclude with a New 
 
 Comic Harlequinade, with New Scenery, 
 Tricks, Dresses, and Decorations, culled, 
 
 HARLEQUIN 
 
 FA US TUS! 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 DEVIL WILL HAVE HIS OWN. 
 
 Luciferno, Mr. Thomas 
 Daemon Amozor, afterwards Pantaloon, 
 Mr. Wilkinson. — Daemon Ziokos, af- 
 terwards Clown, Mr. Hayward. — Vio- 
 lencello Player, Mr. Hartem. — Baker, 
 Mr. Thompson. — Landlord, Mr. Wil- 
 KiNS. — Fisherman, Mr. Rae. — Doctor 
 Faustus, afterwards Harlequin, Mr. 
 Salter, 
 Adelada, afterwards Columbine, 
 Miss Wilmot. 
 Attendant Daemons, Sprites, Fairies, Bal- 
 lad Singers, Flower Girls, &c. &c. 
 
 The Pantomime will finish with 
 
 A SPLENDID PANORAMA, 
 
 Painted by the First Artists. 
 BOXES, 2s. PIT, 1* GALLERY, 6rf. 
 
 The theatre was about one hundred feet 
 long, and thirty feet wide, hung all round 
 with green baize, and crimson festoons. 
 
 " Ginger beer, apples, nuts, and a bill of 
 the play,"were cried; the charge for a bill to 
 a person not provided with one was " a 
 penny." The seats were rows of planks, 
 rising gradually from the ground at the 
 end, and facing the stage, without any dis • 
 tinction of " boxes, pit, or gallery." The 
 stage was elevated, and there was a 
 painted proscenium like that in a regular 
 theatre, with a green curtain, and the 
 king's arms above, and an orchestra 
 Mned with crimson cloth, and five violin- 
 players in military dresses. Between the 
 orchestra and the bottom row of seats, 
 was a large space, which, after the seats 
 were filled, and greatly to the discom- 
 fiture of the lower seat-holders, was nearly 
 occupied by spectators. There were at 
 least a thousand persons present. 
 
 The curtain drew up and presented the 
 " Wandering Outlaw," with a forest scene 
 and a cottage ; the next scone was a 
 castle ; the third was another scene in the 
 forest. The second act commenced with 
 a scene of an old church and a market- 
 place. The second scene was a prison, 
 and a ghost appeared to the tune of the 
 "evening hymn." The third scene was the 
 castle that formed the second scene in the 
 first act, and the performance was here 
 enlivened by a murder. The fourth scene 
 was rocks, with a cascade, and there was 
 a procession to an unexecuted execution ; 
 for a ghost appeared, and saved the 
 " Wandering Outlaw" from a fierce-look- 
 ing headsman, and the piece ended. 
 Then a plump little woman sung, " He 
 loves and he rides away," and the curtain 
 drew up to " Harlequin Faustus," where- 
 in, after columbine and a clown, the most 
 flaming character was the devil, with a 
 red face and hands, in a red Spanish 
 mantle and vest, red " continuations," 
 stockings and shoes ditto to follow, a red 
 Spanish hat and plume above, and a red 
 " brass bugle hern." As soon as the fate 
 of " Faustus" was concluded, the sound 
 of a gong announced the happy event, and 
 these performances were, in a quarter of 
 an hour, repeated to another equally in- 
 telligent and brilliant audience. 
 
 Show VII. 
 ONLY A PENNY. 
 
 There never was such times, indeed ! 
 Nero 
 The largest Lion in the Fair for a Hun- 
 dred Guineas! 
 These inscriptions, witn figured show 
 cloths, were in front of a really good er 
 
 592 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK- SEPTEMBER 5 
 
 hibition of a fine lion, with leopards, and 
 various other "beasts of the forest." They 
 were mostly docile and in good condition. 
 One of the leopards was carried by his 
 keeper a pick-a-back. Such a show for 
 " onlj a penny" was astonishing. 
 Show VIIl. 
 "SAMWELL'S COMPANY." 
 Another penny show : " The Wonder- 
 ful Children on the Tight Rope, and 
 Dancing Horse, Only a Penny 1" I paid 
 my penny to the money-taker, a slender 
 *' fine lady," witli three feathers in a 
 "jewelled turban," and a dress of blue 
 and white muslin and silver ; and within- 
 side I saw the " fat, contented, easy" 
 proprietor, who was arrayed in corres- 
 ponding magnificence. If he loved 
 leanness, it was in his " better half," for 
 himself had none of it. Obesity had dis- 
 qualified him for activity, and therefore 
 ai his immensely tight and large satin 
 .acket, he was, as much as possible, the 
 active commander of his active perform- 
 ers. He superintended the dancing of a 
 young female on the tight rope. Then he 
 announced, " A little boy will dance a 
 hornpipe on the rope," and he ordered 
 his "band" inside to play; this was 
 obeyed without difficulty, for it merely 
 consisted of one man, wlio blew a horn- 
 pipe tune on a Pan's-pipe ; while it went 
 on, the"little boy"danced on the tight rope; 
 so far it was a hornpipe dance arwl no far- 
 ther. "The little boy will stand oTi his 
 head on the rope," said the manager, and 
 the little boy stood on his head accord- 
 ingly Tlien another female danced on 
 the slack-wire ; and after her came a 
 horse, not a " dancing horse," but a 
 " learned" horse, quite as learned as the 
 horse at Bull's theatre, in Show III. 
 There was enough for " a penny." 
 Show IX. 
 « CLARKE FROM ASTLEY'S." 
 This was a large show, with the back 
 against the side of" Samwell's Company," 
 and its front in a line with Hosier-lane, 
 and therefore looking towards Smithfield- 
 bars. Large placards were pasted at the 
 side, with these words, " Clarke's from 
 Asti.ey's, Lighted with Real Gas, In and 
 Outside." The admission to this show 
 was sixpence. The platform outside was 
 at least ten feet high, and spacious above, 
 and here there was plentv of light. The 
 interior was very large, and lighted by 
 only a single hoop, about two feet six 
 inches in diameter, with little jets of gas 
 about an inch and a half apart. A large 
 
 circle or ride was formed on t'le ground. 
 The enlertamment commenced by a mac 
 dancing on the tight-rope. The rope was 
 removed, and a light bay horse was 
 mounted by a female in trowsers, with a 
 pink gown fully frilled, flounced, and rib- 
 ijoned, with the shoulders in large puffs. 
 Wliile the liorse circled the ring at full 
 speed, she danced upon him, and skipped 
 with a hoop like a skipping-rope; she 
 performed other dexterous feats, and con- 
 cluded by dancing on the saddle with a 
 flag in each hand, while tlie horse flew 
 round the ring with great velocity. These 
 and the subsequent performances were 
 enlivened by tunes from a clarionet and 
 horn, and jokes from a clown, who, when 
 she had concluded, said to an attendant, 
 " Now, John, take the horse off, and 
 whatever you do, rub him well down with 
 a cabbage." Then a man rode and 
 danced on another horse, a very fine an' 
 mal, and leaped from him three tim<e- 
 over garters, placed at a considerable 
 height and width apart, alighting on the 
 horse's back while he was going round. 
 This rider was remarkably dexterous. In 
 conclusion, the clown got up and rode 
 with many antic tricks, till, on the sud- 
 den, an apparently drunken fellow rushed 
 from the audience into the ring, and be- 
 gan to pull the clown from the horse. 
 The manager interfered, and the people 
 cried — " Turn him out ;" but the man per- 
 sisted, and the clown getting off", offered 
 to help him up, and threw him over the 
 horse's back to the ground. At length 
 the intruder was seated, with his face to 
 the tail, though he gradually assumed a 
 proper position ; and riding as a man 
 llioroughly intoxicated would ride, fell off; 
 he then threw off his hat and great coat, 
 and threw off his waistcoat, and then an 
 under-waistcoat, and a third, and a fourth, 
 and more than a dozen waistcoats. Upon 
 taking off the last, his trowsers fell down 
 and he appeared in his shirt ; whereupon 
 he crouched, and drawing his shirt off" in 
 a twinkling, appeared in a handsome 
 fancy dress, leaped into the saddle of the 
 horse, rode standing with great grace, re- 
 ceived great applause, made his bow, and 
 so the performance concluded. 
 
 This show was the last in the line on 
 the west side of Smithfield. 
 
 Snow X. 
 
 The line of shows on the east of Smith- 
 field, commencing atLong-lane,began with 
 " The Indian IFoman — Chinese Lady and 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 593 
 
 2 Q 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Dwarf" &c. A clown outside cried, 
 ** Be "assured they 're alive — only one 
 penny each." The crowd was great, and ' 
 the shows to be seen were many, I there- 
 fore did not go in. 
 
 Suow XI. 
 
 On the outside was inscribed, " To be 
 teen alive! The Prodigies of Nature! — 
 The JVild Indian JFoman and Child, ivith 
 her Nurse from her own country. — I'he 
 Silver-haired Lady and Dwarf. Only a 
 Penny." — Theshowmaster made a speech : 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, before I show 
 you the wonderful prodigies of nature, let 
 me introduce you to the wonderful works 
 of art ;" and then he drew a curtain, where 
 some wax-work figures stood. " This," 
 said he, " ladies and gentlemen, is the 
 famous old Mother Shipton ; and here is 
 the unfortunate Jane Shore, the beautiful 
 mistress of king Edward the Second ; 
 next to her is his majesty king George the 
 Fourth of most glorious memory ; and 
 this is queen Elizabeth in all her glory ; 
 ihen here you have the princess Amelia, 
 the daughter of his late majesty, who is 
 dead ; this is Mary, queen of Scots, who 
 had her head cut off; and this isO'Bryen, 
 the famous Irish giant ; this man, here, is 
 Thornton, who was tried for the murder 
 of Mary Ashford ; and this is the exact 
 resemblance of Othello, the moor of 
 Venice, who was a jealous husband, and 
 depend upon it every man who is jealous 
 of his wife, will be as black as that negro. 
 Now, ladies and g-entlemen, the two next 
 are a wonderful couple, John and Mar- 
 garet Scott, natives of Dunkeld, in Scot- 
 land ; they lived about ninety years ago ; 
 John Scott was a hundred and five years 
 old when he died, and Margaret lived 
 to be a hundred and twelve ; and what is 
 more remarkable, there >s not a soul 
 living can say he ever heard them quar- 
 rel." Here he closed the curtain, and 
 while undrawing another, continued thus: 
 " Having shown you the dead, I have 
 now to exhibit to you two of the most ex- 
 traordinary wonders of the Imiig ; this," 
 said he, " is the ■widow of a New Zealand 
 Chief, and this is the, little old woman of 
 Bagdad ; she is thirty inahes high.twenty- 
 "wo years of age, and a native of Boston, 
 in Lincolnshire." Each of these living 
 subjects was quite as wonderful as the 
 waxen ones : tlie exhibition, which lasted 
 about five minutes, was ended by court- 
 eous thanks for the " approbation of the 
 
 ladies and gentlemen present.'' and an 
 evident desire to hurry them off lest 
 they might be more curious than his own 
 
 curiosities. 
 
 Show XII. 
 
 " Only a penny" was the price of ad- 
 mission to " The Black JVild Indian JFo- 
 man. — The White Indian Youth — and the 
 fVelsh Dwarf. — All Alive !" There was 
 this further announcement on the outside, 
 " The Young American ivill Perform af- 
 ter the Manner of the French Jugglers at 
 Fauxhall Gardens, vjith Balls, Rings, 
 Daggers," &c. When the " Welsh 
 dwarf" came on he was represented to 
 be Mr. William Phillips, of Denbigh, fif- 
 teen years of age. The " white Indian 
 youth" was an Esquimaux, and the ex- 
 hibitor assured the visitors upon his vera- 
 city, that " the black wild Indian wo- 
 man" was " a court lady of the island 
 of Madagascar." The exhibitor himself 
 was "the young American," an intelli- 
 gent and clever youth in a loose striped 
 jacket or frock tied round the middle. 
 He commenced his performances by 
 throwing up three balls, which he kept 
 constantly in the air, as he afterwards 
 did four, and then five, with great dex- 
 terity, using his hands, shoulders, and 
 elbows, apparently with equal ease. He 
 afterwards threw up three rings, each 
 about four inches in diameter, and then 
 four, which he kept in motion with simi- 
 lar success. To end his performance he 
 produced three knives, which, by throw- 
 ing up and down, he contrived to pre- 
 serve in the air altogether. These feats 
 forcibly reminded me of the Anglo-Saxon 
 Glee-man, who " threw three balls and 
 three knives alternately in the air, and 
 caught them, one by one, as they fell ; 
 returning them again in regular rota- 
 tion."* The young American's dross and 
 knives were very similar to the Glee- 
 man's, as Strutt has figured them from a 
 MS. in the Cotton collection. This 
 youth's was one of the best exhibitions in 
 the Fair, perhaps the very best. The ad- 
 mission it will be remembered was " only 
 a penny." 
 
 Show XI IL 
 
 The inscriptions and paintings on the 
 outside of this show were, " The White 
 
 59J: 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5 
 
 / figro, who teas rescued from her Black 
 Parents by the bravery of a British Olfi- 
 cer — the only Jfhite Negro Girl Alive. — 
 The Great Giantess and Dwarf. — Six Cu- 
 riosities Alive ! — only a Penny to sec 
 them All Alive !" While waiting a few 
 minutes till the place filled, I had leisure 
 to observe that one side oi" the place was 
 covered by a criminal attempt to repre- 
 sent a tread-mill, in oil colours, and 
 the operators at work upon it, superin 
 tended by gaolers, &cc. On the other side 
 were live monkies m cages ; an old bear 
 in a jacket, and sundry other animals. 
 Underneath the wheels of the machine, 
 other living creatures were moving about, 
 and these turned out to be the poor neg- 
 lected children of the showman and his 
 wife. The miserable condition of these 
 infants, who were puddling in the mud, 
 while their parents outside were turning 
 a bit of music, and squalling and bawling 
 with all their might, " walk in — only a 
 penny," to get spectators of the objects 
 that were as yet concealed on their "proud 
 eminence," the caravan, by a thin cur- 
 tain, raised a gloom in the mind. I was 
 in a reverie concerning these beings when 
 the curtam was withdrawn, and there 
 stood confessed to sight, she whom the 
 showman called " the tall lady," and 
 " the white negro, the greatest curio- 
 sity ever seen — the first that has been 
 exhibited since the reign of George the 
 Second — look at her head and hair, ladies 
 and gentlemen, and feel it ; there's no 
 deception, it's like ropes of wool." Tliere 
 certainly was not any deception. The 
 girl herself, who had the flat nose, thick 
 lips, and peculiarly shaped scull of the 
 negro, stooped to have her head examin- 
 ed, and being close to her I felt it. Her 
 hair, if it could be called hair, was of a 
 dirtyish flaxen hue ; it hung m ropes, of 
 a clothy texture, the thickness of a quill, 
 and from four to six inches in length. 
 Her skin was the colour of an European's. 
 Afterwards stepped forth a little person- 
 age about three feet high, in a military 
 dress, with top boots, who strutted his 
 tiny legs, and held his head aloft with not 
 less importance than the proudest gene- 
 ral officer could assume upon his promo- 
 tion to the rank of field-martial. Mr. 
 Samuel Williams,whose versatile and able 
 pencil has frequently enriched this work, 
 visited the Fair after me, and was equally 
 struck by his appearance. He favours 
 me with" the subjoined engraving of this 
 
 SLittle iHatt» 
 
 I took my leave of this show pondering 
 on " the different ends our fates assign," 
 but the jostling of a crowd in Smithfield, 
 and the clash of instruments, were not 
 favourable to musing, and I walked into 
 the next. 
 
 Show XIV. 
 
 BROWN'S GRAND TROOP, 
 
 FROM PARIS. 
 
 This was * only a penny" exhibition, 
 notwithstanding that it elevated the king's 
 arms, and bore a fine-sounding name. Th« 
 performance began by a clown goinj, 
 round and whipping a ring ; that is, mak- 
 ing a circular space amongst the specta- 
 tors with a whip in his hand to force the 
 refractory. This being effected, a conjurer 
 walked up to a table and executed seve- 
 ral tricks with cups and balls ; giving a 
 boy beer to drink out of a funnel, mak- 
 ing him blow through it to show that it 
 was empty, and afterwards applying it to 
 each of the boy's ears, from whence, 
 through the funnel, the beer appeared to 
 reflow, and poured on the ground. After- 
 wards girls danced on the single and dou- 
 ble slack wire, and a melancholy looking 
 clown, among other things, said they were 
 " as clever as the barber and blacksmith 
 who shaved magpies at twopence a 
 dozen." The show concluded with a 
 learned horse. 
 
 595 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Snow XV. 
 
 Another, and a very good menagerie — 
 the admission " only a penny !" It was 
 " George Ballard's Caravan," wiili 
 " The Lioness that attacked the Exeter 
 mail. — The great Lion. — Royal Tiger. — 
 Large White Bear. — Tiger Owls," with 
 monkies, and other animals, the usual ac- 
 cessories to the interior of a managerie. 
 
 The chief attraction was " the Lion- 
 ess." Her attach on the E.veter Mail 
 was on a Sunday evening, in the year 
 1816. The coach had arrived at Wmter- 
 slow-hut, seven miles on the London side 
 of Salisbury. In a most extraordinary 
 xnanner, at the moment when the coach- 
 man pulled up 10 deliver his bags, one of 
 the leaders was suddenly seized by some 
 ferocious animal. This produced a great 
 confusion and alarm ; two passengers 
 who were inside the mail got out, ran 
 into the house, and locked themselves up 
 in a room above stairs ; the horses kicked 
 and plunged violently, and it was with 
 difficulty the coachman could prevent the 
 carriage from being overturned. It was 
 soon perceived by the coachman and 
 guard, by the light of the lamps, that the 
 animal which had seized the ho-rse was a 
 huge lioness. A large mastiff dog came 
 up and attacked her fiercely, on which she 
 quitted the horse and turned upon him. 
 The dog fled, but was pursued and killed 
 by the lioness, within forty yards of the 
 place. It appears that the beast had 
 escaped from its caravan which was stand- 
 ing on the road side with others belong- 
 ing to the proprietors of the menagerie, 
 on their way to Salisbury Fair. An alarm 
 being given, the keepers pursued and 
 hunted the lioness into a hovel under a 
 granary, which served for keeping agri- 
 cultural implemrnts. About half-past 
 eight they had secured her so effectually, 
 by barricading the place, as to prevent 
 her escape. The horse, when first at- 
 tacked, fought with great spirit, and if at 
 liberty, would probably have beaten 
 down his antagonist with his fore feet, 
 but in plunging he embarrassed himself 
 in tfie harness. The lioness attacked him 
 in the front, and springing at his throat, 
 fastened the talons of her fore feet on 
 each side of his neck, close to the head, 
 while the talons of her hind feet were 
 forced into his chest. In this situation 
 she hung, while the blood was seen flow- 
 ing as if a vein had been opened by a 
 fleam. lie was a capital horse, the off- 
 leader, the best in the set. The expies 
 
 sions of agony in Irs tears and ^moans 
 were most pitious and affecting. A fresh 
 horse having been procured, the mail 
 drove on, after having been detained 
 three quarters of an hour. As the mail 
 drew up it stood exactly abreast of the ca- 
 ravan from which the lioness made the 
 assault. The coachman at first proposed 
 to alight and slab the lioness with a 
 knife, but was prevented by the remon- 
 strance of the guard; who observed, 
 that he would expose himself to certain 
 destruction, as the animal if attacked 
 would naturally turn upon him and tear 
 him to pieces. The prudence of the ad- 
 vice was clearly proved by the fate of the 
 dog. It was the engagement between 
 him and the lioness that aflbrded time for 
 the keepers to rally. After she had dis- 
 engaged herself from the horse, she did 
 not seem to be in any immediate hurry to 
 move ; for, whether she had carried off 
 with her, as prey, the dog she had killed, 
 or from some other cause, she continued 
 growling and howling in so loud a tone, 
 as to be heard for nearly half a mile. All 
 liad called out loudly to the guard to 
 despatch her with his blunderbuss, which 
 lie appeared disposed to do, but tiie owner 
 cried out to him, "For God's sake do not 
 kill her — she cost me 5001., and she will 
 be as quiet as a lamb if not irritated." 
 This arrested his hand, and he did not 
 fire. She was afterwards easily enticed 
 by the keepers, and placed in her usual 
 confinement. 
 
 The collection of animals in Ballard's 
 menagerie is altogether highly interest- 
 ing, but it seems impossible that the pro- 
 prietor could exhibit them for " only a 
 penny" in any other place than " Bartho- 
 lomew Fair," where the people assemble 
 in great multitudes, and the shows are 
 thronged the whole day. 
 
 Show X\T, 
 
 •'* Exhibition of Real fFoudcrs.'' 
 This announcement, designed to as- 
 tonish, was inscribed over the show with 
 the usual notice, " Only a Penny !" — the 
 "Wonders of the Deep!" the "Prodigies 
 of the Agel" and " the Learned Pig!" in 
 large letters. The printed bill is a curi- 
 osity : — 
 
 To be Seen in a Commodious Pavilion m 
 this Place. 
 
 REAL \VONDERS I 
 
 SEE AND BELIE VF, 
 
 596 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Have you seen 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL DOLPHIN 
 
 The Performing Pig Sf the Mermaid ? 
 
 If not, pray do ! as the exhibition con- 
 tains more variety than any other in Eng- 
 land. Those ladies and gentlemen who 
 may be pleased to honour it with a visit 
 will be truly gratified. 
 
 TOBY, 
 
 The Swinish Philosopher, and Ladies' For 
 tune Teller, 
 
 That beautiful animal appears to be en- 
 dowed with the natural sense of the hu- 
 man being. lie is in colour the most 
 beautiful of his race ; in symmetry the 
 most perfect ; in temper the most docile; 
 and far exceeds any thing yet seen for his 
 intelligent performances. He is beyond 
 all conception; he has a peifect know- 
 ledge of the alphabet, understands arith- 
 metic, and will spell and cast accounts, 
 tell the points of the globe, the dice- 
 box, the hour by any person's watch, 
 &c. 
 
 The Real Head of 
 
 MAHOWRA, 
 
 3! XIX. ijANNIBAL CHIEF- 
 
 At the same time, the public will have 
 an opportunity of seeing what was exhi- 
 bited so long in London, under the title 
 of 
 
 Tiie wonder of the deep! not a fac-simile 
 or copy, but the same curiosity. 
 
 Admission Moderate* 
 
 *»* Open from Eleven in the Morning till 
 Ni7ie in the Evening. 
 The great "prodigies" of this show 
 were the " performing pig," and the per- 
 lorming show-woman. She drew forth 
 ihe learning of the ^^ sivbmh philosopher" 
 admirably. He told his letters, and *' got 
 
 into spelling" with his nose; and could 
 do a sum of two figures " in addition.'' 
 Then, -n her desire, he routed out those 
 of the company who were in love, or ad- 
 dicted to indulgence; and peremptorily 
 grunted, that a " round, fat, oily"-faced 
 personage at my elbow, " loved good 
 eating, and a pipe, and a jug of good ale, 
 better than the sight of the Living Skele- 
 ton !" The beautiful dolphin was a fish- 
 skin stufl'ed. The tnermaid was the last 
 manufactured imposture of that name, ex- 
 hibited for halt-a-crown in Piccadilly, 
 about a year before. The real head of 
 Muhowra, the cannibal chief, was a skull 
 that might have been some English clod- 
 pole's, with a dried skin over it, and be- 
 wigged ; but it looked sufficiently terrific, 
 when the lady show-woman put the can- 
 dle in at the neck, and the flame illumin- 
 ated the yellow integument over the 
 holes where eyes, nose, and a tongue had 
 been. There was enough for " a penny !" 
 
 SuGW XVII. 
 
 Another " Only a penny!" with pic- 
 tures "large as life" on the show-cloths 
 outside of the " living wonders within," 
 and the following inscription : — 
 
 ALL ALIVE! 
 
 No False Paintings ' 
 THE WILD INDIAN, 
 
 GIANT BOY, 
 
 And ihe 
 
 DWARF FAMILY, 
 
 Never here before, 
 
 TO BE SFEN ALIVE ! 
 
 Mr. Thomas Day was the reputed fa- 
 ther of the dwarf family, and exhibited 
 himself as small enough for a great won- 
 der; as he was. He was also proprietor of 
 the show j and said he was thirty-fiva 
 years of age, and only thirty-five inches 
 high. He fittingly descanted on the liv- 
 ing personages in whom he had a vested 
 interest. There was a boy six years old, 
 only twenty-seven inches high. The JVild 
 Indian was a civil-looking man of colour. 
 The Giant Boy, William Wilkinson 
 Whitehead, was fourteen years of age on 
 the •26th of March last, stood five feet two 
 inches high, measured five feet round the 
 body, twenty-seven inches across ihe 
 
 597 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 shoulders, twenty inches round the arm, 
 tjventy-four inches round the calf, thirty- 
 one inches round the thigh, and weighed 
 twenty-two stone. His father and mo- 
 ther were " travelling merchants" of 
 Manchester; lie was born at Glasgow dur- 
 ing one of their journies, and was as fine 
 a youth as 1 ever saw, handsomely form- 
 ♦»d, of fair complexion, an intelligent 
 
 countenance, active in motion, and o* 
 sensible speech. He was lightly dressea 
 in plaid to show his limbs, with a bonnet 
 of the same. The artist with me sketched 
 Lis appearance exactly as we saw him, 
 and as the present engraving now repre- 
 sents him ; it is a good likeness of his 
 features, as well as of his form 
 
 THE GIANT BOY. 
 
 Snow XVni. 
 
 " Holdens GlassfVorking and Bloiv'ing." 
 
 This was the last show on the east-side 
 of Smithfield. It was limited to a single 
 caravan ; having seen exhibitions of the 
 same kind, and the evening getting late, 
 
 I declined entering, though " Only a 
 
 penny 
 
 Snow XIX. 
 
 This was the first show on the south- 
 side of Smithfield. It stood, therefore, 
 with its side towards Cloth-fair, and the 
 back towards the corner of Duke-street. 
 
 398 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 The admission was " Only a penny !'' and 
 Ihe paintings flared on the sliow-cloths 
 with this inscription, " They're all Alive 
 Inside .' Be assured They're All Alive ! 
 — The Yorkshire (liautess. — JVaterloo 
 <riaut. — Indian Chief. — Only a Penny /'' 
 An overgrown girl was the Yorkshire 
 Giantess. A large man with a tail, and 
 his hair frizzed and powdered, aided by a 
 sort of uniform coat and a plaid rocque- 
 luire, made the /Fa^eWoo GiM'ii. The ab- 
 dication of such an Indian Chief as this, in 
 favour of Bartholomew Fair, was probably 
 forced upon him by his tribe. 
 
 Show XX. 
 
 The " Greatest of all J f onder s !— Gi- 
 antess and Two Dwarfs. — Only a Penny .'" 
 Tliey were painted on the show-cloths 
 quite as little, and quite as large, as life. 
 The dwarfs inside were dwarfish, and the 
 " Somersa* girl, taller than any man in 
 England,'' (for so said the show-cloth,) 
 arose from a chair, wherein she was seated, 
 to the height of six feet nine inches and 
 three quarters, with, " ladies and gentle- 
 men, your most obedient." She was 
 good looking and affable, and obliged the 
 "ladies and gentlemen" by taking off 
 her tight fitting slipper and handing it 
 round. It was of such dimension, that 
 the largest man present could have put 
 his booted foot into it. She said that her 
 name was Elizabeth Stock, and that she 
 was only sixteen years old. 
 
 Snow XXI. 
 
 CHAPPELL— PIKE. 
 
 This was a very large show, without 
 any show-cloths or other announcement 
 outside to intimate the performances, ex- 
 cept a clown and several male and female 
 performers, who strutted the platform in 
 their exhibiting dresses, and in dignified 
 silence ; but the clown grimaced, and, as- 
 sisted by others, bawled "Only a penny," 
 till the place filled, and then the show 
 commenced. There was slack-rope danc- 
 ing, tumbling, and other representations 
 as at Ball's theatre, but better executed. 
 
 Show XXII. 
 
 WOMBWELL. 
 
 The back of this man's menagerie abut- 
 ted on the side of the last show, and ran 
 the remaining length of the north-side of 
 Smithfield, with the front looking towards 
 
 Giltspur-street ; at that entrance into the 
 Fair it was the first show. This front was 
 entirely covered by painted show-cloths 
 representing the animals, with the 
 proprietor's name in immense letters 
 abovt^, and the words " The Conquering 
 Lion' very conspicuous. There were 
 other show-cloths along the whole length 
 of the side, surmounted by this inscrip- 
 tion, stretching out in one line of large 
 capital letters, "Nero and Wallace; 
 THE SAME Lions that fought at War- 
 wick." One of the front show-cloths re- 
 presented one of the fights ; a lion stood 
 up with a dog in his mouth, cranched be- 
 tween his grinders ; the blood ran from 
 his jaws ; his left leg stood upon another 
 dog squelched by his weight. A third 
 dog was in the act of flying at him fero- 
 ciously, and one, wounded and bleeding, 
 was fearfully retreating. There were 
 seven other show-cloths on this front, 
 with the words "Nero and Wallace" 
 between them. One of these show-cloths, 
 whereon the monarch of the forest was 
 painted, was inscribed, " Nero, the Great 
 Lion, from Caffraria !' 
 
 The printed bill described the whole 
 collection to be in " fine order." Six- 
 pence was the entrance money demanded, 
 which having paid, I entered the show 
 early in the afternoon, although it is now 
 mentioned last, in conformity to its posi 
 tion in the Fair. I had experienced some 
 inconvenience, and witnessed some irre- 
 gularities incident to a mixed multitude 
 filling so large a space as Smithfield ; yet 
 no disorder without, was equal to the dis- 
 order within Wombwell's. There was 
 no passage at the end, through which 
 persons might make their way out : per- 
 haps this was part of the proprietor's 
 policy, for he might imagine that the 
 universal disgust that prevailed in Lon- 
 don, while he was manifesting his brutal 
 cupidity at Warwick, had not subsided ; 
 and that it was necessary his show-place 
 here should appear to fill well on the 
 first day of the Fair, lest a report of ge- 
 neral indifference to it, should induce 
 many persons to forego the gratification 
 of their curiosity, in accommodation to the 
 natural and right feeling that induced a 
 determination not to enter the exhibition 
 of a man who had freely submitted his ani- 
 mals to be tortured. Be that as it may, his 
 show, when I saw it, was a shamefu* 
 scene. There was no person in attend- 
 ance to exhibit or point out the animals 
 They were arranged on one side only, and 
 
 599 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 r made my way with difficulty towards 
 (he end, where a loutish fellow with a 
 broomstick, stood against one of the dens, 
 frDm whom I could only obtain this in- 
 formation, that it was not his business to 
 show tlie beasts, and that tlie showman 
 would begin at a proper time. I pa- 
 tiently waited, expecting some announce- 
 ment of this person's arrival ; but no inti- 
 mation of it was given ; at length I dis- 
 covered over tlie heads of the unconscious 
 crowd around, tliat the showman, who 
 was evidently under the influence of 
 drink, had already made his way one 
 third along tlie sh.ow. With great diffi- 
 culty I forced myself through the swelter- 
 ing press somewhat nearer to him, an'' 
 managed to get opposite Nero's den, 
 which lie had by that time reached and 
 clambered into, and into which he invited 
 any of tlie spectators who chose to pay 
 him sixpence each, as many of them did, 
 for the sake of saying that they had been 
 in the den with the noble animal, that 
 Wombwell,his master, had exposed to be 
 baited by bull-dogs. The man was as 
 greedy of gain as his master, and there- 
 fore without the least regard to those who 
 wislied for geneial information concerning 
 the different animals, he maintained his 
 post as long as there was a prospect of 
 getting tlie sixpences. Pressure and heat 
 were now so excessive, that I was com- 
 pelled to struggle n.y way, as many others 
 did, towards the aoor at the front end, 
 for the sake of getting into the air. Un- 
 questionably I should not have entered 
 Wombwell's, but for the purpose of de- 
 scribing his exliibition in common with 
 others. As I had failed in obtaining the 
 information I souglit, and could not get a 
 printed bill when I entered, I re-ascended 
 to endeavour for one again ; here I saw 
 Wombwell, to whom I civilly stated the 
 great inconvenience within, which a little 
 alteration would have obviated ; he af- 
 fected to know nothing about it, refused 
 to be convinced, and exhibited himself, to 
 my judgment of him, with an understand- 
 ing and feelings perverted by avarice. 
 He is undersized in mind as well as form, 
 " a weazen, sharp-faced man," with a 
 skin reddened by more than natural spi- 
 rit*^, am he speaks in a voice and lan- 
 guage tluit accord with his feelings and 
 propensities. His bill mentions, " A re- 
 markably fine tigress in the same den 
 with a noble British lion ! I" I looked for 
 this companionship in his menagerie, 
 Tvithout being able to discover it. 
 
 Here ends my account of the various 
 shows in the Fair. In passing the stalls, 
 the followin-g bill was slipped into my 
 liand, by a man stationed to give them 
 away. 
 
 SERIOUS NOTICE, 
 
 IN PERFECT CONFJDBNCF. 
 
 The following extraordinary comic per. 
 formances at 
 
 Can only be given during the present 
 week ; the proprietors, therefore, most 
 respectfully inform that fascinating sex, 
 so properly distinguished by the appro- 
 }fv\Ate appellction of 
 
 THE FAIR ! 
 
 And all those well inclined gentlemen 
 who are happy enough to protect tliem, 
 that the amusements will consist of a 
 romantic tale, of mysterious horror and 
 broad grin, never acted, called the 
 
 ENCHANTED 
 
 OR, 
 
 WINKI THE WITCH, 
 And the Ladies of Samarcand. 
 
 A most whimsical burletta, which sends 
 
 people home perfectly exhausted from 
 
 uninterrupted risibility, called 
 
 THE LAWYER, THE JEW, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE YORKSHIREllVrAN. 
 
 With, by request of 75 distinguished fa- 
 milies, and a party of 5, that never-to-be- 
 sufficiently-praised pantomime, called 
 
 i^flasic m Cluci Colours?; 
 
 OR, 
 
 FAIRY BLUE & TAIHY RED : 
 
 Or, Harlequin and the Marble Rock. 
 
 It would be perfectly superfluous for 
 any man in his senses to attempt any 
 thing more than the mere announcement 
 in recommendation of the above unparal- 
 leled representations, so attractive in 
 themselves as to threaten a complete mo- 
 nopoly of the qualities of the magnet ; 
 and though the proprietors were to talk 
 nonsense for an hour, they could not 
 assert a more imnortant truth than that 
 they possess 
 
 600 
 
TilE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5 
 
 The only f Fells from ich'ich yaii may draw 
 WINE, 
 
 TUllEE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE 
 
 A full Quart. 
 Those whose important avocations pre- 
 vent their coming at the commencement, 
 will be admitted for 
 
 HALF-rRICE, AT HALF-PAST EIGHT. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen who are not judges 
 of the superior entertainments announced, 
 are respectfully requested to bring as 
 many as possible with them v;ho are. 
 N.B. A full Moon during the (Feek. 
 
 This bill is here inserted as a curious 
 specimen of the method adopted to draw 
 an audience to the superior entertain- 
 ments of a pleasant little summer theatre, 
 which, to its credit, discourages the nui- 
 sances that annoy every parent who takes 
 his family to the boxes at the other thea- 
 tres. 
 
 Before mentioning other particulars 
 concerning the Fair here described, I pre- 
 sent a lively representation of it in formei 
 times. 
 
 Bartf)oIoimbj jfair m 1614* 
 
 " O, rare Ben Jonson !" To him we 
 are indebted for the only picture of 
 Smithfield at " Barthol'me'-tide" in his 
 time. 
 
 In his play of" Bartholomew Fair," we 
 have John Littlewit. a proctor " o' the 
 Archdeacon's-court," and " one of the 
 pretty wits o' Paul's" persuading his wife, 
 Win-the fight, to go to the Fair. He says 
 " I have an affair i' the Fair, Win, a 
 puppet-play of mine own making. — I 
 writ for the motion-ma.n." She tells him 
 that her mottier, dame Purecraft, will 
 never consent ; whereupon he says, " Tut, 
 we'll have a device, a dainty one : long to 
 eat of a pig, sweet Win, i' the Fair; 
 do you see ? i' the heart o' the Fair ; not 
 at Pye-corner. Your mother will do any 
 .hing to satisfie your longing." Upon 
 this hint, Win prevails with her mother, 
 to consult Zeal-of the-land Busy, a Ban- 
 bury man " of a most lunatick conscience 
 and spleen ;" who is of opinion that pig 
 *' is a meat, and a meat that is nourishing, 
 and may be eaten ; very exceeding well 
 eaten ; but in the Fair, and as a Barthol- 
 mew pig, it cannot be eaten ; for the very 
 calling it a Bartnolmew pig, and to eat it 
 so, is a spice of idolatry." After much 
 deliberation, however, he allows that so 
 that the offence " be shadowed, as it were, 
 it may be eaten, and in the Fair, I take it 
 ^-in a booth." He says " there may be a 
 good use made of it too, now I think on't, 
 by the public eating of swine's flesh, to 
 profess our hate and loathing of Ju- 
 daism ;" and therefore he goes with 
 •Jiem. 
 
 In the Fair a quarrel falls out between 
 Lanlhori. Leatherhead, " a hobby-horse 
 
 seller," and Joan Trash, " a gingerbread 
 woman." 
 
 " Leatherhead. Do you hear, sister 
 Trash, lady o' the basket ? sit farther with 
 your gingerbread progeny there, and 
 hinder not the prospect of my shop, or 
 I'll ha' it proclaim'd i' the Fair, what stufT 
 they are made on. 
 
 " Trash. Why, what stuff are they 
 made on, brother Leatherhead ? nothing 
 but what's wholesome, I assure you. 
 
 " Leatherhead. Yes ; stale bread, rot- 
 ten eggs, musty ginger, and dead honey, 
 you know. 
 
 " Trash. Thou too proud pedlar, do 
 thy worst: I defy thee, I, and thy stable 
 of hobby-horses. I pay for my ground, 
 as well as thou dost, and thou wiongs't 
 me, for all tliou art parcel-poet, and an 
 ingineer. I'll find a friend shall right me, 
 and make a ballad of thee, and thy cattle 
 all over. Are you puft up with the pride 
 of your wares ? your arsedine? 
 
 '* Leatherhead. Go too, old Joan, I'll 
 talk with you anon ; and take you dow n 
 too — I'll ha' you i' the Pie-pouldres." 
 
 They drop their abuse and pursue their 
 vocation. Leatherhead calls, " What do 
 you lack ? what is't you buy ? what do 
 you lack ? rattles, drums, halberts, horses, 
 babies o' the best ? fiddles o' the finest ?" 
 Trash cries, " Buy my gingerbread, gilt 
 gingerbread !" A " costard- monger" 
 bawls out, " Buy any pears, pears ! fine, 
 very fine pears !" Nightingale, anothei 
 character, sings, 
 
 " Hey, now the Fair's a filling 
 O, for a tune to startle 
 T!ic birds o' the booths, here billing 
 Yearly with old Saint BartliU I 
 
 601 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEFl'EMBER 5. 
 
 The drunkards they are wading, 
 The punks and chapmen trading, 
 Who 'Id see the Fair without his lading? 
 Buy my ballads ! new ballads !" 
 
 Ursula, " a pig-woman," laments her 
 vocation : — " Who would wear out 
 their youth and prime thus, in roasting of 
 ^!'gs, that had any cooler occupation ? I 
 am all tire and fat ; I shall e'en melt 
 away — a poor vex'd thing I am ; I feel 
 myself dropping already as fast as I can : 
 two stone of sewet a-day is my propor- 
 tion : I can but hold life and soul toge- 
 ther.' Then she soliloquizes concerning 
 Mooncalf, her tapster, and her other vo- 
 cations : " How can I hope that ever he'll 
 discharge his place of trust, tapster, a 
 man of reckoning under me, that remem- 
 bers nothing I say to hiin ? but look to't, 
 sirrah, you were best ; threepence a pipe- 
 full I will ha' made of all my whole half 
 pound of tobacco, and a quarter of a 
 pound of colts-foot, mixt with it too, to 
 eech it out. Then six-and-twenty shillings 
 a barrel I will advance o' my beer, and 
 hfty shillings a hundred o' my bottle ale ; 
 I ha' told you the ways how to raise it. 
 (a knock.) Look who's there, sirrah ! five 
 shillings a pig is my price at least ; if it 
 be a sow-pig sixpence more." Jordan 
 Knockhum, " a horse-courser and a ran- 
 ger of Turnbull," calls for " a fresh bot- 
 tle of ale, and a pipe of tobacco," Pas- 
 sengers enter, and Leatherhead says, 
 " What do you lack, gentlemen ? Maid, 
 see a fine hobby-horse for your young 
 master." A corn-cutter cries, " Ha' you 
 any corns i' your feet and toes ?" Then 
 " a tinder-box man" calls, " Buy a mouse- 
 trap, a mouse-trap, or a tormentor for a 
 flea ! " Trash cries, " Buy some ginger- 
 bread !'' Nightingale bawls, " Ballads, 
 ballads, fine new ballads !'' Leatherhead 
 repeats, " What do you lack, gentlemen, 
 what is't you lack ? a fine horse ? a lion ? 
 a bull ? a bear ? a dog ? or a cat ? an ex- 
 cellent fine Bartholmew bird ? or an in- 
 strument ? what is't you lack 1" The 
 pig-woman quarrels with her guests and 
 falls foul on her tapster : " In, you rogue, 
 and wipe the pigs, and mend the fire, that 
 they fall not ; or I'll both baste and wast 
 you till your eyes drop out, like 'em." 
 Knockhum says to the female passengers, 
 " Gentlewomen, the weather's hot ! whi- 
 ther walk you ? Have a care o' your fine 
 velvet caps, the Fair is dusty. Take a 
 sweet delicate booth, with boughs, here, 
 i' the way, and cool yourselves i' the snade; 
 
 you and your friends. The best pig and 
 bottle ale i' the Fair, sir, old Urs'la is cook ; 
 there, you may read ; the pig's head 
 speaks it." Knockhum adds, that she 
 roasted her pigs " with fire o' juniper, and 
 rosemary branches." Littlewit, the proc- 
 tor, and his wife, Win-the-fight, with her 
 mother, dame Purecroft, and Zeal-of-the- 
 land enter. Busy Knockhum suggests to 
 Ursula that they are customers of the 
 right sort, " In, and set a couple o' pigs 
 o' the board, and half a dozen of the 
 bygist bottles afore 'em — two to a pig, 
 away !" In another scene Leatherhead 
 cries, " Fine purses, pouches, pincases, 
 pipes ; what is't you lack ? a pair o' 
 smiths to wake you i' the morning ? or a 
 fine whistling bird ?" Bartholomew Cokes, 
 a silly " esquire of Harrow," stops at 
 Leatherhead's to purchase : " Those six 
 horses, friend, I'll have ; and the three 
 Jews trumps ; and a half a dozen o' birds ; 
 and that drum ; and your smiths (I like 
 that device o' your smiths,) — and four 
 halberts ; and, let me see, that fine paint- 
 ed great lady, an' .ler three women for 
 state, I'll have. - set of those violins I 
 would buy too, for a delicate young noise 
 I have i' the country, that are every one a 
 size less than another, just like your fid- 
 dles.'' Trash invites him to buy her 
 gingerbread, and he turns to her basket, 
 whereupon Leatherhead says, " Is this 
 well. Goody Joan, to interrupt my mar- 
 ket in the midst, and call away my cus- 
 tomers? Can you answer this at the 
 Pie-pouldres ?'' whereto Trash replies, 
 " Why, if his master-ship have a mind to 
 buy, I hope my ware lies as open as ano- 
 tliers ; I may shew my ware as well as 
 you yours." Nightingale begins to sing, 
 
 " My masters and friends, and good 
 people draw near." 
 
 Cokes hears this, and says, " Bal- 
 lads ! hark, haik ! pray thee, fellow, stay 
 a little ! What ballads hast thou? let me 
 see, let me see myself — How dost thou 
 call it ? * A Caveat against Cut-primes .'' 
 — a good jest, i' faith ; I would fain see 
 that demon, your cut-purse, you talk of." 
 He then shows his purse boastingly, and 
 inquires, " Ballad-man, do any cut-purses 
 haunt hereabout ? pray thee raise me one 
 or two : begin and shew me one." 
 Nightingale answers, " Sir, this is a spell 
 against 'em, spick and span new: and 
 'tis made as 'twere in mine own person, 
 and I sing it in mine own defence. But 
 'twill cost a penny alone if you b)iy it." 
 
 602 
 
THE EVER If -DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5 
 
 Cokes replies, " No matter for the price ; should chance to be cut in my presence 
 
 thou dost not know me I see, I am an now ; I may be blameless though ; as by 
 
 Ordd Bartholmeio." The ballad has the sequel will more plainly appear." 
 
 '* pictures," and Nightingale tells him. He adds, it is " to the tune of ' Pagging 
 
 '' It was intended, sir, as if a purse tons Pound,' sir," and he finally sings— 
 
 ^ Cabeat agamsit Cut^purs(f£(» 
 
 My masters, and triends, and good people draw neai, 
 And look to your purses, for that I do say ; 
 And though little money, in them you do bear, 
 It cost more to get, than to lose in a day. 
 
 You oft' have been told. 
 
 Both the young and the old. 
 And bidden beware of the cut-purse so bold : 
 Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse. 
 Who both give you warning, for, and the cut-purse. 
 Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse, 
 Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse. 
 
 It hath been upbraided to men of my trade. 
 That oftentimes we are the cause of this crimp : 
 Alack, and for pity, why should it be said'; 
 As if they regarded or places, or time. 
 
 Examples have been 
 
 Of some that were seen 
 In Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between ; 
 Then why should the judges be free from this curse 
 More than my poor self, for cutting the purse ? 
 Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse. 
 Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse. 
 
 At Worc'ter 'tis known well, and even i' the jail, 
 A knight of good worship did there shew his face 
 Agains*. the foul sinners in zeal for to rail. 
 And lost, ipso facto, his purse in the place. 
 
 Nay, once from the seat 
 
 Of judgment so great, 
 A judge there did lose a fair pouch of velvet ; 
 O, Lord for thy mercy, how wicked, or worse. 
 Are those that so venture their necks for a purse. 
 Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse, 
 Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse. 
 
 At plays, and at sermons, and at the sessions, 
 'Tis daily their practice such booty to make; 
 Yea, under the gallows, at executions, 
 They stick not the stare-abouts' purses to take. 
 
 Nay, one without grace, 
 
 At a better place. 
 At court, and in Christmas, before the king's face. 
 Alack ! then, for pity, must 1 bear the curse. 
 That only belongs to the cunning cut-purse. 
 Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurs«i, 
 Tlian live to be hanged for stealing a purse. 
 
 But O, you vile nation of cut-purses all, 
 .Relent, and repent, and amend, and be sound, 
 
 603 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 And know that you ought not by honest men's fali, 
 Advance your own fortunes to die above ground. 
 
 And though you go gay 
 
 In silks as you may, 
 It is not the highway to heaven (as they say.) 
 Repent then, repent you, for better^ for worse ; 
 And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse. 
 Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nune. 
 Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse. 
 
 While Nightingale sings this ballad, a 
 fellow tickles Cokes's ear with a straw, to 
 make him withdraw his hand from his 
 pocket, and privately robs him of his 
 purse, which, at the end of the song, he 
 secretly conveys to the ballad-singer ; who, 
 notwithstanding his " Caveat against 
 Cut-purses," is their principal confede- 
 rate, and, in that quality, becomes the un- 
 suspected depository of the plunder. 
 
 Littlewit tells nis wife, Win, of the 
 great hog, and of a bull with five legs, in 
 the Fair. Zeal-of-the-land loudly declaims 
 against the Fair, and against Trash's 
 commodities : — " Hence with thy basket 
 of popery, thy nest of images, and whole 
 legend of ginger-work." lie rails against 
 " the prophane pipes, the tinkling tim- 
 brels ;" and Adam Overdoo, a reforming 
 justice of peace, one of " the court of 
 Pie-powders" who wears a disguise for 
 the better observation of disorder, gets 
 into the stocks himself. Then " a west- 
 ern man, that's come to wrestle before 
 my lord mayor anon," gets drunk, and is 
 cried by " the clerk o' the market all the 
 Fair over here, for my lord's service." 
 Zeal-of-the-land Busy, too, is put with 
 others into the stocks, and being asked, 
 " what are you, sir ?" he answers, " One 
 that rejoiceth in his affliction, and sitteth 
 here to prophesy the destruction of fairs 
 and may-games, wakes and whitsun-ales, 
 and doth sigh and groan for the reforma- 
 tion of these abuses." During a scuffle, 
 the keepers of the stocks leave them 
 open, and those who are confined with- 
 draw their legs and walk away. 
 
 From a speech by Leatherhead, prepa- 
 ratory to exhibiting his " motion," or 
 puppet-show, we become acquainted with 
 the subjects, and the manner of the per- 
 formance. He says, " Out with the sign 
 of our invention, in the name of wit; all 
 the fowl i' the Fair, I mean all the dirt in 
 Smithfield, will be thrown at our banner 
 to-day, if the matter does not please the 
 people. O! the motions that I, Lanthorn 
 Leatherhead, have given light to, i' my 
 time, since my master, Pod, died ! Jcru^ 
 
 salem was a stately thing ; and so was 
 Nineveh and The City of Norwich, and 
 Sodom and Gomorrah ; with the Rising 
 0' the Prentices, and pulling down the 
 houses there upon Shrove-Tuesday ; bu* 
 the Gunpowder Plot, there was a get-pen 
 ny ! I have presented that to an eighteen 
 or twenty pence audience nine times in 
 an afteinoon. Look to your gathering 
 there, good master Filcher — and when 
 there come any gentlefolks take twopence 
 a-piece." He has a bill of his motion 
 which reads thus: "The Ancient Mo- 
 dern History of Hero and Leander, other- 
 wise called, the Touchstone of True Love, 
 with as true a Trial of Friendship be- 
 tween Damon and Pythias, two faithful 
 Friends o' the Bank-side.'' This was the 
 motion written by Littlewit. Cokes ar- 
 rives, and inquires, " What do we pay 
 for coming in, fellow 1" Filcher answers, 
 " Twopence, sir." 
 
 " Cokes. What manner of matter is 
 this, Mr. Littlewit? What kind of actors 
 ha' you ? are they good actors ? 
 
 " Littlewit. Pretty youths, sir, all 
 children both old and young, here's the 
 master of 'em. Master Lantern, that 
 gives light to the business. 
 
 " Cokes. In good time, sir, I would 
 fain see 'em ; I would he glad to drink 
 with the young company ; which is the 
 tiring-house ? 
 
 " Leatherhead. Troth, sir, our tiring- 
 house is somewhat little ; we are but be- 
 ginners yet, pray pardon us ; you cannot 
 go upright in't. 
 
 " Cokes. No? not now my hat is off? 
 what would you have done with me, if 
 you had had me feather and all, as I was 
 once to-day? Ha' you none of your 
 pretty impudent boys now, to bring 
 stools, fill tobacco, fetch ale, and beg 
 money, as they have at other houses ? 
 let me see some o' your actors. 
 
 " Littlewit. Shew him 'em, shew him 
 'em. Master Lantern ; this is a gentle- 
 man that is a favourer of the quality. 
 
 yLeutherhead brings the puppets out 
 in a basket. I 
 
 G04 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTE^TEEr. 5. 
 
 " Cokes. What ! do they live in bas- 
 kets? 
 
 " Leatherhead. They do lie in a bas- 
 ket, sir : they are o' the small players. 
 
 " Cokes. These be players minor in- 
 deed. Do you call these play;rs? 
 
 " Leatherhead. They are actors, sir, 
 and as good as any, none dispraised, for 
 dumb shows : Indeed 1 am the mouth of 
 'em all. — This is he that acts young Le- 
 ander, sir ; and this is lovely Hero ; this, 
 with the beard, Damon ; and this, pretty 
 Pythias: this is the ghost of king Dio- 
 nysius, in the habit of a scrivener : as you 
 shall see anon, at large. 
 
 " Cokes. But do you play it accord- 
 inffto the printed book? I have read that. 
 
 " Leatherhead. By no means, sir. 
 
 " Coke.i. No ? How then ? 
 
 " Leatherhead. A better way, sir ; 
 that IS too learned and poetical for our 
 audience: what do they know what Hel- 
 Itspont is? guilty of true love's blood? 
 or what Abijdos is ? or the other Sextos 
 heitjht? — No; I have entreated master 
 Litilewit to take a little pains to reduce it 
 lo a more familiar strain for our people. 
 
 " Littlewit. I have only made it a 
 little easy and modern for the times, sir, 
 that's all: as for the Hellespont, I ima- 
 gme our Thames here ; and then Lean- 
 der, I make a dyer's son about Puddle- 
 wharf; and Hero, a wench o' the Bank- 
 side, who going over one morning to Old 
 Fish-street, Leander spies her land at 
 Trig's-stairs, and falls in love with her : 
 now do I introduce Cupid, having meta- 
 Tiorphosed himself into a drawer, and he 
 strikes Hero in love with a pint of sherry." 
 
 While "Cokes is handling the puppets" 
 the doorkeepers call out " Twopence a- 
 pu ne, gentlemen ; an excellent motion." 
 Other visitors enter and take their seats. 
 and Cokes, while waiting with some of his 
 acquaintance, employs the time at the 
 " game of vapours, which is nonsense ; 
 
 every man to oppose the last man thai 
 spoke, whether it concerned him or no.'' 
 The audience become impatient, and one 
 calls out, " Do you hear puppet-master, 
 these are tedious vapours ; when begin 
 you?" Filch«r, Leatherhead's man, with 
 the other doorkeepers, continue to 
 bawl, " Twopence a-piece, sir ; the best 
 motion in the Fair." Meanwhile the com- 
 pany talk, and one relates that he has al- 
 ready seen in the Fair, the eagle ; the black 
 wolf; the bull with five legs, which "was 
 a calf at Uxbridge Fair two years agone ;" 
 the dogs that dance the mortice; and 
 " the hare o' the taber." 
 
 Ben Jonson's mention of the hare that 
 beat the tabor at Bartholomew Fair in 
 his time, is noticed by the indefatigable 
 and accurate Strutt ; who gives the fol- 
 lowing representation of the feat itself, 
 which he affirms, when he copied it from 
 a drawing in the Harleian collection, 
 (6563,) to have been upwards of four 
 hundred years old. 
 
 Hare and Tabor. 
 
 For an idea of Leatherhead's motion 
 take as follows : it commences thus : — 
 
 Leatherhead. 
 Gentiles, that no longer your expectations may wander, 
 Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander; 
 With a great deal of cloth, lapp'd abo\.t him like a scarf. 
 For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf. 
 Which place we'll make bold with to call it our Abtdus, 
 As the F^ank-side is our Sestos ; and let it not be denied us 
 Now as he is beating, to make the dye take the fuller, 
 Who chances to come by, but fair Hero in a sculler ; 
 And seeing Leander's naked leg, and goodly calf, 
 Cast at him from the boat a sheep's eye and an half, 
 Now she is landed, and the sculler come back, 
 By and by you shall see wiiat Leander doth lack. ' 
 
 605 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 6. 
 
 Puppet Leander. Cole, Cole, old Cole. 
 
 Leatherhead. That is the sculler's name without comro-,ii. 
 
 Pup. Leander. Cole, Cole, I say, Cole. 
 
 Leatherhead. We do hear you. 
 
 Pup. Leander. Old Cole. 
 
 Leatherhead. Old Cole ? is the dyer turn'd collier ?— 
 
 Pup. Leander. Why Cole, I say, Cole. 
 
 Leatherhead. It's the sculler you need. 
 
 Pup. Leander. Aye, and be hang'd. 
 
 Leatherhead. Be hang'd ! look you yonder, 
 Old Cole, you must go hang with master Leander. 
 
 Puppet Cole. Where is he? 
 
 Pxippet Leander. Here Cole. What fairest of fairs 
 Was that fare that thou landest but now at Trig'sstairs? 
 
 Puppet Cole. It is lovely Hero. 
 
 Puppet Leander. Nero ? 
 
 Puppet Cole. No, Hero. 
 
 Leatherhead. It is Hero 
 Of the Bank-side, he saith, to tell you truth, without erring, 
 Is come over into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring. 
 Leander says no more but as fast as he can. 
 Gets on all his best clothes, and will after to the swan. 
 
 In this way Leatherhead proceeds with 
 his motion ; he relates part of the story 
 himself, in a ribald manner, and making 
 the puppets quarrel, " the puppet Cole 
 strikes him over the pate." He performs 
 Damon and Pythias in the same way, and 
 renders the "gallimaufry" more ridiculous, 
 oy a battle between the puppets in Hero 
 and Leander, and those of Damon and 
 Pythias. Zeal-of-the-land Busy inter- 
 feres with the puppet Dionysius, who had 
 been raised up by Leatherhead — 
 " Not like a monarch 
 
 but the master of a school. 
 In a scrivener's furr'd gown 
 
 which shows he is no fool ; 
 For, therein he liath wit enough 
 
 to keep himself warm : 
 O Damon ! he cries, 
 
 and Pythias what liarns 
 Hath poor Dionysius done you 
 
 in his grave, 
 Ihat after his death, you should 
 fall out thus and rave," &c 
 
 Zeal-of-the-land contends that Diony- 
 sius hath not a " lawful calling." That 
 puppet retorts by saying he hath ; and in- 
 quires — " What say you to the feather ma- 
 kers i' the Fryers, with their peruques and 
 their puffs, their fans and their huffs ? 
 what say you? Is a bugle-maker a lawful 
 calling? or the confect- makers? such as 
 you have there ? or your French fashioner ? 
 Is a puppet worse than these ?" — 
 W^hereto Zeal-of-the-land answers — "Yes, 
 and my main argument against you is, 
 that you are an abomination ; for the male 
 among you putleth or. the apparel of the 
 
 female, and the female of the male." Tlie 
 puppet Dionysius triumphantly replies, 
 " You lie, you lie, you lie abominably. 
 It's your old stale argument against the 
 players ; but it will not hold against the 
 puppets : for we have neither male nor 
 female amongst us." Upon this joint, 
 which persons versed in dramatic history 
 are familiar with, Zeal-of-the-land says, 
 " I am confuted, the cause hath failed 
 me — I am changed, and will become a 
 beholder." 
 
 These selections which are here cart- 
 fully brought together may, so far as they 
 extend, be regarded as a picture of Bar- 
 tholomew Fair in 1614, when Jonson 
 wrote his comedy for representation be- 
 fore king James I. We learn too from 
 this play that there was a tooth-drawer, 
 and "a juglerwith a well educated ape, 
 to come over the chain for the king of 
 England, and back again for the prince, 
 and to sit still on his hind quarters for 
 the pope and the king of Spain ;" that 
 there was a whipping-post in the Fair, 
 and that Smithfield was dirty and stink- 
 ing. Beside particulars, which a mere 
 historiographer of the scene would have 
 recorded, there are some that are essen- 
 tially illustrative of popular manners, 
 which no other than an imaginative mind 
 would have seized, and only a poet 
 penned. 
 
 A little digression may be requisite in 
 explanation of the term arscdine, used 
 by Trash to Leatherhead in Jonson's 
 play; the denomination costcnnonger ; 
 
 COG 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 the tune Paggingtoii' s-ponnd ; and the Pic- 
 pouldres, or Pie Poioder Court. 
 Arsedine. 
 
 This is also called arsadine, and some- 
 times orsden, and is said to be a colour. 
 Mr. Archdeacon Wares says, that ac- 
 cording to Mr. Lysons, in his " Environs 
 of London," and Mr. Gifford in his note 
 on this passage, it means orpment or 
 yelloiv arsenic. The archdeacon in giv- 
 ing these two authorities, calls the word 
 a " vulgar corruption" of " arsenic :" but 
 arsenic yields red, as well as yelloiv orpi- 
 ment, and both these colours are used in 
 the getting up of shows. Possibly it is 
 an Anglo-Saxon word for certain pig- 
 ments, obtained from minerals and metals: 
 the ore ojie or ojia is pure Saxon, and 
 pluralizes ores ; to die in the sense of 
 dying, or colouring, is derived from the 
 Saxon beaj or beali. The conjecture may 
 be worth a thought perhaps, for dramatic 
 exhibitions were in use when the Anglo- 
 Saxon was used. 
 
 Costermonger. 
 
 This is a corruption of costard-monger ; 
 Ben Jonson uses it both ways, and it is 
 noticed of his costermonger by Mr. Arch- 
 deacon Nares, that "he cries only pear*." 
 That gentleman rightly defines a costard- 
 monger, or rof to -monger, to be " a seller 
 of apples ;" he aads, " one generally who 
 kept a stall." He szys of costard, that, 
 " as a species of apple, it is enumerated 
 with others, but it must have been a very 
 common sort, as it gave a name to the 
 dealers in apples." In this supposition 
 Mr. Nares is correct ; for it was not only 
 a very common sort, but perhaps, after 
 the crab, it was our oldest sort : there 
 were three kinds of it, the white, red, and 
 grey costard. That the costard-monger, 
 according to Mr. Nares, " generally kept a 
 stall ;" " and that they were general fruit- 
 sellers," he unluckily has not corrobo- 
 rated by an authority ; although from his 
 constant desire to be accurate, and his 
 general accuracy, the assertions are to be 
 regarded with respect. IJandle Holme 
 gives this figure of 
 
 Holme, in his heraldic language, says 
 of this representation, " He beareth gules 
 a man passant, his shiit or shift turned up 
 to his shoulder, breeches and hose azure, 
 cap and shoes sable, bearing on his back 
 a breadbasket full of fruits and herbs, and 
 a staff' in his left hand, or. This may be 
 termed either a huxter or 3. gardiner, hav- 
 ing his fruits and herbs on his back from 
 the market. This was a fit crest for the 
 company of Fruiterers or Huxters." 
 This man is a costard-monger in Mi. 
 Archdeacon Nares's view of the term; for 
 doubtless the huckster pitched his load in 
 the market and sold it there; yet Holme 
 does not give him that denomination, as 
 he would have done if he hnd so regarded 
 him; he merely calls him " the hutler or 
 huxter" 
 
 Packingtons Pound. 
 Concerning the air of this old song, 
 " Hawkins's History of Music" may be 
 consulted. The tune may also be found 
 in the " Beggar's Opera," adapted to the 
 words — " The gamesters united in friend- 
 ship are found." * 
 
 Court of Pie Poicder 
 
 This is the lowest, and at the same 
 time the most expeditious, court of justice 
 known to the law of England. It is a 
 court of record incident to every fair and 
 market ; its jurisdiction extends to ad 
 minister justice for all commercial injuries 
 done in that very fair or market, and not 
 in any preceding one ; and to every fail 
 and market, the steward of him whu 
 owns the toll is the judge. The injury, 
 therefore, must be done, complained of, 
 and redressed, within the compass of one 
 and the same day, unless the fair con- 
 tinues longer. It lias cognizance of all 
 matters of contract that can possibly arise 
 within the precinct of that fair or market ; 
 and the plaintiff" must make oath that 
 the cause of an action arose there. This 
 court seems to have arisen from the 
 necessity of doing justice expeditiously, 
 among persons resorting from distant 
 places to a fair or market, without 
 leaving them to the remedy of an inferior 
 court, which might not be able to serve 
 its process, or execute its judgments on 
 both, or perhaps either of the parties; and 
 therefore without such a court as this, the 
 complaint must necessarily have resorted 
 to, in the first instance, some superior 
 judicature. It is said to he called the 
 
 A Huxter 
 
 * Mr. Nares's Glfjsary. 
 
 GOT 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 court of pie-poudre, curia pedis pulveri- 
 zati, from the dusty feet of the suitors ; or, 
 as sir Edward Coke says, because justice 
 is there done as speedily as dust can fall 
 from the feet : but Blackstone, who says 
 thus much of this court, inclines to the 
 opinion of Daines Barrington, who, de- 
 rives it from pied puldreaujc, (a pedlar, in 
 old French,) and says, it signifies, there- 
 fore, the court of such petty chapmen as 
 resort to fairs or markets. 
 
 Courts similar to pie-powder courts 
 were usual both with Greeks and Romans, 
 wiio introduced fairs into Germany and 
 the north.* 
 
 The Pedlar. 
 This is his figure from Randle Holme, 
 who describes him thus: — "He beareth 
 argent, aerate carrier, with aerate upon 
 his back, or ; cloathed in rnssed, with a 
 staffe in his left hand ; hat and shoes sable.'* 
 lie observes, that " this is also termed a 
 pedlar and his pack," and he carefully 
 notes that the difference between a porter 
 and a pedlar consists in this, that " the 
 porter's pack reacheth over his head and 
 so answerable below ; but the pedlar's is 
 a small truss, bundle, or fardel, not ex- 
 ceeding the middle of his head as in this 
 figure." Every reader of Shakspeare 
 knows the word " fardel :" — 
 
 " Who wo\i]A fardels bear 
 
 To a;roar and sweat under a weary life," &c. 
 
 Fardel means a burden, or bundle, or 
 pack, and so Holme has called the ped- 
 lar's pack. The word is well known in 
 that sense to those acquainted with our 
 earlier language. An Act of common 
 council of the first of August, 1554, 
 against " Abuses offered to Pauls," re- 
 cites, that the inhabitants of London, and 
 others, were accustomed to make their 
 common carriage of "fardels of stuffe, 
 and other grosse wares and things thorow 
 the cathedrall church of Saint Pauls," 
 and prohibits the abuse. There is an old 
 book entitled, "a Fardel of Fancies;" 
 
 Diet. Antiq. 
 
 that is, a variety of fancies fardelled or 
 packed together in a bundle or burthen 
 " Fancies" was a name for pleasant 
 ballads, or poetical effusions ; — and hence, 
 because Orlando " hangs odes upon 
 hawthorns, and elegies on brambles, all, 
 forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind," 
 she calls him a ^^ fancy monger. 
 
 The Porter. 
 It is to be noted too, that a poiter is 
 clearly described by Holme. " He beareth 
 vert, a porter carrying of a pack, argent, 
 corked, sable ; cloathed in tawney, cap 
 and shoes sable. This is the badge and 
 cognizance of all porters and carriers of 
 burthens ;" but that there may be no mis- 
 take, he adds, " they have ever a leather 
 girdle about them, with a strong rope of 
 two or three fouldings hanging thereat, 
 which they have in readiness to bind the 
 burdens to tl eir backs whensoever called 
 thereunto." 
 
 The Porters Knot, now used, 
 
 did not exist in Randle Holme's time 
 This subsequent invention consists of a 
 strong hilet to encircle the head, attached 
 to a curiously stuffed cushion of the width 
 of the shoulders, whereon it rests, and is 
 of height sufficient to bear thereon a box, 
 or heavy load of any kind, which, by 
 means of this knot, is carried on the head 
 and shoulders ; the weight thereof being 
 borne equally by the various powers of 
 the body capable of sustaining pressure, 
 no muscles are distressed, but the whole 
 are brought to the porter's service in his 
 labour of carrying. 
 
 " Bartholomew Faire," a rare quarto 
 tract printed in 1641, under that title 
 states, that " Bartholomew Faire begins on 
 the twenty-fourth day of August, and is 
 then of so vast an extent, that it is con- 
 tained in no lesse than four several pa- 
 rishes, namely, Christ Church, Great and 
 Little St. Bartholomewes, and St. Sepul- 
 chres. Hither resort people of all sorts 
 and conditions. Christ Church cloisten 
 are now hung full of pictures. It is ra- 
 markable and worth your ooservation to 
 beholde and heare the strange sights ano 
 confused noise in the Faire. Here, a 
 knave in a foole's coate, with a trumpei 
 
 608 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 s:^unding, or on a drumme beating, invites 
 vou to see his puppets : there, a rogue 
 like a wild woodman, or in an antick 
 slmpe like an Incubus, desires your com- 
 pany to view his motion : on the other 
 side, Hocus Pocus, with three yards of 
 tape, or ribbin, in's hand, shewing his art 
 of legerdemaine, to the admiration and 
 astonishment of a company of cocko- 
 loaches. Amongst these, you shall see a 
 gray Goose-cap, (as wise as the rest,) with 
 a what do ye lacke in his mouth, stand in 
 his boothe, shaking a rattle, or scraping 
 on a fiddle, with which children are so 
 taken, that they presentlie cry out for 
 these fopperies : and all these together 
 make such a distracted noise, that you 
 would thinck Babell were not comparable 
 to it. Here there are also your gamesters 
 in action : some turning of a whimsey, 
 others throwing for pewter, who can 
 quickly dissolve a round shilling into a 
 three halfepeny saucer. Long-lane at this 
 time looks very faire, and puts out her 
 best cloaths, with the wrong side out- 
 ward, so turn'd for their better turning 
 off: and Cloth Faire is now in great 
 request : well fare the ale-houses therein, 
 yet better may a man fare, (but at a dearer 
 rate,) in the pig-market, alias Pasty- 
 Nooke, or Pye-Corner, where pigges are 
 al houres of the day on the stalls piping 
 hot, and would cry, (if they could speak,) 
 * come eate rae.' " 
 
 Pye Corner. 
 
 This is the place wherein Ben Jonson's 
 Littlewit, the proctor, willed that his wife 
 Win-the-fight should not eat Bartholomew 
 ])ig : — " Long to eat of a pig, sweet Win, 
 i'the Fair ; do you see ? i' the heart o' the 
 Fair ; not at, Pye-corner." 
 
 " Pye-corner was so called" says Dr. 
 (James) Howel, " of such a sign, some- 
 times a fair Inne, for receipt of travellers, 
 but now devided into tenements." It 
 was at Pye-corner as observed before, 
 that the Fire of London ended : the 
 houses that escaped were taken down in 
 October, 1809, and upon their site other 
 dwelling-houses have been erected, toge- 
 ther with an engine-house, belonging to 
 the Hope Fire Assurance company,* where 
 it stands at present (in 1825). It was 
 estimated in the year 1732, that " the 
 number of sucking pigs then annually 
 consumed in this city, (of London) amount- 
 <;d to fifty-two thousand f ." 
 
 * Smith's Anc. Top. of London. 
 t Mailland. 
 
 " A JioiceT—C!oppt:<l ill its prime. 
 
 Elia, author of the incomparable vo- 
 lume of " Essays," published " under that 
 name," by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey, 
 indulges in a " Dissertation upon Roast 
 Pig." He cites a Chinese MS. to estab- 
 lish its origin, when flesh was eaten 
 uncooked, and affirms that " the period is 
 not obscurely hinted at by the great 
 Confucius, in the second chapter of his 
 ' Mundane Mutations,' where he designates 
 a kind of golden age by the term Cho- 
 fang, literally the cooks' holiday." He 
 premises " broiling to be the elder bro- 
 ther of roasting," and relates on the au- 
 thority of the aforesaid MS. that " roast 
 pig" " was accidentally discovered in the 
 manner following" — viz. 
 
 " The swine-herd, Ho-ti, having gone out 
 into the woods one morning, as his man- 
 ner was, to collect mast for his hogs, left 
 his cottage in the care of his eldest son 
 Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy, who, being 
 fond of playing with fire, as younkers of 
 his age commonly are, let some sparks 
 escape into a bundle of straw, which, 
 kindling quickly, spread the conflagration 
 over every part of their poor mansion, till 
 it was reduced to ashes. Together with 
 the cottage (a sorry antediluvian make- 
 shift of a building, you may think it), 
 what was of much more importance, a 
 fine litter of new-farrowed pigs, no less 
 than nine in number, perished. China 
 pigs have been esteemed a luxury all over 
 the east from the remotest periods that 
 we read of. Bo-bo was in the utmost 
 consternation, as you may think, not so 
 much for the sake of the tenement, whicii 
 his father and he could easily build u]) 
 again with a few dry branches, and the 
 labour of an hour or two, at any time, as 
 for the loss of the pigs. While he was 
 thinking what he should say to his father, 
 and wringing his hands over the smoking 
 remnants of one of those untimely suffer- 
 ers, an odour assailed his nostrils, unlike 
 any scent which he had before experi- 
 enced. What could it proceed from ? — 
 not from the burnt cottage — he had smelt 
 that smell before — indeed this was by no 
 means the first accident of the kind which 
 had occurred through the negligence of 
 this unlucky young fire-brand. IMuch 
 less did it resemble that of any known 
 herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory 
 moistening at the same time overflowed 
 his aether lip. He knew not what to 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 609 
 
 2 R 
 
THE EVERY -DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Jhiiik. He next stooped down to feel the 
 pig, if there were any signs of life in it. 
 He burnt his fingers, and to cool them he 
 applied them in his booby fashion to his 
 mouth. Some of the crums of the scorched 
 skin had come away with his fingers, and 
 for the first time in f.is life (in the world's 
 life indeed, for before him no man had 
 known it), he tasted — crackling! Again 
 he felt and fumbled at the pig. It did 
 not burn him so much now, still he licked 
 his fingers from a sort of habit. The 
 truth at length broke into his slow under- 
 standing, that it was the pig that smelt 
 so, and the pig that tasted so delicious ; 
 and, surrendering himself up to the new- 
 born pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole 
 nandfuls of the scorched skin with the 
 flesh next it, and was cramming it down 
 his throat in his beastly fashion, when his 
 sire entered amid the smoking rafters, 
 armed with a retributory cudgel, and find- 
 ing how affairs stood, began to rain blows 
 upon the young rogue's shoulders as 
 thick as hailstones, which Bo-bo heeded 
 not any more than if they had been flies. 
 The tickling pleasure, which he experi- 
 enced in his lower regions, had rendered 
 him quite callous to any inconvenience^ he 
 might feel in those remote quarters. His 
 father might lay on, but he could not beat 
 him from his pig." 
 
 Bo-bo in the afternoon, regardless of 
 his father's wrath, and with his " scent 
 wonderfully sharpened since morning, 
 soon raked out another pig, and fairly 
 rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half 
 by main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still 
 shouting out, ' Eat, eat, eat, the burnt pig, 
 father; only taste — O Lord !' — with such 
 like barbarous ejaculations, cramming all 
 the while as if he would choke." The 
 narrative relates, that " Ho-ti trembled 
 every joint while he grasped the abom- 
 inable thing, wavering whether he should 
 not put his son to death for an unnatural 
 young monster, when the crackling scorch- 
 ing his fingers, as it had done his son's, 
 and applying the same remedy to them, 
 he in his turn tasted some of its flavour, 
 which, make what sour mouths he would 
 for a pretence, proved not altogether dis- 
 pleasing to him. In conclusion, (for the 
 manuscript here is a little tedious,) both 
 father and son fairly set down to the mess, 
 and never left off till thty had despatched 
 all that remained of the little. 
 
 " Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to 
 let the secret escape, for the neighbours 
 would certainly have stoned them for a 
 
 couple of abominable wretches, who could 
 think of improvmg upon the good meat 
 which God had sent them. Nevertheless, 
 strange stories got about. It was ob- 
 served that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt 
 down now more frequently than ever. 
 Nothing but fires from this time forward. 
 Some would break out in broad day, 
 others in the night-time. As often as the 
 sow farrowed, so sure was the house of 
 Ho-ti to be in a blaze; aud Ho-ti himself, 
 which was the more remarkable, instead 
 of chastising his son, seemed to grow 
 more indulgent to him than ever. At 
 length they were watched, the terrible 
 mystery discovered, and father and son 
 summoned to take their trial at Pekin, 
 then an inconsiderable assize town. Evi- 
 dence was given, the obnoxious food 
 itself produced in court, and verdict about 
 to be pronounced, when the foreman of 
 the jury begged that some of the burnt 
 pig, of which the culprits stood accused, 
 might be handed into the box. He han- 
 dled it, and they all handled it, and 
 burning their fingers, as Bo-bo and his 
 father had done before them, and nature 
 prompting to each of them the same 
 remedy, against the face of all the facts, 
 and the clearest charge which judge had 
 ever given, — to the surprise of the whole 
 court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and 
 all present — without leaving the box, or 
 any manner of consultation whatever, 
 they brought in a simultaneous verdict of 
 Not Guilty. 
 
 " The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, 
 winked at the manifest iniquity of the 
 decision ; and, when the court was dis- 
 missed, went privily, and bought up all 
 the pigs that could be had for love or 
 money. In a few days his lordship's, 
 town house was observed to be on fire. 
 The thing took wing, and now there was 
 nothing to be seen but fires in every direc- 
 tion. Fuel and pigs grew enormously 
 dear all over the district. The insurance 
 ofl^ces one and all shut up shop. People 
 built slighter and slighter every day, until 
 it was feared that the very science of 
 architecture would in no long time be 
 lost to the world. Thus this custom of 
 firing houses continued, till in process of 
 time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, 
 like our Locke, who made a discovery, 
 that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any 
 other animal, might be cooked {burnt, as 
 they called it.'i without the necessity of 
 consuming a whole house to dress it. 
 They first began the rude form of a grid- 
 
 610 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 iron. Roasting by the string, or spit, 
 came in a century or two later, I forget in 
 whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, 
 concludes the manuscript, do the most 
 useful, and seemingly the most obvious 
 arts, make their way among mankind." 
 
 Elia maintains, that of all the delica- 
 cies in the whole eatable world, " roast 
 pig" is the most delicate. — " I speak," 
 he says, " not of your grown porkers — 
 things between pig and pork — those hob- 
 bydehoys — but a young and tender suck- 
 ling — under a moon old — guiltless as yet 
 of the sty," with " his voice as yet not 
 broken, but something between a childish 
 treble and a grumble — the mild fore- 
 runner, or proeludium, of a grunt. 
 
 " He must be roasted. I am not igno- 
 rant that our ancestors ate them seethed, 
 or boiled — but what a sacrifice of the 
 exterior tegument ! 
 
 *' There is no flavour comparable, I will 
 contend, to that of the crisp, tawny, well- 
 watched, not over-roasted crackling, as it 
 is well called — the very teeth are invited to 
 their share of the pleasure at this banquet 
 in overcoming the coy, brittle resistance — 
 with the adhesive oleaginous — O call it 
 not fat — but an indefinable sweetness 
 growing up to it — the tender blossoming 
 of fat — fat cropped in the bud — taken in 
 the shoot — in the first innocence — the 
 cream and quintessence of the child-pig's 
 
 yet pure food the lean, no lean, but a 
 
 kind of animal manna — or, rather fat and 
 lean (if it must be so) so blended and 
 running into each other, that both toge- 
 ther make but one ambrosial result, or 
 common substance. 
 
 " Behold him while he is doing — it 
 seemeth rather a refreshing warmtli, than 
 a scorching heat, tliat he is so passive to. 
 IIow equally he twirleth round the string ! 
 — Now he is just done. To see the ex- 
 treme sensibility of that tender age, he 
 hath wept out his pretty eyes — radiant 
 jellies — shooting stars. 
 
 " See him in the dish, his second cradle, 
 how meek he lieth ! — wouldst thou have 
 had this innocent grow up to the gross- 
 ness and indocility which too often ac- 
 company maturer swinehood ? Ten to one 
 he would have proved a glutton, a sloven, 
 an obstinate, disagreeable animal — wal- 
 lowing in all manner of filthy conver- 
 sation — from these sins he is happily 
 snatched away— 
 
 Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade, 
 Death came with timely care — 
 
 his memory is odoriferous — no clown 
 curseth, while his stomach half rejec'eth, 
 the rank bacon — no coalheaver bolteth 
 him in reeking sausages — he hath a fair 
 sepulchre in the grateful stomach of the 
 judicious epicure — and for such a tomb 
 might be content to die." 
 
 Elia further allegeth of " pig," that 
 " the strong man may batten on him, and 
 the weakHng refuseth not his mild juices 
 He is — good throughout. No part of hirii 
 is better or worse than another. He 
 helpeth, as far as his little means extend, 
 all around. He is the least envious of 
 banquets. He is all neighbours' fare." 
 
 " I am one of those," continueth Elia, 
 " who freely and ungrudgingly impart a 
 share of the good things of this life which 
 fall to their lot (few as mine are in this 
 kind) to a friend. I protest, I take as 
 great an interest in my friend's pleasures, 
 his relishes, and proper satisfactions, as 
 in mine own. ' Presents,' I often say 
 * endear absents.' Hares, pheasants 
 partridges, snipes, barn-door chickens 
 (those ' tame villatic fowl"), capons, plo- 
 vers, brawn, barrels of oysters, I dispense 
 as freely as I receive them. I love to 
 taste them, as it were, upon the tongue 
 of my friend. But a stop must be put 
 somewhere. One would not like Lear, 
 ' give every thing.' I make my stand 
 upon pig. * * * 
 
 " I remember an hypothesis, arguet 
 upon by the young students, when I was 
 at St. Omer's, and maintained with much 
 learning and pleasantry on both sides, 
 ' Whether, supposing that the flavour of 
 a pig who obtained his death by whipyjing 
 (per jiagellationem extremam) superadded 
 a pleasure upon the palate of a man 
 more intense than any possible suffering 
 we can conceive in the animal, is man 
 justified in using that method of putting 
 the animal to death?' I forget the deci- 
 sion. 
 
 *' His sauce should be considered. 
 Decidedly, a few bread crums, done up 
 with his liver and brains, and a dash of 
 mild sage But banish, dear Mrs. Cook, 
 I beseech you, the whole onion tribe. 
 Barbacue your whole hogs to your palate, 
 steep them in shallots, stuff them out with 
 plantations of the rank and guilty garlic ; 
 you cannot poison them, or make tliem 
 stronger than they are — but consider, he 
 is a weakling — a flower." 
 
 611 
 
THE EVERY-DxiY BOOK.-SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 PART OF BARTHOLOMEW FAIR, 1721. 
 
 The two engravings whereon the reader Mr. Setchel, of King-street, Covent-gar- 
 
 now looks, are from a very curious scenic den. The letter-pres? account subjoined 
 
 print of this Fair, as represented on to Mr. Setchel's print says, that " about 
 
 an old fan, recently published by the year 1721, when the present intf^rest- 
 
 612 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMT5ER .'5, 
 
 mg view of this popular Fair was taken, 
 llie drama was considered of some im- 
 portance, and a series of minor, although 
 "eguiar, pieces, were acted in its various 
 tooths. At Lee and Harper's, the ' Siege 
 of Berthulia' is performing, in which is 
 introduced the trag.ody of Holophernes.'" 
 Mr. Setchel's account further reore- 
 
 sents, that " Persons of rank were also its 
 occasional visitors, and the figure on the 
 right (with the star) is also supposed to be 
 that of sir Robert Walpole, then prime mi- 
 nister. Fawkes, the famous conjuror, 
 forms a conspicuous feature, and is the 
 only portrait of him known to exist." 
 
 ANOTHER PART IN THE SAME FAIR 
 
 There is however, another portrait of liim in the midst of his perfcrmaiices. 
 Fawkes, the conjuror : it is a sheet, en- Hogarth's frontispiece to a scarce tract on 
 graved by Sutton Nichols, representing " Tiste," wherein he bespatters liutl>cg- 
 
 613 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5: 
 
 ton-p;ate, further tends to perpetuate 
 Favvkes's fame, by an inscription an- 
 nouncing his celebrated feats. It is re- 
 corded, too, in the first volume of the 
 " Gentleman's Magazine," that on the 
 l5th of February, 1731, the Algerine am- 
 bassadors went to see Mr. Fawkes, who, 
 at their request, showed them a prospect 
 of Algiers, " and raised up an apple-tree, 
 which bore ripe apples in less than a mi- 
 nute's time, which several of the company 
 tasted of." This was one of his last per- 
 formances, for, in the same volume, his 
 name is in ihe list of" Deaths," on the 
 25th of May, that year, thus : " Mr. 
 Fawkes, noted for his dexterity of hand, 
 said to die worth 10,000/." The news- 
 papers of the period relate, that " he had 
 honestly acquired" it, by his "dexterity," 
 and add, that it was " no more than he 
 really deserved for his great ingenuity, 
 by which he had surpassed all that ever 
 pretended to that art. It will be observed 
 from the show-cloth of the tumblers, that 
 Fawkes was also a " famous posture-mas- 
 ter :" — 
 
 The tumblar ^vhirls the flip-flap round, 
 With sommersets he shakes the ground; 
 The cord beneath the dancer springs ; 
 Aloft in air the vaulter swings. 
 Distorted now, now prone depends, 
 Now through his twisted arms descends ; 
 The crowd in wonder and delight. 
 With clapping hands applaud the sight. 
 
 Gay. 
 
 On the platform of Lee and Harper's 
 show, with " Judith and Holophernes," 
 in Mr. Setchel's print, which is hand- 
 somely coloured in the manner of the fan, 
 the clown, behind the trumpeter, is dress- 
 ed in black. The lady who represents 
 Judith, as she is painted on the show- 
 cloth, is herself on the platform, with 
 feathers on her head ; the middle feather 
 is blue, the others red. She wears a laced 
 stomacher, white hanging sleeves with 
 rosettes, and a crimson petticoat with 
 white rosettes in triangles, and suitably 
 flounced. Holophernes, in a rich robe lined 
 with crimson and edged with gold lace, 
 wears liuht brown buskins, the colour of 
 untanned leather; Harlequin, instead of the 
 little flat three-corner flexible cap, wherein 
 he appears at our present theatres, has 
 a round beaver of the same light colour. 
 Twofemalesenteringatthe door below are, 
 apparently, a lady and her maid ; the first 
 IS in green, and wears a cap with lappets 
 falling behind, and white bced rufiBes ; 
 
 the other, with a fan in her hand. Is in a 
 tawny gown, striped with red, and cufls of 
 the same ; the lady and gentleman iu 
 mourning are evidently about to follow 
 them. From hence we see the costume 
 of the quality, and that at that time Bar- 
 tholomew Fair was honoured with such 
 visitors. 
 
 The boy picking the gentleman's pocket 
 is removed from another part of Mr. 
 Setchel's print, which could not be in- 
 cluded in the present engraving, to show 
 that the artist had not forgotten to repre- 
 sent that the picking of pockets succeeded 
 to the cutting of purses. The person 
 in black, whose gaze the baker, or man 
 with the apron, is directing with his finger, 
 looks wonderfully like old Tom Ilearne. 
 Indeed, this fan-print is exceedingly 
 curious, and indispensable to every " il- 
 lustrator of Pennant," and collector of 
 manners. In that print to the right of Lee 
 and Harper's is another show,with " Rope- 
 dancing ishere,''on ashow-cloth,represent- 
 ing a female with a pole on the tight-rope ; 
 a stout middle-aged man, in a green coat, 
 and leather breeches, walks the platform 
 and blows a trumpet ; the door below is 
 kept by a woman, and the figures on the 
 printed posting-bills against the boards 
 exhibit a man on the tight-rope, and two 
 slack-ropes ; a figure is seated and swing- 
 ing on one rope, and on the other a man 
 swings by the hams, with his head down- 
 ward : the bills state this to be " At the 
 great booth over against the hospital-gate 
 in Smithfield." Near to where the hos- 
 pital-gate may be supposed to stand is a 
 cook, or landlord, at the door of a house, 
 with " Right Redstreak Cyder, at per 
 quart, " on the jamb ; on the other jamb, 
 a skittle is painted standing on a ball, and 
 an inscription " Sketle ground ;" above 
 his head, on a red portcullis-work, is the 
 sign of a punch-bowl and ladle, inscribed 
 " Fine punch ;" at the window-way of 
 the house hang two Bartholomew " pigs 
 with curly tails," and a side of large pork. 
 
 There is an " up and down," or swing, 
 of massive wood-work, with two children 
 in three of the boxes, and one empty box 
 waiting for another pair. Then there is 
 a spacious sausage-stall ; a toy-stall, kept 
 by a female, with bows, halberts, rattles, 
 long whistles, dolls, and other knick- 
 knackeries: a little boy in a cocked hat 
 is in possession of a large lialbert, and his 
 older sister is looking wistfully at a Chi- 
 nese doll on the counter ; a shown. an ex- 
 hibits the " Siege of Gibraltar" to two 
 
 GU 
 
THE EVLR\'-DAV BOOK.— SliPTEMBEll 5. 
 
 girls looking through the glasses. These 
 are part of the amusements which are al- 
 luded to, in the inscription on the print 
 now describing, as " not unlike those of 
 our day, except in the articles of Hollands 
 and gin, with which the lower orders 
 were then accustomed to indulge, unfet- 
 tered by licence or excise." A man with 
 tubs of " Right Hollands Geneva, and 
 Anniseed," having acock in each, is serv- 
 ing a bearded beggar with a wooden-leg 
 to a glass, much nearer to the capacity of 
 half a pint, than one of " three outs" of 
 the present day ; while a woman, with a 
 pipe in one hand, holds up a full spirit- 
 measure, of at least half a pint, to her own 
 share ; there is toping from a barrel of 
 " Geneva "at another stall; and the pos- 
 tures of a couple of oyster-women denote 
 that the uncivil provocative has raised the 
 retort uncourteous. The visit of sir Ro- 
 bert Walpole to this scene might have 
 suggested to him, that his licence and ex- 
 cise scheme, afterwards so unpopular, 
 though ultimately carried, would aid a 
 reformation of manners. 
 
 Lady Holland's Mob. 
 
 On the night before the day whereon 
 the lord mayor proclaims the Fair, a 
 riotous assemblage of persons heretofore 
 disturbed Smithfield and its environs, un- 
 der the denomination of" Lady Holland's 
 mob." This multitude, composed of the 
 most degraded characters of the metropo- 
 lis, was accustomed to knock at the doors 
 and ring the bells, with loud shouting 
 and vociferation ; and they often com- 
 mitted gross outrages on persons and pro- 
 perty. The year 1822, was the last year 
 wherein they appeared in any alarming 
 force, and then the inmates of the houses 
 they assailed, or before which they parad- 
 ed, were aroused and kept in terror by 
 their violence. In Skinner-street, especi- 
 ally, they rioted undisturbed until be- 
 tween three and four in the morning : at 
 one period that morning their number was 
 not less than five thousand, but it varied 
 as parties went off, or came in, to and 
 from the assault of other places. Tlieir 
 force was so overwhelming, that the pa- 
 trol and watchmen feared to interfere, 
 and the riot continued till they had ex- 
 hausted their fury. 
 
 It has been supposed that this mob 
 first arose, and has been continued, in 
 celebration of a verdict obtained by a Mr. 
 Holland, which freed the Fair from toll ; 
 but this is erroneous. " Lady Holland's 
 
 mob" may be traced so far b;3ck as the 
 tmies of the commonwealth, when the 
 ruling powers made considerable efforts 
 to suppress the Fair altogether; and when, 
 without going into particulars to corrobo- 
 rate the conjecture, it may be presumed 
 tl)at the populace determined to suppor* 
 what they called their " charter," under 
 the colour of the " Holland" interest, in 
 opposition to the civic authorities. The 
 scene of uproar always commenced in 
 Cloth- fair, and the present existence of an 
 annual custom there, throws some light on 
 the matter. At " the Hand and Shears," 
 a public-house in that place, it is the 
 usage, at this time, for tailors to assemble 
 the night before the Fair is proclaimed by 
 the lord mayor. They appoint a chair- 
 man, and exactly as the clock strikes 
 twelve, he and his companions, each with 
 a pair of shears in his hand, leave the 
 house, and, in the open street of Cloth- 
 fair, the chairman makes a speech and 
 proclaims " Bartholomew Fair." As 
 soon as he conchides, every tailor holds 
 up and snaps his shears with a shout, and 
 they retire, shears in hand, snapping and 
 shouting, to the " Hand and Shears,**' 
 from whence they came forth ; but the 
 mob, who await without, to witness the 
 ceremony, immediately upon its being 
 ended, run out into Smithfield, and being 
 joined by others there shout again. This 
 second assemblage and shouting is called 
 " the mob proclaiming the Fair ;" and so 
 begins the annual mob, called " Lady 
 Holland's mob." Since 1822, the great 
 body have confined their noise to Smith- 
 field itself, and their number and disorder 
 annually decrease. 
 
 ORIGIN 
 
 OP 
 
 Bartf)cili3meb) fm. 
 
 About the year 1102, in the reign of 
 Henry I., the priory, hospital, and church 
 of St. Bartholomew, in Smithfield, werft 
 founded by one Rahcre, a minstrel of the 
 king, and " a pleasant witted gentleman." 
 It seems that Rahere was determined to 
 this pious work in a fit of sickness, during 
 a pilgrimage he made to Rome agreeably 
 to the fashion of the times, when St. Bar 
 tholomew appeared to him, and required 
 him to undertake \\\Q work ana perform 
 it in Smithfield.* Before that lime Smith- 
 
 615 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 field, or the greater part of it, was called 
 " the Elms," because it was covered with 
 elm trees ; " since the which time," saith 
 Stow, " building there hath so increased 
 that now remaineth not one tree growing." 
 Smithfield derives its name from its being 
 " a plain or smooth field."* Regarding 
 Rahere's occupation as a minstrel, it may 
 be observed, that minstrels were reciters 
 of poems, story tellers, performers upon 
 musical instruments, and sometimes jug- 
 glers and buffoons. Rahere "ofte hawnted 
 the kyng's palice, and amo'ge the noyse- 
 full presse of that tumultuous courte, en- 
 forsed hymselfe with jolite and carnal 
 suavite : ther yn spectaclis, yn metys, yn 
 playes, and other courtely mokkys, and 
 trifyllis. intrudyng, he lede forth the besy- 
 nesse of alle the day." f It is related of 
 a person in this capacity, that he was em- 
 ployed by a king as a story teller, on pur- 
 pose to lull him to sleep every night ; 
 and that the king's requiring him to tell 
 longer stories, the romancer began one of 
 so great length, that he himself fell asleep 
 in the midst of it.| Racine, the French 
 poet, was scarcely higher employed when 
 he was engaged in reading Louis XIV. to 
 sleep with " Plutarch's Lives :" to such 
 a king the narratives of the philosophical 
 biographer were fables. 
 
 Rahere was the first prior of his monas- 
 tery. There was a remarkable visitation 
 of it by Bonifaoe, archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, who being received with a proces- 
 sion in a solemn manner, said he did not 
 require that honour, but came to visit 
 them ; whereto the canons answered, that 
 to submit to the visitation of any other 
 than their own prelate, the bishop of Lon- 
 don, would be in contempt of his autho- 
 rity; whereupon the archbishop conceiv- 
 ing great offence, struck the sub-prior in 
 the face, and " raging, with oathes not to 
 bee recited, hee rent in peeces the rich 
 cope of the sub-prior, and trode it under 
 his fnete, and thrust him against a pillar 
 of the chancell, with such violence that 
 lies had almost killed him." Then the 
 ( Anons dragged off the archbishop with so 
 j^roat force that they threw him backwards, 
 ami Ihus perceived that he was armed, 
 sii'I prepared to fight ; and the arch- 
 I islr p's followers falling upon the canons, 
 b«it nnd tore them, and trod them under 
 foe I 4 who thereupon ran bleeding with 
 
 fitz Stephen. + Cotton MS 
 
 X Harl. MS. .Strutt 
 
 complaints of the violence to the bishop 
 of London, who. sent four of ihem to the 
 king at Westminster, but he would neither 
 hear nor see them. In the mean time, 
 the city was in an uproar, and the people 
 would " have hewed the archbishop into 
 small peaces," if he had not secretly with- 
 drawn to Lambeth, from whence he went 
 over to the king, " with a great complaint 
 against the canons, whereas himself was 
 guilty." * How the affair ended does not 
 appear. 
 
 Stow says, that " to this priory king 
 Henry the second granted the priviledge 
 of a Faire to bee kept yeerly at Bartholo- 
 mew-tide, for three dales, to wit, the eve, 
 the day, and the next morrow, to the 
 which the clothiers of England, and 
 drapers of London repaired, and had their 
 boothes and standings within the church- 
 yard of this priory, closed in with wals 
 and gates locked every night, and watched 
 for safety of mens goods and wares ; a 
 court of piepowders was daily during the 
 Faire holden, for debts and coutracts. 
 But," continues Stow, "notwithstand- 
 ing all proclamations of the prince, and 
 also the act of parliament, in place of 
 booths within this church-yard (only 
 letten out in the Faire time, and closed 
 up all the yeere after) bee many large 
 houses builded, and the north wall to- 
 wards Long-lane taken downe, a number 
 of tenements are there erected, for such 
 as will give great re-ts. The for- 
 rainers,'* he aods, " were licensed for 
 three days, the freemen so long as they 
 would, which was sixe or seven daies.'' 
 This was the origin of Bartholomew Fair, 
 over which the charter of Henry II. gave 
 the mayor and aldermen criminal juris- 
 diction during its continuance. 
 
 Bolton was the last prior of this house, 
 to which he added many buildings, and 
 built " the manor of Canonbury, at Isling- 
 ton, which belonged to the canons." In 
 1554, on the dissolution of the religious 
 houses, Henry VIII. , in consideration of 
 1064/. lis. 3d. granted to Richard Rich, 
 knt. attorney-general, and chancellor of 
 the court of augmentations of the revenues 
 of the crown, the dissolved monastery oi 
 priory of St. Bartholomew, and the Close 
 with the messuaees and buildings therein 
 appertaining to the monastery. He also 
 granted to the said Richard Rich, knt. 
 and to the inhabitants of the parish of St 
 
 * Slow, 
 
 tjl6 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Barlliolomew, and the church of St 
 Bartholomew, all the %'oi(i ground eighty 
 seven feet in length, and sixty in 
 breadth, adjoining the church westward, 
 for a church-yard. In tl)e first year 
 of Edward VI. that king confirmed the 
 grant to sir Richard Rich, who was crea- 
 ted lord Rich, and appointed lord clian- 
 cellor of England ; but under Mary the 
 ejected monks were restored to the priory, 
 where they remained till the accession of 
 queen Elizabeth, who renewed the grant 
 to lord Rich and his heirs ; and lord Rich 
 took up his residence in Cloth-fair. The 
 lord Rich ultimately became earl of War- 
 wick and Holland, and the property re- 
 gularly descended to the present lord 
 Kensington, through William Edwards, 
 who was son of the lady Elizabeth Rich, 
 and created, in 1 776, baron of Kensington 
 of the kingdom of Ireland. 
 
 Henry VIII. having in this way disposed 
 of the priory and church of St. Bartholo- 
 mew, he gave the hospital, with certain 
 messuages and appurtenances, to the city 
 of London. When connected with the 
 priory, it had been governed by a master, 
 brethren, and eight sisters. 
 
 On the 13th of January, 1546, the 
 bishop of Rochester (Holbeich,") preaching 
 at Paul's-cross, declared the gift of St, 
 Bartholomew's hospital to the citizens 
 " for relieving of the poore ;" and there- 
 upon the inhabitants ot the city were 
 palled together in their parish diurcties, 
 Jvhere sir Richard Dobbs the lord mayor, 
 'he several aldermen, and other principal 
 oitizens, showing the great good of taking 
 the poor from their miserable habitations, 
 and providing for them in hospitals 
 abroad, men were moved liberally to con- 
 tribute what they would towards such 
 hospitals, and so weekly, towards their 
 maintenance for a time, until they 'were 
 fully endowed ; and in July 1552 the re- 
 paration of the St. Bartholomew's hospi- 
 tal commenced, and it was endowed and 
 furnished at the charges of the citizens.* 
 The number of the poor and sick to be 
 maintained therein, was limited under the 
 foundation of Henry VIII. to one hun- 
 dred; but, at this time, several thousands 
 of persons who need surgical aid are an- 
 nually received and relieved, under the 
 management of the most eminent surgeons 
 of our age 
 
 Smithfield, whereon the Fair was held, 
 
 was likewise a niarkpt-place for cattle, hay, 
 straw, and other necessary provisions ; and 
 also, saith Stow, " it hath been a place for 
 honourable justs and triumphs, by reason 
 it was unpaid." After it had ceased to 
 be a place of recreative exercise with the 
 gentry, loose serving men and quarrel- 
 some persons resorted thither, and made 
 uproars ; and thus becoming the rendez- 
 vous of bullies and bravoes, it obtained 
 the name of " Ruffians'-hall." The 
 " sword and buckler'* were at that time 
 in use, and a serving-man carried a buck- 
 ler, or shield, at his back, which hung by 
 the hilt or pommel of his sword hanging 
 before him.* Fellows of this sort who 
 hectored and blustered were called 
 " Swash-bucklers," from the noise they 
 made with the " sword and buckler" to 
 frighten an antagonist : " a bully." or fel- 
 low all noise and no courage, was called 
 a " s\>'asher."f 
 
 With the disuse of pageants, the neces- 
 sity for Smithfield remaining a " soft 
 ground" ceased ; and, accordingly, as "it 
 was continually subject to the iniquity of 
 weather, and being a place of such goodly 
 extendure, deserved to be much bettei 
 lespected, it pleased the king's majesty, 
 (James I.) with the advice of his honour- 
 able lords of the counsell, to write gra 
 ciously to the lord maior and the alder- 
 men his brethren, that Smithfield might bf 
 sufficiently paved, which would bee the 
 onely meanes, whereby to have it kept in 
 far cleaner condition : And" says Stow, 
 " as no motion (to any good end and in- 
 tent) can be made to the city, but they as 
 gladly embrace and willingly pursue it ; 
 even so this honourable motion found as 
 acceptable entertainment, and it was very 
 speedily proceeded withall. Some volun- 
 tary contribution in the severall parishes 
 (what each man willingly would give) was 
 bestowed on the worke ; but, (indeed,) 
 hardly deserving any report. Notwith- 
 standing, on the fourth day of February, 
 in An. 1614, the city began the intended 
 labour, and before Bartholomew-tide then 
 next ensuing, to the credit aud honour ol 
 the city for ever, it was fully finished, and 
 Bartholomew Faire there kept, without 
 breaking any of the paved ground, but 
 the boothes discreetly ordered, to stand 
 fast upon the pavement. The citizens 
 charge thereof (as I have been credibly 
 told by Master Arthur Slrangwaies,) 
 
 * Mnilland. 
 t Nares. 
 
 617 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 amounting well neere to sixteene hundred 
 pounds." This improvement, it will be 
 remembered, was effected in the year 
 wherein Ben Jonson's " Bartholomew 
 Fair" was written. 
 
 In " The Order observed by the lord 
 maior, the aldermen, and sheriffes for 
 their meetings, and wearing of their ap- 
 pareil throughout the whole yeere," it is 
 ordained, That 
 
 "Oh Bartholomew Eve for the Fayre in 
 Smith field : — 
 
 " The aidermen meete the lord maior 
 and the sheriffes at the Guildhall chap- 
 pel, at two of the clocke after dinner, 
 having on their violet gownes lined, and 
 their horses, but without their cloakes, 
 and there they heare evening: prayer. 
 Which being done, they mount on their 
 horses, and riding to Newgate, passe 
 forth of the gate. Then entring into the 
 Cloth-fay re, there they make a procla- 
 mation, which proclamation being ended, 
 they ride thorow the Cloth-fayre, and so 
 returne backe againe thorow the church- 
 yard of great Saint Bartholomewes to 
 Aldersgate : and then ride home againe 
 to the lord niaior's iiouse." 
 
 In the same collection of ordinances: — 
 
 " On Bartholomew Day for the 
 JVrastlinic. 
 
 " So many aldermen as doe dine with 
 the lord maior, and the sheriffes, are ap- 
 parelled in thsir scarlet gownes lined ; and 
 after dinner, their horses are brought to 
 them where they dined. And those 
 aldermen which dine with the sheriffes, 
 ride with them to the lord maior's house 
 for accompanying him to the wrastlings. 
 When as the wrastling is done, they 
 mount their horses, and ride backe againe 
 thorow the Fayre, and so in at Aiders- 
 gate, and then home againe to the lord 
 maior's house." 
 
 " The Shooting Day. 
 
 " The next day, (if it be not Sunday,) 
 is appointed for the shooting, and the 
 service performed as upon Bartholomew- 
 day ; but if it bee Sunday, the Sabbath- 
 day, it is referred to the Munday then 
 foilowing." 
 
 Ben Jonson's mention, in his " Bart'io- 
 lomew Fair," of " the western man who is 
 come to wrestle before the lord mayor 
 anon," is clearly of one who came up to 
 the annual wrestling on Bartholomew's- 
 
 day. Concerning tnis "annual wrastliufr," 
 it is further noticed by Stow in anotiier 
 place, that about the feast of St. Bartho- 
 lomew, wrestling was exhibited before the 
 lord mayor and aldermen, at Skinners- 
 well near Clerkenwell, where they had a 
 large tent for their accommodation. He 
 speaks of it as having been a practice "of 
 old time ;" and affirms that " divers days 
 were spent in the pastime, and that the 
 officers of the oitie, namely the sheriffes, 
 Serjeants, and yeomen, the porters of the 
 king's beame, or weigh-house, (now no 
 such men," says Stow,) '' and other of 
 the citie were challengers of all men in 
 the suburbs, to wrestle for games appoint- 
 ed : and on other days, before the said 
 mayor, aldermen, and sheriffes, in Fens- 
 bury-field, to shoot the standard, broad 
 arrow, and flight, for games. But now of 
 late yeeres," Stew adds, "the wrestling 
 is only practiced on Bartholomew-day in 
 the afternoone, and the shooting some 
 three or foure days after, in one after 
 noone and no more." Finally, the old 
 chronicler laments, that " by the means of 
 closing in of common grounds, our arch- 
 ers, for want of roome to shoot abroad 
 creepe into bowling-alleys, and ordinarie 
 dicing houses, neerer home, where they 
 have roome enough to hazzard their mo- 
 ney at unlawful games, and there I lea\e 
 them to take their pleasures." Another 
 narrator tells of the wrestlers before the 
 lord mayor, aldermen, &c. on Baitholo- 
 mew's-day that they wrestled " two at 
 a time ;" he says '' the conquerors are re- 
 warded by them by money thrown from 
 the tent ; after this a parcel of wild rab- 
 bits are turned loose in the crowd, and 
 hunted by boys witn great noise, at 
 which the mayor and aldermen do much 
 besport themselves."* 
 
 It was on St. Baitholomew's-eve that 
 the London scholars held logical disputa- 
 tions about the principles of grammar 
 "I myself," says Stow, "have yeerely 
 seen the scholars of divers giammar- 
 schools, repaire unto the churchyard of 
 St. Bartholomew, the priory in Smith- 
 field, where, upon a banke boorded about 
 under a tree, some one scholler hath 
 stepped up, and there hath opposed and 
 answered, till he were by some better 
 scholler overcome and put downe; and 
 then the overcommer taking the piace, 
 did like as the lirst ; and in the eno, the 
 best opposers and answerers had re- 
 
 * Henliiier. 
 
 618 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER b. 
 
 wards." These disputations ceased at best scholars received bows, and arrows 
 the suppression of tiie priory, but were of silver, for their prizes. 
 
 revived, though, " only for a yea re or 
 
 waiae," under Edward VI., where the The Bartholomew Fair of 1655, is the 
 
 subject of 
 
 An Ancient Song of Bartholomew Fair. 
 
 In fifty-five, may I never thrive. 
 
 If 1 tell you any more than is true, 
 To London che came, hearing of the fame 
 
 Of a Fair they call Bartholomew. 
 
 In houses of boards, men walk upon cords, 
 
 As easie as squirrels crack fiiberds ; 
 But the cut-purses they do lite, and rub away, 
 
 But those we suppose to be ill birds. 
 
 For a penny you may zee a fine puppet play. 
 
 And for two-pence a rare piece of art ; 
 And a penny a cann, I dare swear a man, 
 
 May put zix of 'em into a quart. 
 
 Their zights are so rich, is able to bewitch 
 
 Tlie heart of a very fine man-a; 
 Here's patient Grizel here, and Fair Rosamond there, 
 
 And the history of Susanna. 
 
 At Pye-corner end, mark well, my good friend, 
 
 Tis a very fine dirty place ; 
 Where there's more arrows and bows, the Lord above knows. 
 
 Than was handl'd at Chivy Chase. 
 
 Then at Smithfield Bars, betwixt the ground and the stars. 
 
 There's a place they call Shoemaker Row, 
 Where that you may buy shoes every day, 
 
 Or go barefoot all the year I tro'.* 
 
 In 1699, Ned Ward relates his visit to looking with great contempt from their 
 
 the Fair: — slit deal thrones, upon the admiring mo- 
 
 " We ordered the coachman to set us bility gazing in the dirt at our ostenta- 
 
 down at the Hospital-gate, near which we tious heroes, and their most supercilious 
 
 went into a convenient house to smoke a doxies, who looked as aukward and un- 
 
 pipe, and overlook the follies of the in- gainly in their gorgeous accoutrements, 
 
 numerable throng, whose impatient de- as an alderman's lady in her stiffen-bo- 
 
 sires of seeing Merry Andrew's grimaces, died gown upon a lord mayor's festival. "f 
 
 had led them ancle deep into filth and 
 
 Hastiness. — The first objects, when we At the Fair of 1701, there was exhibit- 
 were seated at the window that lay with- ed a tiger which had been taught to pluck 
 in our observation, were the quality of a fowl's feathers from its body, 
 the Fair, strutting round their balconies In the reign of queen Anne the follow 
 in their tinsey robes, and golden leather ing curious bill relates part of the enter- 
 buckskins, expressing such pride in their tainment at one of the shows : — 
 buffoonery stateliness, that I could but " By her majesty's permission, at 
 reasonably believe they were as much Heatly's booth, over against the Cross 
 elevated with the thought of their fort- Daggers, next to Mr. Miller's booth, 
 night's pageantry, as ever Alexander was T^, „ ~~ 
 
 -.1 .if ^., i\ c i •^'f' Ballads. 
 
 with the thought of a new conquest t Waid's London Spy. 
 
 619 
 
THE EVERY-BAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 during the time of Bartholomew Fair, wil] 
 be presented a little opera, called The 
 Old Creation of the World new Revived, 
 with the addition of the glo^-ious battle 
 obtained over the French and Spaniards 
 by his grace the duke of Marlborough. 
 The conter.ts are these, 1. The creation 
 of Adam and Eve. 2. The intrigues of 
 Lucifer in the garden of Eden. 3. Adam 
 and Eve driven out of Paradise. 4. Cain 
 going to plow ; Abel driving sheep. 5. 
 Cain killeth his brother Abel. 6. Abra- 
 ,'iam offereth up his son Isaac 7. Three 
 wise men of the east, guided by a star, 
 come and worship Christ. 8. Joseph 
 and Mary flee away by night upon an ass. 
 9. King Herod's cruelty ; his men's spears 
 laden with children. 10. Rich Dives 
 invites his friends, and orders his porter 
 to keep the beggars from his gate. 11. 
 Poor Lazarus comes a begging at rich 
 Dives' gate, the dogs lick his sores. 12. 
 The good angel and Death contend for 
 Lazarus's life. 1.3 Rich Dives is taken 
 sick, and dieth ; he is buried in great so- 
 lemnity. 14. Rich Dives in hell, and 
 Lazarus in Abraham's bosoiti, seen in a 
 most glorious object, all in machines de- 
 scending in a throne, guarded with mul- 
 titudes of angels ; with the breaking of 
 the clouds, discovering the palace of the 
 sun, in double and treble prospects, to 
 the admiration of all the spectators. Like- 
 wise several rich and large figures, which 
 dance jiggs, sarabands,anticks,and country 
 dances, between every act; compleated 
 with the merry humours of Sir Jno. 
 Spendall and Punchinello, with several 
 other things never exposed. Performed 
 by Matt. Heatly. f^ivat Regina." 
 
 A writer in the " Secret Mercury," of 
 September 9, 1 702, says, " Wednesday, 
 September 3, having padlocked my poc- 
 kets, and trimmed myself with Hudibras 
 from head to foot, 1 set out about six for 
 Bartholomew Fair ; and having thrown 
 away substantial silver for visionary the- 
 atrical entertainment, I made myself ready 
 for the farce ; but I had scarce composed 
 tnyself, when bolts me into the pit a bully 
 Oeau, &c. The curtain drew, and dis- 
 covered a nation of beauish machines ; 
 their motions were so starched, that I 
 began to question whether I had mistaken 
 myself, and Dogget's booth for a puppet- 
 show. As I was debating the matter, 
 thty advanced towards the front of the 
 stage, and making a halt, began a singing 
 «o miserably, that I was forced to tune 
 fny own whistle in romance ere my brains 
 
 were set straight again. All the .secret 
 I could for my life discover in thf 
 whole grotesque, was the consistency o\ 
 drift of the piece, which I could nevej 
 demonstrate to this hour. At last, all the 
 childish parade shrunk off' the stage by 
 matter and motion, and enter a hobjete- 
 hoy of a dance, and Dogget, in old wo 
 man's petticoats and red waistcoat, as 
 like Progue Cock as ever man saw ; i; 
 would have made a stoic split his lungs, 
 if he had seen the temporary harlot smg 
 and weep both at once ; a true emblem 
 of a woman's tears. When these Christ- 
 mas carols were over, enter a wooden 
 horse ; now I concluded we should have 
 the ballad of Troy-town, but 1 was disap- 
 pointed in the scene, for a dancing-master 
 comes in, begins complimenting the horse, 
 and fetching me three or four run-bar'* 
 with his arm, (as if he would have morti- 
 fied the ox at one blow,) takes a frolic 
 upon the back of it, and translates him- 
 self into cavalry at one bound ; all I coifld 
 clap was the y)atience of the beast. How- 
 ever, having played upon him about half 
 a quarter, the conqueror was pursued with 
 such a clangor from the crusted clutches 
 of the mob in the sixpenny place, that for 
 five minutes together T was tossed on this 
 dilemma, that either a man had not five 
 senses, or I was no man. The stage was 
 now overrun with nothing but merry- 
 andiewsand pickle-herrings. This moun- 
 tebank scene was removed at last, and I 
 was full of expectations that the successo. 
 would be pv-'s, pots of balsam, and orvi- 
 etan ; but, alas, they were half empirics, 
 and therefore exeunt omnes.'' 
 
 We learn something of the excesses at 
 the Fair from "The Observator," of August 
 21, 1703 :— " Does this market of lewd- 
 ness tend to any thing else but the ruin 
 of the bodies, souls, and estates of the 
 young men and women of tne city of 
 London, who here meet wnn all the 
 temptations to destruction ? The lotteries, 
 to ruin their estates ; the drolls, comedies, 
 interludes, and farces, to poison their 
 minds, &c. and in the cloisters what 
 strange medley of lewdness has that place 
 not long since afforded ! Lords and ladies, 
 aldermen and their wives, 'squires and 
 fiddlers, citizens and rope-dancers, jack- 
 puddings and lawyers, mistresses and 
 maids, masters and 'prentices ! This is 
 not an ark, like Noah's which received 
 the clean and unclean ; only the unclean* 
 beasts enter this ark, and such as have the 
 devil's livery on their hacks." 
 
 620 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 An adverlisement in " The Postman," 
 of August 19, 1703, by " Barnes and 
 Finley," invites the reader to " see my 
 lady Mary perform such curious steps on 
 the dancing-rope," &c. &c. Lady Mary 
 Is noticed in " Heraclitus Ridens," No. 7. 
 " Look upon the old genlleman ; his eyes 
 are fixed upon my lady Mary : Cupid has 
 shot him as dead as a robin. Poor Hera- 
 clitus ! he has cried away all his moisture, 
 and is such a dotard to entertain himself 
 with a prospect of what is meat for his 
 betters ; wake him out of his lethargy, 
 and tell him the young noblemen and 
 senators will take it amiss if a man of his 
 years makes pretensions to what is more 
 than a match for their youth. Those 
 roguish eyes have brought her more ad- 
 mirers than ever Jenny Bolton had." 
 
 Lady Mary was the daughter of noble 
 parents, inhabitants of Florence, who im- 
 mured her in a nunnery ; but she acci- 
 dentally saw a merry-andiew, with whom 
 she formed a clandestine intercourse ; an 
 elopement followed, and finally, he taught 
 her his infamous tricks, which she exhi- 
 bited for his profit, till vice had made her 
 his own, as Heraclitus proves. The catas- 
 trophe of " the lady Mary" was dreadful : 
 her husband, impatient of delays or im- 
 pediments to profit, either permitted or 
 commanded her to exhibit on the rope, 
 when her situation required compassionate 
 consideration ; she fell never to rise again, 
 nor to open her eyes on her untimely 
 infant, which perished in a few minutes 
 after her. 
 
 In 171.5, Dawks's " News Letter," says, 
 " onWednesday, Bartholomew Fair began, 
 to which we hear, the greatest number of 
 black cattle was brought, that was ever 
 known. — There is one great playhouse 
 erecteJ in the middle of Smithfield for 
 the king's players. — The booth is the 
 largest that was ever built." Actors of 
 celebrity performed in the Fair at that 
 time, and in many succeeding years. 
 
 A recent writer, evidently well ac- 
 quainted with the manners of the period, 
 introduces us to a character mentioned in 
 a former sheet. " In the midst of all, the 
 public attention was attracted to a tall, 
 well-made, and handsome-looking man, 
 who was dressed in a very fashionable 
 suit of white, trimmed with gold lace, a 
 laced ruffled shirt, rolled white silk stock- 
 ings, a white apron, and a large cocked 
 nat, formed of gingerbread, fringed and 
 garnished with Dutch gold. He carried 
 on his arm a basket filled with gingerbread 
 
 cakes, one of which he held up in the air ; 
 while the other hand was stuck with an 
 easy and fashionable manner into his 
 bosom. For this singular vendor of con- 
 fectionary every one made way, and num- 
 bers followed in his train, shouting alter 
 him, ' there goes Tiddy Doll !' the name 
 by which that remarkable character was 
 known. He himself did not pass silently 
 through the crowd, but as he went along, 
 he poured forth a multiplicity of praises 
 of his ware, occasionally enlivened by that 
 song which first procured him his name." 
 This was at the Fair of the year 1740 
 concerning which the same illustrator thus 
 continues: " The multitude behind was 
 impelled violently forwards, a broad blaze 
 of red light, issuing from a score of flam- 
 beaux, streamed into t\\e air ; several 
 voices were loudly shouting, ' room there 
 for prince George I make way for the 
 prince !' and there was that lonsr sweep 
 heard to pass over the ground, which in- 
 dicates the approach of a grand and ce- 
 remonious train. Presently the pressure 
 became much greater, the voices louder, 
 the light stronger, and as the train came 
 onward, it might be seen that it consisted, 
 firstly, of a party of yeomen of the guards 
 clearing the way ; then several more of 
 them bearing flambeaux, and flanking the 
 procession ; while in the midst of all 
 appeared a tall, fair, and handsome young 
 man, having something of a plump forei'gn 
 visage, seemingly about four and thirty 
 years of age, dressed in a ruby-coloured 
 frock coat, very richly guarded with gold 
 lace, and having his long flowing hair 
 curiously curled over his forehead and at 
 the sides, and finished with a very large 
 bag and courtly queue behind. The air 
 of dignity with which he walked, the blue 
 ribbon, and star and garter with which he 
 was decorated, the small three-cornered 
 silk court hat which he wore, whilst all 
 around him were uncovered; the nume- 
 rous suite, as well of gentlemen as of 
 guards, which marshalled him along, the 
 obsequious attention of a short stout per- 
 son, who by his flouris'hing manner seemed 
 to be a player, — all these particulars in- 
 dicated that the amiable Frederick, prince 
 of Wales was visiting Bartholomew Fair 
 by torchlight, and that manager Rich was 
 introducing his royal guest to all the en- 
 tertainments of the place. However 
 strange this circumstance may appear to 
 the present generation, yet it is neverthe- 
 less strictly true; for about 1740, when 
 the drolls in Smithfield were extended to 
 
 621 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5 
 
 three weeks and a month, it was not con- 
 sidered as derogatory to persons of tlie 
 first rank and fashion, to partake in the 
 broad humour and theatrical amusements 
 of the place. It should also be remem- 
 bered, that many an eminent performer 
 of the last century, unfolded his abilities 
 in a booth ; and that it was once consi- 
 dered, as an important and excellent pre- 
 parative to their treading the boards of a 
 theatre-royal." One of the players is thus 
 represented as informing a spectator con- 
 cerning the occupation of an itinerant 
 actor : — " I will, as we say, take you be- 
 hind the scenes. First then, a valuable 
 actor must sleep in the pit, and wake 
 early to sweep the theatre, and throw 
 fresh sawdust into the boxes ; he must 
 shake out the dresses, and wind up and 
 dust the motion-jacks ; he must teach the 
 dull ones how to act, rout up the idlers 
 from the straw, and redeem those that 
 happen to get into the watch-house. Then, 
 sir, when the Fair begins, he should 
 sometimes walk about the stage grandly, 
 and show his dress : sometimes he should 
 dance with his fellows ; sometimes he 
 should sing ; sometimes he should blow 
 the trumpet ; sometimes he should laugh 
 and joke with the crowd, and give them 
 a kind of a touch-and-go speech, which 
 keep them merry, and makes them come 
 in. Then, sir, he should sometimes cover 
 his state robe with a great coat, and go 
 into the crowd, and shout opposite his 
 own booth, like a stranger who is struck 
 with its magnificence : by the way, sir, 
 that's a good trick, I never knew it fail to 
 make an audience ; and then he has only 
 to steal away, mount his stage, and strut, 
 and dance, and sing, and trumpet, and 
 roar over again."* 
 
 An advertisement in the " London Ga- 
 zette" of April the 13th, 1682, shows under 
 what authority showmen and similar per- 
 sons " labour in their vocation :" — • 
 
 " Whereas Mr. John Clarke, of London, 
 bookseller, did rent of Charles Killigrew, 
 Esq. the licensing of all ballad-singers 
 for five years ; which time is expired at 
 Lady-day next. These are, therefore, to 
 give notice to all ballad-singers, that they 
 take out licences at the office of the revels, 
 at Whitehall, for singing and selling of 
 ballads, and small books, according to an 
 ancient custom. And all persons con- 
 
 * New European Magazine, 1822-3. 
 
 cerned are hereby desired to take notice 
 of, and to suppress all mountebanks, rope- 
 dancers, prize- players, ballad-singers, and 
 such as make show of motions and strange 
 sights, that have not a licence in red and 
 black letters, under the hand and seal of 
 the said Charles Killigrew, Esq. master 
 of the revels to his majesty ;" and in par- 
 ticular it requires them to suppress two, 
 one of ther/i being " Tliomas Teats moun- 
 tebank," who have no licence " that they 
 may be proceeded against according to 
 law." 
 
 The late John Charles Crowle, Esq. 
 who bequeathed his illustrated copy 
 of" Pennant's London" to the British Mu- 
 seum, which he valued at 5000/. was mas- 
 ter of the revels. Li that quality he 
 claimed a seat in any part of the theatres, 
 and being opposed by the manager of the 
 little theatre in the Ilaymarket, main- 
 tained his right. He was also trumpet- 
 major of England, to whom every one 
 who blows a tiumpet publicly (excepting 
 those of the theatres-royal) must pay a 
 certain sum, and therefore the office has 
 jurisdiction of all the merry-andrews and 
 jack-puddings of every Fair throughout 
 England. The ofiice of master of the 
 revels was created under Henry VHL in 
 1 546. The identical seal of the office used 
 under five sovereigns, was engraved on 
 wood, and is in the possession of Francis 
 Douce, Esq. F.S.A., who permitted im- 
 pressions of it to be inserted first by Mr. 
 Chalmers in his " Apology for the be- 
 lievers in the Shakspeare MSS.," and next 
 by Mr. J. T.Smith, of the Brhish Museum, 
 in his " Ancient Topography of London :" 
 the legend on it is " Sigill: Offic : Jo- 
 cor : Mascar : et Revell : Dnis. Reg." 
 Mr. Chalmers's work also contains the 
 " arms of the revels."* 
 
 Mr. J. T. Smith was informed by Mr. 
 Thomas Eatrich, an ancient barber of Dru- 
 ry-lane, that Mr. Garrick shortly after his 
 marriage conducted Mrs. Garrick to Yates 
 and Shuter's booth; Garrick being rudely 
 pushed called upon his bill-sticker, old 
 Palmer, who had been engaged to receive 
 the money at the entrance of the booth, 
 for protection. Palmer, though a very 
 strong man, professed himself sorry he 
 could not serve him in Smithfield ; alleg- 
 ing that few people there knew Garrick 
 ofJ'the stage. One of the merry-andrev/s 
 
 * Smitli's Anc. Topog. Lond. 
 
 622 
 
THE EVERY-DaY book. -SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 who attended on the quack doctors was 
 so much superior to the rest of his pro- 
 fession for wit and gesture, that he was 
 noticed by ail ranks of people. Between 
 the seasons lie sold gingerbread nuts 
 about Covent-garden, and was the most 
 polite and quiet vendor of the article in 
 London ; for to keep up his value at fairs, 
 where he had a gumea a day for his per- 
 formance besides presents from the mul- 
 titude, he would never laugh or notice a 
 joke when a dealer in nuts. 
 
 Mr. Edward Oram, who died atllamp- 
 stead in his seventy-third year, and was 
 buried at Hendon, was intimate with Ho- 
 garth in his youth, and introduced him, 
 soon after he left his master, to the pro- 
 prietors of Drury-lane theatre, where he 
 and Oram painted scenes conjointly, for 
 several years, and were employed by a 
 fnmous woman, who kept a droll in Bar- 
 tholomew Fair to paint a splendid set of 
 scenes. The agreement particularly spe- 
 cified that the scenes were to be gilt; but 
 instead of leaf gold being used, they were 
 covered in the usual way with Dutch 
 metal : the mistress of the drolls declared 
 the contract to be broken, and refused to 
 pay for the scenes.* 
 
 Without going into a history of Bar- 
 tholomew Fair, it may he remarked that 
 in 1778 it was attended by a foreigner, 
 who exhibited serpents that danced on 
 silk ropes to the sound of music. In 
 1782, the late Mrs. Baker, proprietor of 
 the Rochester theatre, brought here her 
 company of comedians as " show-folk." 
 In four successive years, froml779 to 1 780, 
 Mr. Hall of the City-road, eminent fur 
 his skill in the preservation of deceased 
 animals, exhibited at the Fair his fine 
 collection of stuffed birds and beasts, 
 which he exhibited for many years before 
 and afterwards at his own house. To 
 obtain notice to it in Smithfield, he en- 
 gaged sir Jefi'ery Dunstan to give his 
 imitations in crying "old wigs;" but Uie 
 mob were no admirers of "still life:" at 
 Hall's last visit they drew his fine zebra 
 round the Fair ; from thenceforth sir Jef- 
 fery's imitations ceased to draw, and Hall 
 came no more. 
 
 The exhibitions of livinganimals at this 
 Fair have been always attractive. Hither 
 
 • Smith's Anc Top. Luud. 
 
 came the " illustrious" Pidcock, with his 
 wild beasts, and to him succeeued the 
 " not less illustrious" Polito. 
 
 Hither also came the formerly famous, 
 and still well-remembered Astley, with his 
 " equestrian troop," and his learned 
 horse. These feats were the admira'ion 
 of never-ceasing audiences, and to him 
 succeeded Saunders with like success. 
 Puppet Shows. 
 
 Flockton was the last eminent " motion- 
 master" at Bartholomew Fair. He was 
 himself a good performer, and about 1790 
 his wooden puppets were in high vogue. 
 He brought them every year till his death, 
 which happened at Peckham, where he 
 resided in a respectable way, upon a 
 handsome competence realized by their 
 exhibition at this and the principal fairs 
 in the country. Flockton's " Punch" 
 was a very superior one to the present 
 street show. He had trained a New- 
 foundland dog to fight his puppet, repre- 
 senting the devil, whom he always con- 
 quered in due time, and then ran away 
 with him. 
 
 A puppet-show, or play performed by 
 puppets, was anciently called a " niotion;" 
 and sometimes, in common talk, a single 
 puppet was called " a motion." These 
 were very favourite spectacles. In the 
 times of the papacy, the priests at Wit- 
 ney, in Oxfoidshire, annually exhibited a 
 show of The Resurrection, &c. by garnisl' 
 ing out certain small puppets represent 
 ing the persons of Christ, Mary, and 
 others. Amongst them, one in the cha- 
 racter of a waking watchman, espying 
 Christ to arise, made a continual noise, 
 like the sound caused by the meeting of 
 two sticks, and was tlierefore commonly 
 called Jack Snavher of JFytney. Lam- 
 barde, when a child, saw a like puppet ir 
 St. Paul's cathedral, London, at the feast 
 of Whitsuntide ; where the descent of the 
 Holy Ghost was performed by a white 
 pigeon being let fly out of a hole in the 
 midst of the roof of the great aisle, with a 
 long censer, which descending from the 
 same place almost to the ground, was 
 swung up and down at such a length, that 
 it reached with one sweep almost to the 
 west-gate of the church, and with the 
 other to the choir stairs, breathing out 
 over the whole church and the assembled 
 multitude a most pleisant perfume, from 
 the sweet things that burnt within it. 
 Lambarde says ; that they everywhere 
 used the like dumb .\ho'i/t, to fun.ir-h sun- 
 dry parts of the churcu service with spec- 
 
 623 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 tacles of the nativity, passion, and ascen- 
 sion. 
 
 There may be added to the particu- 
 .ars of a former exhibition, a puppet- 
 showman's bill at tl>e British Museum, 
 which announces scriptural subjects in 
 the reign of Anne, as follows : " At Craw- 
 .ey's booth, over againsftheCrown Tavern, 
 in Smithfield, during the time of Bartho- 
 lomew Fair, will be presented a little 
 opera, called the Old Creation oftheJForld, 
 yet newly revived ; with the addition of 
 Noah's Flood; also several fountains play- 
 ing water during the time of the play. 
 The last scene does present Noah and his 
 family coming out of the ark, with all the 
 beasts two by two, and all the fowls of 
 the air seen in a prospect sitting upon 
 trees; likewise over the ark is seen the 
 sun rising in a glorious manner : more- 
 over a multitude of angels will be seen in 
 a double rank which presents a double 
 prospect, one for the sun, the other for a 
 palace, where will be seen six ansrels 
 ringiuff of bells. Likewise machines de- 
 scend from above, double and treble, with 
 Dives rising out of hell, and Lazarus seen 
 in Abraham's bosom, besides several fi- 
 gures danctng jigs, sarabands, and coun- 
 try dances, to the admiration of the spec- 
 tators ; with the merry conceits oi Squire 
 Punch, and Sir John Speiidall." 
 
 These " motions" or puppet-shows 
 were fashionable at this period in other 
 places, and among fashionable people. 
 
 In the "Tatler"of May 14, 1709, there 
 is an account of a puppet-show in a letter 
 from Bath, describrng the rivalry of Pru- 
 dentia and Florimel, two ladies at that 
 watering-place. Florimel bespoke the 
 play of "Alexander the Great," to be acted 
 by the company of strollers oi Thursday 
 evening, and the letter-writer accepted 
 the lady's invitation to be of her party ; 
 but he says, " Prudentia had counter- 
 plotted us, and had bespoke on the same 
 evening, the puppet-show of the Creation 
 of the fVorld. She had engaged every 
 body to be there ; and to turn our leader 
 into ridicule, had secretly let them know 
 that the puppet Eve was made the most 
 '.ike Floiimel that ever was seen. On 
 Tiiur-sday morning the puppet-drummer, 
 with Adam and Eve, and several others 
 that lived before the Hood, paosed through 
 the streets on hor-scback to invite us all to 
 the pastime ; and Mr. Mayor was so wise 
 as to prefer these innocent people, the 
 puppets, who he said were to represent 
 christians, l)efore the wicked players who 
 
 were to show Alexander an heathen phi- 
 losopher. When we came to Noah'i 
 flood in the show, Punch and his v/ife 
 were introduced dancing in the ark Old 
 Mrs. Petulant desired both her daughters 
 to mind the moral; then whispered to 
 Mrs. Mayoress, ' this is very proper for 
 young people to see.' Punch at the end 
 of the play made Madame Prudentia a 
 bow, and was very civil to the whole com- 
 pany, making bows till his buttons touched 
 the ground." Sir Richard Steele in the 
 " Spectator" of March 16, 171 1, intimates 
 that Powell, the puppet-showman, exhi- 
 bited religious subjects with his puppets, 
 under the little piazza in Covent-garden ; 
 and talks of " his next opera of Susannah, 
 or Innocence Betrayed, which will be ex- 
 hibited next week with a pair of new 
 elders " 
 
 It is observed in a small pamphlet,* 
 that " music forms one of the grand at- 
 tractions of the Fair, and a number of 
 itinerant musicians meet with constant 
 employment at this time." A band at 
 the west-end of the town, well known for 
 playing on winter evenings before the 
 Spring-garden coffee-house, anrl opposite 
 Wigley's great exhibition-room, consisted 
 of a double drum, a Dutch organ, the 
 tambourine, violin pipes, and the Turkish 
 jingle, used in the army. This band was 
 generally hired at one of the first booths 
 in the Fair; but the universal noise arising 
 from so many other discordant instru- 
 ments, with the cry of '•' show them in ! 
 just going to begin !" prevented their being 
 attended to. 
 
 The pamphlet referred to mentions the 
 performances by a family of tumblers, 
 who went about with a large caravan, and 
 attended all the Fairs near town ; and 
 that at the beginning of the last century, 
 Clarke and Iliggins made themselves fa- 
 mous for their wonderful exertions in this 
 way. They would extend the body into 
 all deformed shapes, stand upon one leg, 
 and extend the other in a perpendicular 
 line, half a yard above the head. The 
 tumblers of the present day do not attempt 
 such wonderful exploits, but they put 
 their bodies into a variety of singular pos- 
 tures, and leap with remarkable facility. 
 
 Lane was a celebrated performer at 
 this Fair, and had several pupils who suc- 
 ceeded him in pi-actising the grand and 
 sublime art of legerdemain, and various 
 
 * 12iii<.., " Dul)li<i!ic(l hy John AtVue, No, ff 
 Barlluiloi.iew Close," about 1810, 
 
 62i 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 5. 
 
 Iricks with cards and balls. The secrets 
 of fortune were disclosed ; unmarried 
 damsels were told when and to whom they 
 were to be married ; and the widow when 
 she should strip herself of her weeds, and 
 enter anew into matrimony ; knives were 
 run through the hand without producing 
 blood ; knives and forks swallowed as of 
 easy digestion ; and fire and sparks pro- 
 ceeded out of a man's mouth as from a 
 blacksmith's forge. 
 
 During Bartholomew Fair there were 
 swings without rumber, besides round- 
 abouts and up-and-Qowns. In the latter, 
 the " young gentleman," with his fair 
 partner, were elated by the undulating 
 motion, or rather vertical rotation of the 
 machine ; and while thus in motion, could 
 survey the busy scene around, and hear 
 its roar. The effect cannot be described 
 
 which a stranger experienced upon enter- 
 ing Smithfield, and beholding the im- 
 mense number of these vehicles, which 
 appeared as if soaring into the clouds. 
 
 Then too, about the year 1815, a well- 
 known eccentric character might be seen 
 with plum-pudding on a board, which he 
 sold in slices, lie possessed as much 
 drollery as any mountebank in the Fair, 
 and had as various characteristic traits of 
 cddity. He always walked without his 
 hat, and his hair powdered and tied a la 
 queue, in a neat dress, with a clean 
 apron : his voice, strong and forcible, 
 made many a humorous appeal in behali 
 of his pudding, large quantities of which 
 he dealt out for " ready money," and pro- 
 voked a deal of mirth by his pleasantry. 
 
 George Alexander istevens be-rhymci 
 the Fair in his day thus :— 
 
 Here were, first of all, crowds against other crowds driving 
 Like wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving; 
 Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking. 
 Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow girls squeaking — 
 " Come my rare round and sound, here's choice of fine ware !" 
 Though all was not sound sold at Barlelmew Fair. 
 Here were drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures, 
 With frying black puddings, and opening of oysters ; 
 With salt-boxes, solos, and galley folks squalling, 
 The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling. 
 Here's "Punch's whole play of the gunpowder plot," 
 " Wild beasts all alive," and " peas pudding all hot." 
 " Fine sausages" fried, and " the Black on the wire," 
 " The whole court of France," and *' nice pig at the fire " 
 Here's the up-and-downs, " who'll take a seat in the cha'r ?" 
 Tho' there's more up-and-downs than at Bartelmcw Fair. 
 Here's " Whittington's cat," and " the tall dromedary," 
 " The chaise without horses," and " queen of Hungary." 
 Here's the merry-go-rounds, " Come who rides, come who rides, sir," 
 Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire eating besides, sir. 
 The fam'd " learned doe," that can tell all his letters, 
 And some meti, as scholars, are not much his belters. 
 
 Before the commencement of the last 
 cen^:'ry, Barthoh mew Fair had become 
 an intolerable nuisance, and the lord 
 mayorand aldermen, to abateits depravity, 
 issued a prohibition on the 25th of June, 
 1700, against its lotteries and interludes. 
 Subsequent feints of resistance were made 
 to its shows, music, and other exhibitions, 
 without further advantage than occasional 
 cessation of gross violations against the 
 public peace. 
 
 In sir Samuel Fludyer's mayoralty, in- 
 terludes were prohibited by a resolution 
 of the court of aldermen. This resolution 
 oas been annually put f( rth, and annually 
 troken by the court itself When 
 
 alderman Bull filled the civic chair, he 
 determined to carry the resolution into 
 effect, and so far accomplished his pur- 
 pose as not to allow any booths to be 
 erected ; but want of firmness in his pre- 
 decessors had inspirited the mob, and 
 they broke the windows of the houses in 
 Smithfield, Alderman Sawbridge in his 
 mayoralty was equally determined against 
 shows, and tbe mob was equally deter- 
 mined for them ; he persisted, and they 
 committed similar excesses. Yet we find 
 that in the year 1743, the resolution had 
 been complied with. The cit^ would not 
 permit booths to be erected, and " tiie 
 Fair terminated in a more peaceable man* 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 625 
 
 2 S 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 6. 
 
 ner than it had done in tlie memory of 
 man."* This quiet, however, was only 
 temporary, for on the 23rd of August, 
 1749, a gallery in Phillips's booth broke 
 down, and four persons were killed ; a 
 silversmith, a plasterer, a woman, and a 
 child, and many others were dangerously 
 bruised ; one of the maimed had his leg 
 cut off the next morning.f This accident 
 seems to have aroused the citizens : on 
 the 10th of July, 1750, a petition was 
 presented to the lord mayor and court of 
 aldermen, signed by above one hundred 
 graziers, salesmen, and inhabitants in and 
 near Smithfield, against erecting booths 
 for exhibiting shows and entertainments 
 there, during Bartholomew Fair, as not 
 only annoyingto them in theircallings,but 
 as giving the profligate and abandoned 
 opportunity to debauch the innocent, de- 
 fraud the unwary, and endanger the pub- 
 lic peace.; 
 
 On the 17th of July, 1798, the court of 
 common council referred it to the com- 
 mittee of city lands, to consider the neces- 
 sity and expediency of abolishing Bartho- 
 lomew Fair : in the course of the previous 
 debate it was proposed to shorten the pe- 
 riod to one day, but this was objected to 
 on the ground that the immense crowd 
 from all parts of the metropolis would en- 
 danger life.§ 
 
 In September, 1825, Mr. Alderman 
 Joshua Jonathan Smith, previous to enter- 
 ing on an examination of forty-five prison- 
 ers charged with felonies, misdemeanours, 
 assaults, &c. committed in Smithfield 
 during the Fair of that year, stated, that 
 its ancient limits had been extended into 
 several adjoining streets beyond Smith- 
 field ; he said he had particularly noticed 
 this infringement in St. John-street, 
 Clerkenwell on the north side, and near- 
 ly half-way down the Old Bailey, on the 
 south ; and he was determined, with the 
 aid of his coadjutors, to take such further 
 steps as would in future " lessen the cri- 
 minal extension which had arisen, if not 
 abolish the degrading scene altogether." [| 
 
 At other periods besides these, there 
 were loud complaints against Bartholo- 
 mew Fair; and as in 1825, the corpora- 
 tion of London appears seriously to have 
 been engaged in considering the nuisance, 
 its end may be contemplated as near at 
 hand. It is to the credit of the civic autho- 
 
 • Gentleman's Magazine. J Ibid. 
 
 t Ib>d^ $ Ibid. 
 
 1)4 Old. 
 
 rities, that though shows and inteilude^ 
 were permitted, the Fair of that year was 
 more orderly than any other within me- 
 mory. Yet even these regulations are in 
 efficient to the maintenance of the reputa- 
 tion the city ought to hold in the estima- 
 tion of other corporations. The Fair was 
 instituted for the sale of cloth, cattle, and 
 other necessary commodities : as these 
 have, for many years past, wholly disap- 
 peared from it, the use of the Fair has 
 wholly ceased ; its abuse alone remains, 
 and that abuse can only be destroyed by 
 the utter extinction of the Fair. To do 
 this is not to " interfere with the amuse- 
 ments of the people," for the people of 
 the metropolis do not require such amuse- 
 ments ; they are beyond the power of 
 deriving recreation from them. The well- 
 being of their apprentices and servants, 
 and the young and the illiterate, require 
 protection from the vicious contamination 
 of an annual scene of debauchery, whicli 
 contributes nothing to the city funds, and 
 nothing to the city's character but a 
 shameful stain. 
 
 Bartholomew Fair must and will be put 
 down. It i.s for this reason that so much 
 has been said of its former and present 
 state. No person of respectability now 
 visits it, but as a curious spectator of an 
 annual congregation of ignorance and de- 
 pravity. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Mushroom. Agaricus Campestris. 
 Dedicated to St. Laurence Justmian 
 
 St. Pambo of Nitria, a.d. 385. St. Eleu- 
 therms, Abbot. St. Bega, or Bees, 7th 
 Cent. 
 
 St. Eleutherius. 
 Alban Butler boldly says, that this 
 
 saint raised a dead man to life. He died 
 
 at Rome, in St. Andrew's monastery, 
 
 about the year 585. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Autumnal Dandelion. Apargia Autmn- 
 
 nalis. 
 
 Dedicated to 5^ Pambo. 
 
 626 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 ^rpttmbf r 7. 
 
 Cloud, A.D. 560. Sit. Regina, or St. 
 
 Reiiie, a.d. 251. St. Evurtius, a. d. 
 
 340. St. Grimonia, or Germana. St. 
 
 Madelberte, a. u. 705. S^*. Alchmund 
 
 and Tilberht, Bps. of Hexham, a. d. 
 
 780 and 789. St. Eunan, first Bp. of 
 
 Raphoe. 
 
 St. Enurchus, or Evurtius. 
 
 Tliis saint is in the church of England 
 calendar, and therefore in the English 
 almanacs, but on what ground it is diffi- 
 cult to conjecture ; for Butler himself 
 merely mentions him as a bishop of Or- 
 leans, who lived in the reign ofConstan- 
 tine, and died about 340 : — he adds, that 
 " his name is famous, but his history of 
 no authority." 
 
 "Fine Feathers make fine Birds." 
 The subjoined letter, dated the 7th af 
 September, 1825, appears in The Times 
 newspaper of the following day : — 
 
 To the Editor of the Times. 
 Sir, — I consider it necessary to inform 
 the public, through your paper, that there 
 is a fellow going about the town, (dressed 
 like a painter,) imposing upon the un- 
 wary, by selling them painted birds, for 
 foreign ones. He entered my house on 
 Monday last, and after some simple con- 
 versation with the customers in the room, 
 he introduced the topic of his birds, which 
 he had in a paper bag, stating that he had 
 been at work in a gentleman's family at 
 the west end of the town, and the gentle- 
 man being on the point of leaving Eng- 
 land for a foreign country, he made him a 
 present of them ; " but," says he, " I'm 
 as bad as himself, for I'm going down to 
 Canterbury to-morrow morning myself, to 
 work, and they being of no use to me, I 
 shall take them down to Whitechapel and 
 sell them for what I can get." Taking 
 one out of the bag, he described it as a 
 V^irginia nightingale, which sung four dis- 
 tinct notes or voices: the colour certainly 
 was most beautiful ; its head and neck 
 was a bright vermilion, the back betwixt 
 the wings a blue, the lower part to the 
 fail a bright yellow, the wings red and 
 yellow ; the tail itself was a compound 
 mixture of the above colours, the belly a 
 clear green — he said it was well worth a 
 sovereign to any gentleman. However, 
 after a good deal of lying, bidding, and 
 argument, one of the party offered five shil- 
 lings, which he at last took; and disposing 
 of the others much in the same way, he 
 
 quickly decamped. In the course of an 
 hour after, a barber, a knowing hand in 
 the bird way, who lives in the neighbour- 
 hood, came in, and taking a little water, 
 with his white apron he transferred the 
 variegated colours of the nightingale to 
 the white flag of his profession. The de. 
 ception was visible — the swindler had 
 fled — and the poor hedge-sparrow had his 
 unfortunate head severed from his body, 
 for being forced to personate a nightin- 
 gale. A Licensed Victualler. 
 
 Upper Thames-street. 
 
 By the preceding letter in The Tnnes^ 
 a great number of persons were first ac- 
 quainted with a fraud frequently prac- 
 tised. As a useful and amusing com- 
 munication it has a place here. It may, 
 however, be as well to correct an error 
 which the intelligent " Licensed Victual- 
 ler" falls into by venturing beyonda plain 
 account, to indulge in figurative expres- 
 sion. It is not doubted that his " barber, 
 a knowing hand in the bird way," wore 
 " a white apron ;" but when the " Li- 
 censed Victualler" calls the barber's white 
 apron " the tohite flag of his profession," 
 he errs ; a ivhite apron may be the" flag' 
 of the " Licensed Victualler's profession,' 
 but It is not the barber's " flag." 
 
 THE BARBER. 
 
 Randle Holme, an indisputable autho- 
 rity, in his great work on " Heraldry," fi- 
 gures a barber as above. " He beareth ar- 
 gent" says Holme ; "a barber bare-head- 
 ed with a pair of cisers in his right hand, 
 and a comb in his left, clothed in russet, 
 his apron ckecque of the first, and azure ; 
 a barber is always known by his checque 
 party-coloured apron, therefore it needs 
 not mentioning. Holme emphatically 
 adds, " neither can he be termed a bar- 
 ber, (or poler, or shaver,) as anciently they 
 were called, till his apron be about him;'"' 
 that is to say, "his checque party-coloured 
 apron." This, and this only, is the " flag 
 of his professioH." 
 
 627 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 Holme derives the denomination bar- 
 ber from barba, a beard, and describes 
 him as a cutter of hair ; he was also an- 
 ciently termed a poller, because in former 
 times to poll was to cut the hair : to trim 
 was to cut the beard, after shaving, into 
 form and order. 
 
 The instrument-case of a barber, and 
 the instruments in their several divisions, 
 are particularly described by Holnje. It 
 contained his looking-glass, a set of horn 
 combs with teeth on qne side and wide, 
 " for the combing and readying of long, 
 thick, and atony heads of hair, and such 
 like perriwigs ;" a Set of box combs, a set 
 of ivory combs with fine teeth on both 
 sides, an ivory beard-comb, a beard-iron 
 called the forceps, being a curling iron for 
 the beard, a set of razors, tweezers witli 
 an earpick, a rasp to file the point of a 
 tooth, a hone for his razors, a bottle of 
 sweet oil for his hone, a powder box with 
 sweet powder, a puff to powder the hair, 
 a four square bottle with a screwed head 
 for sweet water, wash balls and sweet 
 balls, caps for the head to keep the hair 
 up, trimming cloths to put before a man, 
 and napkins to put about his neck, and 
 dry his hands and face with. After he was 
 shaved and barbed, the barber was to 
 hold him the glass, that he might see " his 
 new-made face," and instruct the baiber 
 where it was amiss : the barber was then 
 to " take off the linens, brush his clothes, 
 present him with his hat, and, according 
 to his hire, make a bow, with * your hum- 
 ble servant, sir.' 
 
 The same author thus figures 
 
 are from Randle Holme, who wro'e in 
 1688, and relate to burbeis of ioriie- 
 days. 
 
 The Barber's Candlestick. 
 He describes it to be *' a wooden turned 
 Btick, having a socket in the streight 
 peece, and another in the cross or over- 
 thwart peece ; this he sticketh in his 
 apron strings on his left side or breast 
 when he useth to trim by candlelight." 
 
 Without going into every particular 
 concerning the utensils and art of " Barb- 
 ing and Shaving," some may be deemed 
 curious, and therefore worthy of notice. 
 It is to be observed, however that they 
 
 Barber's Bastn. 
 
 The barber's washing or trimming, 
 basin had a circle in the brim to compass 
 a man's throat, and a place like a little 
 dish to put the ball in after lathering. 
 Holme says, that " such a like bason as 
 this, valiant Don Quixote took from a 
 bloody enchanting barber, which he took 
 to be a golden head-piece." 
 
 The barber's basin is very ancient ; it 
 is mentioned by Ezekiel the prophet. lo 
 the middle age it was of bright copper.* 
 
 Razor. 
 Tliis is a figure of the old razor of a su- 
 perior kind, tipped with silver ; " that is," 
 says Holme, " silver plates engraven are 
 fixed upon each end of the haft, to make 
 the same look more gent and rich." The 
 old man, being fidgetted by this orna- 
 ment, declares, "it is very oft done by yong 
 proud artists who adorne their instru- 
 ments with silver shrines, more then 
 seting themselves forth by the glory that 
 attends their art, or praise obtained by 
 skill." Before English manufactures ex- 
 celled in cutlery, razors were imported 
 from Palermo f Razors are meutiocsd 
 by Homer. 
 
 Barber's Chafer- 
 
 Fosbroke's Ency. of A)ra(| 
 Ibid, and Nares's Glossary. 
 
 628 
 
TOE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBEH 7. 
 
 " This is a small cha''er which they use 
 ;o carry about with them, when they 
 make any progress to trim or barb gen- 
 tiles at a distance, to carry their sweet 
 water (or countreyman's broth) in ; the 
 round handle at the mouth of the chafer 
 is to fall down as soon as their hand 
 leaves it;" so says Holme. Mr. J. T. 
 Smith remarks, that "\\\e flying barber 
 is a character now no more to be seen 
 in London, though he still remains in 
 some of our country villages ; he was pro- 
 vided with a napkin, soap, and pewter 
 bason, the form of which may be seen in 
 many of the illustrative prints of Don 
 Quixote." The same writer speaks of the 
 barber's chafer as being — "A deep leaden 
 vessel, something like a chocola-te pot, 
 with a large ring, or handle, at the top ; 
 this pot held about a quart of water boil- 
 ing hot, and thus equipped, he flew about 
 to his customers." These chafers are no 
 longer made in London ; the last mould 
 which produced them was sold in New- 
 street, Shoe-lane, at the sale of Mr. Rich- 
 ard Joseph's moulds for pewter utensils, 
 in January, 1815 : it was of brass and 
 broken up for metal.* 
 
 Barbers Chafing Dish. 
 This was a metal firepot, with a turn- 
 ing handle, and much used during winter, 
 especially in shops without fire-places. 
 It was carried by the handle from place 
 to place, but gfneially set under a brass 
 or copper basin with a flat broad bottom, 
 whereon if linen cloths were rubbed or 
 Ipt remain, they in a little time became 
 not or warm for the barber's use. 
 
 ThJs is their ancient shape. " In for- 
 mer times these were much used to curl 
 the side locks of a man's head, but now 
 (in 1688) wholly cast aside as useless ; it 
 openeth and shutteth like the forceps, 
 only the ends are broad and square, be- 
 ing cut within the mouth with teeth 
 curled and crisped, one tooth striking 
 within another." 
 
 Scissors. 
 
 Hair-scissoTS were long and broad in 
 the blades, and rounded towards the 
 points which were sharp. 
 
 Beard-scissors had short blades and 
 long handles. 
 
 The barber's scissors differed in these 
 respects from others ; for instance, the 
 tailor's scissors had blunt points, while 
 the sea7nster's scissors differed from both 
 by reason of their smallness, some of 
 them having one ring for the thumb only 
 to fit it, while the cont<rary ring or bow 
 was large enough to admit two or three 
 fingers. 
 
 Pick-adevant Beard. 
 
 '* A fvrfl face with a sharp-pointea 
 beard is termed, in blazon, a man's face 
 ■with a pick-a-devant (or sharp pointed,) 
 beard." Mi. Archdeacon Nares's " Glos- 
 sary" contains several passages in corro- 
 boration of Holme's description of this 
 beard. 
 
 Berber's Crisping Irons, 
 • SmithV Anc. Topoy. Loud. 
 
 Cathedral BeaVd. 
 
 Tills Holme calls " the broad or cathe- 
 dral beard, because bishops and grave 
 men of the church anciently did wear 
 such beards." Besides this, and ihe pick- 
 a-devant, he says there are several sorts 
 and fashions of beards, viz. " the British 
 beard hath long mochedoes, (mustachios) 
 on the higher lip, hanging down either 
 side the chin, all the rest of the face being 
 bare :— the forked beard is a broad beard 
 ending in two points : — the mouse-eaten 
 beard, when the beard groweth scatter- 
 
 629 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 ingly, not together, but here a tuft and He further gives the following as 
 there a tuft," &c. 
 
 GuillaumeDuprat, bishop of Clermont, 
 who assisted at the council of Trent, and 
 built the college of the Jesuits at Paris, 
 had the finest beard that ever was seen. 
 It was too fine a beard for a bishop, and 
 the canons of his cathedral, in full chapter 
 assembled, came to the barbarous resolu- 
 tion of shaving him. Accordingly, when 
 next he came to the choir, the dean, the 
 prevot, and the chantre approached with 
 scissors and razors, soap, basin and warm 
 water. He took to his heels at the sight, 
 and escaped to his castle of Beauregard, 
 about two leagues from Clermont, where 
 he fell sick for vexation, and died.* 
 
 Ancient monuments represent the 
 Greek heroes to have worn short curled 
 beards. Among the Romans, after the 
 year 454, c. b., philosophers alone con- 
 stantly wore a beard ; the beard of their 
 military men was short and frizzed. The 
 first emperors with a long and thick 
 beard were Hadrian, who wore it to hide 
 his wounds, and Antoninus Pius, and 
 Marcus Aurelius, who wore it as philo- 
 sophers : a thick beard was afterwards 
 considered an appendage that obtained 
 for the emperors veneration from the 
 people. f 
 
 mii0. 
 
 A long Perrhvig, with a Pole-lock. 
 
 This he puts forth as being " by artists 
 called a long-curled-wig, with tLSuffiopUn, 
 or with a dildo, or pole-lock;" and he af- 
 firms, that " this is the sign or cognizance 
 of the perawick-maker.'' 
 
 That the peruke was anciently a barber's 
 sign, is verified by a very rare, and perhaps 
 an unique engraving of St. Paul's cathe- 
 dral when building, with the scaffolding 
 poles and boards up. Tliis print, in the 
 possession of the editor of the Every-Day 
 Book, represents a barber's shop on the 
 north-side of St. Paul's churchyard, with 
 the barber's pole out at the door, and a 
 swinging sign projecting from each side 
 of the house, a peruke being painted on 
 each. 
 
 A Peruke. 
 
 It is figured as seen above by Holme> 
 who also calls it in his peculiar ortho- 
 graphy a " perawicke," and says it was 
 likewise called *' a short bob, a head of 
 hair — a wig that hath short locks and a 
 hairy crown." He describes it with some 
 feeling. " This is a counterfeit hair which 
 men wear instead of their own ; a thing 
 much used in our days by the generality 
 of men ; contrary to our forefathers who 
 got estates, loved their wives, and wore 
 their own hair ; but," says he, " in these 
 days (1688) there is no such things I" 
 
 Att.crurnm. 
 ♦ fotliroke'i Ency. of Antiq. 
 
 This 
 
 A Travelling J fig. 
 peruque, with a " curled foretop 
 
 and bobs," was " a kind of travelling wig, 
 having the side or bottom locks turned 
 up into bobs or knots tied up with rib- 
 bons." Holme further calls it " a cam- 
 paign-wig," and says, " it hath knots or 
 bobs, or a dildo, on each side, with a 
 curled forehead." 
 
 A Grafted IVig 
 
 is described by Holme as " a perawick 
 •with a turn on the top of the head, in 
 imitation of a man's hairy crown." 
 
 A Border of Hair. 
 
 TTns is so called by Holme ; he also 
 c^Us it " a peruque, with th<> crown or 
 
 GOO 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 top cut o^ ; some term it the border of a 
 peruque :" he adds, that " women usually 
 wear such borders, which they call curls 
 or locks when they hang over their ears.'' 
 He further says, they were called " taiires 
 when set in curls on the forehead," and 
 " merkins" when the curls were worn 
 'tOwer, or at the sides of the face. 
 
 ^ Bull-head, 
 
 " Some," says Holme, " term this 
 curled forehead a bull-head, from the 
 French word taure, because iaure is a 
 bull ; it was the fashion of women to wear 
 bull-heads, or bull-like foreheads, anno 
 1674, and about that time: this is the 
 coat (of arms) of Taurell, a French mon- 
 sieur, or seigneur." 
 
 3 our chief authoritj;, 
 ; thus " quoiffed," with " a 
 
 Curls on JFires. 
 
 According to 
 Holme, a female thus " que 
 pair of locks and curls," was in " great 
 fashion, about the year 1670," He adds, 
 that " they are false locks, set on wyres, 
 to make them stand at a distance from 
 the head ; as the fardingales made their 
 clothes stand out (from the hips down- 
 wards) in queen Elizabeth's reign." 
 
 Female Head Dress in 1688. 
 There is a little difficulty in naming 
 this head dress ; for Holme is so diffuse 
 and indignant that he gives it no term 
 though he describes the engraving. The 
 figure is remarkable because it is in many 
 respects similar to the manner wherein 
 the ladies of 1825 adjust the head. It 
 will be remembered that Holme was a 
 herald, and though his desciiptions have 
 
 not hitherto been here related in his af 
 morial language, he always sets them ou» 
 so, in his " storehouse of armory and 
 blazon." It may be amusing to conclude 
 these extracts from him with his descrip- 
 tion of this figure in his own words : thus 
 then the old " deputy for the kings o{ 
 arms" describes it : — 
 
 " He beareth argent a woman's face , 
 her forehead adorned with a knot of di- 
 verse coloxired ribbons ; the head with a 
 ruffle quoif, set in corners, and the like 
 ribbons behind the head. This," says 
 Holme, " is a fashion-monger s head, 
 tricked and trimed up, according to the 
 mode of these times, wherein I am wri- 
 ting of it; and, in my judgment, were a 
 fit coat for such seamsters as are skilled 
 in inventions. But" (he angrily breaks 
 forth,) " ivhat do I talk of arms to such, by 
 reason they will be shortly old, and there- 
 fore not to be endured by them, whose 
 brains are always upon new devises and 
 inventions 1 But all are brought again 
 from the old ; for there is no 7ieio thing 
 under the sun ; for what is now, hath been 
 formerly !" ■ 
 
 In the great dining-room at Lambeth- 
 
 Ealace, there are portraits of all the arch- 
 ishops, from Laud to the present time. 
 In these we may observe the gradual 
 change of the clerical dress, in the article 
 of wigs. Archbishop Tillotson was the 
 first prelate who wore a wig, which then 
 was not unlike the natural hair, and worn 
 without powder.* 
 
 It is related of a barber in Paris, that, 
 to establish the utility of his bag-wigs, he 
 caused the history of Absalom to be painted 
 over his door ; and that one of the pro- 
 fession, at a town in Northamptonshire, 
 used this inscription, " Absalom, hadst 
 thou worn a perriwig, thou hadst not 
 been hanged. "f It is somewhere told ot 
 another that he ingeniously versified his 
 brother peruke-maker's inscription, under 
 a sign which represented the death ot 
 Absalom and David weeping ; he wrote 
 up thus : — 
 
 "Oh, Absalom! Oli, Absalom! 
 Oh, Absalom ! my son, 
 
 If thou hadst worn a perriwig. 
 Thou hadst not been undone ! " 
 
 The well-known, light, flaxen wig of 
 Townsend, the well-known police-officer, 
 is celebrated in a song beginning thus: — 
 
 Lysons' Envirotw. 
 t Grnt.'i Mag. 
 
 631 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 TmcnsciuCs JVig. 
 
 1'uie — " Nancy Dawson." 
 
 Of all the wigs in Brighton town, 
 The black, the grey, the red, the brown, 
 So firmly glued upon the rrown. 
 There's none like Johnny Townsend's : 
 it's silken hair and flaxen hue, 
 (It is a scratch, and not a qnene,) 
 Whene'er it pops upon the view. 
 Is known for Johnny Townsend's ! 
 
 Wigs were worn by the Romans when 
 bald ; those of the Roman ladies were 
 fastened iipon a caul of goat-skin. Per- 
 nwigs commenced with their emperois; 
 they were awkwardly made of hair, paint- 
 ed and glued together. 
 
 False hair was always in use, though 
 more from defect than fashion ; but the 
 year 1529 is deemed the epoch of the 
 introduction of long perriwigs into France ; 
 yet it is certain that ladies tetes were in 
 use here a century before. Mr.Fosbroke, 
 from whose " Encyclopaedia of Antiqui- 
 ties" these particulars are derived, says, 
 " that strange deformity, the judge's wig, 
 first appears as a general genteel fashion 
 in the seventeenth century." Towards 
 the close of that century, men of fashion 
 combed their wigs at puMic places, as an 
 act of gallantry, with very large ivory or 
 tortoiseshell combs, which they carried in 
 their pockets as constantly as their snuff- 
 boxes. At court, in the mall of St, 
 James's-park, and in the boxes of the 
 theatre, gentlemen conversed and combed 
 their perukes. 
 
 ®air. 
 
 Horace Walpole relates that when the 
 countess of Suffolk married Mr. Howard, 
 they were both so poor, that they took a 
 resolution of going to Hanover before the 
 death of queen Anne, in order to pay 
 their court to the future royal family. 
 Having some friends to dinner, and being 
 disappointed of a full remittance, she was 
 forced to sell her hair to furnish the enter- 
 tainment. Long wigs were then in fashion, 
 and the countess's hair being fine, long, 
 and fair, produced her twenty pounds. 
 
 A fashion of wearing the hair gave rise 
 to a college term at Cambridge, which is 
 tlius mentioned and explained in a dic- 
 tionary of common parlance at that uni- 
 versity : — 
 
 " Apoi.lo. One whose hair is loose and 
 flowing ; 
 
 Unfrizzlcd, inimwtntpd, and untied ; 
 No powder seen. 
 
 " His royal highness prince William of 
 Gloucester was an Apollo during the 
 whole of his residence at the university of 
 Cambridge ! The strange fluctuation of 
 fashions has often afforded a theme for 
 amusing disquisition. ' I can remember,' 
 says the pious archbishop Tillotson, in 
 one of his sermons, discoursing on this 
 head, viz. of hair ! ' since tlie wearing the 
 hair beloio the ears was looked upon as a 
 sin of the first magnitude ; and when mi- 
 nisters generally, whatever their text was. 
 did either find, or make occasion to re- 
 prove the great sin of long hair; and if 
 tliey saw any one in the congregation 
 guilty in that kind, they would point him 
 out particularly, and let fly at him with 
 great zeal.' And we can remember since 
 the wearing the hair cropt, i. e. above the 
 ears, was looked upon, though not as a 
 * sin,' yet as a very vulgar and raffish 
 sort of a thing ; and when the doers of 
 newspapers exhausted all their wit in en- 
 deavouring to rally the new-raised corps 
 of crops, regardless of the noble duke 
 who headed them ; and, when the rude, 
 rank-scented rabble, if they saw any one 
 in the streets, whether time, or the tonsor, 
 had thinned his flowing hair, would 
 point him out particularly, and * let fly 
 at him,' as the archbishop says, till not 
 a shaft of ridicule remained ! The tax 
 upon hair powder has now, however, pro- 
 duced all over the country very plentiful 
 crops. Among the Curiosa Cantabri- 
 giensia, it may be recorded, that our 
 ' most religions and gracious king,' as he 
 was called in the liturgy, Charles the Se- 
 cond, who, as his worthy friend, the earl 
 of Rochester, remarked, 
 
 ' never said a foolish thing. 
 Nor ever did a wise one,' — 
 sent a letter to the university of Cam- 
 bridge, forbidding the members to wear 
 perriivigs, smoke tobacco, and read their 
 sermons ! It is needless to remark, that 
 tobacco has not yet made its exit infnmo, 
 and that perriivigs sliU continue to adorn 
 
 ' the heads of hottses /' Till the 
 
 present all prevailing, all accommodating 
 fashion of crops became general at th« 
 university, no young man presumed to 
 dine in hall till he had previously received 
 a handsome trimming from the hair- 
 dresser. An inimitable imitation of 'The 
 Bard' of Gray, is ascribed to the pen of the 
 honourable Thomas (the late lord)Erskine, 
 when a student at Cambridge. Mr. E 
 having been disappointed of the attend 
 nnce of his college barber, was compelled 
 
 632 
 
THE "EVERY-DAY BOOK. -SEPTEMBER 7, 
 
 to forego his commons in liall ! An odd 
 thought came into his head. In revenge, 
 he determined to give his hair-dresser a 
 good dressing ; so he sat down, and began 
 as follows : — 
 
 *' * Ruin seize thee, scouudrcl Coe, 
 Confusion on thy frizzing wait ; 
 
 Hadst thou the only comb below, 
 
 rUon jever more sbouldst touch my pate. 
 
 " ' Club, nor queue, nor twisted tail. 
 
 Nor e'en thy cliatt'ring, barber, shall avail 
 
 To save Ihy horse-whipped back from dailj 
 
 fears 
 From Cantab's curse, from Cantab's tears,"* 
 
 Tlie editor of the"Gradus ad Cantabn- 
 giam" regrets that he has not room for liip 
 whole of the ode. 
 
 AN ANCIENT BARBER. 
 
 Thee is a curious print from Ileems- 
 kerck, of a barber of old times labouring 
 in his vocation : it shows his room or 
 shop. An old woman is making square 
 pancakes at the fire-place, before which 
 an overfed man sits on a chair sleeping : 
 there is a fat toping friar seated by the 
 chimney corner, with his fingers on the 
 crossed hands of a demure looking nun 
 by his side, and he holds up a liquor- 
 measure to denote its emptiness : a nun- 
 like female behind, blows a pair of bellows 
 over her shoulder, and seems dancing to 
 a tune played on the guitar or cittern, by 
 a humorous looking fellow who is stand- 
 ing up : another nun-like female rounds 
 
 a orridiron with a pair of tongs, while 
 another friar blows an instrument through 
 a window. These persons are perhaps 
 sojourning there as pilgrims, for there is 
 a print hung against the wall representing 
 an owl in a pilgrim's habit on his jour- 
 ney. In this room the barber's bleeding 
 basin is hung up, and his razor is on the 
 mantel ledge : the barber himself is wash- 
 ing the chin of an aged fool, whom, from 
 the hair lying on the ground, it appears 
 he has just polled. A dog on his hind 
 legs is in a fool's habit, probably to inti- 
 mat^ that the fool is under the hands oi 
 the barber preparatory to his fraternizing 
 with the friar:, and their dames. The 
 
 633 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7.' 
 
 print is altogether exceedingly humor- 
 ous, and illustrative of manners : so much 
 of it as immediately concerns the barber 
 is given in the present engraving from it. 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt, in " The Indicator," 
 opposes female indifference to the hair. 
 He says, " Ladies, always delightfui, 
 and not the least so in their undress, are 
 apt to deprive themselves of some of their 
 best morning beams by appearing with 
 their hair in papers. We give notice, 
 that essayists, and of course all people of 
 taste, prefer a cap, if there must be any 
 thing ; but hair, a million times over. 
 To see grapes in paper-bags is bad enough; 
 but the rich locks of a lady in papers, the 
 roots of the hair twisted up like a drum- 
 mer's, and the forehead staring bald in- 
 stead of being gracefully tendrilled and 
 shadowed ! — it is a capital offence, — a de- 
 fiance to the love and admiration of the 
 other sex, — a provocative to a paper war : 
 and we here accordingly declare the said 
 war on paper, not having any ladies at 
 hand to carry it at once into their head- 
 quarters. We must allow at the same 
 time, that they are very shy of being seen 
 in this condition, knowing well enough, 
 how much of their strength, like Samp- 
 son's, lies in that gifted ornament. We 
 have known a whole parlour of them flut- 
 tered off, like a dove-cote, at the sight of 
 a friend coming up the garden." 
 
 Of the barber's art, as it was practised 
 formerly, Mr. Archdeacon Nares gives a 
 curious sample from Lyly, an old dra- 
 matist, one of whose characters being a 
 barber, says, " thou knowest I have taught 
 thee the knacking of the hands, the tick- 
 ling on a man's haires, like the tuning of 
 a citterne. I instructed thee in the 
 phrases of our eloquent occupation, as, 
 now, sir, will you be trimmed .' will you 
 have your beard like a spade or a bodkin ? 
 a pent-hous on your upper lip, or an ally 
 on your chin? a low curie on your head 
 like a bull, or dangling locke like a spa- 
 niel? your mustachoes sharpe at the ends, 
 like shomakers' aules, or hanging downe 
 to your mouth like goates flakes? your 
 love-lockes wreathed with a silken twist, 
 or shaggie to fall on your shoulders ?" 
 
 Barbers' shops were anciently places of 
 f;reat resort, and the practices observed 
 tliere were consequently very often the 
 subject of allusions. The cittern, or lute, 
 wnich hung no for the diversion of tne 
 
 customers, is the foundation of a pro- 
 verb.* The cittern resembled the guitar. 
 In Burton's " Winter Evening Enter- 
 tainments," published in 1687, with se- 
 veral wood-cuts, there is a representation 
 ot a barber's shop, where the person 
 waiting his turn is playing on a lute.-f 
 
 The peculiar mode of snapping the fin- 
 gers, as a high qualification in a barber, 
 is mentioned by Green, another early 
 writer. " Let not the barber be forgot- 
 ten : and look that he be an excellent 
 fellow, and one that can snap his fingers 
 with dexterity." Morose, one of Ben 
 Jonson's characters in his " Silent Wo- 
 man," is a detester of noise, and particu-. 
 larly values a barber who was silent, and 
 did not snap his fingers. " The fellow 
 trims him silently, £nd hath not the 
 knack tvith his shears or his fingers : and 
 that continency in a barber he thinks so 
 eminent a virtue, as it has made him 
 chief of his counsel." J 
 
 This obsolete practice with barbers 
 is noticed in Stubbe's " Anatomy of 
 Abuses." " When they come to wash- 
 ing," says Stubbe, " oh ! how gingerly 
 they behave themselves therein. For 
 then shall your mouth be bossed with the 
 lather, or some that rinseth of the balles, 
 (for they have their sweete balles where- 
 with all they use to washe,) your eyes 
 closed must be anointed therewith also. 
 Then s7iap go the fingers, ful bravely, 
 Got wot. Thus this tragedy ended, comes 
 me warme clothes to wipe and dry him 
 withall ; next, the eares must be picked, 
 and closed together againe artificially, 
 forsooth," &c. This ciiation is given by 
 a correspondent to the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine," who adds to it his own obser- 
 vations : — " 1 am old enough," he says, 
 " to remember when the operation of 
 shaving, in this kingdom, was almost ex- 
 clusively performed by the barbers : what 
 I speak of is some three-score years ago, 
 at which time genflemcn-sha\ers were 
 unknown. Expedition was then a prime 
 quality in a barber, who smeared the la- 
 ther over his customers' faces with his 
 hand ; for the delicate refinement of the 
 brush had not been introduced. The la- 
 thering of the beard being finished, the 
 operator threw off the lather adhering to 
 his hand, by a peculiar jerk of the arm, 
 which caused the joints of the fingers to 
 crack, this being a more expeditious 
 
 * Nares Glos. 
 
 + Smitli's Anr Topog. Lond, 
 
 t lom. 
 
 634 
 
TIIE E VERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 /node of clearing the hand than using a 
 towel for that purpose ; and the more au- 
 dible the crack, the higher the shaver 
 stood in his own opinion, and in that of 
 his fraternity, lliis then, I presume, is 
 the custom alluded to by Stubbe." 
 
 Mr. J. T. Smith says, " The entertain- 
 ing and venerable INlr. Thomas Batrich, 
 barber, of Drury-lane, informs me, that 
 before the year 1756, it was a general 
 custom to lather with the hand ; but that 
 the French barbers, much about that 
 time, brought in the brush. He also says, 
 that " A good lather is half the shave," 
 is a very old remark among the trade. 
 
 In a newspaper report of some pro- 
 ceedings at a police office, in September, 
 1825, a person deposing against the pri- 
 soner, used the phrase *' as common as a 
 barber's chair;" tliis is a very old saying. 
 One of Shakspeare's clowns speaks of "a 
 barber's chair, that fits all," by way of 
 metaphor ; and Rabelais shows that it 
 might be applied to any thing in very 
 common use.* 
 
 The Barber's Pole is still a sign in 
 country towns, and in many of the villages 
 near London. It was stated by lord 
 Thurlow in the house of peers, on the 
 17th of July, 1797, when he opposed the 
 surgeons' incorporation bill that, " By a 
 statute still in force, the barbers and sur- 
 geons were each to use a pole. The bar- 
 bers were to have theirs blue and white, 
 striped, with no other appendage ; but 
 the surgeons, which was the same in other 
 respects, was likewise to have a galli- 
 pot and a red rag, to denote the particu- 
 lar nature of their vocation." 
 
 The origin of the barber's pole is to be 
 traced to the period when the barbers 
 were also surgeons, and practised phlebo- 
 tomy. To assist this operation,- it being 
 necessary for the patient to grasp a staff, 
 a stick or a pole was always kept by the 
 barber-surgeon, together with the fillet or 
 bandaging he used for tying the patient's 
 arm. When the pole was not in use the 
 tape was tied to it, that they might be 
 both together when wanted. On a per- 
 son coming in to be bled the tape was 
 disengaged from the pole, and bound 
 round the arm, and the pole was put into 
 the person's hand : after it was done with, 
 the tape was again tied on the pole, and 
 in this state, pole and tape were often hung 
 
 « Nares's Glossary. 
 
 at the door, for a sign or notice to passes 
 gers that they might there be bled: doubt- 
 less the competition for custom was great, 
 because as our ancestors were great ad- 
 mirers of bleeding, they demanded the 
 operation frequently. At length instead 
 of hanging out the identical pole used in 
 the operation, a pole was painted with 
 stripes round it, in imitation of the real 
 pole and its bandagings, and thus came 
 the sign. 
 
 That the use of the pole in bleeding was 
 very ancient, appears from an illumina- 
 tion in a m.issal of the time of Edward I., 
 wherein the usage is represented. Also 
 in " Comenii Orbis pictus," there is an 
 engraving of the like practice. " Such 
 a staff," says Brand, who mentions these 
 graphic illustrations, " is to this very day 
 put into the hand of patients undergoing 
 phlebotomy by every village practitioner.'' 
 
 The Neics Sunday-paper of August 
 4, 1816, says, that a person in Alston, 
 who for some years followed the trade of 
 a barber, recently opened a spirit-shop, 
 when to the no small admiration and 
 amusement of his acquaintance, he hoist- 
 ed over his door the following lines : — 
 
 Rove not from pole to pole, but here turn in, 
 V\ here naught exceeds the shaving, but the 
 gin. 
 
 Tlie south corner shop of Ilosier-lane, 
 Smithfield, is noticed by Mr. J. T. Smith 
 as having been " occupied by a barber 
 whose name was Catch-pole ; at least so 
 it was written over the door : he was a 
 whimsical fellow ; and would, perliaps 
 because he lived in Smithfield, show to 
 his customers a short bladed instrument, 
 as the dagger with which Walworth killed 
 W^at Tyler," To this may be added, a 
 remark not expressed by Mr. Smith, that 
 Catch-pole had a barber's pole for many 
 years on the outside of his door.* 
 
 Catch-pole's manoeuvre to catch cus- 
 tomers, and get his shop talked about, was 
 very successful. It is observed in the 
 ''Spectator," that — "The art of managing 
 mankind is only to make them stare a 
 little, to keep up their astonishment, to let 
 nothing be familiar to them, but ever to 
 have something in your sleeve, in which 
 they must think you are deeper than they 
 are." The writer of the remark exempli- 
 fies it by this story : — " There is an inge- 
 
 * Smith'* Anc. Topog. l.ondi 
 
 635 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 7. 
 
 nious fellow, a barberof my acquaintance, 
 who, besides his broken fiddle and a dryed 
 sea-monster, has a twine-cord, strained 
 with two nails at each end, over his win- 
 dow, and the words, rainy, dry, wet, and 
 so forth, written to denote the weather 
 according to the rising or falling of the 
 cord. We very great scholars are not 
 apt to wonder at this : but I observed a 
 very honest fellow, a chance customer, 
 who sat in the chair before me to be 
 shaved, fix his eye upon this miraculous 
 performance during the operation upon 
 his chin and face. When those, and his 
 head also, were cleared of all incum- 
 brances and excrescences, he looked at 
 the fish, then at the fiddle, still grubbing 
 in his pockets, and casting his eye again 
 at the twine, and the words writ on each 
 side; then altered his mind as to far- 
 things, and gave my friend a silver six- 
 pence. The business, as I said, is to keep 
 up the amazement : and if my friend had 
 had only the skeleton and kitt, he must 
 have been contented with a less payment." 
 
 It was customary with barbers to have 
 their shops lighted by candles in brass 
 chandeliers of three, four, and six 
 branches. Mr. Smith noticing their dis- 
 use says, " Mr. Batrich has two suspend- 
 ed from his ceiling ; he has also a set of 
 bells fixed against the wall, which he has 
 had for these forty years. These are call- 
 ed by the common people IVh'ittington's 
 Belts. In his early days, about eighty 
 years back, when the newspapers were 
 only a penny a-piece, they were taken in 
 by the barbers for the customers to read 
 during their waiting time. This custom is 
 handed to us by the late E. Heemskerck, 
 in an etching by Toms, of a barber's shop, 
 composed of monkies, at the foot of which 
 are the following lines : — 
 
 "A barber's shop adorn'd we see. 
 With monsters, news, and poverty ; 
 Whilst some are shaving, others bled. 
 And those that wait the papers read ; 
 The master full of wigg, or torv, 
 Combs out your wig, and tells a story." 
 
 Mr. Smith's inquiries concerning bar- 
 bers have been extensive and curious. He 
 says, " On one occasion, that I might in- 
 dulge the humour of being shaved by a 
 woman, I repaired to the Seven Dials, 
 where, in Great St. Andrew's-strcet, a 
 slender female performed the operation, 
 whilst her husbaud, a strapping soldier 
 
 in the Horse-guards, sat smoking his pipe 
 There was a famous woman in Swallow- 
 street, who shaved ; and I recollect a 
 black woman in Butcher-row, a street 
 formerly standing by the side of St. Cle- 
 ment's church, near Temple-bar, who is 
 said to have shaved with ease and dex- 
 terity." His friend Mr. Batrich informed 
 him that he had read of " the five bar- 
 beresses of Drury-lane, who shamefully 
 mal-treated a woman in the reign of 
 Charles H." Mr. Batrich died while 
 Mr. Smith's " Ancient Topography of 
 London," was passing through the press. 
 
 The " Glasgow Chronicle," about the 
 year 1817, notices the sudden death, in 
 Calton, of Mr. John Falconer, hair- 
 dresser, in Kirk-street. While in the act 
 of shaving a man, he staggered, and was 
 falling, when he was placed on a chair, and 
 expired in five minutes. His shop was 
 the arena of all local discussion, and was 
 therefore denominated the Calton coff'ee- 
 room. His father and he had been in the 
 trade for upwarrls of half a century. His 
 father was the first who reduced the price 
 of shaving to a halfpenny ; and when his 
 brethren m the town wished him again to 
 raise it, he replied, " Charge a penny ! 
 Jock and me are just considering about 
 lowering it to a farthing." He would 
 never take more than a halfpenny though 
 it was od'ered him ; and being very skilful 
 at his business, and of a frank jocular 
 turn, he had a large share of public fa- 
 vour, and was enabled even at this low 
 rate to gather money and build houses. 
 He died about sixteen years before his son, 
 who carried on the business. He often 
 said others wrought for need, but he did 
 it for pleasure or recreation, and never 
 was so happy as when he was improving 
 the countenances of the lieges. He was 
 generally allowed to be at the top of his 
 profession. Some old men whom he and 
 his father had shaved for fifty years, 
 boasted that they were never touched by 
 another : one very old customer regularly 
 came for many a year to his sliop every 
 Saturday night from the western extre- 
 mity of the town. His shop was furnished 
 with two dozen of antitjue chairs, as man) 
 pictures, and a musical clock, and for a 
 long time he had a good library of books 
 but they at length nearly wholly disap 
 peared, and he took up to his house the 
 few that remained as his own share. At 
 two different times, when trade was dull; 
 
 636 
 
THE EVERY-DAY" BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8. 
 
 .le gave his tenants a jubilee on the term 
 day, and presented their discharges wiih- 
 '>ut receiving a farthing. He left behind 
 lim property worth between 2,000/. and 
 3000/. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Starwort. Aster Solidiiginoides. 
 Dedicated to St. Cloud. 
 
 ^fptemljtr 8 
 
 Xativiti/ of the Blessed Virgin. St. 
 Adrian, a. d. 306. St. Sidro7itus, a. d. 
 1067. Sts. Euseb'ms, Nestablus, Zeno, 
 and Nestor, Martyrs under Julian. 
 St. Corbinhin, Bp. a.d. 730. St. Di- 
 sen, or Disibode, a.d. 700. The Fes- 
 thal of the Holy Name of the Fir gin 
 Mary. 
 
 Nativity, B. V. M. 
 
 NATIVITY, B. V. M. 
 
 This Roman catholic festival is in the 
 church of England calendar and almanacs. 
 
 According to Butler and other Romish 
 writers, *' the title of the mother of God 
 was confirmed to the virgin Mary" by 
 the traditions of their church ; and he- 
 nativity has been kept " above a thousand 
 years," with matins, masses, homilies, 
 collects, processions, and other forms and 
 ceremonies ordained by that hierarchy. 
 Some of its writers " attribute the insti- 
 tution of this feast to certain revelations 
 which a religious contemplative bad ; 
 who, they say, every year upon the 8th of 
 September, heard most sweet music in 
 heaven, with great rejoicimis of the angels ; 
 and once asking one of them the cause, 
 he answered him, that upon that day 
 was celebrated in heaven the nativity of 
 the mother of God ; and upon the relation 
 of this man, the church began to celebrate 
 it on earth."* 
 
 Upon this it is observed and related 
 by the late Mr. Brady thus : — 
 
 " A circumstance so important in its 
 nature, and unfolded in so pecufiar and 
 miraculous a manner, was of course com- 
 municated to the then reigning pope, 
 Servius ; who immediately appointed a 
 yearly feast ' to give an opportunity for 
 the religious on earth to join with the 
 angels in this great solemnity ;' and there 
 have been some contemplations dedicated 
 for this occasion, wherein is unfolded, 
 * fur the benefit of mankind,' certain cir- 
 cumstances of her * sallies of love and 
 union with God,' even before her pious 
 mother St. Anne gave her being ! It is 
 somewhat extraordinary, that, notwith- 
 standing the day of the nativity of tl e 
 virgin was so clearly proved, after having 
 been forgotten for many centuries, pope 
 Sprvius, when he appointed the festival, 
 did not also honour it with an octave or 
 vigil ; for it appears that pope Innocent 
 IV. has the credit of the octave which he 
 instituted a. d. 1244, and that pope Gre- 
 gory XL appointed the vigil a.d. 1370. At 
 the death indeed of Gregory IX. it was in 
 contemplation to observe an octave upon 
 the following occasion : the cardinals had 
 been long shut up without agreeing upon 
 the appointment of a successor to the 
 deceased pope, when some of these holy 
 men made a vow to the virgin, that if 
 through her merits they could come to a 
 decision they would in future observe 
 
 * Rl deiicira. 
 
 637 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 8. 
 
 her octave ; a vow wliicli had nn instan- 
 taneous efibct, and caused Celestine 
 to be elected to St. Peter's chair; thougli, 
 as this nominal pope lived only eighteen 
 days from his election, the vow was 
 not fulfilled until Innocent IV. suc- 
 ceeded to that dignity. The long and 
 imcourteous disregard, however, of the 
 early church to the immaculate mother of 
 cur Lord, in respect to the day of her 
 nativity, was amply compensated by 
 other attentions, and there still remain 
 many persons m catholic countries, in 
 Spain and Italy in particular, who place 
 a much greater reliance on the efficiency 
 of the mediation of the virgin, than they 
 do on that of our Lord himself: and if 
 ■we are to credit the numerous authors 
 who have made her divine powers their 
 theme, and celebrated her extraordinary 
 condescensions, our wonder and asto- 
 nishment must be excited in a most emi- 
 nent degree. Some of her courtesies are 
 calculated for teaching a lesson of humi- 
 lity, which no doubt was the operating 
 cause of her performing such offices, 
 which in no other view appear of im- 
 
 f)ortance. Ai one time she descends 
 rom heaven to mend the gown of Thomas h. 
 Becket, which was ripped at the shoulder. 
 Whilst the monks of Clervaux were at 
 work, the virgin relieved their fatigue, by 
 wiping the perspiration from their faces. 
 That the important duties of an abbey 
 should not be neglected, she for some 
 time personally superintended thtjm, 
 whilst the abbess was absent with a monk 
 who had seduced her from the path of 
 virtue. She even descended from heaven 
 lo bleed a young man who prayed to her, 
 and whose health required that operation 
 At the entreaty of a monk, who prayed 
 to her for that purpose, she supplied his 
 place when absent, and sung matins for 
 him. And, we are solemnly assured, 
 that when St. Allan was much indis- 
 posed, she rewarded him for his devo- 
 tional attentions to her, by graciously 
 giving him that nourishment which female 
 parents are accustomed only to afford 
 their offspring ! To what depths of im- 
 pious absurdity will not ignorance and 
 credulity debase mankind !"* 
 
 Legendary stories in honour of the 
 Irgin are numberless. For edifying 
 eading on this particular festival, the 
 
 * Clavis Calenoaria. 
 
 " Golden Legend" relates, among others, 
 the following : — 
 
 A bishop's vicar, by name Theophylus, 
 on the death of his diocesan, was willed 
 by the people to succeed him ; but Theo- 
 phylus refused, saying, he had rather be a 
 vicar than a bishop. However, the new 
 bishop displaced him from being vicar, 
 whereupon Theophylus grieved, and 
 falling into despair, consulted a Jew, who 
 being a magician, summoned the devil to 
 the help of Theophylus. The devil being 
 duly acquainted with the s-tate of affairs, 
 wrote a bond with Theophylus's blood, 
 whereby the said Theophylus was held 
 and firmly bound to renounce the virgin, 
 and the profession of Christianity, and 
 the same being by him duly sealed and 
 delivered, as his act and deed, the devil 
 was therewith content, and procured the 
 bishop to re-establish Theophylus in his 
 office. When Theophylus was a vica- 
 again, he began to repent that he had 
 given his bond, and prayed the virgin to 
 relieve him from it. Wherefore she ap- 
 peared to Theophylus in a vision, " and 
 rebuked him of his felony, and command- 
 ed him to forsake the devil," and to 
 confess himself in heart a christian man. 
 This he accordingly did, and therefore 
 the virgin obtained his pardon, and 
 brought his bond from the devil, and 
 laid it on his breast ; and Theophylus 
 became joyful, and related to the bishop 
 and all the people what had befallen him, 
 and they marvelled greatly, and gave 
 praise to the virgin, and " three dayes 
 after he rested in peas," and died in his 
 vicarage, whereunto the devil had caused 
 him to be presented. 
 
 At another time a widow, whose son 
 had been taken prisoner, wept without 
 comfort, and prayed to the virgin for his 
 delivery, but he still remained prisoner ; 
 and at last, when she saw that her prayers 
 availed not, she entered into a church 
 where an image of the virgin was carved, 
 and standing before the image, reminded 
 the virgin of her importunities, and that 
 she had not helped her ; " and therefore," 
 said she, " like as my son is taken from 
 me, so shall I take away thy son, and 
 keep him as a hostage for mine." Then 
 she took away from the image the child 
 that it held, " and shette it in her chest, 
 and locked it fast ryght diligently, and 
 was ryght joyfull that she had so good 
 hostage for her sone." Wherefore, on 
 the following night, the virgin liberated 
 the widow's son, and desired him to go anw 
 
 638 
 
THE EVF.RY-DAY [JOOK.— SEPTEMBER 9 
 
 tell Ills mother that, as he was released, 
 she desired to have her own son back. 
 This he did, and tlie widow, in great joy, 
 " toke the chylde of the ymage, and came 
 to the chirche, and delyvered it to our 
 lady, sayenge, lady, I tlianke you, for ye 
 have delivered to me my son, and here I 
 deliver to you yours." 
 
 One other story is of a thief who was 
 always devout to the virgin. On a time 
 he was taken and judged, and ordered to 
 be hanged ; but wlien he was hanged 
 " the blyssed virgin Mary susteyned, and 
 Iielde hym up, with her handes, thre 
 dayes, that he dyed not." Wiien they 
 that caused him to be hanged, " found 
 hym lyvying, and of glad chere," they 
 supposed that " the corde had not been 
 well strayned," and would have cut his 
 throat with a sword ; but " our blyssed 
 lady" put her hands between his neck 
 and the weapon, so that he could be 
 neither killed nor hurt ; and then they 
 took him down " and let him go in the 
 honour of the blyssed virgyn Marye ;" 
 and he went and " entred into a monas- 
 tery, and was in the service of the moder 
 I>f God as longe as he lyved." 
 
 Perhaps these three stories provided 
 for the festival of the nativity of the 
 blessed virgin Mary in papal times, may 
 be deemed sufficient in our times. 
 
 Spain, as a catholic country, is profuse 
 in adoration of the virgin. On her fes- 
 tivals a shrine is erected in the open 
 street, decorated with flowers, and sur- 
 rounded by a number of wax candles. 
 A flight of stairs leads to an altar, where 
 on is placed an image of the virgin mo- 
 ther, with an embroidered silk canopj 
 above. On these stairs a priest takes his 
 station, and preaches to the multitude, 
 while other priests go round, at interval, 
 with a salver, to collect oblations from 
 the devotees. To those who give libe- 
 rally, the priest presents little engravings 
 of the virgin, which are highly valued. 
 An obliging correspondent, who commu- 
 nicates these particulars, (J. H. D. of 
 Portsmouth,) says, " I have two of them, 
 which I obtained on one of those occa- 
 sions at Cadiz, in 1811, one of which I 
 herewith send you." Of this consecrated 
 print, the engraving at the head of the 
 present article is a fac-simile. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 A melius. Aster Ameihis. 
 Dedicated to .S7. Adriait. 
 
 ^eptnnljtr 9, 
 
 Sts. Gorgonius, Dorotheits, and Com pa 
 nions a. d. 304. iit. Omer, a. d. 607. 
 St. Kiaran, Abbot a.d. 549. St. Os- 
 »«a«a of Ireland. St. Bettelin. 
 
 St. Bettelin, or Beccelin. 
 
 Tlie town of Stafford is honoured by 
 this saint being its patron, where " his 
 relics were kept with great veneration." 
 He is said to have served St. Guthlac, 
 and been of all others niost dear to him, 
 and to have led an " anchoretical life in 
 the forest near Stafford."* 
 
 Fanny Braddock. 
 The fate of this unhappy young woman 
 who committed suicide at Bath, on the 
 9th of September, 1731, is still remem- 
 bered in that city. She resided with Mr. 
 John Wood, the architect, and on the 
 night of the 8th went well to bed, no- 
 wise disordered in behaviour. Her 
 cus.om was to burn a candle all night, 
 and for her maid to lock the door, and 
 push the key under it, so that she alw ys 
 got up in the morning to let her maid 
 into the room. After she had retired, on 
 the evening mentioned, she got out of 
 bed again, and, it is supposed, employed 
 some time in reading. She put on a 
 white night-gown, and pinned it over her 
 breast ; tied a gold and a silver girdle to- 
 gether, and at one end having made three 
 knots about an inch asunder, that if one 
 slipped another might hold, she opened 
 the door, put the knotty end of the girdle 
 over it, and locking the door again, made 
 a noose at the other end, through which 
 she put her neck, by getting on a chair 
 and then dropped from it. She hung 
 with her back against the door, and had 
 hold of the key with one of her hands ; 
 she had bit her tongue through, and had 
 a bruise on her forehead ; this was occa- 
 sioned, probably, by the breaking of a red 
 girdle she had tried first, which was 
 found in her pocket with a noose on it ; 
 there were two marks on the door. The 
 coroner's inquest sat on her that day, and 
 brought in their verdict non compos iiien- 
 
 • Butler. 
 
 639 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 9. 
 
 ih. She was daughter to the late general 
 Braddock, who at his death left her and 
 her sister 6000/. By her sister's death 
 about four years before, she became 
 mistress of the whole fortune, but being 
 infatuated by the love of gaming, met 
 '* an unlucky chance" which deprived her 
 of her fortune. She had been heard to 
 say, that no one should ever be sensible 
 of her necessities, were they at the last 
 extremity. She was generally lamented, 
 and in life had been greatly esteemed for 
 courteous and genteel behaviour, and 
 good sense. She was buried in a decent 
 manner in the abbey church, in the grave 
 of her honest brave old father, a gentle- 
 man who had experienced some unde- 
 served hardships in life ; but who might 
 be said to have been thus far happy, that 
 he lived not to see or hear of so tragical 
 a catastrophe of his beloved daughter. 
 The following verses were written by her 
 on her window : — 
 
 " O, death ! thou pleasing end to human 
 woe ! 
 
 Thou cure for life ! thou greatest good be- 
 low ! 
 
 Still may'st thou fly the coward and the 
 slave, 
 
 Aad thy soft slumbers only bless the brave."* 
 
 Mr. Wood who wrote " an Essay to- 
 wards a Description of Bath," speaks of 
 many circumstances which unite to 
 prove that Fanny Braddock had long me- 
 ditated self-destruction. In a book en- 
 titled Xew Court Tales, she is called 
 " the beautiful and celebrated Sylvia," 
 which Wood says " she was not very 
 improperly styled, having been a tenant 
 under my roof during fhe last thirteen 
 months of her life ; and at the time of 
 her unhappy death, her debt of two and 
 fifty pounds three shillings and fourpence 
 for rent, &c. entitled me to the sole pos- 
 session of all her papers and other effects, 
 which I seized on Monday, the 13lh of 
 September, 1731." Though Wood pro- 
 oably knew better how to d'aw up an 
 inventory, and make an appraisement, 
 than a syllogism, yet at the end of five 
 months the creditors drew " a new in- 
 ventory" of what was in his possession, 
 and made a new appraisement. " The 
 goods were then sold," says Wood, " and 
 people striving for something to preserve 
 the memory of the poor deceased lady, the 
 price of every thing was so advanced that 
 the creditors were all paid, and an overplus 
 
 Magazine. 
 
 remained for the nearest relation; though 
 it ought to have come to me, as a consi- 
 deration towards the damages I sustained 
 on the score of Sylvia's untimely death" 
 
 Whatever was Wood's estimation oi 
 his unhappy tenant when alive, he could 
 afford to praise her dead. " Notiiing can 
 be more deplorable than the fate of this 
 unfortunate young woman ; a fate that 
 I have heard hundreds in high life lament 
 their not suspecting, that they miuht have 
 endeavoured to prevent it, though it 
 should have been at half the expense of 
 their estates ; and yet many of those 
 people, when common fame every where 
 sounded Sylvia's running out of her for- 
 tune, would endeavour to draw lier into 
 play to win her money, and accept of 
 whatever was offered them from her 
 generous hand !" She was ensnared 
 by a woman named Lindsey, who kept a 
 house for high play. " When I came 
 down to Bath," says Wood, " in the 
 year 1727, Sylvia was entirely at the 
 dame's command, whenever a person was 
 wanting to make up a party for piay at 
 her house. Dame Lmdsey's wit and 
 humour, with the appearance of sanctity 
 in a sister that lived with her, strongly 
 captivated the youth of both sexes, and 
 engaged them in her interest." The re- 
 putation of this " dame Lindsey" was at 
 a low ebb, but Wood observes, " in the 
 course of three years I could never, by 
 the strictest observations, perceive Sylvia 
 to be tainted with any other vice than 
 that of suffering herself to be decoyed to 
 the gaming-table ; and, at her own hazard, 
 playing for the amusement and advantage 
 of others. I was therefore not long in 
 complying with a proposal she made to 
 me in the summer of the year 1738, for 
 renting part of a house I then lived in, 
 in Queen-square ; her behaviour was 
 such as manifested nothing but virtue, 
 regularity, and good nature. She was 
 ready to accept of trifling marks of 
 friendship, to give her a pretence of ma- 
 king great returns ; and she was no sooner 
 seated in my house than ladies of the 
 highest distinction, and of the most un- 
 blemished characters were her constant 
 visiters : her levee looked more like that 
 of a minister of state than of a private 
 young lady. Her endowments seemed t'" 
 have had a power of attraction amort 
 her own sex, even stronger than that 
 all the riches of a court among the gen 
 tlemen that are allured by them." 
 
 The last night of her life she had spent in 
 
 640 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEINIBER 10 
 
 Mr.Wood's study, where she took her sup- 
 per, and dandled two of his chddren on her 
 knees till the hour of retiring, Slie tiien 
 went to the nursery and taking leave of a 
 Sleeping infant in its cradle, praised the 
 innocence of its looks. Passing to her 
 own room she undressed and went to bed, 
 and, as her servant left the room, bade 
 her good night ; she had never done so 
 before. It is probable that at that mo- 
 ment she thought on her fatal purpose, 
 and some passages in Harrington's trans- 
 lation of "Orlando Furioso," are supposed 
 to have strengthened it. It was found 
 that after she had arisen she had been 
 reading in it ; the book lay open at pp. 
 74 and 75, the story of Olympia, who, by 
 the perfidy and ingratitude of her bosom 
 friend, was ruined. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECrORY 
 
 Canadian Golden Rod. Solidcrgo Cana- 
 densis. 
 Dedicated to St. Or.ier 
 
 ^cptcmljcr 10. 
 
 St. Nicholas, of Tolentino, a. d. 1306. 
 St. Piilcheria, Empress, a. d. 453. Sts. 
 Nemesianns, Felix, Lucius, another 
 Feli-v, Littens, Polianns, Victor, Jadcr, 
 and Dativus, Bps. with other Priests, 
 Deacons, &c., in Numidia, banished 
 under Valerian. St. Finian, called 
 Jf'inin, by the Welsh, Bp. 6lh Cent. 
 St. Salvias, Bp. of Albi, a. d. 580. 
 
 Autumn* 
 
 [Autumn is by some si.pposed to commence Cr, tl<C 
 f^th ot tins month.] 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 I.aden with richest products of the earth ; 
 Its clioirest fruits, enchanting to the eye. 
 Grateful to taste, and courting appetite. 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 641 
 
 2 T 
 
THE EVEKY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 11. 
 
 Dr Forster is of opinion that autumn 
 commences on the 10th of September. 
 " It occupies ninety days. The mean 
 temperature is 49.37°, or 11.29° below 
 ..he summer : the medium of the day de- 
 clines in this season from 58° to 40°. 
 The mean height of the barometer is 
 29.781 inches ; being .096 inches below 
 the mean of summer. The range in- 
 creases rapidly during this season; the 
 mean extent of it is 1.49 inches. The 
 prevailing winds are the class SW., 
 throughout the season. The evapora- 
 tion is 6.444 inches, or a sixth part less 
 than the proportion indicated by the tem- 
 perature. The mean of De Luc's hygro- 
 meter is seventy-two degrees. The average 
 rain is 7.441 inches : the proportion of rain 
 increases, from the beginning to near the 
 end of the season: this is the true rainy 
 season with us ; and the earth, which had 
 become dry to a considerable depth dur- 
 ing the spring and summer, now receives 
 again the moisture required for springs, 
 and for the more deeply rooted vegeta- 
 bles, in the following year. 
 
 " The fore part of this season is, never- 
 theless, if we regard only the sky, the 
 most delightful part of the year, in our 
 climate. When the decomposition of va- 
 / pour, from the decline of the heat, is as 
 yet but in commencement, or while the 
 electricity remaining in the air continues 
 to give buoyancy to the suspended parti- 
 cles, a delicious calm often prevails for 
 many days in succession, amidst a per- 
 fect sunshine, mellowed by the vaporous 
 air, and diffusing a rich golden tint, as 
 the day declines, upon the landscape. At 
 this period, chiefly, the stratus or fallcloud, 
 the lowest and most singular of the modi- 
 fications, comes forth in the evenings, to 
 occupy the low plains an<l vallies, and 
 shroud the earth in a veil of mist, until 
 revisited by the sun. So perfectly does 
 this inundation of suspended aqueous 
 particles imitate real water, when viewed 
 in the distance at break of day, that I 
 have known the country people them- 
 selves deceived by its unexpected ap- 
 nearance." 
 
 Mr. Howard remarks that — " A pheno- 
 menon attends this state of the air, too 
 'emarkable to be passed over in silence. 
 An immense swarm of small spiders take 
 sdvantage of the moisture, to carry on 
 i'.ieir operations, in which they are so in- 
 dustrious, that the whole country is soon 
 ^vered with the fruit of their labours, in 
 ihe form of a fine network.commoniy called 
 
 gossamer. They appear exceedingly active 
 in the pursuit of the small insects, which 
 the cold of the night now brings down ; 
 and commence this fishery about the time 
 that the swallows give it up, and quit our 
 shores. Their manner of locomotion is 
 curious : half volant, half aeronaut, the 
 little creature darts from the papillae on 
 his rump a number of fine threads which 
 float in the air. Mounted thus in the 
 breeze, he glides off with a quick motion 
 of the legs, which seem to serve the pur- 
 pose of wings, for moving in any particu- 
 lar direction. As these spiders rise to a 
 considerable height, in very fine weather, 
 their tangled webs may be seen descend- 
 ing from the air in quick succession, like 
 small flakes of cotton."* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Autumnal Crocus. Crocus autumnaUs. 
 Dedicated to St. Pulcheria. 
 
 ^eptemljer 11. 
 
 Sts. Protus and Hyacinthus, a. d. 257. 
 St. Paphnutins, a.d. 335. St. Patiens, 
 Abp. of Lyons, a. d. 480. 
 
 NiCKNACKITAKIANISM. 
 
 On the 11th of September, 1802, the 
 following cause was decided by a jury in 
 the sheriff"s court. 
 
 Hurst v. Halford 
 
 The plaintiff" was a iiicknackitarian, 
 that is, a dealer in curiosities, such as 
 Egyptian mummies, Indian implements 
 of war, arrows dipped in the poison of the 
 upas-tree, bows, antique shields, helmets, 
 &c. He was described as possessing the 
 skin of the cameleopard exhibited in the 
 Roman amphitheatre, tlie head of the 
 spear used by king Arthur, and the breech 
 of the first cannon used at the siege of 
 Constantinople ; and, in short, of almost 
 every rarity that the most ardent virtuoso 
 would wish to possess. 
 
 The defendant was the executor of a 
 widow lady of the name of Morgan, who, 
 in the enjoyment of a considerable for- 
 tune, indulged her fancy, and amused her- 
 self in collecting objects of natural and 
 artificial curiosity. 
 
 It was stated that this lady had been 
 long in the habit of purchasing a variety 
 of rare articles of the plaintiff": she had 
 bought of him models of the temple of 
 
 * Howard's Climale of London. 
 
 r 
 
 G42 
 
THE EVERY-DAY ROOK.— SEPTEMBER 12. 
 
 J'rTisalem and the Alexandrian library, a 
 specimen of the type invented by Mem- 
 Son, the Egyptian, and a genuine manu- 
 Stript of the first play acted by Thespis 
 and his company in a waggon ; for ail 
 these she had in her lifetime paid most 
 liberally. It appeared also she had erect- 
 ed a mausoleum, in which her deceased 
 husband was laid, and she projected the 
 depositing her own remains, when death 
 should overtake her, by the side of him. 
 The plaintiff was employed in fitting it 
 up, and ornamenting it with a tessellated 
 pavement; this was also paid for, and 
 constituted no part of the present de- 
 mand. This action was brought against 
 the defendant to recover the sum of 40/. 
 for stuffing and embalming a bird of pa- 
 radise, a fly-bird, and ourang-outang, an 
 ichneumon, and a cassowary. The de- 
 fendant did not deny that the plaintiff had 
 a claim on the estate of the deceased, but 
 he had let judgment go by default, and 
 attempted merely to cut down the amount 
 of the demand. The plaintiff's foreman, 
 or assistant, proved that the work had 
 been done by the direction of Mrs. Mor- 
 gan, and that the charge was extremely 
 reasonable. On the contrary, the de- 
 fendant's solicitor contended that the 
 charge was most extravagant ; he stated, 
 that the museum of the deceased virtuoso 
 had been sold by public auction, and in- 
 cluding the models of the temple of Je- 
 "usalem and the Alexandrian library, the 
 antique type, Thespian manuscript, spear- 
 head, and every thing else she had been 
 all her life collecting, it had not netted 
 more than 110/. As to the stuffed mon- 
 kies and birds, which constituted the 
 foundation of the plaintiff's claim, they 
 scarce had defrayed the expense of car- 
 rying them away ; they were absolute 
 rubbish. The plaintiff's attorney replied 
 that his client's labour was not to be ap- 
 preciated by what the objects of it pro- 
 duced at a common sale, attended, per- 
 haps, by brokers, who were as ignorant 
 as the stuffed animals they were pur- 
 chasing. 
 
 The under-sheriff observed, that in 
 matters oftaste the intrinsic value of an 
 aiticle was not the proper medium of as- 
 certaining the compensation due to the 
 labour which produced it ; a virtuoso 
 frequently expended a large sum of mo- 
 ney for what another man would kick out 
 of his house as lumber. If Mrs. Morgan, 
 who it was proved was a lady of fortune, 
 wished to amase the gloomy hours of her 
 
 widowhood by stuffing apes and bird 5, 
 her executor was at least bound lo pay 
 the expense she had incurred, in indulg- 
 ing her whimsical fancy. He saw no 
 reason why a single shilling of the plain- 
 tiffs demand should be subtracted ; and 
 the jury viewed the curiosities in the 
 same light, and gave a verdict for the 
 plaintiff, damages 40/. 
 
 fLORAL DIUECTORY. 
 
 \'ariegated Meadow SaflTron. Colchium 
 
 variegatinn. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Hijaclnthus 
 
 ^tptemljer 12. 
 
 Sit. Eamwide, Abbess, 7th Cent. St. 
 
 Cnii/ of Anderlent, 11th Cent. St. 
 
 A /bens, a. d. 525. 
 
 Glass-cutteks at Newcastle. 
 
 On the 12th of September, 1823, the 
 inhabitants of Newcastle and Gateshead 
 were gratified with a spectacle which in 
 that part was novel and peculiarly in- 
 teresting, although in London it is com- 
 mon. It was a procession through the 
 principal streets, of the workmen employ- 
 ed in several of the glass-houses, each 
 bearing in his hand a specimen of the art, 
 remarkable either for its curious construc- 
 tion, or its beauty and elegance. The 
 morning was ushered in with the ringing 
 of bells, and notice of the intended pro- 
 cession having been previously circulated, 
 numbers of people crowded the streets 
 A little after twelve o'clock it moved for- 
 ward along the Close, amid the cheers of 
 the assembled multitude, the firing of 
 cannon and the ringing of bells, and pre- 
 ceded by the band of the Tyne Hussars. 
 It was composed of the workmen of the 
 Northumberland, the South Shields, the 
 ^^'ear (Sunderland), the Durham ?nd 
 British (Gateshead), the Stourbricge 
 (Gateshead), and the North Shields glass 
 companies, arranged according to the 
 seniority of their respective houses, and 
 each distinguished by appropriate flags. 
 The sky was clear, and the rays of the 
 sun, falling upon the glittering utensils and 
 symbols, imparted richness and grandeur 
 to their appearance. The hat of almost 
 every person in it was decorated with a 
 glass feather, whilst a glass star sparkled 
 on the breast, and a chain or collar of va* 
 riegated glass hung round the neck ; some 
 wore sashes round the waist. Each man 
 carried in his hand a staff, with a crosj 
 piece on the top, displaying one or mora 
 
 643 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 13. 
 
 curious or beautiful specimens of art. 
 These elevations afforded a sight of the 
 diflerent vessels, consisting of a profusion 
 of decanters, glasses, goblets, jugs, bowls, 
 dishes, &c., the staple articles of the 
 trade, in an endless variety of elegant 
 shape, and of exquisite worknianship,with 
 several other representations remarkable 
 either for excellence of manufacture or 
 for curious construction. Amongst these 
 were two elegant bird-cages, containing 
 birds, which sung at periods during the 
 procession. A salute was fired several 
 times from a fort mounted with glass 
 cannon, to the astonishment of the spec- 
 tators ; a glass bugle which sounded the 
 halts, and played several marches, was 
 much admired for its sweetness and cor- 
 rectness of tone. Several elegant speci- 
 mens of stained glass were exhibited ; 
 many of the men wore glass hats ana 
 carried glass swords. When the pro- 
 cession arrived at the mansion-house it 
 halted, while a salute was fired from the 
 glass cannon ; the procession then moved 
 forward, passing along the bridge, 
 through Gateshead, and then returned 
 and paraded through the principal streets 
 of Newcastle, to dinners provided at dif- 
 ferent inns 
 
 Mr. John Sykes, in the volume of 
 " Local Records" published by him at 
 Newcastle, from whence this account is 
 taken, says, " that a procession of this 
 kind is highly commendable, not as a 
 mere unmeaning shoio calculated for cari- 
 cature, but as exhibiting to public view 
 some of the finest efl'orts of human indus- 
 try and genius.'' 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Semilunar Passion Flower. Passifora 
 
 peltata. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Eanawide. 
 
 ^tptemftfr 13. 
 
 St. EnJogins, Patriarch of Alexandria, 
 A. D. 608. St. Amatns, Bp. a. d. 690. 
 Another St. Amatn.i, or Atne, Abbot, 
 A. D. 627. St. Manrilins, 5th Cent. 
 
 « GENTLEMAN SMITH," 
 
 Till- ORIGINAL CUARLES SURFACE. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Booh- 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Probably a biographical sketch of this 
 
 eminent professor of the histrionic art, 
 
 may prove acceptable to your interesting 
 
 vveekly sheet. Of the latter days of Mr. 
 
 Smith, I write from my own recollection 
 of him. It is a pleasant occupation to 
 record the acts of these worthies of the 
 legitimate drama — to notice the talents 
 and acquirements of an actor so uni- 
 versally respected for the kindness of his 
 disposition — the firmness of a mind gra- 
 dually developing principles and conduct 
 worthy the sympathy and respect of all — 
 and whose ease and gracefulness of man- 
 ner obtained for him the honourable dis- 
 tinction of "Gentleman Smith." 
 
 The subject of our memoir was born in 
 London, in 1730. He was designed for 
 the church, and in 1737 his father sent 
 him to Eton, from whence he was re- 
 moved to St. John's-coUege, Cambridge, 
 in 1748. The vivacity and spirit which 
 had distinguished young Smith while at 
 Eton, here led him into some rash and 
 impetuous irregularities. He was young 
 — very young: unknown to the world, 
 and too worldly in his pleasures. The 
 force of evil example, so glaringly dis- 
 played within our colleges and grammar- 
 schools, was powerful — and Smith yielded 
 to its power. One hasty act of impru- 
 dence and passion, frustrated his father's 
 hopes, and determined the future pursuits 
 of this tyro. Having one evening drunk 
 too freely with some associates of kindred 
 minds, and being pursued by the proctor 
 he had the imprudence to snap an un- 
 loaded pistol at him. For this offence he 
 was doomed to a punishment to which he 
 would not submit; and in order to avoid 
 expulsion immediately quitted college, 
 He now had the opportunity of gratifying 
 his inclination for the stage, and without 
 any deep reflection upon the step he was 
 about to take, immediately upon his arrival 
 in London, applied to Mr. Rich, then 
 manager of Covent-garden theatre, and 
 succeeded in obtaining an engagement. 
 He made his first appearance in January, 
 1753, in the chaiacter of Theodosius ; 
 on which occasion many of his college 
 friends came up for the purpose of giving 
 him their support. His second attempt 
 was Polydore, in the " Orphan ;" after 
 which he appeared successively in South- 
 ampton, in the " Earl of Essex," and 
 Dolabella, in " All for Love." Mr. Smith 
 was obliged for some time to play sub- 
 ordinate parts ; but after Mr. Barry 
 quitted the stage, he undertook several of 
 the princi})al characters in which that 
 great actor had appeared with such dis- 
 tinguished approbation. Mr. Smith's 
 mode of acting had many peculiarities 
 
 614 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 13. 
 
 which were considered as defects, but 
 from his frequent appearance, the au- 
 dience seemed to forget them, or to regard 
 them as trifles undeserving notice, when 
 viewed in connection with the many ex- 
 cellencies which he always displayed. 
 This favourable disposition towards him 
 was greatly increased by his upright and 
 independent conduct in private life, which 
 gained for him very general esteem. 
 When Churchill published his "Rosciad," 
 in 1761, the only notice he took of him 
 in his satire, is comprised in the follow- 
 ing couplet: — 
 
 " Smith the genteel, the airy, and the smart. 
 Smith was just gone to school to say his 
 part." 
 
 After being twenty-two years at Co- 
 vent-garden, Garrick engaged him, in the 
 winter of 1774, to perform at Drury-lane, 
 wheie he remained till the close of his 
 professional labours in 1788. Though 
 Mr. Smith, for a considerable period, 
 played the first parts in tragedy, nature 
 seemed not to have qualified him for this 
 branch of the histrionic art. His person 
 was tall and well formed, but his features 
 wanted flexibility, for the expression of 
 the stronger and finer emotions of tragedy, 
 and his voice had a monotony and harsh- 
 ness, which took much from the effect of 
 his finer performances. The parts in this 
 Hne in which he acquired most popula- 
 rity were Richard the Third, Hotspnr, 
 and Hastings. 
 
 But, now, I must speak of those poweis 
 in which Mr. Smith was unrivalled. His 
 personation of Charles Snrface, in the 
 " School for Scandal," (of which he was 
 the original representative,) lias always 
 been spoken of as his masterpiece, and, 
 indeed, the highest praise and admiration 
 were always awarded him for original- 
 ity, boldness of conception, truth, free- 
 dom, ease, and gracefulness of action and 
 manner. A sigh of tender regret to the 
 recollection of so great a worthy has been 
 uttered by the pleasant Elia, in his 
 " Essay upon Old Actors," to which I 
 refer every lover of the drama, — there he 
 will discover what our favourites in the old 
 school of acting were, — and what our 
 modern professors ought now to be ! 
 
 Mr. Smith's Kitely has been extolled 
 as superior to that of Garrick. Archer 
 and Oakly are two other parts, in which 
 he acquired high reputation. 
 
 On the 9lh of March, 1788, after 
 performing Macbeth, he delivered an epi- 
 
 logue, in which he announced his inten- 
 tion to quit the stage at the close of the 
 season, tkinking it time to " resign the 
 sprightly Charles to abler hands and 
 younger heads." On the ninth of June 
 following, he took his leave, after the per- 
 formance of Charles Surface, in a short, 
 but neat and elegant address : expressing 
 his gratitude for the candour, indulgence, 
 and generosity he had experienced, and 
 his hope that the " patronage and protec- 
 tion the public had vouchsafed him on the 
 stage, wonld be followed by some small 
 esteem, when he was off.'* He performed 
 but once afterwards, which was in the 
 same part, in 1798, for the benefit of his 
 old friend King. Mr. Smith was first 
 married to the sister of the earl of Sand- 
 wich, the widow of Kelland Courtnay, 
 Esq.; she died in 1762. Soon afterwards 
 he married Miss Newson, of Leiston, in 
 SufTolk. Lord Chedworth bequeathed 
 him a legacy of 200/. He died at Bury 
 St. Edmunds, on the 13th of September, 
 1819, in the 89th year of his age.* 
 
 In my humble walk of life, when a boy 
 at the free grammar-school of Bury St. 
 Edmunds, I had, with my young "classi- 
 cal" companions, frequent opportunities 
 of meeting this aged veteran of the drama. 
 His appearance was always agreeable to 
 us. He encouraged our playful gambols, 
 and was well-pleased in giving us some 
 thing to be pleased with. In his eightietl 
 year he looked " most briskly juvenal." 
 His person was then debonair, and his 
 fine, brown, intelligent eye reflected all the 
 mind could realize of the volition of 
 Charles Surface. His dress was in per- 
 fect keeping with the vivacious disposi- 
 tion of the man. He always wore, \\hen 
 perambulating, a white hat, edged with 
 green — blue coat — figured waistcoat — fus- 
 tian-coloured breeches, and gaiters to cor- 
 respond. Thus apparelled, he was, when 
 the weather was favourable, to be met with 
 in some one of the beautifully rural walks 
 in the neighbourhood of the town, trip- 
 ping on at a sharp, brisk pace, and twist- 
 ing his thin gold-headed cane in his right 
 hand. His politeness was proverbial ; 
 and the same ease and gracefulness of 
 carriage — dignity of manner — and suavity 
 of address — were features as conspicuous 
 off, as when on, the stage. It was a lucky 
 
 * An interesting notice of Mr. Smi'li will be f 
 foiind in a small and elegant little work, entitled 
 "County Biography, " &c., published by Longman and 
 Co., accompanied by a good portrait of tlie subject 
 of this article. 
 
 645 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 14. 
 
 momGnt for us to meet him near our 
 " tart" and *' turn-over" shop. He would 
 anticipate our raspberry cravings, and re- 
 mind us that he " was once a school-boy," 
 and that the fagging system was only to 
 be tolerated in the hopeful expectation of 
 a plentiful reward in " sweets " and " su- 
 gar-candy." He was one whom Shak- 
 speare has painted — 
 
 " That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'cJ, that look'J 
 with cheer." 
 Should this trifling sketch fall into tlie 
 hands of any of my respected fellows, who 
 were with me during my labours at tlie 
 above-named school, I am confident they 
 will contemplate this great man's memory 
 with that regard which his rich plea^iant- 
 nes, and our personal knowledge of him, 
 are calculated to inspire. He was an 
 nonourable man ; and it was his honour- 
 able conduct which alone conducted him 
 to an honourable distinction in the even- 
 ing of his days. Unlike the many of 
 his profession, whose talents blaze forth 
 for a while, and then depart like a sun- 
 beam, he letired into the quiet of domestic 
 life — sought peace and solace — and found 
 them. In a word," Gentleman Smith'' was 
 a respecter of virtue : — and he developed 
 Us precepts to the world in the incidents 
 of his own life. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 S. R. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Officinal Crocus. Crocus Sutivus. 
 Dedicated to St. Euhgius. 
 
 The Exaltation of the Holy Cross, a. n. 
 629. St. Catharine of Genoa, a. d. 
 1510. St. Cormac, Bp. of Cashel, and 
 king of Munster, a. d. 908. 
 
 Holy Rood. 
 Holy Cross is in our almanacs and 
 the church of England calendar on this 
 day, whereon is celebrated a Romish ca- 
 tholic festival in honour of the holy cross, 
 or, as our ancestors called it, the holy 
 rood. From this denomination Holy- 
 rood-hoasc, Edinburgh, derives its name. 
 
 The rood was a carved or sculptured 
 groupe consisting of a crucifix, or image 
 of Christ on the cross, with, commonly 
 the virgin Mary on one side, and Joiin 
 on the other ; though for these were 
 sometimes substituted the four evange- 
 lists, and frequently rows of saints were 
 added on each side.* 
 
 The rood was always placed in a gal- 
 lery across the nave, at the entrance of 
 the chancel or choir of the church, and 
 this gallery was called the rood-loft, sig- 
 nifymg the rood-gallery ; the old mean- 
 ing of the word loft being a high, or the 
 highest, floor, or a room higher than an- 
 other room. In the rood-loft the musi- 
 cians were stationed, near the rood, to 
 play during mass. 
 
 The holy roods or crosses being taken 
 down at the time of the leformation, tire 
 rood-loft or gallery became the organ- 
 loft or singing gallery, as we see it in our 
 churches at present : the ancient rood- 
 loft was usually supported by a cross- 
 beam, richly carved with foliage, some- 
 times superbly gilt, with a screen of open 
 tabernacle-work beneath.f 
 
 When the roods, and other images in 
 churches were taken down throughout 
 England, texts of scripture were written 
 on the walls of the churches instead. 
 The first rood taken down in London was 
 the rood belonging to St. Paul's cathe- 
 dral, and then all the other roods were 
 removed from the churches of the metro- 
 polis.J 
 
 The holy rood, at Boxley, in Kent, 
 was called the Rood of Grace ; its image, 
 on the cross, miraculously moved its eyes, 
 lips, and head, upon the approach of its 
 marvelling votaries. The Boarley Rood 
 was brought to London, and Hilsey, 
 bishop of Rochester, within whose diocese 
 it had performed wonders under the pa- 
 pacy, took it to pieces at St. Paul's cross, 
 and showed the people the springs and 
 wheels by which, at the will of the priests 
 it had been secretly put in motion. § The 
 open detection and destruction of this 
 gross imposture, reconciled many, who 
 had been deceived, to the reformation. 
 
 The festival of Holy Cross, or as ii itj 
 more elaborately termed by the Catholics. 
 the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, is in 
 commemoration of the alleged miraculous 
 
 * Fosbroke's British Monachism, 
 
 t ll>icl. 
 
 t Stow's Cliron. 
 
 i Hume, 
 
 G4G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 15, 16. 
 
 appearance of the cross to Constantine in 
 the sky at mid-uay. It was instituted by 
 the Romish church on occasion of the 
 recovery of a large piece of the pretended 
 real cross which Cosroes, king of Persia, 
 took from Jerusalem when he plundered 
 it. The emperor He-raclius defeated him 
 in battle, retook the relic, and carried it 
 back in triumph to Jerusalem. 
 
 According to Rigordus, a historian 
 of the thirteenth century, the capture of 
 this wood by Cosroes, though it was 
 recaptured by Heraclius, was a loss to 
 the human race they never recovered. 
 We are taught by him to believe that the 
 mouths of our ancestors " used to be 
 .supplied with thirty, or in some instan- 
 ces, no doubt according to their faith, 
 with thirty-two teeth, but that since the 
 cross was stolen by the infidels, no mor- 
 tal has been allowed more than twenty- 
 three !"• 
 
 relating to Eton school, that in the month 
 of September, " on a certain day," most 
 probably the fourteenth, the scholars there 
 were to have a play-day, in order to go 
 out and gather nuts, a po'"tion of which, 
 when they returned, they were to make 
 presents of to the different masters ; but 
 before leave was granted for their excur- 
 sion, they were required to write verses 
 on the fruitfulness of autumn, and the 
 deadly cold of the coming winter.* 
 
 "Tuesday, Sept. 14, 1731, being Holy- 
 rood day, the king's huntsmen hunted 
 their free buck in Richmond New park, 
 with bloodhounds, according to custom."t 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Passion Flower. Passiflora ccerulea. 
 Dedicated to the Exaltation of the Cross. 
 
 ^t^Unxhn 15. 
 
 St. Nicetas, 4th Cent. St. Nicomedes, 
 \. D. 90. St. John, the Dwarf, 5th 
 Cent. St. Aicard, or Achart, Abbot, 
 A. D. 687. St. Aper, or Evre, Bp. 
 A. D. 486. 
 
 The weather on an average is, at least, 
 six times out of seven fine on this day .J 
 
 Nutting appears to have been custom- 
 ary on this day. Brand cites from the 
 old play of " Grim, the Collier of Croy- 
 don :'' — 
 " This day, they say, is called Holy-rood 
 
 day. 
 And all the youth are now a nutting 
 gone." 
 
 It appears, from a curious manus&ript 
 
 It yet is not day ; 
 The morning hath not lost her virgin blush, 
 Nor step, but mine, soiled the earth's tinsel robe. 
 
 How full of heaven this solitude appears. 
 
 This healthful comfort of the happy swain ; 
 
 Who from his hard but peaceful bed roused up, 
 
 In 's morning exercise saluted is 
 
 By a full quire of feathered choristers. 
 
 Wedding their notes to the inamoured air. 
 
 Here Nature, in her unaffected dresse. 
 
 Plaited with vallies, and imbost with hills, 
 
 Enchast with silver streams, and fringed with woods, 
 
 Sits lovely in her native russet. 
 
 Chamherlayne, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Byzantine Saffron. Cokkicum Byzanti- 
 
 cum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Nicetas. 
 
 Bt^ttmhtx 16. 
 
 St. Cornelius, Pope, a. d. 252. St. Cy- 
 prian, Abp. of Carthage, a. d. 258. St. 
 Eaphemia, a. d. 307. Sts. Lucia and 
 
 Biady's Clavis Calendaria. 
 
 Geminianus. Sts. Ninian, or Kinyas, 
 Bp. A. D. 432. St. Editha, a. d. 984. 
 
 Jemmy Gordon. 
 This eccentric individual, who is re- 
 corded on the 23d of May, died in the 
 workhouse of St. Leonard's, at Cambridge, 
 on the 16»h of September, 1825. He had 
 for many years been in the receipt of an 
 annuity of *ive and twenty pounds be- 
 
 * Slater's Schol. Eton, A. D. 1560. M. G. DonaU 
 Brit. Mus. 4843 Brand. 
 t Gentlf man's Magazine, 
 t Or. Fursler's Pereu. Calendar 
 
 6^7 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK^ SEPTEMBER 17. 
 
 queatlied to him hy Mr. Gordon, a de- 
 ceased relative. Several confinements in 
 the town goal left Gordon at liberty to 
 write memoirs of himself, which are in 
 the possession of Mr. W. Mason, picture- 
 dealer of Cambridge. He may amuse 
 and essentially benefit society if he pub- 
 lish the manuscripts, accompanied by de- 
 tails drawn from personal recollections of 
 the deceased biographer, with reflections 
 on the misapplication of talent and the 
 consequences of self-indulgence. It is an 
 opportunity whereon to "point a moral, 
 and adorn a tale." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sea Starwort. Afiter Tripolum. 
 Dedicated to St. Editha. 
 
 September 17. 
 
 St. Lambert, Bp. a. d. 709. St. Cohimba, 
 A. D. 853. St. Hildegardis, Abbess, 
 A. V. 1179. St. Rouin, or Rodingus, 
 or Chrodlngus, a. d. 680. Sts. So- 
 crates and Stephen, Martyrs under 
 Dioclesian. 
 
 ^Lambert. 
 
 He is a saint in the Romish calendar ; 
 his name "Lambert" stands unsainted in 
 the church of England calendar and alma- 
 nacs : sometimes he is called Landebert. 
 He was bishop of Maestricht from which 
 see he was expelled in 673, and retired to 
 the monastery of Stavelo, where he con- 
 tinued seven years, submitting to the 
 rules of the novices. He was afterwards 
 restored to his bishopric, and discharged 
 its functions with zeal and success. But 
 during the disorders which prevailed in 
 the government of France, he was mur- 
 dered on the 17th of September, 703, and 
 in 1240, his festival was ordained to be 
 Kept on this day.* 
 
 THEATRICALS. 
 
 This is about the season when the sum- 
 mer theatres close, and the winter thea- 
 tres open. Most of the productions 
 Written, and represented of late years, 
 seem symptomatic of decay in dramatic 
 and histrionic talent. The false tastfe of 
 some of the vocal performers, is laughed 
 at in a light piece called " Der Freischiitz 
 Travestie : by Septimus Globus, Esq." 
 One of its versifications is in a "scene — 
 UNSEEN." According to the author, — 
 
 • AiHllti''s Comp. to the Almanac. 
 
 A SONG— SINGS ITSELF. 
 TVSE.— Galloping Dreary Dun. 
 
 Fine singers we have, both woman and 
 man, 
 
 Gallop O ! fly away ! jump ! 
 Tliey all bravura, as fast as they can. 
 They mock Calalani, 
 Up long laney, 
 Hawling, 
 Squalling, 
 Galloping all away I drag and tail, — di* 
 away — plump ! 
 
 They come on the stage, so fine and so gay, 
 
 Gallop O ! fly away! jump! 
 
 They mount in the air, and they ride away. 
 
 They mockCatalani, &c. 
 
 They canter one off, all into the dark. 
 
 Gallop O ! fly away ! jump ! 
 
 The Jack-bottom sings, instead of the lark. 
 
 They mock Catalani, &.c. 
 
 They let off a trill, and it asks the way, 
 
 Gallop O ! fly away I jump j 
 They quiver and shake — oh 1 1 bid you 
 good day. 
 
 They mock Catalani, &c. 
 
 Such singing I guess, does nobody good, 
 
 Giillop O ! fly away ! jump ! 
 Notes wander about, like the babes in the 
 wood, 
 
 They mock Catalani, &c. 
 
 I sing by myself, but pray take a peep. 
 
 Gallop O ! fly away ! jump 1 
 You'll soon find singers, to slug you to 
 sleep. 
 
 They mock Catalani, &c. 
 l^Exit Sung, 
 
 From the same piece there may be an- 
 other "seasonable" extract, for we are 
 at that period of the year when the chase, 
 which was once a necessary pursuit, is in- 
 dulged as an amusement. In Von Weber's 
 " Der Freischiitz," the casting of the fifth 
 bullet by Caspar is accompanied by " a 
 wild chase in the clouds;" the writer who 
 travestied that opera, as it was represented 
 at the Lyceum theatre, represents this 
 operation to be thus accompanied : — 
 
 Neighing and barking ' old clothes !' — Skif 
 larking — A wild chase in the clouds ; an 
 ' Etherial Race — inhabitants of air,' con- 
 sisting of skeleton dogs muzzled, skele- 
 ton horses, and skeleton horsemen, with 
 overalls and preservers, and Mr. Green 
 from the city, are in pursuit oj a skeleton 
 stag * to Bachelor's-hall,' with grave 
 music accornpanijing the following — 
 
 648 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 18. 
 
 SONG AND CHORUS. 
 BY SKELETON HUNTSMEN. 
 
 ' Bright Chanticleer proclaims the dawn." 
 
 riie moon's eclipse proclaims our luuit, 
 
 riie graves release their dead, 
 Tlie common man lifts up the wood, 
 
 Tlie lord springs from the lead ; 
 The lady-corpses hurry on. 
 
 To join the ghostly crowds, 
 And off we go, with a ho ! so — ho '. 
 A — hunting in the clouds. 
 With a hey, ho. cliivey ! 
 Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy! 
 &c. 
 
 No hill, no dale, no glen, no mire. 
 
 No dew, no night, no storm. 
 No earth, no water, air, nor fire, 
 
 Can do wild huntsmen harm. 
 We laugh at what the living dread, 
 
 And throw aside our shrouds. 
 And off we go, with a ho ! so — ho ! 
 A — hunting in the clouds. 
 With a hey, ho, chivey ! 
 Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy, 
 &c. 
 
 Ofl, when hy body-snatchers stol'n, 
 
 And surgeons for us wait, 
 Some honest watchmen take the rogues 
 
 To be examined straight. 
 We slip away from surgeons, and 
 
 From police-office crowds. 
 And off we go, with a ho ! so — ho ' 
 A — hunting in the clouds. 
 With a hey, ho, chivey ! 
 Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy ! 
 Lc. 
 
 he was discovered and beheaded near the 
 river. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Narrow-leaved Mallow. Malta auguati- 
 
 flora. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Lambert. 
 
 ^t^ttmhtt 18. 
 
 St. Thomas, Abp. of Valentia, a. d. 
 1555. St. Methodius, Bp. of Tyre, 
 A. D. 311. St. Ferreol, a. d. 304. St. 
 Joseph, of Cupertino, a. d. 1663. 
 
 St. Ftrreol 
 He was " a tribune or colonel," Butler 
 says, at Vienne in France, and impri- 
 soned on suspicion of being a christian, 
 which he verified by refusing to sacrifice 
 according to the religion of the country, 
 whereupon being scourged and laid in a 
 dungeon, on the third day his chains fell 
 off" his hands and legs, and he swam over 
 the Rhone. It appears that the mira- 
 culous chain-iklling was ineffectual, for 
 
 The anniversary of this saint and 
 martyr is celebrated at Marseilles with 
 great pomp. The houses are decorated 
 with streamers to the very tops ; and the 
 public way is crossed by cords, on which 
 are suspended numberless flags of various 
 colours. The ships are always orna- 
 mented with flags and streamers. The 
 procession passes under several arches, 
 hung with boughs, before it stops at the 
 altars or resting-places, which are covered 
 with flowers : every thing concurs to give 
 to this solemnity an air of cheerfulness. 
 The eye dwells with pleasure on the gar- 
 lands of beautiful flowers, the green 
 boughs, and the emblem of the divinity 
 contained in the flags of the procession. 
 The attendants are extremely numerous; 
 every gardener carries his wax taper, or- 
 namented with the most rare and beauti- 
 ful flowers ; he has also the vegetables 
 and fruits with which heaven had blessed 
 his labour, and sometimes he bears some 
 nests of birds. 
 
 The butchers also make a part of this 
 procession, clothed in long tunics, and 
 with a hat a la Henri IF. armed with a 
 hatchet or cleaver; they lead a fat ox 
 dressed with garlands and ribands, and 
 with gilt horns, like the ox at the car 
 nival : his back is covered with a carpet, 
 on which sits a pretty child, dressed as 
 St. John the Baptist. During the whole 
 week which precedes the festival, the 
 butchers lead about this animal : they first 
 take him to the police, where they pay a 
 duty, and then their collection begins, 
 which is very productive: every one 
 wishes to have the animal in his house; 
 and it is a prevailing superstition among 
 the people, that they shall have good 
 luck throughout the year if this beast 
 leave any trace of his visit, however dirty 
 it may be. The ox is killed on the day 
 after the festival. The child generally 
 lives but a short time : exhausted by the 
 fatigue which he has suffered, and by the 
 caresses which he has received, and sick- 
 ened by the sweetmeats with which he 
 has been crammed, he languishes, and 
 often falls a victim. 
 
 A number of young girls, clothed in 
 white, their heads covered with veils 
 adorned with flowers, and girded with 
 ribands of a uniform colour are next in 
 the procession. Children, habited 'i; 
 
 649 
 
HIE EVERY-DAY BOOR— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 different manners, recal tho ancient 
 " mysteries." Several young women 
 are dressed as nuns ; these are St. 
 Ursula, St. Rosalia, St. Agnes, St. Teresa, 
 &c. The handsomest are clothed as 
 Magdalens ; with their hair dishevelled 
 on their lovely faces, they look with an 
 air of contrition on a crucifix which they 
 hold in the hand : others appear in 
 the habit of the Soeiirs de la Charity, 
 whose whole time is devoted to the service 
 of the sick. Young boys fill other parts. 
 Such as angels, abbots, monks; among 
 vhom may be distinguished St. Francis, 
 St. Bruno, St. Anthony, &c. In the 
 midst of the shepherds marches the little 
 St. John, but half covered with a sheep's 
 skin, like the picture of his precursor; he 
 leads a lamb decked with ribands, a 
 symbol of the saviour who offered him- 
 self for us, and died for the remission of 
 our sins. The streets are strewed with 
 flowers ; numerous choristers carry bas- 
 kets full of roses and yellow broom, which 
 they throw, on a given signal, before the 
 host or holy sacrament: they strew some 
 of these on the ladies who sit in rows to 
 see the procession ; these also have baskets 
 of flowers on their knees, which they 
 offpr to the host ; they amuse themselves 
 with covering the young virgins and little 
 saints with tlie flowers. The sweet scents 
 of the roses, the cassia, the jessamine, the 
 orange, and the tuberose, mingled with 
 the odour of the incense, almost over- 
 power the senses The procession pro- 
 ceeds to the port, and it is there that the 
 ceremony presents a sublime character : 
 the people fill the quays ; all the decks 
 are manned with seamen, dressed in their 
 best blue jackets, their heads uncovered, 
 and their red caps in their hands. All 
 bend the knee to the God of the Universe : 
 the seamen stretch out their hands to- 
 wards the prelate, who, placed under a 
 canopy, gives the benediction : the most 
 profound silence reigns among this im- 
 mense crowd. The benediction received, 
 every one rises instantaneously ; the bells 
 begin to ring, the music plays, and the 
 whole train takes the road to the temple 
 from which they came.* 
 
 ^epttmljer 19. 
 
 S/. Januarius, Bp. of Benevento, a. d 
 305. -S^ Theodore, Abp. of Canter- 
 bury, A. D. 690. Sts. Peleus, Pa-Ter- 
 muthes, and Companions St. Luc^ 
 A. D. 1090. St. Eustoch'ms, Bp. a. d 
 461. St. Sequanus, or Seine, Abbot, 
 A. D. 580. 
 
 STOURBRIDGE FAIR 
 
 This place, near Cambridge, is also 
 called Sturbridge, Sturbitch, and Stir- 
 bitch. A Cambridge newspaper speaks 
 of Stirbitch fair being proclaimed on the 
 19th of September, 1825, for a fortnight, 
 and of Stirbitch horse-fair commencing 
 on the 26th of the month. Tlie corrup- 
 tion of this proper name, stamps the per- 
 sons who use it in its vulgar acceptation 
 as being ignorant as the ignorant ; the 
 better instructed should cease from 
 shamefully acquiescing in the long con- 
 tinued disturbance of this appellation. 
 
 Stephen Batman, in his " Doome 
 warning," published in 1582, relates that 
 " Fishers toke a disfigured divell, in a 
 certain stoure, (which is a mighty gather- 
 ing togither of waters, from some narrow 
 lake of the sea,) a horrible monster with 
 a goats heade, and eyes shyning lyke fyre, 
 whereuppon they were all afrayde and 
 ranne awaye ; and that ghoste plunged 
 himselfe under the ise, and running uppe 
 and downe in the stuwre made a terrible 
 noyse and sound." We get in Stirbitch 
 a most " disfigured divell " from Stour- 
 bridge. The good people derive their 
 " good name" from their river. 
 
 Stourbridge fair originated in a grant 
 from king John to the hospital of lepers 
 at that place. By a charter in the 30th 
 year of llenry VI II., the fair was granted 
 to the magistrates and corporation of 
 Cambridge. The vicechancellor of the 
 university has the same power in it thai 
 he has in the town of Cambridge. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Pendulous Starwort. Aster pendulus. 
 Dedicated to St. Thomas, of Villanova. 
 
 * TJmes Telescope, 1819; from Coxe's Geiitle- 
 oiaii s Guide throu^li France. 
 
 By an order of privy council of the Srd 
 of October, 1547, the mayor and under- 
 sheriff of the county were required, "ot 
 only to acknowledge before the vicechan- 
 cellor, heads of colleges and proctors, 
 that they had interfered with the privi 
 leges of the university in Stourbridge fair 
 but also, " that the mayor, in the common 
 hall, shall openly, among his brethren, ac- 
 knowledge his wilful! proceeding." The 
 breach consisted in John Flet'^her, the 
 
 650 
 
TliE EVEEY-DAY BOUK.— SEPTEMBER 19 
 
 mayor, having refuseJ to receive into 
 the tolbooth certain persons of " naughty 
 and corrupt behaviour," who were " pri- 
 soners, taken by the proctors of the uni- 
 versity, in the last Sturbridge fair ;" 
 wherefore he was called before tlie lords 
 and others of the council, and his fault 
 tiierein " so plainly and justly opened" 
 that he could not deny it, but did "sin- 
 cerely and willingly confess his said 
 fault."* 
 
 In 1613, Stourbridge fair acquired such 
 celebrity, that hackney-coaches attended 
 it from London. Subsequently not less 
 than sixty coaches plied at this fair, which 
 was the largest in England. Vast quan- 
 tities of butter and cheese found there a 
 ready market ; it stocked the people of 
 Norfolk, Sufiblk, Essex, and other coun- 
 ties with clothes, and all other necessaries; 
 and shopkeepers supplied themselves 
 from thence with the commodities where- 
 in they dealt. f 
 
 Jacob Butler, Esq. who died on the 
 28th of May, 1765, stoutly maintained 
 the charter of Stourbridge fair : he was 
 of Bene't-oollege, Cambridge, and a bar- 
 rister-at-law. In stature he was six feet 
 four inches high, of determined cha- 
 racter, and deemed " a great eccentric" 
 because, among other reasons, he usually 
 invited the giants and dwarfs, who came 
 for exhibition, to dine with him. He was 
 so rigid in seeing the charter literally 
 complied with, that if the ground was 
 not cleared by one o'clock on the day ap- 
 pointed, and he found any of the booths 
 standing, he had them pulled down, and 
 the materials taken away. On one oc- 
 casion when the wares were not removed 
 by the time mentioned in the charter, he 
 drove his carriage among the crockery 
 and destroyed a great quantity. 
 
 The rev. John Butler, LL. D. rector 
 of Wallington, in Hertfordshire, father of 
 Mr. Butler, who was his eldest son, en- 
 deavoured in the year 1705, to get Stour- 
 Dridge fair rated to the poor. This oc- 
 casioned a partial and oppressive assess- 
 ment on himself that involved him in 
 great diffi'^ulties. Dr. Butler died in 
 1714, and Jacob Butler succeeded to his 
 difficulties and estates in the parish of 
 
 * Mr. Dyer's Privileges of Cambridpe, vol. i 
 i. 1,. 
 t Dr. N. Drake's Sliakspearc ami liis Times. 
 
 Barnwell. As a trustee under an act for 
 the turnpike road from Cambridge to 
 London, Mr. Butler was impeached ot 
 abuses in common with his co-trustees. 
 Being obnoxious, he was singled out to 
 make good the abuse, and summoned to 
 the county sessions, where he appeared 
 in his barrister's gown, was convicted and 
 tined ten pounds, which he refused to 
 pay, and was committed. He excepted to 
 the jurisdiction, wherein he was sup- 
 ported by the opinion of sir Joseph 
 Yorke, then attorney-general, and to save 
 an estreat applied to the under-sheriff, 
 who refused his application, and after- 
 wards went to the clerk of the peace at 
 Newmarket, from whom he met the like 
 treatment; this forced him to the quarter- 
 sessions, where he obtained his discharge, 
 after telling the chairman he felt it hard 
 to be compelled to the trouble and ex- 
 pense of teaching him and his brethren 
 law. He appears to have been a lawyer 
 of that school, which admitted no law but 
 the old common law of the land, and 
 statute law. In 1754, " to stem the ve- 
 nality and corruption of the times, he 
 offered himself a candidate to represent 
 the county in parliament, unsupported by 
 the influence of the great, the largess of 
 the wealthy, or any interest, but that 
 which his single character could establish 
 in the esteem of all honest men and 
 lovers of their country. But when he 
 found the struggles for freedom faint and 
 ineffectual, and his spirits too weak to 
 resist the efforts of his enemies, he con- 
 tented himself with the testimony of those 
 few friends who dare to be free, and of 
 his own unbiassed conscience, which, 
 upon this, as well as every other oc- 
 casion, voted in his favour ; and upon 
 *hese accounts he was justly entitled to 
 fhe name of the old Briton." He bore 
 this appellation to the day of his death. 
 The loss of a favourite dog is supposed to 
 have accelerated his end ; upon its being 
 announced to him, he said, " I shall not 
 live long now my dog is dead." He 
 shortly afterwards became ill, and, fin- 
 gering about two months, died. 
 
 His coffin, which was made from a 
 large oak by his express order, some 
 months before his death, became an ob- 
 ject of public curiosity ; it was of suffi- 
 cient dimensions to contain seTcral per- 
 sons, and wine was copiously quaffed 
 therein by many of those who went to see 
 if. To a person, who was one of tlip 
 legatees, the singular trust was delegatei. 
 
 651 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 of drivi:.g him to the grave, on the car- 
 riage of a waggon, divested of the body : 
 seated in the front, he was to drive his 
 iwo favourite horses, Brag and Dragon, 
 to Barnwell church, and should they re- 
 fuse to receive his body there, he was to 
 return and bury him in the middle of the 
 grass-plat in his own garden. Part only 
 of his request was complied with, for the 
 body being put into a leaden coffin, and 
 the leaden one into a shell, was conveyed 
 
 in a hearse, and the coffin made before 
 his death was put upon the carriage of 
 his waggon, and driven before the hearse 
 by the gentleman above mentioned 
 when arrived at the church door, it was 
 taken from the carriage by four men, who 
 received half-a-guinea each ; it was then 
 put into the vault, and the corpse being 
 taken from the hearse was carried to the 
 vault, there put into the coffin, and then 
 screwed down. 
 
 JACOB BUTLER, ESQ. 
 
 The late rev. Michael Tyson of Bene't- 
 coUege, " a good antiquary and a gen- 
 tleman artist," amused himself with 
 etching a few portraits; among them 
 " were some of the old masters of his 
 college, and some of the noted characters 
 in and about Cambridge, as .Jacob But- 
 ler of Barnwell, who called himself the 
 
 old Briton,'" which Mr. Nichols says 
 " may be called his best, both in design 
 and execution ; for it expresses the very 
 man himself." A gentleman of the uni- 
 versity has obligingly communicated t| 
 this work a fine impression of M*. Ty. 
 son's head of " the old Briton," from 
 whence the present portrait is engraven. 
 
 652 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 Origin of Stourbridge Fair. 
 
 Mr. George Dyer, in a supplement to 
 his recently published " Privileges of the 
 University of Cambridge," being a sequel 
 to his " History of the University," cites 
 thus from Fuller : — 
 
 " Stourbridge fair is so called from 
 Stour, a little rivulet (on both sides where- 
 of it is kept,) on the east of Cambridge, 
 whereof this original is reported. A clo- 
 tkier of Kendal, a town characterized to 
 be Lanificii gloria et industria prcBvel- 
 lens, casually wetting his cloath in water in 
 his passage to London, exposed it there to 
 sale, on cheap termes, as the '.^o'-se for 
 wetting, and yet it seems saved oy the 
 bargain. Next year he returned again 
 with some other of his townsmen, prof- 
 fering drier and dearer cloath to be sold. 
 So that within a few years hither came a 
 confluence of buyers, sellers, and lookers- 
 on, which are the three principles of a 
 fair. Ill nwmoria thereof, Kendal men 
 challenge some privilege in that place, 
 annually choosing one of the town to be 
 chief, before whom an antic sword was 
 carried with some mirthful solemnities, 
 disused of late, since these sad times, 
 which put men's minds into more serious 
 employments." This was about 1417. 
 
 The "History of Stourbridge Fair," 
 &c. a pamphlet published at Cambridge 
 in 1806, supplies the particulars before 
 the reader, respecting Jacob Butler and 
 the fair, except in a few instances derived 
 from authorities acknowledged in the 
 notes. From thence also is as follows : — 
 
 Stourbridge fair was annually set out 
 on St. Bartholomew's day, by the alder- 
 men and the rest of the corporation of 
 Cambridge, who all rode there in grand 
 procession, with music playing before 
 them; and, when the ceremony was finish- 
 ed, used to ride races about the place ; 
 then returning to Cambridge, cakes and 
 ale were given to the boys who attended 
 them, at the Town-hall ; but, we believe, 
 this old custom is now laid aside. On the 
 7th of September they rode m the same 
 manner to proclaim it; which being 
 done, the fair then began, and continued 
 three weeks, though the greatest part was 
 over in a fortnight. 
 
 This fair, which was allowed, some 
 years ago, to be the largest in Europe, is 
 kept in a corn-field about half a mile 
 fquare, the river Cam running on the 
 
 north side, and the rivulet called ths 
 Stour, (from which, and the bridge which 
 crosses it, the fair received its name,) on 
 the east side ; it is about two miles fro-n 
 Cambridge market-place, and where, dur- 
 ing the time of the fair, coaches, &c. at- 
 tend to convey persons to the fair. Tbe 
 chief diversions at the fair were drolls 
 rope-dancing, sometimes a music-booth, 
 and plays performed ; and though theie 
 is an act of parliament which prohibits 
 the acting of plays within ten miles of 
 Cambridge, ths Norwich company have 
 permission to perform there every night 
 during the fair. 
 
 If the corn was not cleared off the field 
 by the 24th of Aiigust, the builders were 
 at liberty to tread it down to build their 
 booths ; and on the other hand, if the 
 booths and materials were not cleared 
 away by Michaelmas-day at noon, the 
 ploughmen might enter the same with their 
 horses, ploughs, and carts, and destroy 
 whatever they found remaining on the 
 ground after that time. The filth, straw, 
 dung, &c. left by the fair-keepers, making 
 the farmers amends for their trampling 
 and hardening the ground. The shops, 
 or booths, were built in rows like streets, 
 having each their name ; as Garlick-row, 
 Booksellers'-row,Cook-row, &c, and every 
 commodity had its proper place ; as the 
 cheese-fair, hop-fair, wool-fair, &c. In 
 these streets, or rows, as well as in seve- 
 ral others, were all kinds of tradesmen, 
 who sell by wholesale or retail, as gold- 
 smiths, toy-men, braziers, turners, millin- 
 ers, haberdashers, hatters, mercers, dra- 
 pers, pewterers, china warehouses, and, 
 in short, most trades that could be found 
 in London, from whence many of them 
 came ; there were also taverns, coffee- 
 houses, and eating-houses in great plenty, 
 all kept in booths, except six or seven 
 brick-houses, in any of which (except the 
 coffee-house booth,) you might be accom- 
 modated with hot or cold roast goose, 
 roast or boiled pork, &c. 
 
 Crossing the road, at the south end of 
 Garlick-row, on the left hand, was a 
 square formed of the largest booths, called 
 the Dttddery, the area of which was from 
 two htmdred and forty o three hundred 
 feet, chiefly taken up with woollen dra- 
 pers, wholesale tailors, sellers of second- 
 hand clothes, &c. where the dealers had a 
 room before their booths to take down 
 and open ll.eir packs, and bring in wag- 
 gons to load and unload the same. In the 
 centre of the square there formerly stood 
 
 653 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BUOK.— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 .1 high pole with a vane at the lop. On 
 two Sundays, during; the principal time of 
 the fair, morning and afternoon, divine 
 service was performed, and a sermon 
 preached by the minister of Barnwell, 
 from a pulpit placed in this square, who 
 was very well paid for the same, by a 
 contribution made among the fair- 
 keepers. 
 
 In this duddery only, it is said, that 
 100,000/. worth of woollen manufacture 
 has been sold in less than a week, exclu- 
 sive of the trade carried on here by the 
 wholesale tailors from London, and other 
 parts of England, who transacted their bu- 
 siness wholly with their pocket-books, and 
 meeting with their chapmen here from all 
 parts of the country, make up their ac- 
 counts, receive money, and take further 
 orders These, it is said, exceed the sale 
 of goods actually brought to the fair, and 
 delivered in kind ; it was frequently 
 known that the London wholesale-men 
 have carried back orders from their deal- 
 ers for 10,000/. worth of goods, and some 
 a great deal more. Once, in this duddery, 
 there was a booth consisting of six apart- 
 ments, which contained goods worth 
 20,000/. belonging solely to a dealer in 
 Norwich stuffs. 
 
 The trade for wool, hops, and leather, 
 was prodigious ; the quantity of wool 
 only, which was sold at one fair, was said 
 to amount to between 50 and 60,000/., 
 and of hops to nearly the same sum. 
 
 The 14th of September was the horse- 
 fair day, which was always the busiest 
 day during the time of the fair, and the 
 number of peojile, who came from all 
 parts of the county on this day, was very 
 great. Colchester oysters and fresh her- 
 rings were in great request, particularly 
 by those who lived in the inland parts of 
 the kingdom. 
 
 The fair was like a well-governed city, 
 and less disorder or confusion were to be 
 seen here than in any other place, where 
 there was so great a concourse of people 
 assembled. Here was a court of justice, 
 open from morning till night, where the 
 mayor, or his deputy, always attended to 
 determine all controversies in matters 
 arising from the business of the fair, and 
 for keeping the peace ; for which purpose 
 he had eight servants to attend him, called 
 red-couts, who were employed as con- 
 stables, and if any dispute arose between 
 buyer and seller, &cc. upon calling out 
 red-coat there was one of them immedi- 
 ately at hand; and if the dispute was not 
 
 quickly decided, the offender^ were taken 
 to the said court, and the case determined 
 in a summary way, (as was practiced in 
 those called pie-powder courts in other 
 fairs,) and from which there was no ap- 
 peal. 
 
 The greatest inconvenience attending 
 the tradesmen at this fair, was the manner 
 in which they were obliged to lodge in 
 the night ; their bed (if it may be so 
 called,) was laid upon two or three boa'-ds 
 nailed to four posts about a toot from the 
 ground, and four boards fixed round it 
 to keep them from falling out ; in the 
 day-time it was obliged to be removed 
 from the booth, and laid in the open air, 
 exposed to the weather ; at night it was 
 again taken in, and made up in the best 
 manner they were able, and they laid al- 
 most neck and heels together, it being not 
 more than five feet long. \'ery heavy 
 rains, which fall about this season, would 
 sometimes force through the hair-cloths, 
 which were almost the only covering to 
 the booths, and oblige them to get up 
 again ; and high winds have been known 
 to blow down many of the booths, par- 
 ticularly in the year 1741. 
 
 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 Legislative discussion and interference 
 have raised a feeling of kindness towards 
 the brute creation which slumbered and 
 slept in our forefathers. Formerly, tie 
 costermonger was accustomed to make 
 wounds for the express purpose of pro- 
 ducing torture. He prepared to drive an 
 ass, that had not been driven, with his 
 knife. On each side of the back bone, 
 at the lower end, just above the tail, he 
 made an incision of two or three inches 
 in length through the skin, and beat into 
 these incisions with his stick till they be- 
 came open wounds, and so remained, 
 while the ass lived to be driven to and 
 from market, or through the streets of the 
 metropolis. A costermonger, now, would 
 shrink from this, which was a common 
 practice between the years 1790 and 1800. 
 The present itinerant venders of apples, 
 and other fruit, abstain from wanton bar- 
 barity, while coachmen and carmen are 
 punished for it under Mr. Martin's act. 
 This gentleman's humanity, though some- 
 times eccentric, is ever active; and, when 
 judiciously exercised, is approved by na- 
 tural feelings, and supported by public 
 opinion. 
 . A correspondent has pleasantly thrown 
 
 C6i 
 
THE F.VERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 19. 
 
 t02;eth.er some amusing citations respect- 
 ing the ass. It is a rule with the editor of 
 the Every-Day Book not to alter commu- 
 nications, or he would have turned one 
 expression, in the course of the subjoined 
 paper, which seems to bear somewhat lu- 
 dicrously upon the interference of the 
 member for Galway, in behalf of that 
 class of animals which have endured more 
 persecution than any in existence, except, 
 perhaps, our fellow human-beings, the 
 Jews. 
 
 THE AS3. 
 
 {For Hones Every-Day Book.) 
 
 Poorly as the world may think of the 
 intellectual abilities of asses, there have 
 been some very clever fellows among 
 ihem. There have been periods when, 
 far from his name being synonymous with 
 stupidity, and his person made the sub- 
 ject of the derision, the contempt, and, 
 what is worse, the scourge of the vulgar — 
 (for that is "the unkindest cut of all") — 
 he was " respected and beloved by all who 
 had the pleasure of his acquaintance 1" 
 Leo Africanus asserts, that asses may be 
 taught to dance to music, and it is sur- 
 prising to see the accurate manner in 
 which they will keep time. In this, at 
 least, they must be far superior to us, poor 
 human beings, if they can keep time, for 
 " time stays for no man,'' as the proverb 
 says. Though their vocal powers do not 
 equal those of a i?ra-ham, yet we have 
 had an undoubted proof of the sensitive- 
 ness of their ear to the sweets of har- 
 mony ; Gay also tells us — 
 
 " The ass learnt metaphors and tropes, 
 But most on music fixed his hopes." — 
 
 And merry Peter Pindar thus apostro- 
 phises his asinine namesake : — 
 
 "What the' I've heard some voices sweeter; 
 Yet exquisite thy hearing, gentle Peter ! 
 
 Whether ajudge of music, I don't know — 
 
 Ifso— 
 Thou hast th' advantage got of many a score 
 That enter at the open door." 
 
 What an unfounded calumny then 
 must it have been on the part of the Ro- 
 mans, to declare these " Koussins de Ar- 
 cadie" (as La Fontaine calls them) so defi- 
 cient in their aural faculties, that " to 
 lalk to a deaf ass" was proverbial for " to 
 labour in vain !" — Perhaps it was under 
 the same delusion that, as Goldsmith 
 eays, — 
 
 " John Trott was desired by two witty peers, 
 To tell them the reason why asses had ears." 
 
 John owns his ignorance of the subject, 
 
 and facetiously exclaims — 
 
 " Howe'er, from this time, I shall ne'er see 
 
 your graces. 
 As I hope to be saved! witliout thinking on 
 
 asses !" 
 
 Which joke, by the bye, the author of 
 " Waveriey" has deigned to make free with, 
 and thrust into the mouth of a thick- 
 headed fellow, in the fourth volume of the 
 " Crusaders." 
 
 Gesner says he saw one leap through a 
 hoop, and, at the word of command, lie 
 down just as if he were dead. 
 
 INIahomet had an excellent creature, 
 half ass and half mule : for if we may take 
 his word for it, the beast carried hmi from 
 Mecca to Jerusalem in the twinkling of 
 an eye in one step ! — " It is only xhe. first 
 step which is difficult," says the French 
 proverb, and here it is undoubtedly right. 
 
 Sterne gives us a most affecting account 
 of one which had the misfortune to die. 
 " The ass," the old owner told him, " he 
 was assured loved him. They had been 
 separated three days, during which time 
 the ass had sought him as much as he had 
 sought the ass : and they had scarce 
 either eat or drank till they met." This 
 certainly covdd not have assisted much to 
 improve the healtli of the donkey. I can 
 not better conclude my evidence of his 
 shrewdness and capacity than with an 
 anecdote which many authors combine in 
 declaring : — . 
 
 " De la peau du lion Carte s'^tant v<5tu 
 
 Etoit craint partout h. la ronde ; 
 
 Et bien qu'animal sans vertu 
 
 11 faisoit tremblei' tout lemoude. 
 
 Un petit bout d'oreille, echapp^ par mal- 
 
 heur, 
 Decouvrit la fourbe et I'erreur. 
 Afardti fit alors son office,*' &c. 
 
 La Fontaine 
 
 It is curious to see the same taste and 
 the same peculiarities attached to the 
 same family. As long as the a&s waa 
 thought to be a lion, he was suffered to 
 go on, — but when he is discovered to hi 
 an ass, forth steps Mr. Martin — then the 
 task is his ! 
 
 Now for the estimation in which thej 
 were held. 
 
 Shakspeare makes the fairy queen, the 
 lovely Titania, fall in love with a gentle- 
 man who sported an ass's head : — 
 
 " Methought I was enamour'd of an ass," 
 
 said the lady waking — and she thought 
 right, if love be 
 
 655 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 2 \ 
 
 •All made of fantasy. 
 All adoration, duty, and observance." 
 
 At Rouen, they idolized a donkey in 
 the most ludicrous manner, by dressing 
 lum up very gaily in the church, dancing 
 round him, and singing, " eh 1 eh ! eh ! 
 father ass ! eh ! eh ! eh ! father ass !" 
 which, however flattering to him, was 
 really no compliment to themselves. 
 
 The ass on which Silenus rode, when 
 he did good service to Jove, and the 
 other divinities, was transported up into 
 the celestial regions. Apion affirms, that 
 when Antiochus spoiled the temple at Je- 
 rusalem a golden ass's head was found, 
 which the Jews used to worship. — To this 
 Josephus replies with just indignation, 
 and argues how could they adore the 
 image of that, which, " when it does not 
 perform what we impose upon it, we beat 
 with a great many stripes !'' Poor beasts I 
 they must be getting used to hard usage 
 by this time ! The wild ass was a very 
 favourite creature for hunting, as we learn 
 from Martial (13 Lib. 100 Ep.); and Vir- 
 gil sings— 
 "Saepe etiam cursu timidos agitabisonagros." 
 
 Its flesh was esteemed a dainty. Xeno- 
 phon, in the first book of the "Anabasis," 
 compares it to venison ; and Bingley says, 
 it is eaten to this day by the Tartars : 
 but what is more curious, Maecenas, who 
 was a sensible man in other respects, pre- 
 ferred, according to Pliny, the meat of 
 the foal of the tame donkey! " de gusti- 
 bus non disputandum" indeed! With 
 its milk Poppcea composed a sort of 
 paste with winch she bedaubed her face, 
 for the purpose of makmg it fair; as we 
 are told by Pliny (Lib. 11. 41.) and Ju- 
 renal (Sat. 2. 107): and in their unadul- 
 •erated milk she used frequently to bathe 
 for the same purpose (Dio 62. 28.): 
 
 ' Proptei quod secum comites educit nsellas 
 Exul Hyperboreum si dimittatur ad axein." 
 
 Juv. 6. 468. 
 And in both respects she was imitated by 
 many of the Roman ladies. Of its efficacy 
 to persons of delicate habits there can be 
 no doubt, and Dr. Wolcott only called it 
 in question (when recommended by Dr. 
 Geacb,) for the purpose of making the 
 following excellent epigram :— 
 
 " And, doctor, do you really think 
 That ass's milk I ou^ht to drink ? 
 *T would quite remove my ocugh, you say. 
 And drive my old complaints away. — • 
 It cured yourself — I grant it true — 
 But then — 'twas mothers milk to you V 
 
 And lastly, even when dead, his utility is 
 not ended ; for, as we read in Plutarch 
 (Vita Cleomenis) the philosopher affirm- 
 ed, that "from the dead bodies of asses, 
 beetles were produced '." Tim Tims. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTOaV. 
 
 Devil's Bit Scabious. Scabiosa Succisa. 
 Dedicated to St. Lucy . 
 
 Sis. 
 
 Eustachms and Companions. 
 Agapetus, Pope, a. d. 536. 
 
 5/. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 On the 20th of September, 1753, the 
 foundation stone of the new exchange at 
 Edinburgh was laid by George Drum- 
 mond, Eisq. grand master of the society 
 of freemasons in Scotland. The proces- 
 sion was very grand and regular: each 
 lodge of masons, of which there were 
 twelve or thirteen, walked in procession 
 by themselves, all uncovered, amount- 
 ing to six hundred and seventy-two, 
 most of whom were operative masons. 
 Tlie military paid proper honours to 
 the company, and escorted the pro- 
 cession. The grand master, supported 
 by a former grand master and the present 
 substitute, was joined in the procession 
 by the lord provost, magistrates, and 
 council, in their robes, with the city 
 sword, mace, &c. carried before them, 
 accompanied with the directors of the 
 scheme, &c. The foundation stone, bear- 
 ing the Latin inscription, lay all that day 
 on the pavement, to be viewed by the 
 populace. 
 
 The freemasons, having caused a mag- 
 nificent triumphal arch in the true Augus- 
 tine style to be erected at the entry of the 
 place where the stone was laid, they 
 passed through it, and the magistrates 
 went to a theatre erected for them, co- 
 vered with tapestry, and decked with 
 flowers, on the west of the place where 
 the stone was to be laid; and directly op- 
 posite, to the east, another tiieatre was 
 erected for the grand master and officers 
 of the grand lodge, and being seated in a 
 chair placed for him, the grand master 
 soon after laid th'^ stone; and put into it, 
 in holes made for that purpose, two 
 medals, one of them being inscribed— 
 
 " In the Lord is all our trussT." 
 
 The grand master having applied the 
 square the plumb, the level, the mallet, 
 &c. to the stone, in order to fix the sam*' 
 
 65r> 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— bEPTEMBER 21. 22. 23. 
 
 in its proper position, gave it three knocks 
 with the mallet, wiiioli were followed by 
 three huzzas from the brethren : tiien the 
 mason's anthem, which was played by the 
 music when the stone was first slung in 
 the tackle, was again repeated, the bre- 
 thren, 8cc. joining in the chorus, which 
 being ended, a cornucopia, with two silver 
 vessels, were handed to the grand master, 
 filled with corn, wine, and oil ; he, ac- 
 cording to an ancient ceremony, poured 
 them on the stone, saying, 
 
 " May the bountiful hand of heaven 
 supply this city with abundance of corn, 
 wine, oil, and all other necessaries of 
 life." 
 
 This being also succeeded by three 
 huzzas, the anthem was again played ; and 
 when finished, the grand master repeated 
 these words : 
 
 " May the grand architect of the uni- 
 verse, as we have now laid the foundation 
 stone, of his kind providence enable us to 
 carry on and finish what we have now 
 begun ; and may he be a guard to this 
 place, and the city in general, and pre- 
 serve it from decay and ruin to the latest 
 posterity." 
 
 Having closed the ceremony with a 
 short prayer for the sovereign, the senate 
 of the city, the fraternity of masons, and 
 all the people, and the anthem naving been 
 again played, the grand master addressed 
 himself to the lord provost and magis- 
 trates, &c. in a polite and learned manner, 
 applauding their noble design, and pray- 
 ing that heaven would crown their endea- 
 vours, &c. with the desired success. He 
 also made a speech to the undertakers, 
 admonishing them to observe the instruc- 
 tions of the directors, &c. and to do their 
 duty as artificers, for their own honour, 
 credit, &o. Several medals struck on the 
 occasion, were distributed by the grand 
 master to the magistrates, &c.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Common Meadow Safl'ron. Colchicum 
 
 antnninale. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Eustachius. 
 
 ^cpttmljer 21. 
 
 St. Matthew, Apostle and Evangelist. 
 St. Maura, a. p. 850. St. Lo, or 
 Laudus, Bp. of Coutances, a. d. 568. 
 
 • Gentif man's Magazine, 
 
 This is a festival in the church of Eng- 
 land calendar, and in the almanacs. 
 
 Mr. Audley notices of Matthew, that 
 he was also called Levi ; that he was 
 the son of Alpheus, a publican, or tax- 
 gatherer, under the Romans ; and that he 
 is said to have preached the gospel in 
 Ethiopia, and to have died a martyr there. 
 Mr. A. mclines to think that he died a 
 natural death. He says, it is generally, 
 if not universally, agreed by the ancients, 
 that Matthew wrote his gospel in Hebrew, 
 but that several moderns think it was 
 written in Greek, and that Matthew has 
 more quotations from the Old Testament 
 than any of the evangelists. 
 
 On this day the lord mayor, aldermen, 
 sherifis, and governors of the several royal 
 hospitals in London, attend divine service, 
 and hear a sermon preached at Christ 
 church, Newgate-street ; they then repair 
 to the great hall in Christ's hospital, where 
 two orations are delivered, one in Latin, 
 and the other in English, by the two se- 
 nior scholars of the grammar-school ; and 
 afterwards partake of an elegant dinner. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Cilcated Passion Flower. Passiflora 
 
 cilcata 
 
 Dedicated to St. Matthew. 
 
 M>tpUn\htv 22. 
 
 St. Maurice, and his Companions, 4th 
 Cent. St. Emmeran, Bp. of Poitiers, 
 A. D. 653. 
 
 " Now soften'd suns a mellow lustre shed, 
 
 The laden orchards glow with tempting red ; 
 
 On hazel houghs the clusters hang em- 
 brown'd. 
 
 And with the sportsman's war the new- 
 shorn fields resound.' 
 
 floral directory 
 Tree Boletus. Boletus arborens. 
 Dedicated to St. Maurice. 
 
 ^t^Umhtx 23 
 
 S^ Linus, Pope. St. Thecla, 1st Cent. 
 St. Adamnan, Abbot . i. . 705. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 657 
 
 2 U 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 24,23. 
 
 On the 23d of September, 1 751, a man 
 ran, driving a coach-wheel, from the 
 Bishop's-head in the Old Bailey, to the 
 eleventh mile stone at Barnet, and back 
 again, in three hours and fifty-one mi- 
 nutes, having four hours to do it in, for a 
 wager of 50/. * 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 White Starwort. Aster dumotus. 
 Dedicated to St. Thecla. 
 
 St. Gerard, Bp. of Chonad, a. d. 1046. 
 St. Germer, or Geremar, Abbot, a. d. 
 658. St. Rusticus, or St. Rotiri, Bp. o. 
 Auvergne, 5th Cent. St. Chuniald, or 
 Conald. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Dung Fungus. Agaricus fimetarius. 
 Dedicated to St. Gerard. 
 
 September 25. 
 
 S . Ceolfrid, Abbot, a. d. 716. St. 
 Barr, or Finharr, hrst Bp. of Cork, 
 6th Cent. St. Firmin, Bp. of Amiens, 
 3d Cent. St. Aunaire, Bp. of 
 Auxerre, a. d. 605. 
 
 Gymnastics. 
 A late distinguished senator said in 
 parliament, " man is born to labour as 
 the spaiks fly upwards." This observa- 
 tion is founded on a thorough knowledge 
 of the destiny from which none can escape. 
 The idle are always unhappy, nor can 
 even mental vigour be preserved without 
 bodily exercise. Neither he who has at- 
 tained to inordinate wealth, nor he who 
 has reached the greatest heights of human 
 intellect is exempt from the decree, that 
 every man must " work for his living." 
 If the " gentleman" does not work to 
 maintain his family, he must work to 
 maintain his life ; hence he walks, rides, 
 hunts, shoots, and travels, and occupies 
 his limbs as well as his mind ; hence no- 
 blemen amuse themselves at the turning 
 lathe, and the workman's bench, or be- 
 come mail coachmen, or " cutter-lads :" 
 and hence sovereigns sometimes " play 
 at being workmen," or, what is worse, 
 at the " game" of war. 
 
 Without exeicise the body becomes 
 enfeeb'ed, and the mind loses its ten- 
 sion. Corporeal inactivity cannot be 
 persisted in even with tht aid of medi- 
 cine, without symptoms of an asthenic 
 
 * Oeutleman's Majjaiine. 
 
 State. From this deliquium the patient 
 must be relieved in spite of his perverse- 
 ness, or he becomes a maniac or a corpse. 
 Partial remedies render him " a nervous 
 man ;" his only effectual relief is bodily 
 exercise. 
 
 Exercise in the open air is indispensa- 
 ble, ana many who walk in the wide and 
 rapidly extending wilderness of the me- 
 tropolis have sufficient ; but, to some, the 
 exercise of walking is not enough for 
 carrying on the business of life ; while 
 others, whose avocations are sedentary, 
 scarcely come under the denomination of 
 sesquipedalians. These resort to stretch- 
 ing out the arms, kicking, hopping, what 
 tkei/ call "jumping," running up and 
 down a pair of stairs, sparring, or play- 
 ing with the dumb bells : these substitutes 
 may assist, but, alone, they are inadequate 
 to tiie preservation of health. 
 
 Some years ago a work on gymnastics, 
 by Salzmann, was translated from the 
 German into Engh-sh. Its precepts were 
 unaided by example ; it produced a sen- 
 sation, people talked about it at the time, 
 and agreed that the bodily exercises it 
 prescribed were good, but nobody took 
 them, and gymnastics, though frequently 
 thought upon, have not until lately been 
 practised. In the first sheet of the Everij- 
 Day Book public attention was called to 
 this subject, and since them Mr. Voelker, 
 a native of Germany, has opened a gym- 
 nasium at No. 1, Union-place, in the 
 New-road, near the Regent's-park ; and 
 another at Mr. Fontaine's riding-school. 
 Worship-street, Finsbury-square. The 
 editor of this work has visited Mr. Voel- 
 ker's gymnasium in the New-road ; and 
 with a view to public benefit, and be- 
 cause they will operate a new feature in 
 manners, he promulgates the information 
 that such institutions are established. 
 
 Mr. Voelker's prospectus of his esta- 
 blishment is judicious. He contends 
 that while education has been exclusively 
 directed to thedevelopementof the mental 
 faculties, the bodily powers have be^in 
 entirely neglected. " The intimate con- 
 nection between mind and body has not 
 been sufficiently considered ; for who does 
 not know, from his own experience, that 
 the mind uniformly participates in the 
 condition of the body ; that it is cheerful, 
 when the body is strong and healthy ; and 
 depressed, when the body is lar.guid and 
 unhealthy 1" 
 
 Mr. Voelker refers to Xenophon, and 
 to the great promoters of education in 
 
 )58 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— SEPTEMBER 23. 
 
 modern times, namely, Locke, Rousseau, 
 Cumpe, Basedow, Pestalozzi, and Fel- 
 lenberg, as authorities for the use of 
 gymnastics ; but lie says it was reserved 
 for professor Jkhn to be the restorer of 
 this long-lost art. In 1810, he established 
 a gymnasium at Berlin ; and the number 
 of his pupils, consisting of boys, youth, 
 and men, soon increased to several thou- 
 sands. His ardent zeal and indefatigable 
 exertion, and hispoweiful and persuasive 
 appeals to his pupils, had sucli an effect, 
 that all vied with each other in endeavour- 
 ing to render their bodies strong and 
 active But the rising of the German 
 people, in 1813, suddenly changed the 
 cheerful game into a serious combat. 
 Professor Jahn, and such of his pupils as 
 were capable of bearing arms, (many of 
 these being but fourteen years of age,) 
 joined the volunteers of Lutzen. But few 
 lived to revisit the place, where they had 
 
 Erepared themselves for enduring the 
 ardships of war. Most of these young 
 heroes covered the fields of battle with 
 their corpses from the gates of Berlin to 
 the capital of their enemies. The exer- 
 cises, however, were resumed at Berlin, 
 and had spread through several other 
 towns, when the campaign of 1815 caused 
 a new, but short interruption. ^ 
 
 " As a pupil of Jahn's," says Mr. 
 V^oelker, " I also had the honour of serv- 
 ing among the volunteers. The cam- 
 paign being finished, I returned to my 
 studies : and when I thought myself suf- 
 ficiently qualified for the duties of a 
 teacher, I commenced them in 1818. At 
 nrst I established gymnastic exercises at 
 the academy of Eisenach, and in the uni- 
 versity of Tubingen. In these establish- 
 ments, as in all others where similar ex- 
 ercises had been introduced by professor 
 Jalin or his pupils^ a new vigour was im- 
 parted to the scholars. Boys, youths, and 
 men, soon found more pleasure in exer- 
 cises which strengther^ed the powers of 
 their body, than in pleasures which ren- 
 der it effeminate and weak. By the con- 
 sciousness of increased vigour, the mind, 
 ioo, was powerfully excited, and strove 
 for equal perfection; and each of the 
 pupils had always before his eyes, as the 
 object of his exertions, mens sana in 
 corpore sano. Even men indolent by 
 nature were irresistibly carried away by 
 the zeal of their comrades. Weakly and 
 sick persons, too, recovered their health ; 
 and tfiese exercises were, perhaps, the 
 »nly etlectual remedy that could have been 
 
 found for their complaints. The judgment 
 of physicians, in all places where these 
 exercises were introduced, concurred in 
 their favourable effect upon health ; and 
 parents and teachers uniformly testifii^J, 
 that by them their sons and pupils, like 
 all other young men who cultivated tlieui, 
 had become more open and free, and more 
 graceful in their deportment. Fortune IfJ 
 me to the celebrated establishment of M- 
 \'on Fellenberg ; and this great philoso- 
 pher, and at the same time practical edu- 
 cator, gave the high authority of his appro- 
 bation to the gymnastic science. It 
 would not become me to state how I have 
 laboured in the academy of that gentle 
 man ; but the recommendations wit. 
 which he and others have favoured me, 
 and also tlie testimonials, for which I am 
 indebted to them, sufficiently prove that I 
 do not set too high a value upon the 
 utility of this branch of education. After 
 I had established this system of education 
 there, I accepted an invitation as profes- 
 sor at the Canton school at Chur, which I 
 received from the government of the 
 Canton. INIy exertions there had the same 
 result as in other establishments, as is 
 fully shown by the testimonials ot the 
 government. The thanks which I re- 
 ceived from so many of my pupils, the 
 testimonials from the directors of those 
 establishments in which I have taught, 
 my own consciousness of not having 
 worked in vain, and the invitations of 
 some friends, emboldened me to come 
 forward in England, also, with gymnas- 
 tics, on the plan of professor Jahn, and 
 animate me with the confidence that here, 
 too, my endeavours will not be fruitless." 
 
 The subscription to professor Voelket's 
 gymnasium in the New-road and at Wor- 
 ship-street is, for one month, 1/.; for 
 three months, 21. 10s. ; for six months, 
 4/. ; for a twelvemonth, six guineas : or 
 an association of twenty gentlemen may 
 pay each 21. for three, and 3/. for six 
 months. Pupils from boarding-schools 
 pay each 2/. for three, and 3/. for six 
 months ; but a number together pay each 
 1/. 10*. for iiree, 21. 10s. for six, and 4/. 
 for twelve months. Pupils not taking 
 lessons with the other pupils, pay a guinea 
 for every lesson. Twelve lessons may be 
 had when convenient for 1/. 10*. 
 
 The Exercises. 
 I. The preliminary exercises serva 
 
 659 
 
THE EVERY-DaT book.— SEPTEMBER 15. 
 
 {)rincipally to strengthen the arms and 
 egs, and to increase their activity, to 
 give the body a graceful carriage, to ac- 
 custom it to labour, and thus prepare it 
 for the other exercises. 
 
 II. Running for a length of time, and 
 with celerity. If the pupil follows the pre- 
 scribed rules, and is not deterred by a 
 little fatigue in the first six lessons, he 
 will soon be able to run three English 
 miles m from twenty to twenty-five 
 minutes. Some of Mr. V.'s pupils have 
 Vjeen able to run for two hours inces- 
 santly, and without being much out of 
 breatli. 
 
 III. Leaping in distance and height, 
 with and without a pole. Every pupil 
 will soon convince himself to what de- 
 gree the strength of the arms, the energy 
 of the muscles of the feet, and good car- 
 riage of the body, are increased by leap- 
 ing, particularly with a pole. Almost 
 every one learns in a short time to leap 
 his own height, and some of the pupils 
 have been able to leap ten or eleven feet 
 high. It is equally easy to learn to leap 
 horizontally over a space three times the 
 length of the body ; even four times that 
 length has been attained. 
 
 IV. Climbing up masts, ropes, and 
 ladders. Every pupil will soon learn to 
 climb up a mast, rope, or ladder of 
 twenty-four feet high ; and after six 
 months' exercise, even of thirty-four or 
 thirty-six feet. The use of this exercise is 
 very great in strengthening the arms. 
 
 V. The exercises on the pole and pa- 
 rallel bars, serve in particular to expand 
 the chest, to strengthen the muscles of 
 the breast and small of the back, and to 
 make the latter flexible. In a short time, 
 every pupil will be enabled to perform 
 exercises of which he could not have 
 thought himself capable, provided that 
 he do not deviate from the prescribed 
 course and rules. 
 
 VI. Vaulting, which is considered one 
 of the principal exercises for the increase 
 of strength, activity, good carriage of the 
 body, and courage, which employs and 
 improves the powers of almost all parts 
 of the body, and has hitherto always been 
 taught as an art by itself, is brought to 
 some perfection in three months. 
 
 VII. Fencing with the broad sword 
 throwing lances, wrestling, and many 
 other exercises. 
 
 All these exercises so differ from one 
 another, that generally those parts of the 
 body which are employed in one, rest in 
 
 another. Every lesson occupies from one 
 hour and a half to two hours, ?ts length 
 depending on the degree of labour requir- 
 ed for the exercises practised in it. 
 
 In the New-road, lessons are given on 
 Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sa 
 turday, from six to eight o'clock, a. m., 
 or on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday 
 from six to eight o'clock, p. m. Young 
 pupils are instructed every day from 
 eight to nine o'clock, a. m. 
 
 At Worship-street, the lessons are given 
 on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, 
 from seven to nine o'clock in the evening 
 
 The drawing for this article was made 
 by Mr. George Cruikshank, after his per- 
 sonal observation of Mr. Voelker's gym- 
 nasium in the New-road : it was en- 
 graved by Mr. H. White 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book 
 Sir, 
 
 You, who have so long and so ably in- 
 structed us in the amusements of our an- 
 cestors, will not, I hope, neglect to give 
 publicity to a new species of amusement 
 which is not only pleasant in itself, but 
 absolutely necessary in this overgrown 
 metropolis. I allude to the gymnastic 
 exercises which have lately been intro- 
 duced from Germany into this country. 
 They are as yet but little known, and 
 some portion of that prejudice exists 
 against them which invariably attends 
 new discovery : fortunately, however, it 
 is in the power of the Editor of the 
 Every-Day Book to combat the former 
 by a simple notice, while the latter wil 
 be much shaken if it be known that these 
 exercises are approved by him. 
 
 An inhabitant of London need onlj 
 look out of his own window to see prao 
 tical illustrations of the necessity of these 
 exercises. How often do we see a young 
 man with an intelligent but very pale 
 countenance, whose legs have hardlj 
 strength to support the weight of his bent 
 and emaciated body. He once probably 
 was a strong and active boy, but he came 
 to London, shut himself up in an office 
 took no exercise because he was no' 
 obliged to take any ; grew nervous anij 
 bilious ; took a great deal of medical ad- 
 vice and physic ; took every thing in fact 
 but the true remedy, exercise; and may 
 probaby still linger out a few years of 
 wretched existence, when death will be 
 welcomed as his best f/iend This, 
 
 660 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 25. 
 
 though an extreme case, is a very com- 
 mon one, and the unfortunate oeings who 
 approximate to it in a considerable de- 
 gree are still more numerous. INIany of 
 the miseries arid diseases of young and 
 old, male and female, in this city, may be 
 traced eventually to want of exercise. 
 Give us T^ure air, and we can exist with 
 comparatively little exercise ; but bad air 
 and no exercise at all, are poisons of a very 
 active description. 
 
 These exercises are so contrived that 
 they exert equally every part of the body 
 without straining or tiring any ; and I 
 S])eaK from my own experience, when I 
 say that after two hours' practice in pro- 
 
 fessor Voelker's gymnasium, opposite 
 Mary-le-bone church in the new Pad- 
 dington-road, I am not more fatigued 
 than when I entered it, and feel an agree- 
 able glow of body, and flow of spirits, 
 which walking or riding does not create. 
 I, as well as some other pupils, have two 
 or three miles to walk to the gymnasium: 
 we have the option of going morning or 
 evening, and we do not find the walk and 
 two hours of the exercises before break- 
 fast, fatigue us or incapacitate us in the 
 slightest degree from going through our 
 customary avocations. I should also add 
 that in bodily strength I am under, rather 
 than above, par. 
 
 VOELKER'S GYMNASTICS. 
 
 It is not easy to describe these exer- 
 cises to those who have not seen them. 
 They consist : First, Of preliminary exer- 
 cises of the hands and legs, which give 
 force and agility to those members, and 
 pienare the body for the other exercises. 
 
 Secondly, Horizontal parallel bars, from 
 three to five feet high, according to the size 
 of the pupil, on which he raises his body 
 by the arms, and swings his legs over ic 
 a variety of directions : this exercise opens 
 the chest, and gives great strength to the 
 
 C61 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 26, 27, 28. 
 
 m.iscles of tlie arms and body. Thirdly, 
 The horizontal round pole supported by 
 posts from five to eight feet hi.;h, accord- 
 ing to the height of the performer. An 
 endless variety of exercises may be per- 
 formed on this pole, such as raising the 
 body by the arms, going from one end to 
 the other by the hands alone, vaulting, 
 swinging the body over in all directions, 
 &c. &c. Fourthly, The horse, a large 
 wooden block shaped like the body of a 
 horse — the pupils jump upon and over this 
 much-enduring animal in many ways. 
 Fifthly, Leaping in height and distance 
 with and without poles. Sixthly, Climb- 
 ing masts, ropes, and ladders of various 
 heighths. Seventhly, Throwing lances, 
 running with celerity and for a length of 
 time, hopping, &c. &c. &c. It is, more- 
 over, in our option to take whatever por- 
 tion of the exercises we may find most 
 agreeable. 
 
 The improvement which the gentlemen 
 who practise these exercises experience 
 in health (not to mention strength, agility, 
 and grace,) is very considerable, and al- 
 together wonderful in several who have 
 entered in a feeble and sickly state. Tliis, 
 one would think, would be sufficient to 
 prove that the exercises are not attended 
 with danger, even were I not to mention 
 that I have not seen a single accident. 
 Neither is their utility necessarily con- 
 fined to boyhood, as several gentlemen 
 upwards of forty can clearly testify ; nor 
 does the pleasure of practising them de- 
 part with the novelty, but always in- 
 creases with proficiency and time. 
 
 The expense the professor has already 
 incurred in providing implements and 
 adequate accommodation has been very 
 considerable, and his terms are so mo- 
 derate that a small number of pupils can- 
 not possibly remunerate him ; it is there- 
 fore to be hoped, no less for his sake than 
 for our own, that he should meet with 
 encouragement in this city. 
 
 With respect to the professor himself 
 he has every quality that can recommend 
 him to his pupils. The grace with which 
 he performs the exercises is only equalled 
 by his attention and care, and his mild 
 and unassuming manners have won the 
 aearts of all who know him. His pupils 
 feel grateful not only for the benefits they 
 nave themselves received, but for the ad- 
 vantage that is likely to accrue to the 
 country from the introduction of these 
 wholesome, athletic amusements. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Great Boletus. Boletus Bovlnua 
 Dedicated to St. Ceolfrid. 
 
 ^tptember 26. 
 
 Sts. Cyprian and Justina, a. d. ,304. St. 
 Eusebius, Pope, a. d. 310. St. Colmun 
 Elo, Abbot, A. D. 610. St. Nilus, 
 the younger, Abbot, a. d. lOOo. 
 
 This day is so marked in the church ot 
 England calendar and in the almanE.cs. 
 Respecting the rood enough, perhaps, was 
 said to gratify the reader's curiosity on 
 holy-rood day. 
 
 M. C|)prian 
 
 Is also in the calendar and almanacs on 
 this day. He was a native of Carthage 
 in the third century, and as a father is 
 highly esteemed for the piety of his writ- 
 ings and tlie purity of the Latin tongue 
 '.wherein they were written. 
 
 floral directory 
 
 Gigantic Golden Rod. Solidago 
 
 gjgantea. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Justina. 
 
 ^t^Umhtv 27. 
 
 Sts. Cosmas a.nd Damtan, a.d. 303. Sts. 
 
 Elzear and Delphina, a. d. 1323, ana 
 
 1369. 
 
 Sts. Cosmas and Damian. 
 
 These saints are said to have been be- 
 headed under Dioclesian. 
 
 In a church dedicated to these saints 
 at Isernia, near Na-ples, while sir William 
 Hamilton was ambassador from Great 
 Britain to that court, votive offerings 
 were presented of so remarkable a nature, 
 as to occasion him to acquaint sir Joseph 
 Banks with the particulars. They were 
 the grossest relics of the ancient pagan 
 worship. The late Mr. Richard Payne 
 Knight wrote a remarkable " Disserta- 
 tion" on the subject for the use of the 
 Dilettanti. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Manyflowered Starwort. Aster niuUl- 
 
 Horns. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Delphina, 
 
 ^tptnnljf r 28. 
 
 St. JVcnccslas, duke of Bohemia, a. r. 
 938. St. Lioba, Abbess, a. d. 779. 
 
 G62 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 5/. Eustochinm, a. d. 419. St. Ex- 
 upetius, Bp. ol Toulouse, a. 409. 
 
 FLOEAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Evergreen Golden Rod Solidago sem- 
 
 perv'irens. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Eustochhun, V. 
 
 pt^Umhtx 29. 
 
 The Dedication of St. MichaeCs Church, 
 or The Festival of St. Michael and all 
 the holy Angels. St. Theodota, a. d. 
 
 642. 
 
 M. MitlmL 
 
 This saint is in our almanacs and in 
 he calendar of the church of Enofiand. 
 The day is a great festival in the Romish 
 church. The rev. Edward Barnard, of 
 Brantinghamthorpe, in " The Protestant 
 Beadsman," an elegantly written " series 
 of biographical notices and hymns, com- 
 memorating the saints and martyrs whose 
 holidays are kept by the church of 
 England," says, " The rank of arch- 
 angel is given in scripture to none but 
 Michael, who is represented as the guar- 
 dian and protector both of the Jewish 
 church, and the glorious church of Christ, 
 in which the former merged. On this ac- 
 count he is celebrated by name, while the 
 rest of the holy angels are praised col- 
 lectively. St. Michael is mentioned in 
 scripture five times, and always in a 
 military view ; thrice by Daniel, as fight- 
 ing for the Jewish church against Persia; 
 once by St. John, as fighting at the head 
 of his angelic troops against the dragon 
 and his host ; and once by St. Jude, as 
 fighting personally with the devil, about 
 the body of Moses ; for the very ashes of 
 God's servants have angelic protection. 
 It has been thought by many, that there is 
 no other archangel but Michael. An 
 author of great name, who has not given 
 his reasons or authority, inclines to this 
 opinion; and adds, that he succeeded 
 Lucifer in this high dignity. Others 
 ima2:ine, and not without strong pro- 
 bability, that Michael is the Son of God 
 himself. The interpretation of his name, 
 and the expression (used by St. John) of 
 * his angels,' strengthen this supposition ; 
 for to whom can the angels belong but to 
 God, or Christ ? The title, by which 
 Gabriel spoke of him, when he required 
 his assistance, (' Michael your prince') 
 is likewise brought forward, by bishop 
 Horsley, in confirmation of this opinion. 
 Besides, the Jews always claimed to be 
 
 under the immediate spiritual protection 
 and personal government of God, who 
 calls them his peculiar people. How then 
 can Michael preside over them? This 
 festival will not loose any dignity by the 
 adoption of such an interpretation, but 
 will demand a more conscientious ob- 
 servance from those, who celebrate in it, 
 not only the host of friendly angels, but, 
 likewise (under the title of Michael) Jesus 
 Christ the common Lord both of angels 
 and men." A well-informed expositor of 
 the " Common Prayer-book," Wheatley, 
 says that the feast of St. Michael and all 
 angels is observed, that the people may 
 know what benefits are derived from 
 the ministry of angels. 
 
 The accompanying engraving is from 
 an ancient print emanating from the 
 "contemplations" of catholic churchmen, 
 among whom there is diversity of opinion 
 concerning the number of archangels. 
 Their inquiries have been directed to the 
 subject, because it is an article of the ca- 
 tholic faith that angels, as well as saints, 
 intercede for men, and that their interces- 
 gicn may be moved by prayers tc them. 
 In conformity with this persuasion pa- 
 tron - saints and angels are sometimes 
 drawn for, by putting certain favourite 
 names together, and selecting one, to 
 whom, as the patron-saint or angel, the 
 invocations of the individual are from that 
 time especially addressed. 
 
 In the great army of angels the arch- 
 angels are deemed commanders. The 
 angels themselves are said to be divided 
 into as many legions as there are arch- 
 angels ; whether these are seven or nine 
 does not appear to be determined ; but 
 Michael, as in the present engraving, is 
 always represented as the head or chief 
 archangel, he is here accompanied by six 
 only. 
 
 Dr. Laurence, regius professor of He 
 brew at Oxford, and now archbishop of 
 Cashel, recently printed at the Clarendon 
 press, the long lost " Book of Enoch." 
 Tills celebrated apocryphal writing of an- 
 cient times calls " Michael one of the 
 holy angels, who, presiding over human 
 virtue, commands the nations.." It says, 
 that Raphael " presides over the spirits 
 of men ;" that Uriel " presides over clam 
 our and terror ;" and Gabriel, " ovei 
 paradise and over the cherubims." 
 
 Our old heraldic friend, liandle Holme, 
 says, Michael is the head of the " order oi 
 archangels ;" his design is a banner hang- 
 
 6G3 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 ing on a cross, and he is armed, as re- 
 presenting victory with a dart in one 
 hand, and a cross on his forehead. lie 
 styles Raphael as leader of the " order of 
 powers," with a thunderbolt and a flam- 
 ing sword to withstand the power of evil 
 angels. Uriel, he says, commands the 
 
 "order o{ seraphtms ;" his ensign is a 
 flaming heart and a cross-staff. Gabriel 
 he nakes governor of the " order of an- 
 gels," and his ensign a book and a staff. 
 Of the other three archangels in the print, 
 it would be difficult to collect an account 
 immediately. 
 
 ST. MICHAEL AND OTHER ARCHANGELS. 
 
 Our forp^'atliers were told by the pre- 
 decessor of Alban Butler, that Michael 
 bore the banner of the cflestial host, 
 chased the angel Lucifer a^d his follow- 
 ers from heaven, and enclosed them in 
 dark air unto the day of judgment, not in 
 the u]iper region, because there it is clear 
 and delightful, nor upon the earth, be- 
 cause there they could not torm nt man- 
 kind, but between heaven and earth, that 
 when they look up they mav see tne joy 
 they have lost, and when they look down- 
 ward, may see men mount to heaven from 
 whence they fell. The relation says, they 
 
 flee about us as flies; they are innumer- 
 able, and like flies they fill the air without 
 number; and philosophers and doctors are 
 of opinion, that the air is as full of devils 
 and wicked spirits "as the sonne hemes 
 ben full of small motes which is small 
 dust or poudre."* 
 
 Bishop ILilI, in his " Triumphs of 
 Rome," mentions a red velvet buckler to 
 have been preserved in a castle in Nor- 
 
 • Golden Legend. 
 
 ecA 
 
THE FVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 jiandy which Michael wore in his combat 
 with the dragon. 
 
 Bishop Patrick who wrote subsequent- 
 ,y, in 1674, says " I hope that the pre- 
 cious piece of St. Michael's red cloth is 
 forthcoming — his dagger and his shield 
 were to be seen at "Jie beginning of this 
 age, though one of their histori;uis says, 
 that five years before he carne thither, in 
 150'^ the bishop of Avranches had for- 
 bidden his shield to be any more showed: 
 but who knows but some of the succeed- 
 ing bishops may have been better natur- 
 ed, and not have denied this gratification 
 to the desires of their gaping devotees." 
 
 Bishop Patrick cites a Roman catholic 
 litany, wherein after addresses to Cod, 
 the Trinity, and. the virgin Mary, there are 
 invocations to St. Michael, St. Gabriel, 
 and St. Raphael, together with all the or- 
 ders of angels, to " pray for us." He 
 also instances that in the old Roman 
 missal, and in the Sarum missal, there is a 
 proper mass to Raphael the archangel, as 
 the protector of pilgrims and travellers, 
 and a skilful worker with medicine. 
 Likewise an office for the continual inter- 
 cession of St. Gabriel, and all the heaven- 
 ly militia. In these catholic services St. 
 iVIichael is invoked as a " most glorious 
 and warlike prince," " chief officer of 
 paradise," " captain of God's hosts," 
 " the receiver of souls," " the vanquisher 
 of evil spirits," and " the admirable gene- 
 ral." After mentioning several miracles 
 attributed by the Romanists to St. Mi- 
 chael, the bishop says, " You see from 
 this legend, that when people are mad 
 with superstition, any story of a cock and 
 a bull will serve their turn to found a 
 festival upon, and to give occasion for the 
 further veneration of a saint or an angel, 
 though the circumstances are never so 
 improbable." He relates as an instance, 
 that in a Romish church-book, Michael 
 is said to have appeared to a bishop, 
 whom he required to go to a hill-top, 
 where if he found a bull tied, he was to 
 found a church, and dedicate it to God 
 and St. Michael. The bishop found the 
 bull, and proceeded to found the church, 
 but a rock on each side hindered the 
 work, wherefore St Michael appeared to 
 amau, and bade him go and put away 
 the rock, and dread notliing ; so the man 
 went, and " sette to hie shoulders," and 
 l>ade the rock go away in the name o. 
 God and St. Michael; and so the rocks 
 
 departed to the distance necessary to the 
 work. " This removing the rock," says 
 bisiiop Patrick, " is a pretty stretcher I" 
 
 It is noticed by Mr. Brand in his 
 " Popular Antiquities," which cites most 
 of" the circumstances pre^^ently referred to, 
 that — " It has long been and still continues 
 the custom ait this time of the year, or 
 thereabouts, to elect the governors of 
 towns and cities, the civil guardians of 
 the peace of men, perhaps, as Bourne 
 supposes, because the feast of angels 
 naturally enough brings to our minds the 
 old opinion of tutelar spirits, who have, 
 or are thought to have, the particular 
 charge of certain bodies of men, or dis- 
 tricts of country, as also that every man 
 has his guardian angel, who attends him 
 from the cradle to the grave, from the 
 moment of his coming in, to his going 
 out of life." 
 
 Mr. Nichols notices in the " Gentle- 
 man's Magazine," that on Monday, 
 October 1st, 1804, — "The lord mayor 
 and alderman proceeded from Guildhall, 
 and the two sheriffs with their respective 
 companies from Stationers'-hall, and 
 having embarked on the Thames, his 
 lordship in the city barge, and the sheriffs 
 in the stationers' barge, went in aquatic 
 state to Palace-yard. They proceeded to 
 the court of Exchequer: where, after ihu 
 usual salutations to the bench (the cursi- 
 tor baron, Francis Maseres, Esq. presi- 
 ding) the recorder presented the two 
 sheriffs ; the several writs w ere then read, 
 and the sheriffs and the senior under- 
 sheriff took the usual oath. The cere- 
 mony, on this occasion, in the court of 
 Exchequer, which vulgar error supposed 
 to be an unmeaning farce, is solemn and 
 impressive ; nor have the new sheriffs the 
 least connection either with chopping of 
 sticks, or counting of hobnails. The 
 tenants of a manor in Shropshire are 
 directed to come forth to do their suit 
 and service ; on which the senior alder- 
 man below the chair steps forward, and 
 chops a single stick, in token of its having 
 been customary for the tenants of that 
 manor to supply their lord with fuel. 
 The owners of a forge in the parish of 
 St. Clement (which formerly belonged to 
 the city, and stood in the high road from 
 the Temple to Westminster, but now no 
 longer exists,) are then called forth to do 
 
 66i 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK^-SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 thoir suit and service ; when an officer of 
 the court, in the presence of the senior 
 alderman, produces six horse-shoes and 
 sixty-one iiobnails, which he counts over 
 in form before the cursitor baron ; who, 
 on this particular occasion, is the imme- 
 diate representative of the sovereign. 
 
 *' The whole of the numerous company 
 then again embarked in their barges, and 
 returned to Blackfriars-bridge, where the 
 state carriages were in waitmg. Thence 
 they proceeded to Stationers'-hall, where 
 a most elegant entertainment was given 
 by Mr. Sheriff Domville." 
 
 To the Editor nf the Every-Day Booh. 
 
 Sir, 
 I have no doubt but many thousands 
 of my fellow-citizens were unaware of the 
 existence and very recent destruction of 
 the baronial establishment of their chief 
 magistrate ; and that, therefore, by re- 
 cording a few particulars you will endea- 
 vour to mark the era, when, perhaps, the 
 last of these gentlemanly households, once 
 to be found in every knightly and noble 
 family, was destroyed in England. It is 
 perhaps an unavoidable consequence of 
 change of manners ; but to those who 
 delight in contemplating those of their 
 ancestors, to witness the wreck of what 
 appears almost consecrated by ancient 
 usage, affords any thing but a pleasur- 
 able sensation. In former days those of 
 rank considered it a degradation to have 
 menials officiate about their persons, and 
 therefore created officers in their house- 
 holds, which were looked upon as initia- 
 tory schools to every thing gallant or 
 polite, and were consequently eagerly 
 filled by noble youths and aspiring cadets. 
 In imitation of those with whom for a 
 brief period he ranked, the lord mayor 
 of London had an establishment arranged 
 for him, consisting of the following 
 officers : 
 
 Four Squires. 
 
 1st. Tire stcord-bearer, whose duty 
 it was to advise his lordship of the ne- 
 cessary etiquette to be observed on stated 
 occasions. To some it may appear very 
 tinimportant whether the lord mayor has 
 on a violet or a scarlet gown ; whether the 
 mace is always carried before him or not, 
 and strictly speaking it is so ; but while 
 old customs are harmless, and tend to 
 preserve dignity and good order, why 
 Ehoald they not be observed ? Tins 
 
 place used to be purchased, but when thp 
 late Mr. Cotterel died, who gave 1 be- 
 lieve upwards of 7000/. for it, and could 
 have parted with it for 9000/. but was 
 prevented by the corporation, it was 
 made a gift place, and given to Mr. 
 Smith of the chamberlain's office, who 
 now holds it subject to an annual elec- 
 tion. This has placed the office on a 
 very different, less independent, and less 
 respectable footing, than it used to be. 
 The predecessor of Mr. Cotterel, Heron 
 Powney, Esq., who enjoyed the office 
 thirty-three years, exercised great autho- 
 rity throughout the house, and used, with 
 great form, to attend the lord mayor every 
 morning to instruct him in any necessary 
 ceremonial ; and on all public occasions, 
 assisted by two yeomen of the water 
 side, robed his lordship : this is now per- 
 formed by servants. There are four 
 swords — the black, used on Good Friday, 
 30th of January, fire of London, and all 
 fast days, when his lordship oiight to go 
 to St. Paul's : on these days he wears his 
 livery gown. The common sword, to go 
 to the sessions, courts of aldermen, com- 
 mon council, &c.; the Sunday sword ; and 
 the pearl sword, which used to be carried 
 on very rare occasions only, but is now ex- 
 hibited at every turn. This gentleman, 
 in the olden times, had apartments at the 
 Old Bailey, and derived emolument from 
 granting admission to two galleries during 
 the sessions. He wears a black silk da- 
 mask gown, and a cap of maintenance, 
 and chain upon state days. He sits at 
 the head of the table which goes by his 
 name, at which the gentlemen of the 
 household dined when they were in wait- 
 ing ; but now they only dine together 
 fourteen days in the year, on public oc- 
 casions. The lord mayors were latterly 
 allowed 1500/. per annum for the main- 
 tenance of this table, which supplied 
 that in the servants' hall ; but the latter 
 have long been on board wages, to the 
 great loss of many an exhausted pauper. 
 The second squire was Mr. Common 
 Hunt : his principal office is indicated by 
 his title ; but he was likewise master of 
 the ceremonies. He was in waiting every 
 Monday and Wednesday, and every third 
 Sunday while the house was in waiting. 
 The last who held this office was Mr. 
 Charles Cotterel, brother to the late 
 sword-bearer, at whose death in 1807 it 
 was abolished, and the duty of master of 
 the ceremonies has since been performed 
 by Mr. Goldham one of the serioants of 
 
 666 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 the chamber. The common hunt's house 
 used to be at the Dog-house-bar in the 
 (Jity-Toad. 
 
 The third squire is Mr. Common Crier, 
 whose duty it is to attend his lordsliip 
 with the mace to the courts of aldermen 
 and common council, common halls, and 
 courts of hustings : he is in waiting every 
 Tuesday and Thursday ; and whenever 
 the lord mayor wears his scarlet robes, 
 attends him with the mace. His dress 
 is a damask gown and counsellor's wig : 
 he had apartments at Aldersgate. For- 
 merly this place was purchased, but not 
 within the memory of man. 
 
 The fourth squire is the ivater-bailijf, 
 who is empowered by the lord mayor to 
 tict as sub-conservator of the Thames and 
 Medway. He is in waiting every Friday 
 and Saturday, every third Sunday, and 
 all public days. Dress, damask gown. 
 Had apartments at Cripplegate. This is 
 now likewise a gift place. 
 
 The four attornies used to attend his 
 lordsliip in turn, weekly, to advise him in 
 his magisterial capacity; but this part of 
 their duty has now become obsolete, and 
 has devolved to Mr. Hobler. 
 
 To the lord mayor's household also 
 properly belong three Serjeant carvers, 
 three Serjeants of the chamber, one Ser- 
 jeant of the channel, one yeoman of the 
 chamber, two marshals, four yeomen of 
 the water-side, one yeoman of the chan- 
 nel, one under water-bailiff, six young 
 men. 
 
 The members of the household, with 
 the exception of the four squires, at- 
 tornies, and marshals, had the privilege 
 of alienating their places on payment of 
 50/. to the corporation ; but if they died 
 without paying this fine, their places 
 lapsed to the city, and the value of them 
 was consequently lost to their family. 
 But let the one who sold hold what situa- 
 tion he might in this little rep-ublic, the 
 purchaser was admitted to only the 
 lowest rank, that of junior young man, 
 that all below the one who sold might 
 rise a step. 
 
 The gentlemen were in waiting on 
 fixed days; sometimes the whole num- 
 ber, at others only a part, and at these 
 times were entitled to a dinner, and on 
 any extra occasion when the sword was 
 carried : there was a bill of fare for each 
 day. At table, the marshals were the 
 lowest above the salt. This was formerly 
 made of pewter, but in the year , 
 
 a carver presented the table with one of 
 
 silver, nearly similar in form. Tlie 
 pewter one was used in the servants' hall 
 until it was rendered useless by the intro- 
 duction of board wages. Except the 
 squires, attornies, and marshals, the 
 household now all wear black gowns, in 
 form like those of the livery, made of 
 prince's stuff faced with velvet, though 
 formerly they were curious enough. Di- 
 vided as if by a herald into two parts, 
 dexter and sinister, one side was formed 
 of the colours distinguishing the lord 
 m.ayor's livery, and the other those of the 
 two sheriffs. 
 
 On Plough Sunday his lordship goes 
 to church to qualify, when two of the 
 yeomen of the water-side attend, that they 
 may depose to this fact at the next ses- 
 sions. On the Monday his lordship 
 keeps wassail with his household, and 
 with his lady presides at the head of their 
 table. This used indeed to be a gala day ; 
 but elegance now takes place of profusion 
 and hilarity. Formerly they could scarcely 
 see their opposite neighbour for the piles 
 of sweetmeats ; but these have disap- 
 peared to make way for the city plate and 
 artificial flowers. The lady mayoress is 
 generally accompanied by two or three 
 ladies, to obviate the unpleasantness of 
 finding herself the only female among so 
 many strangers : the chaplain on that day 
 takes the lower end of the table. The 
 yeoman of the cellar is stationed behind 
 his lordship, and at the conclusion of the 
 dinner produces two silver cups filled with 
 negus, and giving them to his lord and 
 lady, proclaims with a loud voice, " Mr. 
 Sword-bearer, squires, and gentlemen 
 all ! my lord mayor and lady mayoress 
 drink to you in a loving cup, and bid 
 you all heartily welcome !" After drink- 
 ing, they pass the cups down each side of 
 the table, for all to partake and drink 
 their healths. When the ladies retire the 
 chaplain leads her ladyship, and after a 
 few songs his lordship follows. Then a 
 mighty silver bowl of punch was intro- 
 duced, and a collection amounting to 
 nearly 25/. used to be made for the ser- 
 vants. They were all introduced, from 
 the stately housekeeper to the kitchen 
 girl, in merry procession to accept the 
 largess, taste the punch, and perhaps 
 the cook or a pretty housemaid did not 
 escape without a kiss. This was not the 
 only day on which the servants partook 
 of the bounty of the gentlemen. Every 
 Saturday there was a collection of three 
 shillings and sixpence from the sword 
 
 C67 
 
THE EVERY DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 bearer and the other squire, and one shil- 
 ling and sixpence from the other indivi- 
 duals. This was termed cellarage, and was 
 divided between the yeoman of the cellar 
 and the butler. But these golden days are 
 over. Since the days of the Fitzaleyns and 
 Whittingtons, it has been found expedient 
 to make the lord mayors an allowance 
 to enable them, or rather assist them, to 
 maintain the hospitality and splendour of 
 their station; but such is the perverse- 
 ness of human nature, that as this has 
 from time to time been increased, the 
 gorgeousness of the display seems to have 
 decreased. The following are the re- 
 ceipts and expenses of Mr. Wilkes during 
 his mayoralty : 
 
 Receipts. 
 Payments from the cham- 
 berlain's office - 
 Cocket office 
 
 Ganger - - - 
 
 Annual present of plate 
 
 from the Jews - 
 Lessees of Smithfield-mar- 
 
 ket - 
 Licenses - - - 
 
 From the bridge-house to- 
 wards the feast - 
 Alienation of a young 
 
 man's place • 
 Sale of ayoungman's place 1000 
 Presentation of the sheriifs 1 3 
 For keeping the mansion- 
 house in order - 
 Six freedoms to the lord 
 mayor - - - 
 
 In lieu of buckets 
 Licensing the sessions 
 paper - - - 
 
 From Mr. Roberts, comp- 
 troller, for the importa- 
 tion fee 
 
 £. 
 
 2372 
 
 702 
 
 250 
 
 10 
 
 4 
 
 40 
 
 150 
 6 
 
 d. 
 4 
 
 6i 
 
 
 50 
 
 50 
 
 100 
 
 130 
 
 10 10 
 
 £4889 
 
 
 
 6§ 
 
 ETpenses, 
 
 
 
 
 Lord mayor's table, includ- 
 
 £ 
 
 *. 
 
 d. 
 
 ing public dinners 
 
 2050 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sword-bearer's table 
 
 1500 
 
 
 
 
 
 Lord mayor's-day - 
 
 520 
 
 
 
 
 
 Easter Monday - 
 
 1200 
 
 
 
 
 
 Rout 
 
 190 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 
 Old Bailey 
 
 730 
 
 
 
 
 
 Horses, coaches, &c 
 
 420 
 
 
 
 
 
 Servants'wages, liveries,5cc. 
 
 570 
 
 
 
 
 
 Lamps, wax, and otiier 
 
 
 
 
 candles 
 
 295 
 
 
 
 
 
 Linen _ - - 
 
 160 
 
 
 
 
 
 Coals and firing • 
 
 280 
 
 
 
 
 
 £. 
 
 110 
 
 60 
 
 China and glass - 
 
 Stationery wares, news- 
 papers, &c. 
 
 Winter and summer for the 
 sword-bearer and house- 
 hold - 
 
 (ilazier, upholsterer, &c. 
 
 Music, &c. 
 
 Ribands, &c. 
 
 N. B. Benefactions on public occa- 
 sions, charities, &c. cloths, fees to the 
 water-bailiff, are not included. 
 j:xpenses • - 8226 13 
 
 Receipts - - 4889 6$ 
 
 Balance £3337 12 5i 
 
 - 36 13 
 
 - 46 
 
 - 35 
 
 - 24 
 
 C 
 
 
 
 
 £8226 13 
 
 
 
 The rnnt was first discontinued by sir 
 Brooke Watson, because it was always 
 customary to have it in passion week. The 
 allowance has since had an increase of 
 3000/. This liberality on the part of the 
 corporation, instead of exciting a cor- 
 responding feeling on the part of their 
 magistrates, seems rather to have raised 
 in them a spirit of cupidity, and of late 
 years, on manv occasions, the office soems 
 to have been unJcrtrtwen oii a kind of 
 speculation for saving money. Though 
 allowed 1500/. a year for the sword- 
 bearer's table, every chicken and bottle of 
 wine began to be grudged ; and after re- 
 peated appeals by the household to the 
 court of common council, on account of 
 the shabby reductions successively made, 
 and which were considered as unjust, as 
 they had purchased their places with the 
 usual privileges, the corporation con- 
 cluded a treaty with them a short time 
 ago, by which a specified sum of money 
 was secured to each individual, either on 
 giving up his place, or at his death to be 
 paid to his family. They have of course 
 given up the right of alienating their 
 places, and thus perpetuating the system. 
 The corporation have thus gained an ex- 
 tensive increase of patronage; though the 
 number of officers is to be reduced as the 
 places fall in. But some of the aldermen 
 below the chair were rather disagreeably 
 surprised at the result ; for the common 
 council very justly deducted the 1500/. at 
 which the expense of the table was ge- 
 nerally calculated, from his lordship's 
 allowance. I am, &c. 
 
 C R. H 
 
 668 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-SEPTEMBEE 29. 
 
 Tiie lord mayor's household, scarcely 
 kncwn in its constitution by tlie citizens 
 whom the lord mayor selects for his visi- 
 tors, is well set forth by the preceding 
 letter of a valuable correspondent. It 
 concerns all who are interested in the 
 maintenance of civic splendour, and 
 especially those who are authorized to 
 regulate it. Such papers, and indeed any 
 thing regarding the customs of London, 
 will always be acceptable to the readers 
 of this work, who have not until now bee i 
 indulged with information by those who 
 have the power to give it. The Every- 
 Day Book is a collection of ancient 
 and present usages and manners, wherein 
 such contributions are properly respected, 
 and by the Editor they are always 
 thankfully received. 
 
 On Michaelmas-day the sheriffs of 
 London, previously chosen, are solemnly 
 sworn into office, and the lord mayor is 
 elected for the year ensuing. 
 
 Pennant speaking of the mercers' com- 
 pany, which by no means implied origi- 
 nally a dealer in silks, (for mercery in- 
 cluded all sorts of small wares, toys, and 
 haberdashery,) says, " This company is 
 the first of the twelve, or such who are 
 honoured with the privilege of the lord 
 mayor's being elected out of one of them." 
 If the lord mayor did not belong to either 
 of the twelve, it was the practice for him 
 to be translated to one of the favoured 
 companies. The custom was discon- 
 tinued in the mayoralty of sir Brook 
 Watson, in 1796, and has not been 
 revived. E. I. C. 
 
 The " Gentleman's Magazine " no- 
 tices a singular custom at Kidder- 
 minster — " On the election of a bailiff the 
 inhabitants assemble in the principal 
 streets to throw cabbage stalks at each 
 other. The town-house bell gives signal 
 for the affray. This is called lawless hour. 
 This done, (for it lasts an hour,) the bai- 
 liff elect and corporation, in their robes, 
 preceded by drums and fifes, (for they 
 have no waits,) visit the old and new bai- 
 liff, constables, &c. Sec. attended by the 
 mob. In the mean time the most respect- 
 able families in the neighbourhood ?ae 
 invited, to meet and fling apples at *}.em 
 on their entrance. I have known foity 
 Dots of apples expended at one house." 
 
 Michaelmas Goose. 
 
 " September, when by custom (right divine) 
 Geese are ordain'd to bleed at Micliaer's 
 Bhrine." Churchill. 
 
 Mr. Brand notices the English custom 
 of having a roast goose to dinner on 
 Michaelmas-day. He cites Blount as 
 telling us that "goose-intentos" is a word 
 used in Lancashire, where " the husband- 
 men claim it as a due to have a goose in- 
 tentos on the sixteenth Sunday after Pen- 
 tecost ; which custom took origin from 
 the last word of the old church-prayer of 
 that day: ' Tua, nos quaesumus, Domine, 
 gratia semper praeveniat et sequitur ; ac 
 bonis operibus jugiter prsestet esse inten- 
 tos.' The common people very humour- 
 ously mistake it for a goose with ten 
 toes." To this Mr. Brand objects, on 
 the authority of Beckwith, in his new 
 edition of the " Jocular Tenures :" that 
 " besides that the sixteenth Sunday after 
 Pentecost, or after Trinity rather, being 
 movable, and seldom falling upon Mi- 
 chaelmas-day, which is an immovable 
 feast, the service for that day could very 
 rarely be used at Michaelmas, there does 
 not appear to be the most distant allusion 
 to a goose in the words of that prayer. 
 Piobably no other reason can be given for 
 this custom, but that Michaelmas-day was 
 a great festival, and geese at that time 
 most plentiful. In Denmark, where the 
 harvest is later, every family has a roasted 
 goose for supper on St.- Martin's Eve." 
 
 Mr. Douce is quoted by Mr. Brand, 
 as saying, " I have somewhere seen the 
 following reason for eating goose on 
 Michaelmas-day, viz. tl«at queen Elizabeth 
 received the news of the defeat of the 
 Spanish Armada, whilst she was eating 
 a goose on Michaelmas-day, and that in 
 commemoration of that event she ever 
 afterwards on that day dined on a goose." 
 This Mr. Brand regards as strong proof 
 that the custom prevailed even at court in 
 queen Elizabeth's time ; and observing 
 that it was in use in tl>e tenth year o. 
 king Edward the Fourth, as will be 
 shown presently, he represents it to have 
 been a practice in queen Elizabeth's reign, 
 before the event of the Spanish defeat 
 from the "Posies of Gascoigne," published 
 in 1575. 
 
 '* And when the tenauntes come 
 to pale their quarter's rent, 
 Tliey bring some fowle at Midsummer, 
 a dish of fish in Lett, 
 
 669 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 "At Christmasse a capon, 
 
 lit Muhaelmasse a goose , 
 Aud somewhat else at New-yeres tide, 
 
 for fear e their lease file loose." 
 
 Gascoyjie. 
 
 So also the periodical paper called 
 "The World," represents that "When 
 the reformation of the calendar was in 
 agitation, to the great disgust of many 
 worthy persons who urged how great the 
 harmony was in the old establishment 
 between the holidays and their attiibutes, 
 (if I may call them so,) and what confu- 
 sion would follow if Michaelmas-day, 
 for instance, was not to be celebrated when 
 stubble -geese are in their highest perfec- 
 tion ; it was replied, that such a propriety 
 was merely imaginary, and would be lost 
 of itself, even without any alteration of 
 tlie calendar by authority : for if the 
 errors in it were suffered to go on, they 
 would in a certain number of years pro- 
 duce such a variation, that we should be 
 mourning for a good king Charles on a 
 false thirtieth of January, at a time of 
 year when our ancestors used to be tum- 
 bling over head and heels in Greenwich- 
 park in honour of Whitsuntide: and at 
 length be choosing king and queen for 
 Twelfth Night, when we ought to be ad- 
 miring the London prentice at Bartholo- 
 mew-fair." 
 
 According to Brand, geese are eaten by 
 ploughmen at the harvest-home; and it 
 is a popular saying, " If you eat goose on 
 Michaelmas-day you will never want 
 money all the year round." 
 
 In 1470, John de la Hay took of V/il- 
 liam Barnaby, lord of Lastres, in the 
 county of Hereford, one parcel of the land 
 of tha* demesne, rendering twenty-pence 
 a year, and one goose fit for the lord's 
 dinner on the feast of St. Michael the 
 archangel, with suit of court and other 
 services. 
 
 Accorumg to Martin, in his "Description 
 of the Western Islands of Scotland," the 
 protestant inhabitants of 3kie, observe 
 the festivals of Christmas, Easter, Good 
 Friday, and that of St. Michael, on which 
 latter day they have a cavalcade in each 
 parish, and several families bake the cake 
 called St. Michael's bannock. So also, 
 " They have likewise a general cavalcade 
 on St. Michael's-day in Kilbar village, 
 and do then also take a turn round their 
 church. Every family, as soon as the 
 solemnity is ended, is accustomed to bake 
 
 St. Michael's cake, and all strangers, to- 
 gether with those rf the family, must eat 
 the bread that night." We read too, in 
 Macauley's History, that " It was, till of 
 late, a universal custom among the island- 
 ers, on Michaelmas-day, to prepare in 
 every family a loaf or cake of bread, 
 enormously large, and compounded of dif- 
 ferent ingredients. This cake belonged 
 to the archangel, and had its name from 
 him. Every one in each family, whether 
 strangers or domestics, had his portion of 
 this kind of shew-bread, and had, of 
 course, some title to the friendship and 
 protection of Michael." 
 
 Macauley, in the " History of St. Kilda," 
 says, that " In Ireland a sheep was killed 
 in every family that could afford one, on 
 the same anniversary; and it was ordain- 
 ed by law that a part of it should be given 
 to the poor. This, and a great deal more 
 was done in that kingdom, to perpetuate 
 the memory of a miracle wrought there 
 by St. Patrick through the assistance of 
 the archangel. In commemoration of 
 this, Michaelmas was instituted a festival 
 day of joy, plenty, and universal benevo- 
 lence." 
 
 Ganging Day. 
 
 Mr. Brand found in a London news- 
 paper of October 18, 1787, the following 
 extraordinary septennial custom at 
 Bishops Stortford, in Hertfordshire, and 
 in the adjacent neighbourhood, on old 
 Michaelmas-day : " On the morning of 
 this day, called Ganging-day, a great 
 number of young men assemble in the 
 fields, when a very active fellow is nomi- 
 nated the leader. This person they are 
 bound to follow, who, for the sake of di- 
 version,generally chooses tlie route through 
 ponds, ditches, and places of difficult pas- 
 sage. Every person they meet is bump- 
 ed, male or female ; which is performed 
 by two other persons taking them up by 
 their arms, and swinging them against 
 each other. The women in general keep 
 at home at this period, except those of 
 less scrupulous character, who, for the 
 sake of partaking of a gallon of ale and a 
 plumb-cake, which every landlord or pub- 
 lican is obliged to furnish the revellers 
 with, generally spend the best part of the 
 night in the fields, if the weather is fair , 
 it being stiictly accoiding to ancient 
 usage not to partake of the cheer any 
 ■where else." 
 
 670 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BUOK.— SEPTEMBER 29. 
 
 M. Stevenson, in " Tlie Twelve 
 Moneths, Lond. 1661, 4to." mentions tlie 
 following superstition; "They say, so 
 many dayes old the moon is on Micliael- 
 mass-day, so many floods after." 
 
 Anecdote of a Goose. 
 
 An amusing account of a Canada goose 
 once the property of Mr. Sharpe, at Little 
 Grove, near East Barnet, was inserted by 
 that gentleman in his copy of '' Wil- 
 ughby's Ornithology." He says : — 
 
 Tlie following account of a Canada 
 goose is so extraordinary, that I am 
 aware it would with difficulty gain credit, 
 ■vere not a whole parish able to vouch for 
 .6 truth of it. The Canada gee&e are not 
 fond of a poultry-yard, but are rather of a 
 rambling disposition. One of these birds, 
 however, was observed to attach itself, in 
 the strongest and most affectionate man- 
 ner, to the house-dog ; and would never 
 quit the kennel, except for the purpose of 
 feeding, when it would return again im- 
 mediately. It always sat by the dog; but 
 never presumed to go into the kennel, 
 except in rainy weather. Whenever the 
 dog barked, the goose would cackle and 
 run at the person she supposed the dog 
 barked at, and try to bite him by the heels. 
 Sometimes she would attempt to feed with 
 the dog; but this the dog, who treated his 
 faithful companion rather with indiffer- 
 ence, would not suffer. 
 
 This bird would not go to roost with 
 the others at night, unless driven by main 
 force; and when, in the morning, she was 
 turned into the field, she would never stir 
 from the yard gate, but sit there the whole 
 day, in sight of the dog. At last, orders 
 
 were given that she should be no .onger 
 molested, but suffered to accompany the 
 dog as she liked : being thus left to her- 
 self, she ran about the yard with him all 
 the night ; ana wnai is particularly extra- 
 ordinary, and can be attested by the whole 
 parish, whenever the dog went out of the 
 yard and ran into the village, the goose 
 always accompanied him, contriving 
 to keep up with him by the assistance 
 of her wings; and in this way of run- 
 ning and flying, followed him all over 
 the parish. 
 
 This extiaordinary affection of tlie 
 goose towards the dog, whicn continued 
 till his death, two years after it was first 
 observed, is su^^posed to have originated 
 from his having accidentally saved her 
 from a fox in the very moment of distress. 
 While the dog was ill, the goose never 
 quitted him day or night, not even to feed ; 
 and it was apprehended that she would 
 have been starved to death, had not or- 
 ders been given for a pan of corn to be 
 set every day close to the kennel. At 
 this time the goose generally sat in the 
 kennel, and would not sufl'er any one to 
 approach it, except the person who brought 
 the dog's or her own food. The end of 
 this faithful bird was melancholy ; for, 
 when the dog died, she would still keep 
 possession of the kennel ; and a new 
 house-dog being introduced, which in size 
 and colour resembled that lately lost, the 
 poor goose was unhappily deceived; and 
 going into the kennel as usual, the new 
 inhabitant seized her by the throat, and 
 killed her. 
 
 Michaelmas-day is one of the " four 
 usual quartei-days, or days for payment 
 of rent in the year." 
 
 A Michaelmas Notice to quit. 
 
 To ALL gad-flies and gnats, famed for even-tide hum, 
 To the blue-bottles, too, with their gossamer drum ; 
 To all long-legs and moths, thoughtless rogues still at ease, 
 Old Winter sends greeting— health, friendship, and these 
 
 Whereas, on complaint lodged before me this day, 
 That for months back, to wit, from the first day of May, 
 Various insects, pretenders to beauty and birth, 
 Have, on venturesome wing, lately traversed the earth, 
 And, mistaking fair Clara's chaste lips for a rose, 
 Stung the beauty in public — and frightened her beaux. 
 
 671 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— SEPTEMBER 30. 
 
 And, whereas, on the last sultry evening in June, 
 The said Clara was harmlessly humming a tune ; 
 A blue-botlle, sprung from some dunghill, no doubt, 
 Buzzed about her so long— he at last put her out. 
 
 And whereas sundry haunches and high-seasoned pies. 
 And a thousand sweet necks have been o'errun with flies ; 
 In his wisdom, Old Winter thinks nothing more fit 
 Than to publish this friendly ' memento to quit.' 
 
 At your peril, ye long-legs, this notice despise! 
 Hasten hence, ye vile gad-flies! a word to the wise 1 
 Hornets, horse-stingers, wasps, fly so hostile a land, 
 Or your death-warrant's signed by Old Winter's chill hand 
 
 FLORAL directory. 
 
 Michaelmas Daisy. Aster Tradescanti. 
 Dedicated to St. Michael and all Angels. 
 
 ^tptemljtc 30. 
 
 St. Jerome, Priest, Doctor of the Church, 
 A. D. 420. St. Gregory, Bp. sur- 
 nanied the Apostle of Armenia, and 
 the Illuminator, 4th Cent. St. Hono- 
 riut, Abp. of Canterbury, a. d. 653. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar and almanacs. Particulars con- 
 cerning him will be related hereafter ; it 
 is sufficient to observe, for the present, 
 that the church of England sets him forth 
 as an aiithority for reading the Old Testa- 
 ment Apocrypha. 
 
 Custom at Kidderminster. 
 The annual election of a bailiff" at this 
 town, before noticed,* is still accompanied 
 by the rude mirth of the populace. The 
 Editor is obliged to a lady for the fol- 
 lowing communication. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I have just cast my eye upon your de- 
 finition of the term " costermonger," and 
 it reminds me of an annual custom at 
 Kidderminster, (my native town.) which 
 you may perhaps think an account of, a 
 fit subject for insertion in the Every-Day 
 Book. 
 
 The magistrate and other officers of the 
 town are annually elected, and the first 
 Monday after Michaelmas-day is the day 
 of their inauguration, in celebration of 
 which, they each of them cause to be 
 
 thrown to the populace, (who assemble 
 to the amount of some thousands,) from 
 the windows of their houses, or some- 
 times from the town-hall, a large quan- 
 tity of apples, in the whole often amount- 
 ing, from twenty to thirty pots, (baskets 
 containing five pecks each.) This prac- 
 tice occasions, of c urse, a kind of pre- 
 scriptive holiday in the town, and any 
 one having the temerity to refuse his ap- 
 prentice or servant leave to attend the 
 " apple-throwing," would most probably 
 have cause to repent such an invasion of 
 right. A rude concourse therefore fills 
 the streets which are the scenes of action; 
 and as a sort of " safety valve," if I may 
 " compare great things with small," re- 
 course is had by the crowd to the flinging 
 about of old shoes, cabbage stalks, and al- 
 most every accessible kind of missile ; till 
 at length the sashes are raised, and the 
 gifts of Pomona begin to shower down 
 upon the heads of the multitude. Woe be 
 to the unlucky wight who may chance to 
 ride through the town during the intro- 
 ductory part of this custom ; no sooner 
 does he appear, than a thousand aims are 
 taken at him and his horse, or carriage, 
 and the poor belated rider " sees, or 
 dreams he sees," (if ignorant of the prac- 
 tice,) the inhabitants of a whole town 
 raised to oppose his single progress, 
 without being able to form the most dis- 
 tant idea of their motive for so doing. At 
 Ludlow there is a custom as ancient and 
 equally foolish, that of pulling a rope, but 
 of this I know nothing except by report. 
 1 am, H. M. 
 
 •In Col 1337. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Golden Amaryllis. Amaryllis Atirea 
 
 Dedicated to St. Jerome. 
 
 * From Times Ttlescop 
 
 672 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK—OCTOBER. 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 Tlien came October, full of luerry glee. 
 For yet his noule was totly of the imist. 
 Which he was treading, in the wine-fat's see. 
 And of the joyous oyle, whose gentle gust 
 Made him so fiollick, and so full of lust • 
 Upon a dreadfiiU scorpion he did ride, 
 Tlie same which hy Dianae's doom unjust 
 Slew great Orion ; and eeke by his side 
 IJe had his ploughing-share, and coulter ready tyde. 
 
 Spe7istr 
 
 This is the tenth month of the year. 
 From our Saxon ancestors, " October had 
 lie name of Ifijii-monal," wyn signify- 
 aig vvifle ; " and albeit they had not an- 
 ciently wines made in Germany, yet in this 
 season had they them, from divers coun- 
 tries adjoining."* They also called it 
 Winter-fidleth.\ 
 
 In noticing the stanza, beneath the above 
 engraving by Mr. Wiliiams frcm his own 
 
 • Verstegan t l^r. F, Sayer. 
 
 design, Mr. Leigh Hunt says, that 
 " Spenser, in marching his months be- 
 fore great nature, drew his descriptions 
 of them from the world and its custom<3 in 
 general ; but turn his October wine-vats 
 into cider-presses and brewing-tubs, and 
 it will do as well." He continues to ob- 
 serve, that "This month on account of its 
 steady temperature, is chosen for the 
 brewing of such malt liquor as is design- 
 ed for keeping. The farmer continues to 
 sow his com, and the gardener lanti 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 673 
 
 2 X 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER. 
 
 forest and frut trees. Many of our read- 
 ers, tliough fond of gardens, will learn 
 perhaps for the first time that trees are 
 cheaper things than flowers ; and that at 
 the expense of not many shillings, they 
 may plant a little shrubbery, or make a 
 rural skreen for their parlour or studj 
 windows, of woodbine, guelder-roses, 
 bays, arbutus, ivy, virgin's bower, or even 
 the poplar, horse-chestnut, birch, syca- 
 more, and plane-tree, of which the Greeks 
 were so fond. A few roses also, planted 
 in the earth, to flower about his walls or 
 windows in monthly succession, are no- 
 thing in point of dearness to roses or 
 other flowers purchased in pots. Some 
 of the latter are nevertheless cheap and 
 long-lived, and may be returned to the 
 nursery-man at a small expense, to keep 
 till they flower again. But if the lover 
 of nature has to choose between flowers 
 or flowering shrubs and trees, the latter, 
 in our opinion, are much preferable, in- 
 asmuch as while they include the former, 
 they can give a more retired and verdant 
 feeling to a place, and call to mind, even 
 in their very nestling and closeness, some- 
 thing of the whispering and quiet ampli- 
 tude of nature. 
 
 "Fruits continue in abundance during 
 this month, as everybody knows from the 
 shop-keeper; for our grosser senses are 
 well informed, if our others are not. We 
 have yet to discover that imaginative 
 pleasures are as real and touching as 
 they, and give them their deepest relish. 
 The additional flowers in October are 
 almost confined to the anemone and sca- 
 bious ; and the flowering-trees and 
 shrubs to the evergreen cytisus. But the 
 hedges (and here let us observe, that the 
 fields and other walks that are free to 
 every one are sure to supply us with plea- 
 sure, when every other place fails,) are 
 now sparkling with their abundant ber- 
 ries, — the wild rose with the hip, the 
 hawthorn with Jhe haw, the blackthorn 
 with the sloe, the bramble with the black- 
 berry ; and the briony, privet, honey- 
 suckle, elder, holly, and woody night- 
 shade, with their other winter feasts for 
 
 the birds. Tlie wine obtained from the 
 elder-berry makes a very pleasant and 
 wholesome drink, when heated over a 
 fire ; but the humbler sloe, which the 
 peasants eat, gets the start of hin: 'n re- 
 putation, by changing its name to port 
 of which wine it certainly makes a consi 
 derable ingredient. A gentleman, whc 
 lately figured in the beau-monde, and 
 carried coxcombry to a pitch of the in- 
 genious, was not aware how much truth 
 he was uttering in his pleasant and dis- 
 avowing definition of port wine: 'A 
 strong intoxicating liquor much drank by 
 the lower orders.' 
 
 "Swallows are generally seen for the last 
 time this month, the hnuse-martin the 
 latest. The red-wing, field-fare, snipe, 
 Royston crow, and wood-pigeon, return 
 from more northern parts. The rooks 
 return to the roost trees, and the tortoise 
 begins to bury himself for the winter. 
 The mornings and afternoons increase in 
 mistiness, though the middle of the day is 
 often very fine ; and no weather when it 
 is unclouded, is apt to give a clearer and 
 manlier sensation than that of October. 
 One of the most curious natural appear- 
 ances is the gossamer, which is an infinite 
 multitude of little threads shot out by mi- 
 nute spiders, who are thus wafted by tne 
 wind from place to place. 
 
 " The chief business of October, in the 
 great economy of nature, is dissemina- 
 tion, which is performed among other 
 means by the high winds which now re- 
 turn. Art imitates her as usual, and 
 sows and plants also. We have already 
 mentioned the gardener. This is the 
 time for the domestic cultivator of flow- 
 ers to finish planting as well, especially 
 the bulbs that are intended to flower early 
 in spring. And as the chief business of 
 nature this month is dissemination or ve- 
 getable birth, so its chief beauty arises 
 from vegetable death itself. We need not 
 tell our readers we allude to the changing 
 leaves with all their lights and shades of 
 green, amber, red, light red, light and 
 dark green, white, brown, russet, and 
 yellow of all sorts." 
 
 The orient is lighted with crimson glow, 
 
 The night and its dreams are fled. 
 And the glorious roll of nature now 
 
 Is in all its brightness spread. 
 The autumn has tinged the trees with gold. 
 
 And crimson'd the shrubs of the hills; 
 A"d the full seed sleeps in earth's bosom cold j 
 
 And 'lope all the universe fills. 
 
 C74 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 1, 2. 
 
 St. Remigius a. d. 533. Sf. Bavo, Pa- 
 tron of Ghent, A. D. 653. St. Piut, 
 A. n. 286. St. ffasnulf, or fVasnon, 
 A. D. C51. St. FidharleiLs, Abbot in 
 Ireland, a. d. 762. Festival of the 
 Rosary. 
 
 Remigius. 
 This is another saint in the church of 
 England calendar and the almanacs. He 
 was bishop or archbishop of Rheims, and 
 the instructor of Clovis, the first king o. 
 the Franks who professed Christianity ; 
 Remigius baptized him by trine im- 
 mersion. The accession of Clovis to the 
 church, is deemed to have been the origin 
 of the " most christian king," and the 
 '^eldest son of the church" which the 
 kings of France are stiled in the present 
 times. 
 
 Sailers' Company. 
 The beadles and Servants of the wor- 
 shipful company of salters are to attend 
 divine service at St. Magnus church, 
 London-bridge, pursuant to the will of 
 sir John Salter, who died in the year 
 1605; who was a good benefactor to the 
 said company, and ordered that the 
 beadles and servants should go to the 
 said church the first week in October, 
 three times each person, and say, " How 
 do you do brother Salter? I hope you 
 are well!"* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lowly Amaryllis. Amaryllis hnmilis. 
 Dedicated to St. Remigius. 
 
 (Bttohtv 2. 
 
 Femtt of the Holy Angel-Guardians. St. 
 
 Thomas, Bp. "of Hereford, A. D. 1282. 
 
 St. Leodegarius, or Leger, a. d. 678. 
 Guardian- Av gels. 
 
 The festival of "the Holy Aji gel-Guardi- 
 ans" as they are called by Butler, is this 
 day kept by his chuich. He says that, 
 *' according to St. Thomas," when the 
 angels were created, the lowest among 
 them were enlightened by those that were 
 supreme in the orders. It is not to be 
 gathered from him how many orders there 
 were; but Holme says, that "after the 
 fall of Lucifer the bright star and his com- 
 pany, there remained still in heaven more 
 angels then ever there was, is, and shall 
 be, men born in the earth." He adds, that 
 they are " ranked into nine orders or 
 
 chorus, called the nine quoires of holy 
 angels ;" and h« ranks them thus : — 
 
 1. The order of seraphims. 
 
 2. Tlie order of cherubims. 
 
 3. The order of archangels. 
 
 4. The order of angels. 
 
 5. The order of thrones. 
 
 6. The order of principalities 
 
 7. The order of powers. 
 
 8. The order of domi)iions. 
 
 9. The order of virtues. 
 
 Some authors put them in this se- 
 quence: 1. seraphims; 2. cherubims; 3. 
 thrones ; 4. dominions ; 5. virtues ; 6. 
 powers; 7. principalities; 8. archangels; 
 9. angels. Holme adds, that "God never 
 erected any order, rule, or government, 
 but the devil did and will imitate him ; 
 for where God hath his church, the devil 
 will have his synagogue." The latter part 
 of this affirmation is versified by honest 
 D«niel De Foe. He begins his " True- 
 born Englishman" with it ; — 
 
 Wherever God erects a house of prayer 
 The devil 's sure to have a chapel there. 
 
 Angel, in its primitive sense, denotes 
 a messenger, and frequently signifies men, 
 when, from the common notion of the 
 term, it is conceived to denote minister- 
 ing spirits. Angels, as celestial intelli- 
 gences, have been the objects of over 
 curious inquiry, and of worship. Paul 
 prohibits this : " Let no man," he says, 
 " beguile you of )our reward, in a vo- 
 luntary humility, and the worshipping of 
 angels, intruding into those things which 
 he hath not seen."* An erudite and sin- 
 cere writer remarks, that "The worship, 
 which so many christians pay to angeis 
 and saints, and images and relics, is really 
 a false worship, hardly distinguishable 
 from idolatry. When it is said, in ex- 
 cuse, that * they worship these only as 
 mediators,' that alters the case very little ; 
 since to apply to a false mediator is as 
 much a departure from Jesus Christ, our 
 only advocate, as to worship a fictitious 
 deity is withdrawing our faith and allegi- 
 ance from the true God."|- 
 
 Amid the multiplicity of representa- 
 tions by Roman catholic writers concern- 
 ing angels, are these by Father Lewis 
 Henriques, "That the streets of Paradise 
 are adorned with tapestry, and all the his- 
 tories of the world are engraven on th? 
 
 * Annual Kegttler, 1769. 
 
 * Colosxians ii. 17 
 
 t Joitin 
 
 675 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 2. 
 
 v/alls by excellent sculptors ; that the 
 angels have no particular houses, but go 
 from one quarter to another for diversity ; 
 that they put on women's habits, and 
 appear to the saints in the dress of ladies, 
 with curies and locks, with waistcoats and 
 fardingales, and the richest linens." 
 
 This occupation of the a;ig-<?/* agrees with 
 the occupations that Henriques assigns 
 to the saints ; who, according to him, are 
 to enjoy, with other pleasures, the recre- 
 ation of bathing : " There shall be pleasant 
 bathes for that purpose ; they shall swim 
 like fishes, amd sing as melodious as night- 
 ingales; the men and women shall de- 
 
 light themselves with muscarades, feasts 
 and ballads ; women shall sing more plea- 
 santly than men, that the delight may bs 
 greater; and women shall rise again witfc 
 very long hair, and shall appear witV 
 ribands and laces as they do upon earth. 
 Father Henriques was a Jesuit, and conx 
 municates this information in a book 
 entitled, " The Business of the Saints in 
 Heaveii," published by the written au- 
 thority of Father Prado, the Provincial 
 of the order of Jesuits at Castille, dated 
 at Salamanca, April 28th, 1631.* 
 
 * Moral Practice of tlie Jesuits. Lond. 12ino. 1670. 
 
 HANNAH WANT. 
 
 ' For Age and Want save while you may, 
 No morning sua lasts a whole day." 
 
 Tfie Times and other journals report 
 the " obit" of this female. *' On the 
 2iid of October, 1825, died Mr.s, Hannah 
 
 Want, at Ditchingham, Norfolk, in the 
 106th year of her age. She was born on 
 the 20th of August, 1720, and through- 
 
 G76 
 
TITE EVETIY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 2. 
 
 out tliis long life enjoyed a state of unin- 
 terrupted health ; and retained her memo- 
 ry and perception to the end with a 
 clearness truly astonishing. Till the day 
 previous to her decease she was not con- 
 fined to her bed ; and on the 105th anni- 
 versary of her birth, entertained a party 
 of her relatives who visited her to cele- 
 brate the day ; she lived to see a nume- 
 rous progeny to the fifth generation, and 
 at her death there are now livingchildren, 
 grand-children, great-grand-children, and 
 great-great- grand-children to the number 
 of one hundred and twenty-one.'' 
 
 An intelligent correspondent writes : 
 " As it is not an * every-day' occurrence 
 for people to live so long, perhaps you 
 may be pleased to immortalize Hannah 
 Want, by giving her a leaf of your 
 Every-Day Booh." That the old lady 
 may live as long after her death as this 
 work shall be her survivor the Editor can 
 promise, " with remainder over" to his 
 survivors. 
 
 Hannah Want, in common with all 
 long-livers, was an early riser. The fol- 
 lowing particulars are derived from a 
 correspondent. She was seldom out of 
 bed after nine at night, and even in win- 
 ter ; and towards the last of her life, was 
 seldom in it after six in the morning. 
 Her sleep was uniformly sound and tran- 
 quil ; her eye-sight till within the last 
 three years was clear; her appetite, till 
 two days before her death, good ; her 
 memory excellent ; she could recollect 
 and discourse on whatever she knew 
 during the last century. Her diet was 
 plain common food, meat and poultry, 
 pudding and dumpling, bread and vege- 
 tables in moderate quantities ; she drank 
 temperately, very temperately, of good, 
 very good, mild home-brewed beer. 
 During the last twenty years she had not 
 taken tea, though to that period she had 
 been accustomed to it. She never had 
 the small pox, and never had been ill. 
 Her first seventy-five years were passed at 
 Bungay in Suffolk, her last thirty at the 
 adjoining village of Ditchingham in Nor- 
 folk. She was the daughter of a farmer 
 named Knighting. Her husband, John 
 Want, a maltster, died on Christmas-day, 
 1802, at the age of eighty-five, leaving 
 Hannah ill provided for, with an affect- 
 ionate and dutiful daughter,who was better 
 than house and land ; for she cherished 
 lier surviving parent when " age and 
 want, that ill-matched pair, make count- 
 less thousands mourn." 
 
 Hannah Want was of a serious and 
 sedate turn; not very talkative, yet 
 cheerfully joining in conversation. She 
 was a plain, frugal, careful wife and mo- 
 ther; less inclined to insist on rights, 
 than to perform duties; these she execut- 
 ed in all respects, "and all without hurry 
 or care." Her stream of life was a gentle 
 flow of equanimity, unrutfled by storm or 
 accident, till it was exhausted. She was 
 never put out of her way but once, and 
 that was when the house wherein she 
 lived at Bungay- was burned down, and 
 none of the furniture saved, save one 
 featherbed. 
 
 In answer to a series of questions from 
 the Editor, respecting this aged and re- 
 spectable female, addressed to another 
 correspondent, he say's, " What a work 
 you make about an old woman ! ' I'll 
 answer none of your siliy questions ; ax 
 Briant !' as a neighbouring magistrate 
 said to sir Edmund Bacon, who was ex- 
 amining him in a court of justice. The 
 old woman was well enough. There is 
 nothing more to be learned about her, than 
 how long a body may crawl upon the 
 earth, and think nothing worth thinking 
 — as if ' thinking was out an idle waste 
 of thought ;' and how long a person to 
 whom ' nauuht is every thing, and every 
 thing is nothing', did nothingworth doing. 
 I suppose that the noted H. W. knew as 
 much of life in 105 houfs, as Hannah 
 Want did in lOS years. All I know or 
 can learn about her is nothing, and if you 
 can make any thing of it you may. 
 Some of our frce-knotvledgisfs, ' with a 
 pale cast of thouglit' have taken a cast 
 of her head, and discovered that her 
 organ of self-destructiveness was harmo- 
 nized by the organ of long-livitiveness." 
 This latter correspondent is too hard upon 
 Hannah ; but he encloses information on 
 another subject that may be useful here- 
 after, and therefore what he amusingly 
 says respecting her, is at the service of 
 those readers who are qualified to make 
 something of nothing, 
 
 Aportrait of Hannah Want, in 1824, 
 when she was in her 104th year, taken 
 by Mr. Robert Childs, " an ingenious 
 gentleman" of Bungay, and etched by him, 
 furnishes the present engraving of her. 
 
 '^LORAL DIRECTORY 
 
 Friars' Minors Soapwort. Saponar'm 
 
 Officinalis. 
 
 Dedicated to the Guardian Angsh. 
 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 3 4 
 
 (9rtol)tr 3. 
 
 St DIonyshtx the Areopagite, a. n. 51. 
 St. Gerard, Abbot, a. d. 939. The two 
 Eivalds, A. D. 690. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Downy Helenium. Helenium pubesceiu. 
 Dedicated to St. Dionysiua 
 
 SONNET. 
 fVritten at Chatsworth with a Pencil in October. 
 
 TIME — SUNSET. 
 
 T always lov'd thee, and thy yellow garb, 
 October dear ! — and I have hailed thy reign. 
 On many a lovely, many a distant plain, 
 But here, thou claim'st my warmest best regard. 
 Not e'en the noble banks of silver Seine 
 Can rival Derwent's — where proud Chatsworth's tow'rs 
 Reflect Sol's setting rays — as now yon chain 
 Of gold-tipp'd mountains crown her lawns and bowers. 
 Here, countless beauties catch the ravish'd view, 
 Majestic scenes, all silent as the tomb ; 
 Save where the murmuring of Derwent's wave. 
 To tenderest feelings the rapt soul subdue, 
 
 While shadowj- forms seem gliding through the gloom 
 To visit those again ihey lov'd this side the grave. 
 
 Rickman. 
 
 St Francis of Assisium, a. d. 1226. St.t. 
 Marcus, Marcian, 8cc. St. PetroHiu.t, 
 Bp. A. D. 430. St. Amman, Hermit, 
 A. D. 308. St. Aurea, Abbess, a. d. 
 666. St. Edivin, King, a. d. 633. 
 Hie Martyrs of Triers. 
 Sale of 
 IIyde-park-corner Toll-Gate. 
 Before the close of the sessions of par- 
 liament in 1825 an act passed for the re- 
 moval of the toll-gate at Hyde-park-cor- 
 ner, with a view to the free passage of 
 horsemen and carriages between London 
 and Pimlico. So great an accommoda- 
 tion to the inhabitants of that suburb, ma- 
 nifests a disposition to relieve other grow- 
 ing neighbourhoods of the metropolis 
 from these vexatious imposts. On the 
 present occasion a gentleman, evidently 
 an artist, presented the Editor with a 
 drawing of Hyde-park-corner gate on the 
 day when it was sold; it is engraved op- 
 posite. This liberal communication was 
 accompanied by the subjoined letter : — 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 I have taken tlie liberty of enclosing 
 you a representation of a scene which 
 t'^ok place at Hyde-park-corner last Tues- 
 day, October 4th, being no less than the 
 
 public sale of the toll-house, and all tha 
 materials enumerated in the accompany- 
 ing catalogue. If you were not present, 
 the drawing I have sent may interest you 
 as a view of the old toll-house and the 
 last scene of its eventful history. You 
 £re at liberty to make what use of it you 
 please. The sale commenced at one 
 o'clock, the auctioneer stood under the 
 arch before the door of the house on the 
 north side of Piccadilly. Several carriage 
 folks and equestrians, unconscious of the 
 removal of the toll, stopped to pay, whilst 
 the drivers of others passed through 
 knowingly, with a look of satisfaction at 
 their liberation from the accustomed re- 
 striction at that place. The poor dis- 
 mantled house tvithout a turnpike man, 
 seemed " almost afraid to know itself" — 
 " Othello's occupation was gone." By 
 this time, if the conditions of the auction 
 have been attended to, not a vestige is 
 left on the spot. T have thought this 
 event would interest a mind like yours, 
 which permits not any change in the his- 
 tory of improvement, or of places full of 
 old associations, to take place without 
 record. 
 
 I remain, sir. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 a constant reader 
 
 678 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 5. 
 
 SALE OF HYDE-PARK-CORNER TOLL-GATE. 
 
 " The last time ! a going ! gone." 
 
 Auctioneer. 
 " Down ! down ! derry down '." 
 
 Public. 
 
 The sale by auction of the " toll-houses" 
 on ilie north and south side of the road, 
 with the " weighing machine," and lamp- 
 posts at Hyde-park-corner, was effected 
 by Mr. Abbott, the estate agent and ap- 
 praiser, by order of the trustees of the 
 roads. Tiiey were sold for building ma- 
 terials ; the north toll-house was in five 
 lots, the south in five other lots ; the 
 gates, rails, posts, and inscription boards 
 were in five more lots ; and the enijine- 
 house was also in five lots. At the same 
 time, the weighing machine and toll- 
 houses at Jenny's Whim bridge were sold 
 in seven lots ; and the toll-house near the 
 bun-house at Chelsea, with lamp posts on 
 the road, were likewise sold in seven lots. 
 The whole are entirely cleared away, to 
 the relief of thousands of persons resident 
 in these neighbourhoods. It is too much 
 to expect every thing vexatious to disap- 
 pear at once ; this is a very good begin- 
 ning, and if there be truth in the old say- 
 ing, we may expect " a good ending." 
 
 St. Placldus, &c. A. V. 546. 
 6th Cent. 
 
 St. Galttk, 
 
 FLORAL niRECTORY. 
 
 Southernwood. Artemesia Apro.rannm. 
 Dedicated to St. Francis Assissiuin. 
 
 THE ASS. 
 
 The cantering of Tim Tfms* startles 
 him who told of his "youthful days,'' at 
 the school wherein poor " Starkey" cy- 
 phered part of his little life. C. L. "gett- 
 ing well, but weak" from painful and se- 
 vere indisposition, is " off and away" for 
 a short discursion. Better health to him, 
 and good be to hira all his life. Here lie 
 is. 
 
 THE ASS 
 
 No. 2. 
 
 (For Hone'' s Every- Day Book.) 
 
 Mr.Collier, in his " Poetical Decameron" 
 (Third Conversation) notices a Tract, 
 printed in 1595, with the author's initials 
 only, A. B., entitled " The Nobleness? 
 of the Asse : a work rare, learned, ana 
 excellent." He has selected the follow 
 ing pretty passaije from it. " He (the 
 Ass) refuseth no burthen, he goes whithei 
 
 • Ante, p. 1308. 
 
 679 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 5 
 
 he is sent without any contradiction. He 
 lifts not his foote against any one ; he 
 6ytes ; not he is no fugitive, nor malicious 
 affected. He doth all things in good sort, 
 and to his liking that hath cause to em- 
 ploy him. If strokes be given him, he 
 cares not for them ; and, as our modern 
 poet singeth, 
 " Thou wouldst (perhaps) he should become 
 
 thy foe, 
 \nd to that end dost beat him many times ; 
 He cares not for hin.selfe, much lesse thy 
 blow."* 
 
 Certainly Nature, foreseeing the cruel 
 usage which tl-iis useful servant to man 
 should receive at man's hand, did pru- 
 dently in furnishing him with a tegument 
 impervious to ordinary stripes. The ma- 
 lice of a child, or a weak hand, can make 
 feeble impressions on him. His back 
 offers no mjark to a puny foeman. To a 
 common whip or switch his hide presents 
 an absolute insensibility. You might as 
 well pretend to scourge a school-boy 
 with a tough pair of leather breeches on. 
 His jerkin is well fortified. And there- 
 fore the Costermongers " between the 
 years 1790 and 1800'' did more politicly 
 than piously in lifting up a part of his 
 upper garment. I well rem.ember that 
 beastly and bloody custom. I have often 
 longed to see one of those refiners in dis- 
 cipline himself at the cart's tail, with just 
 such a convenient spot laid bare to the 
 tender mercies of the whipster. But 
 since Nature has resumed her rights, it is 
 to be hoped, that this patient creature 
 does not suffer to extremities ; and that 
 to the savages who still belabour his pcor 
 carcase with their blows (considering the 
 sort of anvil they are laid upon) he might 
 in some sort, if he could speak, exclaim 
 with the philosopher, " Lay on : you 
 beat but upon the case of Anaxarchus." 
 
 Contemplating this natural safeguard, 
 Jhis fortified exterior, it is with pain I 
 view the sleek, foppish, combed and cur- 
 ried, person of this animal, as he is trans- 
 muled and disnaturalized, at Watering 
 Places, &c. where they affect to make a 
 palfrey of hrm. Fie on all such sophis- 
 tications! — It will never do, Master 
 Groom. Something of his honest shaggy 
 exterior will still peep up in spite of you 
 — his good, rousrh, native, pine-apple 
 coating. You cannot " refine a scorpion 
 
 • Who this modtin pnet w.is, says Mr. C, is a 
 •ecret worth discovi'riiig. — The wiiod-( ii; on t!ie tiile 
 '.■( the Pamphlet is — an Ass with a vvrciith of laurel 
 rouii'l his rifck. 
 
 into a fish, though you rince it and scour 
 it with ever so cleanly cookery."* 
 
 The modern poet, quoted by A. B., 
 oroceeds to celebrate a virtue, for which 
 no one to this day had been aware that 
 the Ass was remarkable. 
 
 One other gift this beast hath as his ownc, 
 \Vherev>'ith tl;-e rest coidd not be furnished ; 
 On man hiinselte the same was not be- 
 
 stowue, 
 To wit — on him is ne'er engendered 
 The hateful! vermine that doth teare the 
 
 skin 
 And to the bode [body] doth make his 
 
 passage in. 
 
 And truly when one thinks on the suit 
 of impenetrable armour with which Na- 
 ture (like Vulcan to another Achilles) 
 has provided him, these subtle enemies 
 to our repose, would have shown some 
 d-exterity in getting into his quarters. As 
 the bogs of Ireland by tradition expel 
 toads and reptiles, he may well defy these 
 small deer in his fastnesses. It seems 
 the latter had not arrived at the exquisite 
 policy adopted by the human vermirj 
 " between 1790 and 1800." 
 
 But the most singular and delightful 
 gift of the Ass, according to the writer 
 of this pamphlet, is his voice ; the" goodly, 
 sweet, and continual brayings" of which, 
 *' whereof they forme a melodious and 
 proportionable kinde of musicke," seem 
 to have affected him with no ordinary 
 pleasure. •' Nor thinke I," he adds, *' that 
 any of our immoderne musitians can 
 deny, but that their song is full of exceed- 
 ing pleasure to be heard ; because there- 
 in is to be discerned both concord, dis- 
 cord, singing in the meane, the beginning 
 to sing in large com passe, then follov/ing 
 on to rise and fall, the halfe note, 
 whole note, musicke of five voices, firme 
 singing by four voices, three together or 
 one voice and a halfe. Then their \-ari- 
 able contrarieties amongst them, when one 
 delivers forth a long tenor, or a short, the 
 pausing foi time, breathing in measure, 
 breaking the minim or very least moment 
 of time. Last of all toheare the musicke 
 of five or six voices chaunged to so many 
 of Asses, is amongst them to heare a 
 song of world witiiout end." 
 
 There is no accounting for ears ; or for 
 that laudable enthusiasm with which an 
 Author is tempted to invest a favourite 
 subject with the most incompatible per- 
 fections. I should otherwise, for my owti 
 
 * Milton : from memvry. 
 
 680 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER G. 
 
 taste, have been inclined rather to have 
 given a place to these extraordinary mu- 
 sicians at that banquet of nothincr-less- 
 than-sweet sounds, imagined by old Je- 
 remy Collier (Essays, 1698; Part. 2. — 
 On Music.) where, after de.scribing the 
 mspirating effects of martial music in a 
 l)attle, he hazards an ingenious conjec- 
 ture, whether a sort of Anti-music miglit 
 not be invented, which should have quite 
 the contrary effect of " sinking the spi- 
 rits, shaking the nerves, curdling the 
 blood, and inspiring despair, and cowar- 
 dice and consternation." " Tis probable'' 
 he says, " the roaring of lions, tiie warb- 
 ling of cats and screech-owls, together 
 with a mixture of the howling of dogs, 
 judiciously imitated and compounded, 
 might go a great way in this invention." 
 The dose, we confess, is pretty potent, 
 and skilfully enough prepared. But what 
 shall we say to the Ass of Silenus (quoted 
 by Tims), who, if we may trust to classic 
 lore, by his own proper sounds, without 
 thanks to cat or screech-owl, dismaid and 
 put to rout a whole army of giants I 
 Here was Anti-ynnsicvi\ih. a vengeance; a 
 whole Pan-Dis-Harmonicon in a single 
 lungs of leather! 
 
 But I keep you trifling too long on this 
 Asinine subject. I have already past the 
 Pons Asinorum, and will desist, remem- 
 bering the old pedantic pun of Jem Boyer, 
 my schoolmaster: — 
 
 Ass in pi'cesenti seldom makes a wise 
 MAN inj'utnro. C. L. 
 
 FLORAL mRECTORY. 
 
 Starlike Camomile. Boltonia Asteroides. 
 Dedicated to St. Placidus. 
 
 (Btiahtx 6. 
 
 St. Bruno, Founder of the Cartliusian 
 
 Monks, A. D. 1101. St. Faith or 
 
 Fides, and others. 
 
 Faith. 
 
 This name in the church. of England 
 calendar and almanacs belongs to a saint 
 of the Romish church. 
 
 According to Butler, St. Faith was a 
 female of Aquitain, put to death under 
 Ddcian. He says she was titular saint of 
 several churches in France, particularly 
 that of Longueville in Normandy, which 
 was enriched by Walter Giffard, earl of 
 Buckingham. He also says she was 
 " patroness of the priory of Horsam, in 
 the county of Norfolk ;" that "the sub- 
 terraneous chapel of St. Faith, built 
 under St. Paul's, in London, was also 
 very famous ; " and that " an arm of the 
 saint was formerly kept at Glastenbury." 
 Nevertheless, Mr. Audley thinks, that as 
 the ancient Romans deified Faith accord- 
 ing to the heathen mythology, and as chris- 
 tian Rome celebrates on August 1st the 
 passion of the holy virgins, Faith, Hope, 
 and Charity, it is highly probable these 
 virtues have been mistaken for persons; 
 and, admitting this. Dr. M. Geddes 
 smartly says, " they may be truly said to 
 have suffered, and still to suffer martyr- 
 dom at Rome." Mr. Audley adds. 
 " There is indeed the church of St. Faith 
 at London ; but as our calendar is mostly 
 copied from the Romish one, that will 
 account for the introduction of the good 
 virgin amongst us."* 
 
 St. Bruno. 
 
 Thi.s saint was an anchoret and the 
 founder of the Carthusian monks. He 
 is stiled by writers of his own age " mas- 
 ter of the Chartreuse ;" from his order 
 comes our Charter-house at London. 
 
 A prelate of the same name is re- 
 nowned in story, and his last adventures 
 are related in verse. 
 
 Bishop Bruno. 
 
 " Brnno, the bishop of HerI)ipolitanum, sailing in the river of Daniibiiis, with Henry the 
 Third, then emperour, being; not far from a place which the Gernianes call Ben 
 Stnidel, or the devouring gulfe, which is neere unto Grinon, a castle in Austria, a 
 spirit was heard clamouring aloud, ' Ho ! ho ! bishop Bruno, whither art thou tra- 
 velling? but dispose of thyself how thou pleases^t, thou shall be my prey and spoile.' 
 At the hearing of these words they were all stupilied, and the bishop with the rest 
 crost and blest themselves. The issue was, that within a short time after, the bishop 
 feasting with the emperor in a castle belonging to the countcsse of Esburch, a raftt-r 
 fell from the roof ni the chamber wherein they sate, and strooke him dead at the 
 table." 
 
 Mel/wood's Hierarchic of the blessed Auf^eU. 
 
 • romo. to Almanac. 
 
 681 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 6. 
 
 Bishop Bruno awoke in the dead midnight. 
 And he heard his heart beat loud with affright : 
 He dreamt he had rung the palace bell, 
 And the sound it gave was his passing knell. 
 
 Bishop Bruno smiled at his fears so vain 
 
 lie turned to sleep and he dreamt again 
 
 He rung at the palace gate once more. 
 
 And Death was the porter that opened the door. 
 
 He started up at the fearful dream, 
 
 And he heard at his window the screech owl screaru 
 
 Bishop Bruno slept no more that night; — 
 
 Oh ! glad was he when he saw the day light 1 
 
 Now he goes forth in proud array, 
 For he with the emperor dines to-day ; 
 There was not a baron in Germany 
 That went with a nobler train tlian he. 
 
 Before and behind his soldiers ride, 
 The people throng'd to see their pride ; 
 They bow'd the head, and the knee they bent, 
 But nobody blest him as he went. 
 
 So he went on stately and proud. 
 
 When he heard a voice that cried aloud, 
 
 Ho ! ho ! bishop Bruno! you travel with glee — 
 
 But I would have you know, you travel to me I 
 
 Behind, and before, and on either side, 
 He look'd, but nobody he espied ; 
 And the bishop at that grew cold with fear, 
 For he heard the words distinct and clear* 
 
 And when he rung the palace bell. 
 He almost expected to hear his knell 
 And when the porter turn'd the key. 
 He almost expected Death to see. 
 
 But soon the bishop recover'd his glee, 
 T^or the emperor welcomed him royally 
 Vnd now the tables were spread, and there 
 Were choicest wines and dainty fare. 
 
 And now the bishop had blest the meat. 
 When a voice was heard as he sat in his seat,— • 
 With the emperor now you are dining in gltt. 
 But know, bishop Bruno, you sup with me I 
 
 T}:e bishop then grew pale with affright. 
 
 And suddenly lost his appetite ; 
 
 All the wine and dainty cheer 
 
 Could iiot comfort his heart so sick with fear. 
 
 But by little and little recovered he 
 For the wine went flowing merrily, 
 And he forgot his former dread, 
 And his cheeks again grew rosy red. 
 
 682 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK—OCTOBER 7. 
 
 When he sat down to the rcyal fare 
 Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there; 
 But when the masquers entered the ball, 
 lie was the merriest man of all. 
 
 Tlien from amid the masquers' crowd 
 
 There went a voice hollow and loud ; 
 
 You have passed the day, bishop Bruno, with glee 1 
 
 But you must pass the night with me ! 
 
 His cheek grows pale and his eye-balls glare. 
 And stiff round his tonsure bristles his hair; 
 With that there came one from the masquers' band 
 And he took the bishop by the hand. 
 
 The bony hand suspended his breath, 
 His marrow grew cold at the touch of Death; 
 On saints in vain he attempted to call. 
 Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace hall. 
 
 Soicthey 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lateflowsring Feverfew. Pyrethrum Scro- 
 
 tinnni. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Bruno. 
 
 (Bttohtv 7. 
 
 St. Mark, Pope, a. d. 336. Sts. Sergius 
 and Bacchus. Sts. Marcellus and 
 Apnlchis. St. Justhia of Padua, a. d. 
 304, .S^ Ositk, A. D. 870. 
 
 Purveyance for fVinter. 
 
 After the harvest for human subsistence 
 during winter, most of the provision for 
 other animals ripens, and those with pro- 
 vident instincts are engaged in the work of 
 gathering and storing. 
 
 Perhaps the prettiest of living things in 
 the forest are squirrels. They may now be 
 seen fully employed in bearing off their 
 future food; and now many of the little 
 creatures are caught by tlie art of man ; to 
 be encaged for life to contribute to his 
 amusement. 
 
 Squirrels and Hares. 
 On a remark by the hon. Daines Bar- 
 rington, that " to observe the habits and 
 manners of animals is the most pleasing 
 part of the study of zoology," a corres- 
 pondent, in a letter to " Mr. Urban," says 
 '* I have for several years diverted my- 
 self by keeping squirrels, and have found 
 in them not less variety of humours and 
 dispositions than Mr. Cowper observed 
 in his hares. I have had grave and gay, 
 fierce and gentle, sullen and familiar, and 
 tractable and obedient squirrels. One 
 
 property I think highly worthy of observ. 
 ation, which I have found common to the 
 species, as far as my acquaintance with 
 them has extended; and that acquaintance 
 has been by no means confined to a tew : 
 yet this property has, I believe, never 
 been adverted to by any zoological writer. 
 I mean, that they have an exact musical 
 ear. Not that they seem to give the least 
 attention to any music, vocal or instru- 
 mental, which they hear; but they uni- 
 versally dance in their cages to the' most 
 exact time, striking the ground with their 
 feet in a regular measured cadence, and 
 never changing their tune without an in- 
 terval of rest. I have known them dance 
 perhaps ten minutes in allegro time of 
 eight quavers in a bar, thus : 
 
 then, after a pause, they would change to 
 the tmie of six quavers divided into three 
 quavers and a dotted crotchet, thus : 
 
 r — fr I' I * 
 
 t 
 
 again, after a considerable rest, they would 
 return to common time divided by four 
 semiquavers, one crotchet, four semiqua- 
 vers and another crotchet, in a bar, thus : 
 
 683 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— OCTOBER 7. 
 
 always continuing to dance or jump to 
 the same tune for many minutes, and 
 always resting before a change of tune. 
 I once kept a male and a female in one 
 large cage, who performed a peculiar 
 dance together thus ; the male jumped 
 sideways, describing a portion of a circle 
 in the air ; the female described a portion 
 of a smaller circle concentric with the first, 
 always keeping herself duly under the 
 male, performing her leap precisely in the 
 same time, and grounding her feet in the 
 same moment with him. 
 
 While the male moved from A to B, or 
 from B to A, the female moved from C 
 to D, or from D to C, and their eight 
 feet were so critically grounded together, 
 that they gave but one note. I must 
 observe, that this practice of dancing 
 seems to be an expedient to amuse them 
 in their confinement ; because, when they 
 are for a time released from their cages, 
 they never dance, but reserve this diver- 
 sion until they are again immured." 
 
 Mr. Urban's correspondent continues 
 thus, " no squirrel will lay down what he 
 actually has in his paws, to receive even 
 food which he prefers, but will always eat 
 or hide what he has, before he will accept 
 what is offered to him. Their sagacity in 
 the selection of their food is truly wonder- 
 ful. I can easily credit what I have been 
 told, that in their winter hoards not one 
 faulty nut is to be found ; for I never 
 knew them accept a single nut, when 
 ofifcred to them, which was either decayed 
 or destitute of kernel : some they reject, 
 having only smelt thom ; but they seem 
 Jsually to try them by their weight, poising 
 them in their fore-feet. In eating, they 
 hold tlieir food ru)t with their whole fore- 
 feet, but between the inner toes or thumbs. 
 I know not whether any naturalist has 
 observed that their teeth are of a deep 
 orange colour." 
 
 This gentleman, who writes late in the 
 year 1788, proceeds thus, " A squirrel sits 
 
 by me while I write this, who was boin 
 in the spring, 1781, and has been mine 
 near seven years. He is, like Yorick, 
 * a whoreson mad fellow — a pestilent 
 knave — a fellow of infinite jest and fancy 
 When he came to me, I had a venerable 
 squirrel, corpulent, and unwieldy with 
 age. The young one agreed well with 
 him from their first introduction, and slept 
 in the same cage with him ; but he could 
 never refrain from diverting himself with 
 the old gentleman's infirmities. It was 
 my custom daily to let them both out on 
 the floor, and then to set the cage on a 
 table, placing a chair near it to help the 
 old squirrel in returning to his home. 
 This was great exercise to the poor old 
 brute ; and it was the delight of the young 
 rogue to frustrate his efforts, by suffering 
 him to climb up one bar of the chair, then 
 pursuing him, embracing him round the 
 waist, and pulling him down to the 
 ground ; then he would suffer him to 
 reach the second bar, or perhaps the seat 
 oi the chair, and afterwards bring him 
 back to the floor as at first. All this was 
 done in sheer fun and frolic, with a look 
 and manner full of inexpressible archness 
 and drollery. The old one could not be 
 seriously angry at it ; he never fought or 
 scolded, but gently complained and mur- 
 mured at his unlucky companion. One 
 day, about an hour after this exercise, the 
 old squirrel was found dead in his cage, 
 his wind and his heart being quite broken 
 by the mischievous wit of his young mess- 
 mate. My present squirrel one day 
 assaulted and bit me without any provo- 
 cation. To break him of this trick, I pur 
 sued him some minutes about the room, 
 stamping and scolding at him, and threat- 
 ening him with my handkerchief. After 
 this, I continued to let him out daily, but 
 took no notice of him for some months 
 The coolness was mutual : he neither fled 
 from me, nor attempted to come near me. 
 At length I called him to me : it appeared 
 that he had only waited for me to make 
 the first advance ; he threw off his gravity 
 towards me, and ran up on my shoulder. 
 Our reconciliation was cordial and last- 
 ing; he has never attempted to bite me 
 since, and there appears no probability of 
 another quarrel between us, though he is 
 every year wonderfully savage and fero- 
 cious at the first coming-in of filberts and 
 walnuts. He is frequently suffered to ex- 
 patiate in my garden ; he has never of late 
 attempted to wander beyonil it ; he always 
 climbs up a very high ash tree, and soon 
 
 684 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER, 8, 9. 
 
 after returns to his cage, or into the 
 Darlour." 
 
 For what this observant writer says of 
 hiires^ see the 17th day of the present 
 month. 
 
 FLORAL DIUECTORY. 
 
 Indian Chrysanthemum. Chry.tanthemum 
 
 Indicum. 
 
 Dedicated to S^ Mark, Pope. 
 
 O^ctoto 8. 
 
 FLORAL DIRtClVJRY. 
 
 Sweet Maudlin. Actillea AgeratV7n' 
 Dedicated to St. Bridget. 
 
 (2^rtol)n* 9. 
 
 St. Dionymis, Bp. of Paris, and othprs, 
 A. D. 272. St. Domnimis, a. d. 304. 
 SL Gnislain, a. d. 681. St. Leich 
 Bertrand, A.D. 1581. 
 
 ^t. IBfltpig. 
 
 St. Bridget, a. d. 1373. St. Thais, 
 A. D. 348. St. Pelagia, 5th Cent. 
 St. KeyrMf 5th or 6th Cent. 
 
 Tiiis is the patron saint of France, and 
 liis name stands in our aimanacs and in 
 the church of England calendar, as well ai 
 in the Romish calendar. 
 
 ST. DENYS. 
 
 St.Denys had his head cut off, he did not care lor tiiat, 
 lie took it up and carried it two n:<iles without his haU 
 
 G85 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 9. 
 
 "The times have been that when tlie 
 hraius were out the man would die ;" 
 they were "Me times.'" Yet, even in 
 those times, except " the Anthrophagi, 
 and men wiiose heads do grow beneath 
 their shoulders," men, whose heads grew 
 upo7i their shoulders, wore them in that 
 situation during their natural lives until 
 by accident a head was taken off, and 
 then infallibly " the man would die." 
 But the extraordinary persons called 
 ' saints," were exempt from ordinary fa- 
 tality : could all tlieir sayings be recorded, 
 we might probably find it was as usual 
 for a decapitated saint to ask, " Won't 
 you give me my head V before he walked 
 to be buried, as for an old citizen to call, 
 " Boy, bring me my wig," before he 
 walked to club. 
 
 St. Denys was beheaded with 
 some other martyrs in the neighbourhood 
 of Paris. " They beheaded them," says 
 the reverend father Ribadeneira, " in that 
 mountain which is at present called Moiis 
 Martyrum (Montmartre), the mountain 
 of the martyrs, in memory and honour of 
 them ; but after they had martyred them, 
 there happened a wonderful miracle. The 
 body of St. Denys rose upon its feet, and 
 took its own head up in its hands, as 
 if he had triumphed and carried in it the 
 crown tnd token of its victories. The 
 angels of heaven went accompanying the 
 saint, singing hymns choir-wise, with a 
 celestial harmony and concert, and ended 
 with these words, ' gloria tibi, Domine 
 2llelaia ;' and the saint went with his 
 head in his hands about two miles, till 
 he met with a good woman called 
 Catula, who came out of her house ; and 
 the body of St. Denys going to her, it put 
 the head in her hands." Perhaps this is as 
 great a miracle as any he wrought in his 
 life ; yet those which he wrought after 
 his death " were innumerable." Riba- 
 deneira adds one in favour of pope 
 Stephen, who " fell sick, and was given 
 over by the doctors in the very monastery 
 of St. Denys, which is near Paris ; where 
 he had a revelation, and he saw the 
 princes of the apostles, St. Peter, and St. 
 Paul, and St. Denys, who lovingly 
 touched him and gave him perfect health, 
 and this happened in the year of our 
 Lord, 704, upon the 28lh of July ; and in 
 gratitude for this favour he gave great 
 privileges to that church of St. Denys, 
 aiid carried with him to Rome certain 
 relics of his holy body, and built a njci- 
 aastery in his honour " 
 
 It appears from an anecdote related by 
 an eminent French physician, that it was 
 believed of St. Denys that he kissed hia 
 head while he carried it ; and it is equally 
 marvellous that a man was so mad as not 
 to believe it true. The circumstance is 
 thus related : 
 
 "A famous watchmaker of Paris, in- 
 fatuated for a long time with the chimera 
 of perpetual motion, became violently 
 insane, from the overwhelming terror 
 which the storms of the revolution ex- 
 cited. The derangement of his reason 
 was marked with a singular trait. He 
 was persuaded that he had lost his head 
 on the scaffold, and that it was put in a 
 heap with those of many other victims : 
 but that the judges, by a rather too late 
 retraction of their cruel decree, had or- 
 dered the heads to be resumed, and to 
 be rejoined to their respective bodies ; 
 and he conceived that, by a curious kind 
 of mistake, he had the head of one of 
 his companions placed on his shoulders. 
 He was admitted into the Bicetre, where 
 he was continually complaining of his 
 misfortune, and lamenting the fine teeth 
 and wholesome breath which he had 
 exchanged for those of very different 
 qualities. In a little time, the hopes of 
 discovering the perpetual motion re- 
 tuined ; and he was rather encouraged 
 tiian restrained in his endeavours to effect 
 his object. When he conceived that he 
 had accomplished it, and was in an ecstasy 
 of joy, the sudden confusion of a failure 
 removed his inclination even to resume 
 the subject. He was still, however, 
 possessed with the idea that his head was 
 not his own : but from this notion he 
 was diverted by a repartee made to him, 
 when he happened to be defending the 
 possibility of the miracle of St. Denys, 
 who, it is said, was in the habit of walk- 
 ing with his head between his hands, and 
 in that position continually kissing it, 
 ' What a fool you are to believe such a 
 story,' it was replied, with a burst 
 of laughtjr; * How could St. Denys kis» 
 his head ? was it with his heels V This 
 unanswerable and unexpected retort 
 struck and confounded the madman so 
 much, that it prevented him from saying 
 any thing farther on the subject ; he 
 again betook himself to business, and en- 
 tirely regained his intellects."* 
 
 St. Denys, as the great patron of France, 
 
 "inel on Insanity. 
 
 686 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— (JCTOBER JO. II. 
 
 is highly distinguished. "France," says 
 oishop Patricit, "glories in the relics 
 of this saint ; yet Baronius tells us, that 
 Ratisbonne in Germany has long con- 
 tested with them about it, and show his 
 body there; and pope Leo IX. set out a 
 declaration determining that the true 
 body of St. Denys was entiie at Ratis- 
 bonne, wanting only the little finger of 
 his right hand, yet they of Paris ceased 
 not their pretences to it, so that here are 
 two bodies venerated of the same indi- 
 vidual saint ; and both of them are mis- 
 taken if they of Prague have not been 
 d.eated, among whose numerous relics 
 T find the arm of St. Denys, the apostle of 
 Paris, reckoned." The bishop concludes 
 by extracting part of a Latin service, in 
 honour of St. Denys, from the "Roman 
 Missal,"* wherein the prominent miracle 
 before alluded to is celebrated in the fol- 
 lowing words, thus rendered by the 
 bishop into English .— • 
 
 He fell indeed, but presently 
 
 arose, 
 The breathless body finds both 
 
 feet and way, 
 lie takes his head in hand, and 
 
 forward goes, 
 
 Till the directing angels bid 
 
 him stay. 
 Well may the church triumphantly 
 
 proclaim 
 This martyr's death, and never 
 dying faiue. 
 
 Several devotional books contain prints 
 representing St. Denys walking with hjs 
 head in his hands. Une of them, entitled 
 " Le Tableau de la Croix, represente 
 dans les Ceremonies de la S*e. Messe," 
 consists of a hundred engravings by J. 
 Collin,* aod from one of them the "lively 
 portraiture" of the saint prefixed to this 
 article is taken. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORV. 
 
 Milky Agaric. Ac;ariais lartijlorus. 
 Dedicated to St. Denis. 
 
 (Bttohtv 10. 
 
 St. Fra7icis Borgia, a. d. 1572. St 
 Panlinus, Abp. of York, a. d. 644. 
 St. John of Bridlington, a. d. 1379. 
 
 1825. 
 Oxford and Cambridge Terms begin on this duj 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 There is a fearful spirit busy now. 
 Already have the elements unfurled 
 Their banners : the great sea-wave is upcurled : 
 
 The cloud comes : the fierce winds begin to blow 
 About, and blindly on their errands go; 
 And quickly will the pale red leaves be hurled 
 From their dry boughs, and all the forest world 
 
 Stripped of its pride, be like a desert show. 
 
 I love that moaning music which I hear 
 In the bleak gusts of autumn, for the soul 
 
 Seems gathering tidings from another spliere, 
 And, in sublime mysterious sympathy, 
 Man's bounding spirit ebbs and swells more high, 
 
 Accordant to the billow's loftier roll.f 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORy. 
 
 Cape Acetris. Velthemia Viridifolia. 
 Dedicated to St. Francis Borgia. 
 
 (i^ttoljer U 
 
 ^7«. larachus, Probus, and Andronicus, 
 A.D. 304. 5^ Gummar, or Gomar, 
 K. D 774. St. Ethelburge, or Edil- 
 
 bnrge, a. n. 664. St. Cariicus, ot 
 Kenny, Abbot in Ireland, a. d. 599. 
 
 St. Ethelburge. 
 In ancient times on the festival of this 
 saint, furmity was " an usual dish "t 
 
 On this day it was a custom in Hert- 
 fordshire for young men to assemble ifl 
 the fields and choose a leader, whom they 
 
 I'aris, 1520, folio. 
 
 * Imp. H Paris, 4to. + Literary Pocket Book 
 i Vosbroke's Er.cy. of Antiq. 
 
 687 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 12, 13. 
 
 were obliged to follow through ponds 
 and ditches, " over brake and briar." 
 Every person they met was taken up by 
 the arms and bumped, or swung against 
 another. Each publican furnished a 
 gallon of ale and plum-cake, which was 
 consumed in the open air. This was a 
 septennial custom and called gang}ng- 
 datj.' 
 
 FIORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Holly. Ilex aquifoVinm. 
 Dedicated to St. Ethelburge. 
 
 dPrtoljer 12. 
 
 St. TFilfrid, Bp. of York, a. d. 709. 
 Seasonable IFork. 
 
 Now come the long evenings with 
 devices for amusing them. In the in- 
 tervals of recreation there is " work to 
 do." This word " work" is significant 
 of an employment which astonishes men, 
 and seems never to tire the fingers of 
 their industrious helpmates and daugh- 
 ters ; except that, with an expression 
 which we are at a loss to take for either 
 jest or earnest, because it partakes of 
 each, they now and then exclami, " wo- 
 mens' work is never done !" The asser- 
 tion is not exactly the fact, but it is not 
 a great way from it. What " man o( 
 woman born" ever considered the quan- 
 tity of stiches in a shirt without fear that 
 a general mutiny among females might 
 leave him " without a shirt to his back ?" 
 Cannot an ingenious spinner devise a 
 seamless shirt, with its gussets, and 
 wristbands, and collar, and selvages as 
 durable as hemming? The immense 
 work in a shirt is concealed, and yet 
 happily every " better half" prides her- 
 self on thinking that she could never do 
 too much towards making good shirts for 
 her " good man." Is it not in his power 
 to relieve her from some of this labour ? 
 Can he not form himself and friends into 
 a " society of hearts and manufactures,'" 
 and get shirts made, as well as washed, by 
 machinery and steam ? These inquiries 
 are occasioned "by the following 
 
 Letter from a Lady. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every- Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 
 I assure you the Every Day Book is 
 a great favourite among the 'adies; and 
 therefore, I send for your insertion a 
 
 calculation, furnished me by a maiden 
 aunt, of the number of stitches in a plain 
 shirt she made for her grandfather 
 
 Stitching the collar, four rows 3,000 
 Sewing the ends - - - - 500 
 Button-holes, and sewing on 
 
 buttons ._-.-- 150 
 Sewing on the collar and gather- 
 ing the neck - - - - 1,^04 
 Stitching wristbands - - 1,228 
 Sewing the ends - - - - 68 
 Button-holes ----- 148 
 Hemming the slits - - - - 264 
 Gathering the sleeves - - 840 
 Setting on wristbands - - 1,468 
 Stitching shoulder-straps, three 
 
 rows each ----- 1,880 
 Hemming the neck - - - 390 
 Sewing the sleeves - - - 2,554 
 Setting in sleeves and gussets 3,050 
 Taping the sleeves - . - 1,526 
 Sewin^; the seams - - - 848 
 Setting side gussets - - 424 
 Hemming the bottom - - 1,104 
 
 Total number of stitches 20,646 ir 
 My aunt's grandfather's plain shirt, 
 As witness my hand, 
 
 Cerikvde Gjuzcnuoofe. 
 Cotien/iam, 
 
 Near Cambridi^e, 
 Sept. J 825'. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Wavy Fieabane. Jimla nndulata. 
 Dedicated to St. JFilfred. 
 
 d^ftoftcr 13. 
 
 St. Edward, King and Confessor, a. d. 
 1066. Sts. Faustits, Januarius, and 
 Martialis, a. d. 304. Seven Friar 
 Minors, Martyrs, a. d. 1221, St. Col- 
 man, A. D, 1012. St. Gerald, Coun' 
 of Aurillac, or Orilhac, a. d. 909. 
 
 Cransilatiou Hiitg ^tilyarli 
 
 Tliis, in the church of England calendar 
 find almanacs, denotes the day to be a 
 festival to the memory of the removal oJ 
 his bones or relics, as they are called by 
 the Roman church, from whence the fes- 
 tival is derived 
 
 Corpulency. 
 
 On the 13th of October, 1754, died a) 
 
 688 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 14,15. 
 
 Steboing in Essex, Mr. Jacob Powell. 
 lie weighed nearly forty stone, or five 
 hundred and sixty pounds. His body was 
 bove five yards in circumference, and his 
 limbs were in proportion. He had sixteen 
 men to carry him to his grave.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRrXTORV. 
 
 Smooth Helenium. Heleninm autumnala. 
 Dedicated to St. Edward. 
 
 #rtol)fr 14. 
 
 St. CaHo'ttis, or Callisius, Pope, a.d. 222. 
 .Si'. Donatian, Bp. a. d. 389. St. Burck- 
 ard, 1st Bp. of Wurtsburg, a. d. 752. 
 St. Dominic, surnamed Loricatus, a.d. 
 1060. 
 
 THE YEAR. 
 
 The year is now declining; " the sear, 
 the yellow leaf" falls, and " dies in Octo- 
 ber." There is a moral in every thing to 
 moralizing minds ; these indications of 
 wear on the face of the earth, induce 
 moralities on the use and abuse of time. 
 
 7'he Hare and Tortoise. 
 
 In days of yore, when Time was young, 
 When birds conversM as well as sung, 
 When use of speech was not confin'd 
 Merely to brutes of human kind, 
 A forward hare, of swiftness vain, 
 The genius of the neighb'ring plain, 
 Would oft deride the drudging crowd : 
 For geniuses are ever proud. 
 He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow. 
 For dog and horse he'd beat them hollow ; 
 Nay, if he put forth all his strength. 
 Outstrip his brethren half a length. 
 
 A tortcise heard his vain oration, 
 And vented thus his indignation : 
 " Oh puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace, 
 When I defy thee to the race. 
 CoMie, 'tis a match, nay, no denial, 
 I'll lay uiy shell upon the trial." 
 'Twas done and done, all fair, a bet, 
 Judges prepar'd, and distance set. 
 
 The scamp'ring hare outsfe^it the wind, 
 Tlie creeping tortoise lagg'd behind, 
 And scarce had pass'd a single pole, 
 When puss had almost reach'd the goal. 
 " Friend tortoise," quoth the jeering hare, 
 " Vour burthen's more than you can hear. 
 To help your speed it were as well 
 That I should ease you of your shell : 
 
 * Genlletnan's Magazine. 
 
 Jog on a little faster, pr'ythce, 
 
 I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 
 
 So said, so done, and safely sure, 
 
 For say, what conquest more secure ? 
 
 Whene'er he walk'd (that's all that's in it) 
 
 fie could o'ertakc him it. .3 minute. 
 
 The tortoise heard his taunting jeer, 
 But still resolv'd to persevere. 
 Still drawl'd along, as who should say, 
 I'll win, like Fabius, by delay ; 
 On to the goal securely crept. 
 While puss unknowing soundly slept- 
 
 The bets were won, the hare awoke. 
 When thus the victor tortoise spoke : 
 " Puss, the' I own thy quicker parts, 
 Tilings are not always done by starts. 
 You may deride my awkward pace. 
 But slow and steady wins the race." IJuyd 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Indian Fleabane. Imila Indica. 
 Dedicated to St. CaUxtus. 
 
 (BtXn^tx 15 
 
 5^ Teresa, Virgin, a.d. 1582. St. Tecln, 
 Abbess. <S^ Hospicius, or Hosjns 
 A.D. 580. 
 
 Scent of Dogs, and Tobacco, 
 
 A contemporary kalendarian* appears 
 to be an early smoker and a keen sports- 
 man. He says, " From having constant- 
 ly amused ourselves with our pipe early 
 in the morning, we have discovered and 
 are enabled to point out an almost infalli- 
 able method of judging of good seen*. 
 When the tobacco smoke seems to harg 
 lazily in the air, scarcely sinking or 
 rising, or moving from the place where 
 it is emitted from the pipe, producing at 
 the same time a strong smell, which lasts 
 some time in the same place after the 
 smoke is apparently dispersed, we may 
 on that day be sure that the scent will lay 
 well. We have seldom known this rule 
 to deceive ; but it must be remembered 
 that the state of the air will sometimes 
 change in the course of the day, and that 
 the scent will drop all of a sudden, and 
 thus throw the hounds all out, and break 
 oft" the chase abruptly. For as Sommer« 
 villa says : — 
 
 * Dr. Foisler. 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 689 
 
 2 Y 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER iC. 
 
 Thus on on the air 
 Depend the hunter's hopes. When ruddy streaks 
 At eve forebode a blustering stormy day, ^ 
 Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain's brow, 
 When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blasts 
 Of the dry parching east, menace the trees 
 With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spare 
 Thy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of straw 
 Low sinking at their ease ; listless they shrink 
 Into some dark recess, nor hear thy voice 
 Thought oft invoked ; or haply if thy call 
 Rouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes 
 Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tails 
 Inverted ; high on their bent backs erect 
 Their pointed bristles stare, or 'mong the tufts 
 Of ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plant 
 Curious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn 
 These inauspicious days, on other cares 
 Employ thy precious hours. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Sweet Sultan. Centanrea moschi 
 Dedicated to St. Teresa. 
 
 (j^rtoljtr 16. 
 
 St. Gall, Abbot, a. d. 646. St. Lullus, or 
 Lnllon, Abp., a. d. 787. St. Mnm- 
 molin, or MommoUn, Bp. a. d. 665. 
 
 CUSTOM AT ESKDALE, YORKSHIRE. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Ascension-day, whereon there is a re- 
 markable annual custom in maintenance 
 of a tenure, has passed, but as it originat- 
 ed from a circumstance on the 16th of 
 October, you can introduce it on that day, 
 and it will probably be informing as well 
 as amusing to the majority of readers. 
 The narrative is derived from a tract for- 
 merly published at Whitby. I am, &c. 
 
 Wentana Civis. 
 
 On this day in the fifth year of the 
 reign of king Henry II. after the con- 
 quest of England, (1140,) by William, 
 duke of Normandy, the lord of Ugle- 
 barnbi/, then called William de Bruce, the 
 lord of Snaynton, called Ralph de Percy, 
 and a gentleman freeholder called Allot- 
 son, did meet to hunt the wild boar, in a 
 certain wood or desert, called Eskdale 
 side ; the wood or place did belong to the 
 abbot of the monastery of Whitby in York- 
 shire, who was then called Sedman, and 
 abbot of the said place. 
 
 Then, tne aforesaid gentlemen did meet 
 with their hounds and boar-staves in the 
 place aforesaid, and there found a great 
 wild boar; and the hounds did run him very 
 hard, near the chapel and hermitage of 
 Eskdale side, where there was a monk of 
 Whitby, who was an hermit ; and the 
 boar being so hard pursued, took in at 
 the chapel door, and there laid him down, 
 and died immediately, and the hermit 
 shut the hounds out of the chapel, and 
 kept himself at his meditation and pray 
 ers ; the hounds standing at bay without, 
 the gentlemen in the thick of the wood, 
 put behind their game, in following the 
 cry of the hounds, came to the hermitage 
 and found the nounds round the chapel ; 
 then came the gentlemen to the door of 
 the chapel, and called on the hermit, who 
 did open the door, and then they got forth, 
 and within lay the boar dead, for which 
 the gentlemen, in a fury, because their 
 hounds were put out of their game, run 
 at the hermit with their boar-staves, 
 whereof he died ; then the gentlemen 
 knowing, and perceiving that he was in 
 peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarbo- 
 rough ; but at that time, the abbot, being 
 in great favour with the king, did remove 
 them out of the sanctuary, whereby they 
 became in danger of the law, and not 
 privileged, but like to have the severity of 
 the law, which was death. But the her- 
 mit being a holy man, and being very sick 
 and at the point of death, sent for the 
 abbot, and desired him to send for the 
 gentlemen, who had wounded him to 
 death ; so doing, the gentlemen came, and 
 the hermit being sick, said, " I am sure 
 
 690 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 17. 
 
 to die of tlie^e wounds:" but the abbot 
 answered, " Tliey shall die for it,'' but 
 ilie hermit said, " Not so, for I will freely 
 forgive them my death, if they are con- 
 tent to be enjoined this penalty (penance) 
 for the safeguard of their souls ;" the 
 gentlemen being there present, bid him 
 enjoin what he would, so he saved their 
 lives : then said the hermit, "you and yours 
 shall hold your land of the abbot of 
 Whitby, and his successors in this man- 
 ner : that upon Ascension-day Even, you 
 or some of you shall come to tlie wood of 
 Strayheads, which is in Eskdale side, 
 and the same (Ascension-day) at sun ris- 
 ing, and there shall the officer of the ab- 
 bot blow his horn, to the intent that you 
 may know how to find him, and deliver 
 unto you William de Bruce, ten stakes, 
 eleven street stowers, and eleven yadders, 
 to be cut with a knife of a penny price ; 
 and you Ralph de Percy, shall take one 
 and twenty of each sort, to be cut in the 
 same manner; and you Allotson, shall 
 take nine of each sort to be cut as afore- 
 said, and to be taken on your backs, and 
 carried to the town of Whitby, and to be 
 there before nine o'clock of the same day 
 before mentioned : and at the hour of 
 nine o'clock, if it be full sea, to cease 
 their service, as long as till it be low 
 water, and at nine o'clock of the same 
 day, each of you shall set your stakes at 
 the brim of the water, each stake a yard 
 from another, and so yadder them with 
 your yadders, and to stake them on each 
 side, with street stoweTs, that they stand 
 three tides, without removing by the 
 force of the water; each of you shall 
 mike at that hour in every year, except it 
 be full sea at that hour, which when it 
 shall happen to come to pass, the service 
 shall cease : you shall do this to remem- 
 ber that you did slay me ; and that you 
 may the better call to God for mercy, 
 repent youselves, and do good works. 
 The officer of Eskdale side, shall blow. 
 Out on you ! out on you ! out on you ! 
 for this heinous crime of yours. If you 
 or your successors refuse this service, so 
 long as it shall not "be a full sea, at the 
 hour aforesaid, you or your's shall forfeit 
 all your land to the abbot or his succes- 
 sors ; this I do entreat, that you may have 
 your lives, and goods for this service, and 
 you to promise by your parts in heaven, 
 that it shall be done by you and your suc- 
 cessors, as it is aforesaid :" and then the 
 abbot said, " I grant all that you have 
 said, and will confirm it by the faith of an 
 
 honest man." Then the hermit said, 
 " My soul longeth for the Lord, and I as 
 freely forgive these gentlemen my deatn, 
 as Christ forgave the thief upon the 
 cross ;'' and in the presence of the abbe* 
 and the rest, he said moreover these 
 words, " In manus tuas, Domine cotn- 
 meudo spirifum meum, a vincnlis enin 
 mortis redimisti me, Domine veritatis," 
 (Into thy hands O Lord I recommend my 
 spirit, for thou hast redeemed me from 
 the bonds of death O Lord of Truth,) 
 and the abbot and the rest said " Amen,'* 
 and so yielded up the ghost the eighth 
 day of December, upon whose soul God 
 have mercy. Anno Domini, 1 160. 
 
 N. B. This service is still annually per 
 formed. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Y'arrow. Achillce mnltifolium. 
 Dedicated to St. Gall 
 
 #rtol)fr 17. 
 
 St. Hedwiges, or Avoice, duchess of Po- 
 land, A. D. 1243, St. Anstrndis, or 
 Anstru, A. D. 688. St. Andreiv of 
 Crete, a. d. 761. 
 
 She was daughter of Annas, king of the 
 East Angles, and born about 630, at 
 Ixning, formerly a town of note on the 
 western border of Suffolk, next Cam- 
 bridgeshire. At Coldingham Abbey, 
 Yorkshire, she took the veil under Ebba, 
 daughter of king Etiielfrida, an abbess, 
 afterwards celebrated for having saved 
 herself and her nuns from the outrage of 
 the Danes by mutilating their faces ; the 
 brutal invaders enclosed them in their 
 convent and destroyed them by fire. 
 
 Notwithstanding Etheldreda's vow to 
 remain a nun, she was twice forced by 
 her parents to marry, and yet maintained 
 her vow; hence she is styled, in the Ro- 
 mish breviaries, "twice a widow and al- 
 ways a virgin." On the death of her 
 first husband Tonbert, a nobleman of th? 
 East Angles, the isle of Ely became her 
 sole property by jointure, and she founded 
 a convent, and the convent church there ; 
 and for their maintenance endowed them 
 with the whole island. She married hei 
 second husband Egfrid,king of Northum- 
 
 * Blount bv Berk with. 
 
 G91 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBEll 17. 
 
 bet-land, on the death of Tonhert, in 671, 
 but persisted in her vow, and died abbess 
 of her convent on the 23d of June, 679. 
 On the 17th of October, sixteen years 
 afterwards, her relics were translated, 
 and therefore on this day her festival is 
 commemorated. In 870, the Danes made 
 a descent on the isle of Ely, destroyed the 
 convent and slaujj;htered the inhabitants. 
 By abbreviation her name became cor- 
 rupted to Auldrey and Audrey.* 
 
 Tawdry— St Audrey. 
 
 As at the annual fair in the isle 
 of Ely, called St. Audrey's fair, "much 
 ordinary but showy lace was usually 
 sold to the country lasses, St. Au- 
 drey's lace soon became proverbial, and 
 from that cause Taudry, a corruption of 
 St. Audrey, was established as a common 
 expression to denote not only lace, but 
 any other part of female dress, which was 
 much more gaudy in appearance than 
 warranted by its real quality and value." 
 This is the assertion of Mr. Brady, in his 
 "Clavis Calendaria," who, for aught that 
 appears to the contrary, gives the deri- 
 vation of the word as his own conjecture, 
 but Mr. Archdeacon Nares, in his admi- 
 rable " Glossary," shows the meaning to 
 nave been derived from Harpsfield, " an 
 old English historian," who refers to the 
 appellation, and " makes St. Audrey die 
 of a swelling in her throat, which she 
 considered as a particular judgment, for 
 having been in her youth much addicted 
 to wearing fine necklaces.'' There is not 
 now any grounds to doubt that tawdry 
 comes from St. Audrey. It was so deriv- 
 ed in Dr. Johnson's " Dictionary" before 
 Mr. Todd's edition. Dr. Ash deemed 
 the word of uncertain etymology." 
 
 HARES AND SQUIRRELS. 
 
 The pleasant correspondent of Mr. 
 Urban, whose account of his squirrels 
 is introduced on the seventh day of the pre- 
 sent month, was induced, by Mr. Cow- 
 per's experience in the management ot 
 his hares, to procure a hare about three 
 weeks old. "The little creature," he 
 says, " at first pined for his dam, and his 
 liberty, and refused food. In a few days 
 I prevailed with him to take some milk 
 from my lips, and this is still his favourite 
 method of drinking. Soon after, observ- 
 ing that he greedily lapped sweet things, 
 
 • Audley. Biady. 
 
 I dipped a cabbage-leaf in honey, and thus 
 tempted him to eat the first solid food h 
 ever tasted. I beg leave to add to Mr 
 Cowper'sbill of fare, nuts, walnuts, pears 
 sweet cakes of all kinds, sea biscuits 
 sugar, and, above all, apple-pie. Every 
 thing which is hard and crisp seems to be 
 particularly relished. — ^The iris of the 
 hare is very beautiful ; it has the appearance 
 of the gills of a young mushroom, seeming 
 to consist of very delicate fibres, disposed 
 like radii issuing from a common centre. 
 I shall be glad to be informed by any 
 person, skilled in anatomy, whether this 
 structure of the iris be not of use to enable 
 the eye to bear the constant action of the 
 light; as it is a common opinion that this 
 animal sleeps, even in the day-time, with 
 its eyes open. I have observed, likewise, 
 that the fur of the hare is more stnmgly 
 electrical than the hair of any other animal. 
 If you apply the point of a finger to his 
 side in frosty weather, the hairs are im- 
 mediately strongly attracted towards it 
 from all points, and closely embrace ihe 
 finger on every side." 
 
 It should be added from this agreeable 
 writer, as regards the squirrel, that he 
 was much surprised at the great advantage 
 the little animal derives from his extended 
 tail, which brings his body so nearly to an 
 equipoise with theair, as torender a leap or 
 fall from the greatest height perfectly safe 
 to him. " My squirrel has more than once 
 leaped from the window of the second 
 story, and alighted on stone steps, or on 
 hard gravel, without suffering any incon- 
 venience. But I should be glad to have 
 confirmaticn, from an eye-witness, of 
 what Mr. Pennant relates on the credit 
 of Linnaeus, Klein, Ilzaczinski, and Schef- 
 fer, viz. that a squirrel sometimes crosses 
 a river on a piece of bark by way of boat, 
 using his tail as a sail. Not less astonish- 
 ing is the undaunted courage of these little 
 brutes : they seem sometimes resolved to 
 conquer as it were, by reflection and for- 
 titude, their natural instinctive fears. I 
 have often known a squirrel tremble and 
 scream at the first sight of a dog or cat, 
 and yet, within a few minutes, after several 
 abortive attempts, summon resolutioQ 
 enough to march up and smell at the vei^ 
 nose of his gigantic enemy. Tliese aj 
 proaches he always makes by short abrup 
 leaps, stamping the ground with his feet 
 as loud as he can ; his vvhole mien and 
 countenance most ridiculously expressive 
 of ancient Pistol's affected valour and in 
 trepidity." 
 
 692 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— OCTOBER 18. 
 
 IN RE SQCIRRELS. 
 
 Be ti remembered, that C. L. comes 
 Iiere and represents his relations ; that 
 is to say, on behalf of the recollections, 
 oeing the next of kin, of him, the said 
 C. L., and of sundry persons who are 
 "aye treading'' in the manner of squir- 
 rels aforesaid ; and tlius he saith : — 
 
 For the Every-Day Book. 
 
 What is gone with the Cages with the 
 climbing Squirrel and bells to them, 
 which were formerly the indispensable 
 appendage to the outside of a Tinman's 
 shop, and were in fact the only Live 
 Signs? One, we believe, still hangs out 
 on Holborn ; but they are fast vanishing 
 with the good old modes of our ances- 
 tors. They seem to have been superseded 
 by that still more ingenious refinement of 
 modern humanity — the Tread-mill ; in 
 which human Squirrels still perform a 
 similar round of ceaseless, improgressive 
 clambering ; which must be nuts to them. 
 
 We almost doubt the fact of the teeth 
 of this creature being so purely orange- 
 coloured, as Mr, Urban 's correspondent 
 gives out. One of our old poets — and 
 they were pretty sharp observers of na- 
 ture — describes them as brown. But 
 perhaps the naturalist referred to meant 
 "of the colour of a Maltese orange,"* 
 which is rather more obfuscated than 
 your fruit of Seville, or Saint Michael's; 
 and may help to reconcile the difference. 
 We cannot speak from observation, but 
 we remember at school getting our fingers 
 into the orangery of one of these little 
 gentry (not having a due caution of the 
 traps set there), and the result proved 
 sourer than lemons. The Author of the 
 Task somewhere speaks of their anger as 
 being " insignificantly fierce," but we 
 found the demonstration of it on this oc- 
 casion quite as significant as we desired ; 
 and have not been disposed since to look 
 any of these " gift horses" in the mouth. 
 Maiden aunts keep these "small deer" 
 as they do parrots, to bite people's fingers, 
 on purpose to give them good advice 
 ** not to venture so near the cage another 
 time.'' As for their " six quavers divided 
 into three quavers and a dotted crotchet," 
 I suppose, they may go into Jeremy 
 
 * Kletciier in the " Faithful Shepherdess." — The 
 Satyr offers to Clorin, 
 
 grapes whose Iiisty blood 
 Ii the learned Pnet's good, 
 Sweeter yet did newr crown 
 The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown 
 Than the squirrels' teeth that crack them. 
 
 Bentham's next budget of Fallacies, along 
 with the " melodious and proportionable 
 kinde of musieke," recorded in your'las' 
 number of another highly gifted animal.* 
 
 C. L. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Tenleaved Sunflower. Helianthus dcca- 
 petalus. 
 Dedicated to St. Anstriidis. 
 
 October 18. 
 
 St. Luke the Evangelist, a. d. 63. St. Ju- 
 lian Sabus, 4th Cent. St. Justin. St 
 Monon, 7th Cent. 
 
 Tlie name of this evangelist is in the 
 church of England calendar and alma- 
 nacs on this day, which was appointed 
 his festival by the Romish church in the 
 twelfth century. As a more convenient 
 occasion will occur for a suitable notice 
 of his history and character, it is deferred 
 till then. It is presumed that he died 
 about the year 70, in the eighty-fourth 
 year of his age, having written his gospel 
 about seven or eight years before. 
 
 CHARLTON FAIR, 
 
 Commonly called 
 
 HORN FAIR. 
 
 At the pleasant village of Charlton, on 
 the north side of Blackheath, about eight 
 miles from London, a fair is held annually 
 on St. Luke's day. It is called " Horn 
 Fair," from the custom of carrying horns 
 at it formerly, and the frequenters still 
 wearing them. A foreigner travelling in 
 England in the year 1598, mentions 
 horns to have been conspicuously dis- 
 played in its neighbourhood at that early 
 period. " Upon taking the air down the 
 river (from London), on the left hand 
 lies Ratcliffe, a considerable suburb. On 
 the opposite shore is fixed a long pole 
 with rams-horns upon it, the intention of 
 which was vulgarly said to be a reflection 
 upon wilful and contented cuckolds.' -^ 
 An old newspaper states, that it was for- 
 merly a custom for a procession to go 
 from some of the inns in Bishopsgate- 
 street, in which were, a king, a queen, a 
 miller, a counsellor, &c., and a great 
 number of others, with horns in their hats, 
 to Charlton, where they went round the 
 church three times. This was accompa- 
 
 * Page 1360. 
 
 t H«ntzncr. 
 
 G93 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 18. 
 
 nied by so many indecencies on Black- 
 healh, such as the wiiipping of females 
 with furze, Sec, that it gave rise to the 
 pioverb of "all is fair at Horn Fair."* 
 A curious biographical memoir relates 
 the custom of going to Horn Fair in wo- 
 mens' clothes. " I remember being there 
 upon Horn-Fair day, I was dressed in 
 my land-ladie's best gown and other wo- 
 men's attire, and to Horn Fair we went, 
 and as we were coming back by water, all 
 the cloathes were spoiled by dirty water, 
 &c., that was flung on us in an inunda- 
 tion, for which I was obliged to present 
 iier with two guineas to make atonement 
 for the damages sustained.''f Mr. Brand, 
 who cites these notices, and observes that 
 Grose mentions this fair, adds, that "It 
 consists of a riotous mob, who, after a 
 printed summons dispersed through the 
 adjacent towns, meet at Cuckold's Point, 
 near Deptford, and march from thence in 
 procession through that town and Green- 
 wich to Charlton, with horns of different 
 iinds upon their heads ; and at the fair 
 friere are sold rams' horns, and every sort 
 of toy made of horn : even the ginger- 
 Dread figures have horns." The same re- 
 corder of customs mentions an absurd 
 tradition assigning the origin of this fair 
 to a grant from king John, which, he very 
 properly remarks, is " too ridiculous to 
 merit the smallest attention." 
 
 "A sermon," says Mr. Brand, "is 
 preached at Charlton church on the fair- 
 day." This sermon is now discontinued 
 on the festival-day : the practice was cre- 
 ated by a bequest of twenty shillings a 
 year to the minister of the parish for 
 preaching it. 
 
 The horn - bearing at this fair may 
 be conjectured to have originated from 
 the symbol, accompanying the figure of 
 St. Luke : when he is represented by 
 sculpture or painting, he is usually in the 
 act of writing, with an ox or cow by his 
 side, whose horns are conspicuous. These 
 seem to have been seized by the former 
 inhabitants of Charlton on the day of the 
 saint's festival, as a lively mode of sound- 
 ing forth their rude pleasure for the holi- 
 day. Though most of the painted glass 
 in the windows of the church was de- 
 stroyed during the troubles in the time of 
 Charles I., yet many fragments remain of 
 St. Luke's ox with wings on his back, and 
 goodly horns upon his head: indeed, with 
 
 * Brand. 
 
 * Life of Mr. William Fuller, 1703, 12mo. 
 
 the exception of two or three armoria* 
 bearings, and a few cherubs' heads, these 
 figures of St. Luke's horned symbol, which 
 escaped destruction, and are carefully 
 placed in the upper part of the windows, 
 are the only painted glass remaining ; save 
 also, however, that in the east window, 
 there are the head and shoulders of the 
 saint himself, and the same parts of the 
 figure of Aaron. 
 
 The procession of horns, customary at 
 Charlton fair, has ceased ; but horns still 
 continue to be sold from the lowest to 
 " the best booth in the fair." They are 
 chiefly those of sheep, goats, and smaller 
 animals, and are usually gilt and decorated 
 for their less innocent successors to these 
 ornaments. The fair is still a kind of car- 
 nival or masquerade. On St. Luke's-day, 
 1825, though the weather was unfavour- 
 able to the customary humours, most of 
 the visitors wore masks ; several were 
 disguised in women's clothes, and some 
 assumed whimsical characters. Tiie 
 spacious and celebrated Crown and Anchor 
 booth was the principal scene of their 
 amusements. The fair is now held in a 
 private field : formerly it was on the 
 green opposite the church, and facing the 
 mansion of sir Thomas Wilson. The 
 late lady Wilson was a great admirer 
 and patroness of the fair ; the old lady 
 was accustomed tg^come down with hei 
 attendants every morning during the fair, 
 " and in long order go," from the steps 
 of her ancient hall, to without the gates 
 of her court-yard, when the bands of the 
 different shows hailed her appearance, as 
 a signal to strike up their melody of dis- 
 cords : Richardson, always pitched his 
 great booth in front of the house. Latter- 
 ly, however, the fair has diminished ; 
 Richardson was not there in 1825, not 
 were there any shows of consequence, 
 " Horns ! horns !" were the customary 
 and chief cry, and the most conspicuous 
 source of frolic: they were in the hat 
 and bonnet of almost every person in the 
 rout. A few years ago, it was usual foi 
 neighbouring gentry to proceed thither in 
 their carriages during the morning to sef 
 the sports. The fair lasts three days. 
 
 One of the pleasantest walks from 
 Greenwich is over Blackheath, along bv 
 the park-wall to Charlton ; and froin 
 thence after passing through that village, 
 across Woolwich common and Plumstead 
 common, along green lanes, over the foot 
 
 GC-i 
 
Tii£ £VERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 19. 20, 21. 
 
 paths of the fields, to the very retired and 
 rural village of East Wickham, which 
 lies about half a mile ( n the north side of 
 Welling, through which is the great Lon- 
 don road to Dover. There are various 
 pleasant views for the lover of cultivat- 
 ed nature, with occasional fine bursts of 
 the broad flowing Thames. Students in 
 botany and geology will not find it a 
 stroll, barren of objects in their favourite 
 sciences. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Floccose Agaric. Agaricns JIoccosus. 
 Dedicated to 5/. Luke, Evangelist. 
 
 mtoUt 19. 
 
 St. Peter, of Alcantara, a. d. 1562. Sts. 
 Ptolemy, Lucius, and another, a. d. 166. 
 St. Frideswide, patroness of Oxford, 8th 
 Cent. St. Etlibin, or Egbin, Abbot, 6th 
 Cent. 
 
 The Last Rose of Summa: 
 
 'Tis the last rose of summer. 
 
 Left blooming alone, 
 All her lovely companions 
 
 Are faded and gone ; 
 No flower of her kindred, 
 
 No rosebud is nigh, 
 To reflect back her blushes, 
 
 Or give sigh for sigh ! 
 
 I'll not leave thee, thou lone one 
 
 To pine on the stem, 
 Since the lovely are sleeping, 
 
 Go sleep thou with tlieui ; 
 Thus kindly I scatter 
 
 Thy leaves o'er the bed, 
 Where thy mates of the garden 
 
 Lie scentless and dead. 
 
 So soon may I follow, 
 
 When friendships decay. 
 And from love's shining circle 
 
 The gems drop away ! 
 When true hearts lie witheied. 
 
 And fond ones are flown. 
 Oh ! who would inhabit 
 
 This bleak world alone ? Moore. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Tall Tickseed. Coreopsis procosa. 
 Dedicated to St. Frideswide 
 
 (BttO^tV 20. 
 
 St. Artemius, a. d. £62. St. Barsuhias, 
 Abbot, and others, a d. 342. St. Zc- 
 nultius, Bp. St. Siuduljj/ms, or St. 
 
 Sendou, 7th Cent. St. Adian, Bp. ol 
 Mayo, A. d. 768. 
 
 Migration of Birds. 
 Woodcocks have now arrived. In the 
 autumn and setting in of winter they 
 keep dropping in from the Baltic singly, 
 or in pairs, till December. They in- 
 stinctively land in the night, or in dark 
 misty weather, for they are never seen to 
 arrive, but are fre<]uently discovered the 
 next morning in any ditch which aflTords 
 them shelter, after the extraordinary fa- 
 tigue occasioned by the adverse gales 
 which they often have to encounter in 
 their aerial voyage. They do not remain 
 near the shores longer than a day, when 
 they are sufficiently recruited to proceed 
 inland, and they visit the very same 
 haunts which they left the preceding sea- 
 son. In temperate weather they retire to 
 mossy moors, and high bleak mountainous 
 pans ; but as soon as the frost sets in, 
 and the snows begin to fall, they seek 
 lower and warmer situations, with boggy 
 grounds and springs, and little oozing 
 mossy rills, which are rarely frozen, 
 where they shelter in close bushes of 
 holly and furze, and the brakes of woody 
 glens, or in dells which are covered with 
 underwood : here they remain con- 
 cealed during the day, and remove to dif- 
 ferent haunts and feed only in the night. 
 From the beginning of March to the end 
 of that month, or sometimes to the mid- 
 dle of Apjril, they all keep drawing 
 towards the coasts, and avail themselves 
 of the first fair wind to return to their 
 native woods. — The snipe, scolopax 
 gullinago, also comes now, and inhab.iS 
 similar situations. It is migratory, and 
 met with in all countries : like the wood- 
 cock, it shuns the extremes of heat and 
 cold, by keeping upon the bleak moors 
 in summer, and seeking the shelter of the 
 valleys in winter. In unfrozen boggy 
 places, runners from springs, or any open 
 streamlets of water, they are often found 
 in considerable numbers.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yellow Sultan. Centuurea suavcolens. 
 Dedicated to 67. Artemius. 
 
 (Btit^\^tx 21. 
 
 Sts. Ursula, and her Companions, 5lh 
 Cent. St. Hilarion, Abbot, a. d. 371. 
 
 * Dr. Forsler's Perennial Calendar. 
 
 695 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCfOBER 22. 
 
 .<f^ Fiutai), or Mwinn, Abbot, in Ire 
 
 land, A. D. 634. 
 
 The Se\son. 
 
 After a harvest with a good barley 
 crop, a few minutes may be seasonably 
 amused by a pleasant ballad. 
 
 John Barleycorn. 
 Tliere went three kings into the east, 
 
 Three kings both great and high, 
 An' they ha' sworn a solemn oath 
 
 John Barleycorn should die. 
 
 They took a plough and plough'd him 
 down, 
 
 Put clods upon his head, 
 And they hae sworn a solemn oath 
 
 John Barleycorn was dead. 
 
 But the cheerful spring came kindly on, 
 
 And show'rs began to fall ; 
 John Barleycorn got up again. 
 
 And sore surpris'd them all. 
 
 The sultry suns of summer came. 
 And he grew thick and strong. 
 
 His head weel arni'd wi' pointed spears. 
 That no one should him wrong. 
 
 The sober autumn enter'd mild. 
 When he grew wan and pale ; 
 
 His bending joints and drooping head 
 Show'd he began to fail. 
 
 His colour sicken'd more and more. 
 
 He faded into age ; 
 And then his enemies began 
 
 To show their deadly rage. 
 
 They've taen a weapon, long and sharp. 
 
 And cut him by the knee ; 
 Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, 
 
 Like a rogue for forperie. 
 
 Ttiey laid him down upon his back, 
 And cudgcU'd him full sore ; 
 
 They hung him up before the storm. 
 And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 
 
 Tliey filled up a darksome pit 
 
 With water to the brim, 
 They heaved in John Barleycorn, 
 
 There let him sink or swim. 
 
 They laid him out upon the floor. 
 
 To work him farther woe, 
 And still as signs of life appear'd. 
 
 They ' Dss'd him to and fro 
 
 They wasted, o er a scorching ame, 
 
 The marrow of his bones ; 
 But a miller us'd him worst of all. 
 
 For he crush'd him between two stones. 
 
 And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood. 
 And drank it round and round ; 
 
 \nd still the more and more they drank, 
 Their joy did more abound. 
 
 John Barleycorn was a hero hold, 
 
 Of noble enterprise, 
 For if you do but taste his blood, 
 
 'TwJll nake your courage rise. 
 
 Twill make a man forget his woe. 
 Twill heighten all his joy : 
 
 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing 
 Tho' the tear were in her eye. 
 
 Tlien let us toast John Barleycorn, 
 Each man a glass in hand ; 
 
 And may his great posterity 
 
 Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! Burns. 
 
 FLOKA.L DIRECTORY. 
 
 Hairy Silphium. Silphhim asteriscus. 
 Dedicated to St. Ursula. 
 
 October 22. 
 
 St. Philip, Bp. of Heraclen, and others, 
 A. D. 304. Sts. Nvnilo and Alodia, 
 A. D. 840. St. Dontitu/t, Bp. of Fie- 
 soli, in Tuscany, a d. 816. St. Mello, 
 or Melanius, 4th Cent. St. Mark, Bp. 
 
 A. D. 156. 
 
 St. Mark, Bishop of Jerusalem. 
 The two first bishops of Jerusalem 
 were " the apostle St. James and his bro 
 ther St. Simeon ; thirteen bishops who 
 succeeded them were of the Jewish na- 
 tion." Upon an edict of the emperor 
 Adrian, prohibiting all Jews from coming 
 to Jerusalem, Mark, being a Gentile 
 Christian, was chosen bishop of the 
 Christians in that city, and was their first 
 Gentile bishop. He is said to have 
 been martyred in \^ft * 
 
 The Season. 
 They who think the affections are al- 
 ways in season, may not deem these lines 
 out of season. 
 
 TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION. 
 
 7'o a Mother. 
 In the sweet " days of other years," 
 When o'er my cradle first thy tears 
 Were blended with maternal fears. 
 
 And anxious doubts for me ; 
 How often rose my lisping prayer. 
 That heav'n a mother's life would spare. 
 Who watch'd with such incessant care. 
 
 My helpless infancy. 
 
 Those happy hours are past away, 
 Yet fain I'd breathe an artless lay, 
 To greet my mother this blest day. 
 
 For oh ! it gave thee birth ; 
 Hope whispers that it will be dear. 
 As seraph's music to thine ear, 
 Tha-t thou wilt hallow with a tear, 
 
 This tribute to thy worth. 
 
 • ButllT. 
 
 696 
 
TFfFl EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 23, 24, 25. 
 
 A.nfl tli_v approviiiij voice would be 
 .More sweet — more welcome far to me 
 71ian greenest wreaths of minstrelsy, 
 
 Pluck'd from the muses' bowers ; 
 And round this lowly harp of mine, 
 I'd rather that n hand like thine, 
 One simple garland should entwine, 
 
 Than amaranthine flowers. 
 
 My childish griefs were hush'd to rest. 
 Those lips on mine fond kisses prest, 
 Those arms my feeble form carest, 
 
 Wlien few a tliought bestow'd — • 
 When sickness threw its venom'd dart. 
 My pillow was thy aching heart — 
 Thy gentle looks could joy impart. 
 
 With angel love they glow'd. 
 
 This world is but a troubled sea. 
 
 And rude its biliows seem to me ; 
 
 I'et my frail bark must shlpwreck'd be. 
 
 Ere I forget such friend ; 
 Or send an orison on high, 
 That begs not b]e>sings from the sky, 
 That heav'n will hear a daughter's sigh. 
 
 And long thy life defend. 
 
 • FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Three-leaved Silphium. Silphinm trifo- 
 
 liatiim. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Nunllo. 
 
 "St. T/ieodoret, a. d. 362. St. Romnnus, 
 Abp. of Rouen, a. d. 639. St. John 
 Capi.stran, a. d. 14.56. St. Ignatius, 
 Patriarch of Constantinople, a. d. 878. 
 St. Severin, Ahp. of Cologn, a. d. 400. 
 Another St. Severin. 
 
 St. Severin. 
 
 Tlie annals of the saints are confused. 
 St. Severin, Abp. of Cologne, is famous 
 in the history of the church : by him, his 
 own diocese, and that of Tongres, " was 
 purged from the venom of the Arian 
 neresy, about the year 300." He "knew 
 by revelation the death and glory of St. 
 Martin at the time of his departure," and 
 died about 400. So says Butler, who 
 immediately begins with " Another St. 
 Severin or Surin, patron of Bourdeaux," 
 said by some " to have come to Bour- 
 deaux from some part of the east ;" and 
 by others, to have been " the same with 
 the foregoing archbishop of Cologne." It 
 is difficult to make a distinction when we 
 find " two single gentlemen rolled into 
 
 one." Whether one or two is of lit'.le 
 consequence perhaps : their biographers 
 were miraculists. He of Cologne led 
 " an angelical life," according to Butler, 
 who adds, that "his life wrote by For- 
 tunatus is the best :" the latter bio- 
 grapher achieved as great marvels with his 
 pen, as his namesake with his wishing- 
 cap. 
 
 fioral directory. 
 
 Rushy StarwoTt. Aster jitnicus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Theodoret. 
 
 (J^ftofttr 24. 
 
 St. Proclus, Abp. of Constantinople, 
 A. D. 447, St. Felir, a. d. 303. St. 
 Magloire, a. d. 575. 
 
 St. Proclus. 
 Besides his other perfections he was a 
 queller of earthquakes. BiUler instances 
 that " Theophanes, and other Greek his- 
 torians, tell us that a child was taken up 
 into the air, and heard angels singing the 
 Trisagion, or triple doxology," which is 
 " in the preface of the mass ;" and that 
 therefore St. Proclus " taught the people 
 to sing it:" he says that ""it is at least 
 agreed, that on their singing it the earth- 
 quakes ceased." Butler represents the style 
 of this father to be "full of lively wiity 
 turns, more proper to please and delight 
 than to move the heart." Twenty of his 
 homilies were published at Rome in 
 1630, whereof " the first, fifth, and sixth 
 are upon the blessed Virgm Mary, whose 
 title of Mother of GoH,'' says Butler, 
 "he justly extols." Rewrote upon mys- 
 terious theology and the church festivals, 
 and was a great disputant. 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Zigzag Starwort. Aster flexuosus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Prochts. 
 
 etiiybn 25. 
 
 Sts. Crysanthus and Dnria, 3rd Cent 
 Sts. Crispin and Cri.spinian, a. d. 
 287. St. Gandentins of Brescia, a. d 
 420. St. Boniface I. Pope, a. d. 422 
 
 Crispin. 
 
 The name of this saint is in the church 
 of England calendar and the almanacs, 
 why Crispinian's is disjoined from it we 
 are not informed 
 
 697 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBIR 25. 
 
 ST. CRISPIN AND ST. CRISPINIAN, 
 
 £»^£- RONS OF THE GENTLE CRAFT. 
 
 " Our shoes were sow'd with merry notes, 
 
 And by our mirth expell'd all moan ; 
 Like nightingales, from whose sweet throats 
 Most pleasant tunes are nightly blown : 
 The Gentle Craft is fittest then 
 For poor distressed gentlemen '-" 
 
 St. Hugh's Soii^ 
 
 This representation of St. Crispin and 
 St. Crispinian at their seat of work, is 
 faithfully copied from an old engraving 
 of the same size by H. David. Every 
 body knows that they were shoemakers, 
 and patrons of that " art, trade, mystery, 
 calling, or occupation,'' in praise wheieof, 
 when properly exercised, too much cannot 
 be said. Now for a word or two concern- 
 ing these saints. To begin seriously, we 
 will recur to the tenth volume of the 
 " Lives of the Saints," by " the Rev. 
 Alban Butler," where, on the 504th 
 page, we find St. Crispin and St. Cris- 
 pinian called " two glorious martyrs," 
 
 and are told that they came from Rome 
 to preach at Soissons, in France, " towards 
 the middle of the third century, and, in 
 imitation of St. Paul, worked with their 
 hands in the night, making shoes, though 
 they were said to have been nobly born 
 and brothers." They converted many to 
 the Christian faith, till a complaint was 
 lodged against them before Rictius Varus, 
 " the most implacable enemy of the 
 Christian name," who had been appoint- 
 ed governor by the emperor Maximiar 
 Ilerculeus. Butler adds, that " they 
 were victorious over this most inhuman 
 judge, by the patience and constancy 
 
 698 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 25. 
 
 with which they bore the most cruel tor- 
 ments, and finished their course by the 
 sword about the year 287." In the sixth 
 century a great church was built to their 
 honour at Soissons, and their shrine was 
 richly ornamented. These are all the 
 circumstances that Butler relates con- 
 cerning these popular saints : most unac- 
 countably he does not venture a single 
 miracle in belialf of the good name and 
 reputation of either. 
 
 On Crispiu's'day, in the year 1415, the 
 battle of Agincourt was fought between 
 the English, under king Henry V., and the 
 French, under the constable d'Albret. 
 The French had " a force," says Hume, 
 " which, if prudently conducted, was suf- 
 ficient to trample down the English in 
 the open field." They had nearly a hun- 
 dred thousand cavalry. The English 
 force was only six thousand men at 
 arms, and twenty -four thousand foot, 
 mostly archers. The constable of France 
 had selected a strong position in the fields 
 in front of the village of Agincourt. Each 
 lord had planted his banner on the spot 
 which he intended to occupy during the 
 battle. The night was cold, dark, and 
 rainy, but numerous fires lighted the ho- 
 rizon ; while bursts of laughter and mer- 
 riment were repeatedly heard from the 
 soldiery, who spent their time in revelling 
 and debate around their banners, discus- 
 sing the probable events of the next day, 
 and fixing the ransom of the English king 
 and his barons. No one suspected the 
 possibility of defeat, and yet no one could 
 be ignorant that they lay in the vicinity 
 of the field of Cressy. In that fatal field, 
 and in tiie equally fatal field of Poictiers, 
 the French had been the assailants : the 
 French determined therefore, on the pre- 
 sent occasion, to leave tiiat dangerous 
 honour to the English. To the army of 
 Henry, wasted with disease, broken with 
 fatigue, and weakened by the privations 
 of a march through a hostile country in 
 the presence of a superior force, — this was 
 a night of hope and fear, of suspense and 
 anxiety. They were men who had 
 staked their lives on the event of the ap- 
 proaching battle, and spent the inter- 
 vening moments in making their wills, 
 and in attending the exercises of religion. 
 Henry sent his officers to examine the 
 ground by moon-light, arrang'^d the ope- 
 rations of the next day, ordered bands of 
 music to play in succession during the 
 Tiight, and before sun-riiC summoned his 
 
 troops to attend at matins and mass: 
 from thsnce he led them to the field 
 
 His archers, on whom rested his prin- 
 cipal hope, he placed in front ; beside his 
 bow and arrows, his battle-axe or sword, 
 each bore on his shoulder a long stake 
 sharpened at both extremities, which he 
 was instructed to fix obliquely before 
 him in the ground, and thus oppose a 
 rampart of pikes to the charge of the 
 French cavalry. Many of these archers 
 had stripped themselves naked ; the 
 others had bared their arms and breasta 
 that they mighi exercise their limbs with 
 more ease and execution : their well- 
 earned reputation in former battles, and 
 their savage appearance this day struck 
 terror into their enemies. Henry him- 
 self appeared on a grey paltrey in a helmet 
 of polished steel, surmounted by a crown 
 sparkling with jewels, and wearing a 
 surcoat whereon were emblazoned in 
 gold the arms of England and Franco. 
 Followed by a train of led horses, orna- 
 mented with the most gorgeous trappings, 
 he rode from banner to banner cheering 
 and exhorting the men. The French 
 were drawn up in the same order, but 
 with this fearful disparity in point of 
 number, that while the English files were 
 but four, theirs were thirty deep. In 
 their lines were military engines or can- 
 non to cast stones into the midst of the 
 English. The French force relatively to 
 the English was as seven or six to one. 
 When Henry gave the word, " Banners 
 advance !" the men shouted and ran to- 
 wards the enemy, until they were within 
 twenty paces, and then repeated the 
 shout; this was echoed by a detachment 
 which immediately issuing from its con- 
 cealment in a meadow assailed the left 
 flank of the French while the archers ran 
 before their stakes, discharged their arrows, 
 and then retired behind their rampart. 
 To break this formidable body, a select 
 battalion of eight hundred men at arms 
 had been appointed by the constable ; 
 only seven score of these came into 
 action ; they were quickly slain, while the 
 others unable to face the incessant 
 shower of arrows, turned their vizors 
 aside, and lost the government of their 
 horses, which, frantic with pain, plunged 
 back in different directions into the close 
 ranks. The archers seizing the oppor- 
 tunity occasioned by this confusion, 
 slung their bows behind them, a^id 
 bursting into the mass of the enemy, with 
 their sword and battle axes, killed thf 
 
 699 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 25. 
 
 constable and principal commanders, and 
 routed the tirst division of the army. 
 Henry formed the archers again, and 
 charged the second division for two hours 
 in a bloody and doubtful contest, wherein 
 }Ienry himself was brought on his knees 
 by the mace of one of eighteen French 
 knights wlio had bound themselves to kill 
 or take him prisoner : he was rescued by 
 his guards, and this second division was 
 ultimately destroyed. The third shared 
 the same fate, and resistance having 
 ceased, Henry traversed the field with 
 his barons, while the heralds examined the 
 arms and numbered the bodies of the 
 slain. Among them were eight thousand 
 knights and esquires, more than a hun- 
 dred bannerets, seven counts, the three 
 dukes of Brabant, Bar, and Alengon, and 
 the constable and admiral of France. The 
 loss of the conquerors amounted to no more 
 than sixteen hundred men, with the earl of 
 Suffolk and the duke of York, who pe- 
 rished fighting by the king's side, and had 
 an end more honourable than his life. 
 Henry became master of fourteen thou- 
 sand prisoners, the most distinguishedof 
 whom were the dukes of Orleans and 
 Bourbon, and the counts of Eu, Ven- 
 dome, and Richmond. As many of the 
 slain as it was possible to recognise were 
 
 buried in the nearest churches, or con- 
 veyed to the tombs of their ancestors. 
 The rest, to the number ot five thousand 
 eight hundred, were deposited in three 
 long and deep pits dug in the field of 
 battle. This vast cemetery was sur- 
 rounded by a strong enclosure of thorns 
 and trees, which pointed out to succeed- 
 ing generations the spot, where the resolu- 
 tion of a few Englishmen triumphed over 
 the impetuous but ill-directed valour of 
 their numerous enemies. Henry returned 
 to England by way of Dover : the crowd 
 plunged into the waves to meet him : and 
 the conqueror was carried in their arms 
 from his vessel to the beach. The road 
 to London exhibited one triumphal pro- 
 cession. The lords, commons, and clergy 
 the mayor, aldermen, and citizens, con- 
 ducted him into the capital : tapestry, ri 
 presenting the deeds of his ancestors, 
 lined the walls of the houses: pageants 
 were erected in the streets : sweet wines 
 ran in the conduits: bands of children 
 tastefully arrayed sang his praise : and 
 the whole population seemed iu'toxicatcd 
 with joy, — Lingard. 
 
 This memorable achievement on Cris' 
 pins-day is immortalized by Shakspeare, 
 in a speech that he assigns to Henry V. 
 before the battle. 
 
 This day is called — the feast < f Crispian : 
 
 He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 
 Will stand a-tip-toe when this day is named, 
 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian : 
 
 He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 
 
 Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his friends. 
 
 And say, — To-morrow is «'*, Crispian: 
 
 Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars. 
 
 Old men forget ; yet shall not all forget, 
 
 But they'll remember, with advantages. 
 
 What feats they did that day : Then shall our names^ 
 
 Familiar in their mouth as househi Id words, — 
 
 Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 
 
 Warwick, and Talbot, Salisbury, and Glo'ster,— 
 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered : 
 
 This story shall the good man teach his son : 
 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by. 
 
 From this day to the ending of the world, 
 
 But we in it shall be remembered : 
 
 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers 
 
 For he to-day that sheds his blood with me. 
 
 Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile. 
 
 This day shall gentle his condition : 
 
 And gentlemen in England, now abed, 
 
 Shall think themselves accursed they were not here; 
 
 And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks 
 
 That fought with us upon St. Crispin's day. 
 
 700 
 
TIIF, EVEIVV-DAY BOOK,--OCTOBER 26. 
 
 In "Times Telescope" for 1816, it is 
 observed, that " tiie shoemakers of the 
 present day are not far behind their pre- 
 decessors, in the manner of keeping 
 St. Crispin. From the higliest to the 
 lowest it is a day of feasting and joHity. 
 It is also, we believe, observed as a fes- 
 tival with the corporate body of cord- 
 wainers, or shoemakers, of London, but 
 without any sort of procession on the 
 occasion, — except the proceeding to a 
 good tavern to partake of a good dinner, 
 and drink the pious menivry of St. 
 Crispin." 
 
 On the 29th of July, 18?2, the cord- 
 vvainers of Newcastle lield a coronation 
 of their patron St. Crispin, and afterwards 
 walked in procession through the several 
 streets of that town. The coronation took 
 place in the court of the Freemen's Hospi- 
 tal, at t^e W^vtgate, at eleven o'clock ; 
 soon after twelve, the procession moved 
 forward through the principal streets of 
 that town and Gateshead, and finally 
 halted at the sign of the Chancellor's- 
 head, in Newgate-street, where the mem- 
 bers of the trade partook of a dinner 
 provided for the occasion. A great num- 
 ber of people assembled to witness the 
 procession, as there had not been a simi- 
 lar exhibition since the year 1789.* 
 
 The emperor Charles V. being curious 
 to know the sentiments of his meanest 
 subjects concerning himself and his ad- 
 ministration, often went incog, and mixed 
 himself in such companies and conversa- 
 tion as he thought proper. One night at 
 Brussels, his boot ret|uiring immediate 
 mending, he was directed to a cobbler. 
 Unluckily, it happened to be St. Crispin's 
 holiday, and, instead of finding the cob- 
 bler inclined for work, he was in the 
 height of his jollity among his acquaint- 
 ance. The emperor acquainted him with 
 what he wanted, and offered him a hand- 
 some gratuity. — " What, friend !" says the 
 fellow, " do you know no better than to 
 ask one of our craft to work on St. Cris- 
 pin ? Was it Charles himself, I'd not do 
 a stitch for him now ; but if you'll come 
 in and drink St. Crispin, do and welcome : 
 we are as merry as the emperor can be." 
 The emperor accepted the offer : but 
 while he was contemplating their rude 
 pleasure, instead of joining in »t, the 
 jovial host thus accosts him : — " \\ h»t. I 
 
 * Sykes's Local Records. 
 
 suppose you are some courtier poliiician 
 or other, by that contemplative phiz ; but 
 be you who or what you wiii, you are 
 heartily welcome : — drink about — here's 
 Charles the Fiftli'.s health." — " Then you 
 love Charles the Fifth .'" replied the em- 
 peror. — " Love him !" says the son of 
 Crispin ; " ay, ay, I love hi^ long-noseship 
 well enough ; but I should love him muck 
 better would he but tax us a little less; 
 but what have we to do with politics ? 
 round with the glasses, and merry be our 
 hearts." After a short stay, the emperor 
 took his leave, and thanked the cobbler 
 for his hospitable reception. " That," 
 cried he, " you are welcome to ; but I 
 would not have dishonoured St. Crispin 
 to-day to have worked for the emperor." 
 Charles, pleased with the good nature 
 and humour of the man, sent for him next 
 morning to court. You must imagine 
 his surprise to see and hear his late guest 
 was his sovereign : he feared his joke 
 upon his long nose must be punished with 
 death. The emperor thanked him for his 
 hospitality, and, as a reward for it, bade 
 him ask for what he most desired, and 
 take the whole night to settle his surprise 
 and his ambition. Next day he appeared, 
 and requested that, for the future, the 
 cobblers of Flanders might bear for their 
 arms a boot with the emperor's crown 
 upon It. That request was granted, and, 
 as his ambition was so moderate, the 
 emperor bade him make another. " If,*' 
 says he, " I am to have my utmost wishes, 
 command that, for the future, the com- 
 pany of cobblers shall take place of the 
 company of shoemakers." It was, ac- 
 cordingly, so ordained ; and, to tliis day, 
 there is to be seen a chapel in Flanders, 
 adorned with a boot and imperial crown 
 on it : and in all processions, the com- 
 pany of cobblers takes precedence of the 
 company of shoemakers. * 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Fleabane Starwort. Aster Conizoides. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Crispin. 
 
 Meagre Starwort. Aster miser. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Crispinian. 
 
 (Bttohtv 26, 
 
 St. Evaristiis, Pope, a. u. 1 12. Sts, Lu- 
 cian and Marcian. a. d. 250. 
 
 It is noticed by Dr. Forster, that m a 
 mild autumn late grapes now ripen c- 
 
 • European Magazine, vo'. xl. 
 
 701 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 27, 2d, 29. 
 
 the vines, and that the feathering of the 
 very late sorts of apples, and of winter 
 pears, still continues : these latter fruits, 
 like those of the earlier year, are to be laid 
 up in the loft to complete their process of 
 ripening, which, except in a few sorts, is 
 seldom completed on the trees. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Late Golden Rod. SoUdago petiolaris. 
 Dedicated to St. Evaristus. 
 
 aBrtoto 27. 
 
 St. Frumenfius, Apostle of Ethiopia, 4th 
 Cent. St. Eleshaan, King of Ethiopia, 
 A. u. 527. St. Abban, Abbot in Ire- 
 land, eih. Cent. 
 
 Evelyn says, " the loppings and leaves 
 of the elm, dried in the sun, prove a great 
 relief to cattle when fodder is dear, and 
 will be preferred to oats by the cattle." 
 The Herefordshire people, in his time, 
 gathered them in sacks for this purpose, 
 and for their swine. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Floribund Starwort. Aster floribnndus. 
 Dedicated to St. Frumentius. 
 
 (j^rtoljer 28. 
 
 St. Simon, the Zealot, Apostle. St. Jtide, 
 Apostle. St. Faro, Bp. of Meaux, a. u. 
 672. St. Neot, a.d. 877. 
 
 ^t. ^I'mon antr ^t. 3utre. 
 
 A festival to these apostles is main- 
 tained on this day in the church of Eng- 
 land, whereon also it is celebrated by the 
 church of Rome ; hence their names in 
 our almanacs. 
 
 Simo7i is called the Canaanite, either 
 from Cana the place of his birth, or from 
 his having been of a hot and sprightly tem- 
 per. He remained with the other apos- 
 tles till after pentecost, and is imagined 
 on slight grounds to have preached in 
 Britain, and there been put to death. 
 Jiide, or Judas, also called Thaddeus and 
 Lihb'ms^ was brother to James the brother 
 to Christ, (Matt, xiii.55.) Lardner ima- 
 gines he was the son of Joseph by a for- 
 mer wife. Some presume that he suf- 
 fered martyrdom in Persia, but this is 
 doubtful.* 
 
 as St. Swilhin's. A character in the 
 " Roaring Girl," one of Dodsley's old 
 plays, says, " as well as I know 'twill 
 rain upon Simon and Jude's day :" and 
 afterwards, " now a continual Simon and 
 Jude's rain boat all your feathers as flat 
 down as pancakes." HoUinshed notices 
 that on the eve of this day in 1536, when 
 a battle wiis to have been fouglit between 
 the troops of Henry VHI., and the insur- 
 gents in Yorkshire, there fell so great a 
 rain that it could not take place. In the 
 Runic calendar, the day is marked by a 
 ship because these saints were fishermen.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Late Chrysanthemum. Chrysanthemum 
 
 scrotinum. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Sbnon. 
 
 Scattered Starwort. Aster passiflorus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Jude. 
 
 This anniversary was deemed as rainy 
 
 O^rtobf r 29. 
 
 St. Narcissus, Bp. of Jerusalem, 2d 
 Cent. St. Chef, in latin Theuderius, 
 Abbot, A. D. 575. 
 
 New Literary Institution, in 1825. 
 
 At this period, active measures were 
 adopted in London for forming a " JFes- 
 tern Literary and Scientific Institution," 
 for persons engaged in commercial and 
 professional pursuits ; its objects being 
 l.The establishment of a library of re- 
 ference and circulation, and rooms for 
 reading and conversation. 2. The for- 
 mation of the members into classes, to 
 assist them in the acquisition of ancient 
 and modern languages. 3. The delivery 
 of lectures in literature and science. This 
 is an undertaking fraught with advanta- 
 ges, especially to young men whose situ- 
 ations do not permit them convenient 
 access to means of instruction within the 
 reach of their employers, many of whom 
 maybe likewise bettered by its maturity. 
 The mechanics had an excellent " insti 
 tution," while persons, who, engaged in 
 promoting general business, and meriting 
 equal regard, remained without the bene- 
 fit which growing intelligence offers to all 
 who have industry and inclination suffi- 
 cient to devise methods for reaching it. 
 Other institutions have arisen, and are 
 rapidly arising, for equally praiseworthy 
 purposes. 
 
 • Audl'<y. 
 
 702 
 
THE EVERY-DaY book.— OCTOBER 30. 
 
 FLORAL DIRrXTORY. 
 
 Green /ailumnal Nnrcissus. A^arcissns 
 
 v'lridiflorus. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Narcissus, Bp. 
 
 d^rtoljer 30. 
 
 St. Marcelhis, the Centurion, a. d. 298. 
 St. Germanus, Bp. of Capua, a n. 540. 
 ■S^ Asterins, Bp. of Amasea in Pontus, 
 A.D. 400. 
 
 St. Katharine's by the Tower. 
 
 To the Editor ^f the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, 0^^29,1825. 
 
 The ancient and beautiful collegiate 
 church of St. Katharine finally closes to- 
 morrow, previous to its demolition by 
 the St. Katharine's dock company. The 
 destruction of an edifice of such antiquity, 
 one of the very few that escaped the 
 great fire of 1666, has e?^cited much pub- 
 lic attention. I hope, therefore, that the 
 subject will not be lost sight of in your 
 Every-Day Book. Numbers of the no- 
 bility and gentry, who, notwithstanding 
 an earnest appeal was made to them, left 
 the sacred pile to its fate, have lately vi- 
 sited it. In fact, foi the beauty and sim- 
 plicity of its architecture, it has scarcely 
 a rival in London, excepting the Temple 
 church : the interior is ornamented with 
 various specimens of ancient carving ; a 
 costly monument of the duke of Exeter, 
 and various others of an interesting kind. 
 This interesting fabric has been sacri- 
 ficed by the present chapter, consisting of 
 the master, sir Herbert Taylor, three bre- 
 thren chaplains, and three sisters, to a 
 new dock company, who have no doubt 
 paid them handsomely for sanctioning the 
 pulling down of the church, the violation 
 of the graves, and the turning of hundreds 
 of poor deserving people out of theii 
 homes ; their plea is, that they have paid 
 the chapter. I hope, sir, you will pardon 
 the liberty I have taken in troubling you 
 with these particulars ; and that you will 
 not forget poor Old Kate, deserted as she 
 is by those whose duty it was to have 
 supported her. 
 
 I remain. 
 Your obedient servant, 
 A Native of the Precinct. 
 
 P. S. There is no more occasion for 
 these docks than for one at the foot of 
 Ludgate-hill. 
 
 The purpose of this correspondent may 
 be answered, perhaps, by publishing his 
 
 well-founded lamentntion over the fina 
 dissolution of his church; his call upOD 
 me could not be declined. I did not get 
 his note till the very hour that the service 
 was commencing, and hurried from Lud. 
 gate-hill to the ancient " collegiate church 
 of St. Katharine's by the Tower," where I 
 arrived just before the conclusion of 
 prayers. Numbers unable to get acconrv- 
 modation among the crowd within, were 
 coming from the place; but " where there's 
 a will there's a way," and I contrived to 
 gain a passage to the chancel, and was 
 ultimately conducted to a seat in a 
 pew just as the rev. R. K. Bailey, resident 
 chaplain of the tower, ascended the cu- 
 rious old pulpit of this remarkable struc- 
 ture. This gentleman, whose " History 
 of the Tower" is well known to topogra- 
 phers and antiquaries, appropriately se- 
 lected for his text, " Go to now, ye that 
 say, to-day or to-morrow we will go into 
 such a city, and continue there a year, 
 and buy and sell and get gain." (James 
 iv. 13.) He discoursed of the frailty of 
 man's purpose, and the insecurity of his 
 institutions, and enjoined hope and reli- 
 ance on Him whose order ordained and 
 preserves the world in its mutations. He 
 spoke of the " unfeeling and encroaching 
 hand of commerce," which had rudely 
 seized on the venerable fabric, wherein no 
 more shall be said — 
 
 " Lord, how delightful 'tis to see, 
 A whole assembly worship thee." 
 
 To some of the many present the build- 
 ing was endeared by locality, and its bu- 
 rial ground was sacred earth. Yet from 
 thence the bones of their kindred were to 
 be expelled, and the foundations of the 
 sdifice swept away. For eight centuries 
 the site had been undisturbed, save for 
 the reception ot the departed from the 
 world — for him whose friends claimed 
 that there "the servant should be free 
 from his master," or for the opulent, who, 
 in his end, was needy as the needy, and 
 required only " a little, little grave." Yet 
 the very chambers of the dead were to be 
 razed, and the remains of mortality dis- 
 persed, and a standing water was to be in 
 their stead. The preacher, in sad remem- 
 brance, briefly, but strongly, touched or 
 the coming demolition of the fane, ane; 
 there were those among the congregation 
 who deeply sorrowed. On the featiues of 
 an elderly inhabitant opposite to n^e, 
 there was a convulsive twitching, while, 
 with his head thrown back, he watched 
 
 703 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 the preacher's lips, and the big tear 
 sprung from his eyes ; and the partner of 
 his long life leaned forward and wept ; 
 the bosoms of their daughters rose 
 and fell in grief; matrons and virgins 
 sobbed ; manly hearts were swollen, and 
 strong men were bowed. 
 
 After the sermon " sixty poor children 
 of the precinct," for whose benefit it was 
 preached — it was the last office that cou-ld 
 be celebrated there in their behalf — sung 
 a hymn to the magnificent organ, which, 
 on the morrow, was to be pulled down. 
 ITiey choralled in tender tones — ■ 
 
 " Great God, O ! hear our humble song-, 
 An ofF'ring to thy praise, 
 O I guard our tender youth from wrong, 
 And keep us in tliy ways '." 
 
 Tliese were the offspring of a neigh- 
 bourhood of ill fame, whence, by liberal 
 hands, they had been plucked and pre- 
 served as brands from the burning fire. 
 It seemed as though they were about to 
 be scattered from the fold wherein they 
 had been folded and kept. 
 
 V/hile the destruction of this edifice 
 was contemplated, the purpose gave rise 
 to remonstrance ; but resistance was quell 
 ed by the applications, which are usu- 
 ally successful in such cases. " An Earn- 
 est Appeal to the Lords and Commons in 
 Parliament, by a Clergyman," was inef- 
 fectually printed and circulated with the 
 hope of preventing the act. This little 
 tract says : — 
 
 " The collegiate body to whom the 
 church and precinct pertain, and who 
 have not alumys been so insensible to the 
 nobler principles they now abandon, 
 owe their origin to Maud, wife of kmg 
 Stephen — tlieir present constitution to 
 Eleanor, wife of kin" Henry III. — and 
 their exemption from the general dissolu- 
 tion in the time of Henry VIII. to the at- 
 tractions (it is said) of Anne Boleyn. 
 The queens' consort have from the first 
 been patronesses, and on a vacancy of 
 the crown matrimonial, the kings of Eng- 
 land. The fabric for which, in default of its 
 retained advocates, I have ventured now 
 to plead, is of the age of king Edward III., 
 lofty and well-proportioned, rich in an- 
 cient carvina:, adorned with effigies of a 
 Holland, a Stafl'ord, a Moncacute, all allied 
 to the blood royal, and in spite of succes- 
 sive mutilations is well able to plead for it- 
 self : surely then, for its own sake, as well 
 as for the freneral interests involved in its 
 presci vaiion, it is not too much to ask, 
 that it may, at least, oe confronted with 
 
 those who wish its destruction — that its 
 obscure location aiay not cause its con- 
 demnation unseen — that no one will pass 
 sentence who has not visited the spot, and 
 that, having so done, he will suffer the 
 unbiassed dictates of his own heart to 
 decide." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 INIixen Agaric. Agar'icus fimetarius. 
 Dedicated to St. Marcdlus, 
 
 (Btit^'^tx 31. 
 
 St. Qidntin, A- d. 287. St. JFolfgang, 
 Bp. of Ratisbon, a. d. 994. St. Foil- 
 Ian, A. D. 655. 
 
 ALLHALLOW EVEN; 
 
 or, 
 
 HALLOW E'EN. 
 
 Respecting this, which is the vigil of 
 All Saints-day, Mr. Brand has collected 
 many notices of customs ; to him there- 
 fore we are indebted for the following 
 particulars : — 
 
 On this night young people in the 
 north of England dive for apples, or catch 
 at them, when stuck upon one end of a 
 kind of hanging beam, at the other ex- 
 tremity of which is fixed a lighted candle. 
 Tliis they do with their mouths only, 
 their hands being tied behind their backs. 
 From the custom of flinging nuts into the 
 fire, or crocking them with their teeth, it 
 has likewise obtained the name of 7iut- 
 crark night. In an ancient illuminated 
 missal in Mr. Douce's collection, a per- 
 son is represented balancing himself upon 
 a pole laid across two stools ; at the end 
 of the pole is a lighted candle, from 
 which he is endeavouring to light another 
 in his hand, at the risk of tumbling into a 
 tub of water placed under him. A writer, 
 about a century ago, says, "This is the 
 last day of October, and the birth of this 
 packet is partly owing to the affair of this 
 night. I am alone ; but the servants 
 having demanded apples, ale, and nuts, I 
 took the opportunity of running back mv 
 own annals of Allhallows Eve; for you 
 are to know, my lord, that I have been a 
 mere adept, a .nost famous artist, both in 
 the college and country, on occasion o 
 this anile, chimerical solemnity." * 
 
 * Life of H!ir\ey, tiie conjuror, 8vo., i7M 
 
 704 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 Pennant says, that the young women 
 m Scotland determine the figure and size 
 of their husbands by drawing cabbages 
 blind-fold on Allhallow Even, and, like 
 the English, ^in^g- nuts info the fire. It is 
 mentioned by Burns, in a note to his 
 poem on " Hallow E'en," that " The first 
 ceremony of Hallow E'en is pulling each a 
 stock or plant of kail. They must go 
 out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and 
 pull the first they meet with. Its being 
 big or little, straight or crooked, is pro- 
 phetic of the size and shape of the grand 
 object of all their spells — the husband or 
 wife. If any yird, or earth, stick to the 
 root, that is tocher, or fortune ; and the 
 taste of the custoc, that is the heart of the 
 stem, is indicative of the natural temper 
 and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to 
 give them their ordinary appellation, the 
 runts, are placed somewhere above the 
 head of the door ; and the christian names 
 of the people whom chance brings into 
 the house, are, according to the priority of 
 
 f lacing the runts, the names in question." 
 t appears that the Welsh have " a play 
 in which the youth of both sexes seek for 
 an even-leaved sprig of the ash : and the 
 first of either sex that finds one, calls out 
 Cyniver, and is answered by the first of 
 the other that succeeds; and these two, if 
 the omen fails not, are to be joined in 
 wedlock."* 
 
 Burns says, that " Burning the nuts is 
 a favourite charm. They name the lad 
 and lass to each particular nut, as they 
 lay them in the fire; and accordingly as 
 they burn quietly together, or start from 
 beside one another, the course and issue 
 of the courtship will be." It is to be noted, 
 that in Ireland, when the young women 
 would know if their lovers are faithful, 
 they put three nuts upon the bars of the 
 grates, naming the nuts after the lovers. 
 If a nut cracks or jumps, the lover will 
 prove unfaithful; if it begins to blaze or 
 burn, he has a regard for the person mak- 
 ing the trial. If the nuts, named after 
 the girl and her lover, burn together, they 
 will be married. This sort of divination 
 is also in some parts of England at this 
 time. Gay mentions it in his " Spell : " — 
 
 " Twro hazel nuts I threw into the flame, 
 And to each nut I gave a sweet-heart's name : 
 This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz'd, 
 That in z.Jtatne of brightest foliiur blaz'd ; 
 As blaz'd the nut, so maj/ thy passion grow, 
 For t'was thy nut that did so brightly glow 1" 
 
 • Owen's Welsh Dictionary, 
 
 There are some lines by Charles Gray, 
 don, Esq.— "On Nuts burning, Allhal- 
 lows Eve." 
 
 " These glowing nuts are emblems true 
 
 Of what in human life we view ; 
 
 The ill-match'd couple fret and fume, 
 
 And thus, in strife themselves consume 
 
 Or, from each other wildly start. 
 
 And with a noise for ever part. 
 
 But see the happy happy pair, 
 
 Of genuine love and truth sincere ; 
 
 With mutual fondness, while they burn 
 
 Still to each other kindly turn : 
 
 And as the vital sparks decay 
 
 Together gently sink away: 
 
 Till life's fierce ordeal being past, 
 
 Their mingled ashes rest at last." • 
 
 Burns says, " the passion of prying into 
 futurity makes a striking part of the his- 
 tory of human nature, in its rude state, in 
 all ages and nations ; and it may be some 
 entertainment to a philosophic mind to 
 see the remains of it among the more un- 
 enlightened in our own." He gives 
 therefore, the principal charms and spells 
 of this night among the peasantry in the 
 west of Scotland. One of these by 
 young women, is, by pulling stalks of 
 corn. " They go to the barn yard, and 
 pull, each, at three several times, a stalk 
 of oats. If the third stalk wants the top- 
 pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the 
 stalk, the party in question will come fo 
 the marriage bed any thing but a maid." 
 Another is by the blue clue. " Whoever 
 would, with success, try this spell, must 
 strictly observe these directions : steal 
 out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, 
 throw into the pot a clew of blue yarn; 
 wind it in a new clew off the old one ; 
 and, towards the latter end, something 
 will hold the thread ; demand, ' wha 
 bauds?' i. e. who holds? and answer will 
 be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming 
 the christian and surname of your future 
 spouse." A third charm is by eating an 
 apple at a glass. "Take a candle and go 
 alone to a looking-glass ; eat an apj)le be- 
 fore it, and some traditions say, you should 
 comb your hair all the time ; the face of 
 your conjugal companion to be, will be 
 seen in the glass, as if peeping over your 
 shoulder." 
 
 In an appendix to the late Mr. " Pen- 
 nant's Tour," several other very observ- 
 able and perfectly new customs of divina- 
 tion on this night are enumerated. One 
 is to " steal out unperceived, and sow a 
 
 * Grayi. >-|r' 
 1801. 
 
 C-(t.fcri<i of Poems 6vo., Dublin, 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 2 Z 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 handful of hemp-seed, harrowing it with 
 any thing you can conveniently draw 
 qfter you. Repeat, now and thea, ' hemp- 
 Seed I saw thee, hemp-seed I saw thee ; 
 and him (or her) that is to be my true, 
 come after me and pou thee.' Look over 
 Vour left shoulder and you will see the 
 appearance of the person invoked, in the 
 attitude of pulling hemp. Some tradi- 
 ions say, * come after me and shaw thee,' 
 that is, show thyself; in which case it 
 simply appears. Others omit the harrow- 
 ing, and say, ' come after me and harrow 
 thee.' " 
 
 Another is, " to winn three wechts 
 o'naething.'' The wecht is the instru- 
 ment used in winnowing corn. " This 
 charm must likewise be performed unper- 
 ceived and alone. You go to the barn 
 and open both doors, taking them off the 
 hinges, if possible : for there is danger 
 that the being; about to appear, may shut 
 the doors and do you some mischief. 
 Then take that instrument used in win- 
 nowing the corn, which, in our country 
 dialect, we call a tvecht, and go through 
 all the attitudes of letting down corn 
 against the wind. Repeat it three times ; 
 and, the third time, an apparition will pass 
 through the barn, in at the windy door, 
 and out at the other, having both the 
 figure in question, and the appearance or 
 retinue marking the employment or sta- 
 tion in life." 
 
 Then there is " to fathom the stack 
 three times." " Take an opportunity of 
 going unnoticed to a bear stack (barley 
 stack), and fathom it three times round. 
 The last fathom of the last time, you will 
 catch in your arms the appearance of your 
 future conjugal yokefellow." Another, 
 "to dip your left shirt sleeve in a burn 
 where three lairds land's meet." " You 
 go out, one or more, for this is a social 
 spell, to a south-running spring or rivu- 
 let, where ' three lairds' lands meet,' and 
 dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in 
 sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve 
 before it to dry. Lie awake ; and some 
 time near midnight, an apparition, hav- 
 ing the exact figure of the grand object in 
 question, will come and turn the sleeve, 
 as if to dry the other side of it." 
 
 The last is a singular species of divi- 
 nation "with three luggies, or dishes." 
 "Take three dishes; put clean water in 
 one, foul water in another, and leave the 
 third empty : blindfold a person, and lead 
 him to the hearth where the dishes are 
 ranged : he (or she) dips the left hana , if 
 
 by chance in the clean water, the future 
 husband or wife will come to the bar ol 
 matrimony a maid ; if in the foul, a 
 widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells 
 with equal certainty no marriage at all. 
 It is repeated three times : and every 
 time the arrangement of the dishes is al- 
 tered.'' Sir Frederick Morton Eden says^ 
 that " Sowens, with butter instead oi 
 milk, is not only the Hallow E'en supper, 
 hut the Christmas and New-year's-day's 
 breakfast, in many parts of Scotland." * 
 
 In the province of Moray, in Scotland, 
 " A solemnity was kept on the eve of the 
 first of November as a thanksgiving foi 
 the safe in-gathering of the produce of the 
 fields This I am told, but have not seen ; 
 it is observed in Buchan and other coun- 
 tries, by having Hallow Eve fire kindled 
 on some rising ground."f 
 
 In Ireland fires were anciently lighted 
 up on the four great festivals af the Druids, 
 but at this time they have dropped the 
 fire of November, and substituted can- 
 dles. The Welsh still retain the fire of 
 November, but can give no reason for the 
 illumination.]; 
 
 The minister of Logierait, in Perth- 
 shire, describing that parish, says: " On 
 the evening of the 31st of October, O. S 
 among many others, one remarkable ce- 
 remony is observed. Heath, broom, and 
 dressings of flax, are tied upon a pole. 
 This faggot is then kindled. One takes 
 it upon his shoulders ; and, running, bears 
 it round the village. A crowd attend. 
 When the first faggot is burnt out, a se- 
 cond is bound to the pole, and kindled in 
 the same manner as before. Numbers of 
 these blazing faggots are often carried 
 about together ; and when the night iiap- 
 pens to be dark, they form a splendid il- 
 lumination. This is Halloween, and is a 
 night of great festivity."§ Also at Cal- 
 lander, in Perthshire : — " On All Saints 
 Even they set up bonfires in every vil- 
 lage. When the bonfire is consumed, the 
 ashes are carefully collected into the form 
 of a circle. There is a stone put in, near 
 the circumference, for every person of the 
 several families interested in the bonfire ; 
 and whatever stone is moved out of its 
 place, or injured before next morning, 
 the person represented by that stone Is 
 devoted, or fe;/ ; and is supposed not to 
 live twelve months from that day. The 
 
 « Eden's State of the Poor. 
 
 t .Sluiw's Hist, of Moray. 
 
 t Vallancey. Collect. Hibern. 
 
 i Sinclair's Stat Ace. of Scotland. 
 
 706 
 
rilE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— OCTOBER 31. 
 
 people received tlie consecrated fire from 
 tlie Druid priests next morning, tiie vir- 
 tues of which were supposed to continue 
 for a year.''* At Kirkmichael, in the 
 same shire^ " The practice of lighting 
 bonfires on the first night of winter, ac- 
 companied with various ceremonies, still 
 prevails in this and the neighbouring 
 highland parishes."f So likewise at 
 Aberdeen, " The Midsummer Even fire, 
 a relict of Druidism, was kindled in some 
 parts of this county ; the Hallow Even 
 fire, another relict of Druidism, was kin- 
 dled in Buchan. Various magic ceremo- 
 nies were then celebrated to counteract 
 the influence of witches and demons, and 
 to prognosticate to the young their suc- 
 cess or disappointment in the matrimonial 
 lottery. These being devoutly finished, 
 the Hallow fire was kindled, and guarded 
 by the male part of the family. Societies 
 were formed, either by pique or humour, 
 to scatter certam fires, and the attack and 
 defence here often conducted with art 
 and fury." — " But now" — " the Hallow 
 fire, when kindled, is attended by children 
 only ; and the country girl, renouncing 
 the rites of magic, endeavours to enchant 
 her swain by the charms of dress and of 
 industry."! 
 
 Pennant records, that in North Wales 
 " there is a custom upon All Saints Eve 
 of making a great fire called Coel Coeth, 
 when every family about an hour in the 
 night makes a great bonfire in the most 
 conspicuous place near the house ; and 
 when the fire is almost extinguished, every 
 one throws a white stone into the ashes, 
 having first marked it ; then, having said 
 their prayers, turning round the fire, they 
 go to bed. In the morning, as soon as 
 they are up, they come to search out the 
 stones ; and if any one of them is found 
 wanting, they have a notion that the person 
 who threw it in will die before he sees 
 another All Saints Eve." They also dis- 
 tribute soul cakes on All Souls-day, at 
 the receiving of which poor people pray 
 to God to bless the next crop of wheat. 
 
 Mr. Owen's account of the bards, in 
 sir R. Hoare's " Itinerary of archbishop 
 Baldwin through Wales," says," The au- 
 tumnal fire is still kindled in North Wales 
 on the eve of the first day of November, 
 and is attended by many ceremonies ; 
 such as running through the fire and 
 smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, 
 and all running off at the conclusion to 
 
 * Sinclair's Stat. Ace. of Scotland. 
 t Ib-.d. t Ibid. 
 
 escape from the black short-tailed sow ; 
 then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and 
 apples; catching at an apple suspended 
 by a string with the mouth alone, and the 
 same by an apple in a tub of water; each 
 throwing a nut into the fire, and those 
 that burn bright betoken prosperity t« 
 the owners through the following year 
 but those that burn black and cracklft 
 denote misfortune. On the following 
 morning the stones are searched for in the 
 fire, and if any be missing they betide 
 ill to those that threw them in." 
 
 At St. Kilda, on Hallow E'en night, 
 they baked " a large cake in form of a 
 triangle, furrowed round, and which was 
 to be all eaten that night."* In England, 
 there are still some parts wherein the 
 grounds are illuminated upon the eve of 
 All Souls, by bearing round them straw, 
 or other fit materials, kindled into a blaze. 
 The ceremony is called a tinley, and the 
 Romish opinion among the common peo- 
 ple is, that it represents an emblematical 
 lighting of souls out of purgatory. 
 
 " The inhabitants of the isle of Lewis 
 (one of the western islands of Scotland,) 
 had an antient custom to sacrifice to a 
 sea god, called Shony, at Hallow-tide, in 
 the manner following : the inhabitants 
 round the island came to the church of 
 St. Mulvay, having each man his provi- 
 sion along with him. Every family fur- 
 nished a peck of malt, and this was 
 brewed into ale. One of their number 
 was picked out to wade into the sea up 
 to the middle ; and, carrying a cup of ale 
 in his hand, standing still in that posture, 
 cried out with a loud voice, saying, 
 ' Shony, I give you this cup of ale, 
 hoping that you'll be so kind as to send 
 us plenty of sea-ware, for enriching our 
 ground the ensuing year;' and so threw 
 the cup of ale into the sea. This was 
 performed in the night time. At his re- 
 turn to land, they all went to church, 
 where there was a candle burning upon 
 the altar; and then standing silent for a 
 little time, one of them gave a signal, at 
 which the candle was put out, and imme- 
 diately all of them went to the fields, 
 where they fell a drinking their ale, and 
 spent the remainder of the night in danc- 
 ing and singing," &c.f 
 
 At Blandford Forum, in Dorsetshire, 
 " there was a custom, in the papal times, 
 to ring bells at AUhallow-tide for ali 
 christian souls." Bishop Burnet gives a 
 letter from king Henry the Eighth te 
 
 * Martin's Western Islands. 
 
 t Ibid 
 
 707 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.—UCTOBER 31. 
 
 Cranmer •' against superstitious prac- 
 tices," wherein " the vigil and ringing of 
 bells all the night long upon Allhallow- 
 day at night," are directed to be abo- 
 lished ; and the said vigil to have no 
 watching or ringing. So likewise a 
 nibsequent injunction, early in the reign 
 of queen Elizabeth, orders " that the su- 
 perfluous ringing of bels, and the super- 
 stitious ringing of bells at Alhallowntide, 
 and at Al Soul's day, with the two nights 
 next before and after, be prohibited." 
 
 General Valiancey says, concerning this 
 night, "On the Oidhche Shamhna, (Ee Ow- 
 na,) or vigil of Samam, the peasants in Ire- 
 land assemble with sticks and clubs, (the 
 emblems of laceration,) going from house 
 to house, collecting money, bread-cake, 
 butter, cheese, eggs, &:c. &c. for the feast, 
 repeating verses in honour of the solem- 
 nity, demanding preparations for the fes- 
 tival in the name of ISt. Columb Kill, de- 
 siring them to lay aside tlie fatted calf, 
 and to bring forth the black sheep. The 
 ^ood women are employed in making the 
 griddle cake and candles; these last are 
 sent from house to house in the vicinity, 
 and are lighted up on the (Saman) next 
 day, before which they pray, or are sup- 
 posed to pray, for the departed soul of 
 the donor. Eveiy house abounds in the 
 best viands they can aflbrd. Apples and 
 nuts are devoured in abundance ; the 
 nut-shells are burnt, acJ from the ashes 
 many strange things are foretold. Cab- 
 bages are torn up by the root. Hemp- 
 seed is sown by the maidens, and they 
 believe that if they look back, they will 
 see the apparition of the man intended 
 for their future spouse. They Lang a 
 shift before the fire, on the close of the 
 feast, and sit up all night, concealed in a 
 corner of the room, convinced that his 
 apparition will come down the chimney 
 and turn the shift. They throw a ball 
 of yarn out of the window, and wind it 
 on the reel within, convinced that if they 
 repeat the paternoster backwards, and 
 look at the ball of yarn without, they 
 will then also see his sith, or apparition 
 They dip for apples in a tub of water, 
 
 and endeavour to bring one up in tlie 
 mouth. They suspend a cord with a 
 cross stick, with apples at one point, and 
 candles lighted at the other ; and endea- 
 vour to catch the apple, while it is in a 
 circular motion, in the mouth. These, 
 and many other superstitious ceremonies, 
 the remains of Druidism, are observed on 
 this holiday, which will never be eradi- 
 cated while the name of Saraan is per- 
 mitted to remain." 
 
 It is mentioned by a writer in the 
 "Gentleman'sMagazine," that lamb's-wool 
 is a constant ingredient at a merry- 
 making on Holy Eve, or on the evening 
 before All Saints-day in Ireland. It is 
 made there, he says, by bruising roasted 
 apples, and mixing them with ale, or 
 sometimes with milk. " Formerly, when 
 the superior ranks were not too refined 
 for these periodical meetings of jollity, 
 white wine was frequently substituted for 
 ale. To lamb's-ivool, apples and nuts 
 are added as a necessary part of the en- 
 tertainment ; and the young folks amuse 
 themselves with burning nuts in pairs on 
 the bar of the grate, or among the warm 
 embers, to which they give their name 
 and that of their lovers, or those of their 
 friends who are supposed to have such 
 attachments; and from the manner of 
 their burning and duration of the flame, 
 &c. draw such inferences respecting the 
 constancy or strength of their passions, 
 as usually promote mirth and good hu- 
 mour." Lamb's-ivool is thus etymolo- 
 gized by Valiancey : — " The first day of 
 November was dedicated to the angel 
 presiding over fruits, seeds, &c. and was 
 therefore named La Mas Ubhal, that is, 
 the day of the apple fruit, and being pro- 
 nounced lamasool, the English have cor- 
 rupted the name to lamb's-wool." 
 
 So much is said, and perhaps enough 
 ior the present, concerning the celebra- 
 tion of this ancient and popular vigil. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Fennel-leaved. Tickseed Coreopsis feruk- 
 
 folia. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Quintin. 
 
 Seasoiiabtr, 
 Now conies the season when the humble want, 
 And know tlie misery of their wretched scant : 
 Go, ye, and seek their iionies, who have the power. 
 And ease tlie sorrows of their trying hour 
 
 '' There is that scatteieth, and yet increasetn • 
 'io him who gives, a blessing never ceasetlu 
 
 708 
 
 I 
 
THE EVERY-DAT BOOK— NOVEMBER. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 Next was November ; he full grown and fat 
 As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme ; 
 For he had been a fatting hogs of late, 
 That yet his browes with sweat d'd reek and steam ; 
 And yet the season was full sharp and breem ; 
 In planting eeke he took no small delight, 
 Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme 
 For it a dreadful ceutaure was in sight, 
 The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight. 
 
 Spnairf, 
 
 709 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER. 
 
 This IS tne seventh month of the year. 
 The anglo-saxons pjave names in their 
 own tongue to each month, and " No- 
 vember they termed wint-monat, to wit, 
 wind-moneth, whereby wee may see that 
 our ancestors were in this season of the 
 yeare made acquainted with blustring 
 Boreas ; and it was the antient custome 
 for shipmen then to shrowd themselves at 
 home, and to give over sea-faring (not- 
 withstanding the littlenesse of their then 
 used voyages) untill blustring March had 
 bidden them well to fare."* They like- 
 wise called it blot-monath. In the saxon, 
 '' blot " means blood ; and in this month 
 Ihey killed great abundance of cattle for 
 winter-store, or, according to some, for 
 purposes of sacrifice to their deities.f 
 
 Bishop Warburton commences a letter 
 to his friend Hurd,with an allusion to the 
 evil influence which the gloommess of 
 this month is proverbially supposed to 
 have on the mind. He dates from Bed- 
 ford-row, October 28th, 1749:—" I am 
 now got hither," he says, " to spend the 
 month of November : the dreadful month 
 of November! when the little wretches 
 hang and drown themselves, and the 
 great ones sell themselves to the court 
 and the devil." 
 
 " This is the month," says Mr. Leigh 
 Hunt, " in which we are said by the 
 Frenchman to hang and drown ourselves 
 We also agree with him to call it ' the 
 gloomy month of November ;' and, above 
 all, with our in-door, money-getting, 
 and unimaginative habits, all the rest of 
 the year, we contrive to make it so. Not 
 all of us, however : and fewer and fewer, 
 we trust, every day. It is a fact well 
 known to the medical philosopher, that, 
 in proportion as people do not like air 
 and exercise, their blood becomes darker 
 and darker : now what corrupts and 
 thickens the circulation, and keeps the 
 humours within the pores, darkens and 
 clogs the mind ; and we are then in a 
 state to receive pleasure but indifferently 
 or confusedly, and pain with tenfold pain- 
 fulness. If we add to this a quantity of 
 unnecessary cares and sordid mistakes, it 
 is so much the worse. A love of nature 
 is the refuge. He who grapples with 
 March, and has the smiling eyes upon 
 him of June and August, need have no 
 fear of November. — And as the Italian 
 
 Sroverb says, every medal has its reverse, 
 fovember, with its loss of verdure, its 
 frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and 
 
 • Verstegan. 
 
 t Or. F. Saytr. 
 
 the visible approach of winter, is un- 
 doubtedly a gloomy month to the gloomy 
 but to others, it brings but pensiveness, a 
 feeling very far from destitute of pleasure; 
 and if the healthiest and most imagina- 
 tive of us may feel their spirits pulled 
 down by reflections connected with earth, 
 its mortalities, and its mistakes, we 
 should but strengthen ourselves the more 
 to make strong and sweet music with the 
 changeful but harmonious movements of 
 nature." This pleasant observer of the 
 months further remarks, that, " There are 
 many pleasures in November if we will 
 lift up our matter-of-fact eyes, and find 
 that there are matters-of-fact we seldom 
 dream of. It is a pleasant thing to meet 
 the gentle fine days, that come to contra- 
 dict our sayings for us; it is a pleasant 
 thing to see the primrose come back 
 again in woods and meadows ; it is a 
 pleasant thing to catch the whistle of the 
 green plover, and to see the greenfinches 
 congregate; it is a pleasant thing to listen 
 to the deep amorous note of the wood- 
 pigeons, who now come back again ; and 
 it is a pleasant thing to hear the deeper 
 voice of the stags, making their trium- 
 phant love amidst the falling leaves. 
 
 " Besides a quantity of fruit, our 
 gardens retain a number of the flowers 
 of last month, with the stripped lily in 
 leaf; and, in addition to several of the 
 flowering trees and shrubs, we have the 
 fertile and glowing china-roses in flower ; 
 and in fruit the pyracantha, with its 
 lustrous red-berries, that cluster so beau- 
 tifully on the walls of cottages. This is 
 the time also for domestic cultivators of 
 flowers to be very busy in preparing for 
 those spring and winter ornaments, which 
 used to be thought the work of magic. 
 They may plant hyacinths, dwarf tulips, 
 polyanthus-narcissus, or any other mode- 
 rately-growing bulbous roots, either in 
 water-glasses, or in pots of light dry 
 earth, to flower early in their apartments. 
 If in glasses, the bulb should be a little 
 in the water; if in pots, a little in the 
 earth, or but just covered. They should 
 be kept in a warm light room. 
 
 " The trees generally lose their leaves 
 in the following succession: — walnut, 
 mulberry, horse-chesnut, sycamore, lime, 
 ash, then, after an interval, elm, then 
 beech and oak, then apple and peach- 
 trees, sometimes not till the end of No- 
 vember; and lastly, pollard oaks and 
 young beeches, which retain their wither- 
 ed leaves till pushed off' by their new 
 ones in spring. Oaks that happen to be 
 
 710 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 1. 
 
 stripped of their leaves by chaffers, will 
 often surprise the haunter of nature by 
 being clothed again soon after midsum- 
 mer with a beautiful vivid foliage. 
 
 " The farmer endeavours to finish his 
 ploughing this month, and then lays up 
 his instruments for the spring. Cattle 
 are kept in the yard or stable, sheep 
 turned into the turnip-field, or in bad 
 weather fed with hay ; bees moved under 
 
 " Among our autumnal pleasures, we 
 ought not to have omitted the very falling 
 of the leaves : 
 
 To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air, 
 Go eddying round. C. Lamb 
 
 " Towards the end of the month, under 
 the groves and other shady places, they 
 begin to lie in heaps, and to rustle to the 
 foot of the passenger; and there they 
 will lie till the young leaves are grown 
 
 house. 
 
 icy. 
 
 sli^elter, and pigeons fed in the dove- overhead, and spring comes to look down 
 
 upon them with their flowers: — 
 O Spring! of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness. 
 Wind-winged emblem ! brightest, best, and fairest ! 
 Whence comest thou, when, with dark winter's sadness. 
 The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest ? 
 Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest 
 Thy mother's dying smile, tender and sweet ; 
 Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest 
 Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet. 
 Disturbing not the leaves, which are her winding sheet. Sheh 
 
 " The first day of November was con- 
 sidered (among the ancient Welsh) as the 
 conclusion of summer, and was celebrated 
 with bonfires, accompanied with ceremo- 
 nies suitable to the event, and some parts 
 of Wales still retain these customs. Ire- 
 land retains similar ones, and the fire that 
 is made at these seasons, is called Beal 
 teinhlh, in the Irish language, and some 
 antiquaries of that country, in establish- 
 ing the eras of the different colonies 
 planted in the island, have been happy 
 enough to adduce as an argument for their 
 Phoenician origin this term of Beal 
 teinidh. 
 
 " The meaning of tan, (in Welsh), like 
 the Irish teinidh, is fire, and Bal is simply 
 a projecting springing out or expanding, 
 and when applied to vegetation, it means 
 a budding or shooting out of leaves and 
 blossoms, the same as balant, of which it 
 is the root, and it is also the root of bala 
 and of blwydd, blwyddyn and blynedd, 
 a year, or circle of vegetation. So the 
 signification of bdl dan, or ton bdl, would 
 bo the rejoicing fire for the vegetation, 01 
 for the crop of the year." 
 
 The following seven triplets by Lly 
 warch H6n, who lived to the surprising 
 age of one hundred and forty years, and 
 wrote in the sixth century, also relate to the 
 subject. The translations, which are strictly 
 literal, are also from the pen of Dr. Pughe 
 Tribanau. 
 1. 
 Calangauaf caled grawn 
 Pail ar gychwyn, Uynwyn Uawn : — 
 Y hore cyn noi fyned, 
 Gwae ayniddiried i esfrawn 
 
 All Saint.^. St. Ccesar'ms, a. d. 300. St. 
 Mary. M. St. Marccllus, Bp. of Paris, 
 5th Cent. St. Benignus, Apostle of 
 Burgundy, a. d. 272. St. Jnstrcmo- 
 nins, 3d Cent. St. Harold VI., King 
 of Denmark, A.r. 980. 
 
 This festival in the almanacs and the 
 church of England calendar is from the 
 church of Rome, which celebrates it in 
 commemoration of those of its saints, to 
 whom, on account of their number, par- 
 ticular days could not be allotted in their 
 individual honour. 
 
 On this day, in many parts of England, 
 apples are bobbed for, and nuts crack- 
 ed, as upon its vigil, yesterday ; and we 
 still retain traces of other customs that we 
 had in common with Scotland, Ireland, 
 and Wales, in days of old. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 Should the following excerpt relative 
 to the first of November be of use 
 to you, it is at your service, extracted 
 from a scarce and valuable work by Dr. 
 W. Owen Pughe, entitled " Translations 
 of the Heroic Elegies of Llywarch H^n^ 
 London, 1792," 
 
 Triplets. 
 1. 
 
 On All Saints day hard is the grain. 
 
 The leaves are dropping, the puddle is full 
 
 At setting off in the morning 
 
 Woe to him that will trust a stranger. 
 
 711 
 
THE EVERY-DAr BOOK.— NOVEMBER 2. 
 
 All Saints day, a time of pleasant gossiping. 
 The gale and the storm keep equal pace, 
 Tt is the labour of falsehood to keep a secret. 
 
 2. 
 Calangauaf cain gyfrin, 
 Cyfred av/el a drychin : 
 Gvvaith celwydd yw Gelu rhin. 
 
 On All Saints day the stags are lean, 
 Yellow are the tops of birch ; deserted is the 
 
 summer dwelling 
 Woe to him who for a trifle deserves a curse. 
 
 Calangauaf cul hyddod 
 
 Melyn blaen bedw, gweddw hafod 
 
 Gwae a haedd mefyl er bychod ' 
 
 4. 4. 
 
 On All Saints day the tops of the branches Calangauaf crwm blaen gwrysg 
 are bent ; ^ ^ Gnawd o ben diried derfysg ; 
 
 Jo the mouth of the mischievous, disturbance Lie ni bo dawn ni bydd dysg. 
 is congenial : 
 
 Where there is no natural gift there will be no 
 learning 
 
 On All Saints day blustering is the weather. 
 Very unlike the beginning of the past fair 
 
 season : 
 Besides God there is none who knows the 
 
 future. 
 
 6. 
 
 On All Saints day 'tis hard and dry, 
 Doubly black is the crow, quick is the arrow 
 
 from the bow, 
 For the stumbling of the old, the looks of the 
 
 young wear a smile. 
 
 7. 
 Oh All Saints day bare is the place where 
 
 the heath is burnt, 
 The plough is in the furrow, the ox at work : 
 Amongst a hundred 'tis a chance to find a 
 
 friend. 
 
 Calangauaf garw hin, 
 Annhebyg i gyntefin : 
 Namwyn Duw nid oes dcwin. 
 
 6. 
 
 Calangauaf caled eras, 
 
 Purddu bran, buan o fras: 
 
 Am gwymp hen chwerddid gwfen gwAs. 
 
 7. 
 
 Calangauaf Uwn goddaith, 
 Aradyr yn rhych, ych yn ngwaith 
 O'r cant odld cydymmailh. 
 
 It will be perceived that each triplet, as was customary with the ancient Bntoii9 
 s accompanied by a moral maxim, without relation to the subject of the song. 
 
 GwiLYM SaIS. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Laurastinus. Laurastinus sempervirens 
 Dedicated to St. Fortunatus, 
 
 All Souls ; or the Commemoration of the 
 Faithful departed. St. Victorinus Bp. 
 A. D. 304. St. Marcian, A. D. 387. St. 
 Vulgan, 8th Cent, 
 
 an ^oufe 
 
 This day, also a festival in the almanacs, 
 and the church of England calendar, is 
 from the Romish church, which celebrates 
 it with masses and ceremonies devised 
 for the occasion. " Odilon, abbot of 
 Cluny, in the 9th century, first enjoined 
 the ceremony of praying for the dead on 
 
 this day in his own monastery ; and the 
 like practice was partially adopted by 
 other religious houses until the year 998, 
 when it was established as a gerueral fes- 
 tival throughout the western churches. 
 To mark the pre-eminent importance of 
 this festival, if it happened on a Sunday 
 it was not postponed to the Monday, as 
 was the case with other such solemnities, 
 but kept on the Saturday, in order that 
 the church might the sooner aid the suf- 
 fering sotils • and, that the dead might 
 have every benefit from the pious exer- 
 tions of the living, the remembrance of 
 this ordinance was kept up, by persons 
 dressed in black, who went round the 
 
 712 
 
THEEVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMRta 3. 
 
 different towns, ringing a loud and dismal- 
 toned bell at the corner of each street, 
 every Sunday evening during the month; 
 and calling upon the inhabitants to re- 
 member the deceased suffering the expia- 
 tory flames of purgatory, and to join in 
 prayer for the repose of their souls.*" 
 
 Time. 
 Mr. John M'Creery, to whose press Mr. 
 Roscoe committed his " History of Leo 
 X.," and the subsequent productions of 
 his pen, has marked this day by dating a 
 beautiful poem on it, which all who de- 
 sire to seize the " golden grains" of time, 
 will do well to learn and remember daily. 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 FOR MY DAUOHTEns' HOUn-OLASS. 
 
 Mark the golden grains that pass 
 Brightly thro' this channell'd glass, 
 Measuring by their ceaseless fall 
 Heaven's most precious gift to all ! 
 Busy, till its sand be done, 
 See the shining current run ; 
 But, th' allotted numbers shed, 
 Another hour of life hath fled ! 
 Its task perform'd, its travail past. 
 Like mortal man it rests at last ! — 
 Yet let some hand invert its frame 
 And all its powers return the same, 
 Whilst any golden grains remain 
 'Twill work its little hour again. — 
 But who shall turn the glass for man. 
 When all his golden grains have ran] 
 Who shall collect his scatter'd sand, 
 Dispers'd by time's \insparing hand ?— 
 Never can one grain be found, 
 Howe'er we anxious search around ! 
 
 Then, daughters, since this truth is plain, 
 That Time once gone ne'er comes again. 
 Improv'd bid every moment pass — 
 See how the sand rolls down your glass. 
 Nov. 2. 1810. J. M. C. 
 
 Mr. M'Creery first printed this little 
 effusion of his just and vigorous mind on 
 a small slip, one of which he gave at the 
 time to the editor of the Evcry-Dciy Book, 
 who if he has not like 
 
 the little busy bee 
 
 Improved each shining hour, 
 is not therefore less able to determine 
 the value of those that are gone for ever ; 
 nor therefore less anxious to secure each 
 that may fall to him ; nor less qualified to 
 enjoin on his youthful readers the import- 
 ance of this truth, " that time once gone, 
 ne'er comes again." lie would bid them 
 remember, in the conscience - burning 
 words of one of our poets, that — 
 
 " Time is the stuff that life is made of." 
 
 * Brady'i) ClaviR Calendiiria. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTOnY. 
 
 Winter Cherry. Physalh. 
 Dedicated to St. Marcian. 
 
 ^Dbember 3. 
 
 St. Malachi, Abp. of Armagh, a. d. 114} 
 St. Hubert, Bp. of Leige, a. d. 727 
 St. jrenefride, or IFinefride. St. Pet 
 poul, or Papulus, 3d. Cent. St. Flour, 
 AD. 389. St. Rumivald. 
 Without being sad, we may be serious ; 
 and continue to-day the theme of yester- 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Bowring, from whose former 
 poetical works several citations have al- 
 ready glistened these pages, in a subse- 
 quent collection of effusions, has versified 
 to our purpose. He reminds us that — 
 
 Man is not left untold, untaught, 
 
 Untrain'd by heav'n to heavenly things ; 
 
 No ! ev'ry fleeting hour has brought 
 Lessons of wisdom on its wings ; 
 
 And ev'ry day bids solemn thought 
 Soar above earth's imaginings. 
 
 In life, in death, a voice is heard, 
 Speaking in heaven's own eloquence. 
 
 That calls on purposes deferr'd. 
 
 On wand'ring thought, on wild'ring sense. 
 
 And bids reflection, long interr'd, 
 Arouse from its indifference. 
 
 Another poem is a translation 
 From the German. 
 .lich u'ie iiichtig, ach wie jluchtig . 
 
 O iiow cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is our earthly being ! 
 'Tis a mist in wintry weather, 
 Gather'd in an hour together, 
 And as soon dispers'd in ether. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Are our days departing ! 
 Like a deep and headlong river 
 Flowing onward, flowing ever — 
 Tarrying not and stopping never. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 Are the world's enjoyments I 
 All the hues of change they borrow. 
 Bright to-day and dark to-morrow — 
 jMingled lot of joy and sorrow ! 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is all earthly oeauty ! 
 L'ke a summer flow'ret flowing, 
 Scattered by the breezes, blowing 
 O'er the bed on which 'twas growing 
 
 O how clieating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is the strength of mortals I 
 On a lion's power they pride them. 
 With security beside them — 
 Yet vvhat overthrows betide them 1 
 
 713 
 
THE EVERY-DAY J300K.— NOVEMBER 4. 
 
 O liow cheating:, O how fleeting 
 
 Is all earthly pleasure ! 
 'Tis an air-suspended bubble. 
 Blown about in tears and trouble, 
 Hrokeu soon by flying stubble. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is all earthly honour ! 
 He who wields a monarch's thunder. 
 Tearing right and law asunder, 
 Is to-morrow trodden under. 
 
 O how cbeating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is all mortal wisdom ' 
 He who with poetic fiction 
 Sway'd and silenced contradiction, 
 Soon is still'd by death's infliction. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is all earthly music ! 
 Though he sing as angels swe«tly. 
 Play he never so discreetly. 
 Death will overpower him fleetly. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Are all mortal treasures I 
 Let him pile and pile untiring, 
 Time, that adds to his desiring, 
 Shall disperse the heap aspiring. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is the world's ambition ! 
 Thou who sit'st upon the steepest 
 Height, and there securely sleepest. 
 Soon wilt sink, alas ! the deepest. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 
 Is the pomp of mortals ! 
 Clad in purple — and elated. 
 O'er their fellows elevated, 
 They shall be by death unseated. 
 
 O how cheating, O how fleeting 
 All — yes '. all that's earthly ! 
 Every thing is fading — flying — 
 Man is mortal — earth is dying — • 
 Christian ! live on Heav'n relying. 
 
 The same writer truly pictures our 
 fearful estate, if we heed not the silent 
 progress of " the enemy," that by proper 
 attention we may convert into a friend. — 
 
 Time. 
 
 On! on ! our moments hurry by 
 Like shadows of a passing cloud. 
 
 Till general darkness wraps the sky. 
 
 And man sleeps senseless in his shroud. 
 
 He sports, he trifles time away. 
 Till time is his to waste no more 
 
 'Icedless he hears the surges play ; 
 And then is dash'd upon the shore. 
 
 He has no thought of coming days. 
 
 Though they alone deserve his thought 
 
 And so tlie heedless wanderer strays, 
 
 And treasures nought and gathers noiiglit. 
 
 Though wisdom speak — his ear is dull ; 
 
 Though virtue smile — he sees her not ; 
 His cup of vanity is full ; 
 
 And all besides forgone — forgot. 
 
 Tliese " memorabilia" are from a three- 
 shilling volume, entitled " Hymns, by 
 John Bowring," intended as a sequel tc 
 the " Matins and Vespers." Mr. Bow- 
 ring does not claim that his " little book" 
 shall supply the place of similar produc- 
 tions. " If it be allowed," he says, " to 
 add any thing to the treasures of our 
 devotional poetry ; if any of its pages 
 should be hereafter blended with the ex- 
 ercises of domestic and social worship ; 
 or if it shall be the companion of medi- 
 tative solitude, the writer will be more 
 than rewarded." All this gentleman's 
 poetical works, diversified as they are, 
 tend " to mend the heart." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Primrose. Primula vulgaris. 
 Dedicated to St. Flour. 
 
 ^obemljn* 4, 
 
 St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal, Abp. of 
 Milan, a. d. 1584. Sts. Fitalis and 
 ^grtcola, A. D. 304. St. Joannicius, 
 Abbot, A. D. 845. St. Clams, a. d. 
 894. St. Brinstan, Bp. of Winchester, 
 A. D. 931. 
 
 KING WILLIAM LANDED. 
 
 So say our almanacs, directly in opposi- 
 tion to the fact, that king William HI. did 
 not land until the next day, the 5th : we 
 have only to look into our annals and be 
 assured that the almanacs are in error. 
 Rapin says, " The fourth of November 
 being Sunday, and the prince's birthday, 
 now (in 1688) thirty-eight years of age, 
 was by him dedicated to devotion ; the 
 fleet still continuing their course, in order 
 to land at Dartmouth, or Torbay. But 
 in the night, whether by the violence oi 
 the wind, or the negligence of the pilot, 
 the fleet was carried beyond the desired 
 ports without a possibility of putting back, 
 such was the fury of the wind. But 
 soon after, the wind turned to the south, 
 which happily carried the fleet into Tor- 
 
 714 
 
fllE EVERY-OAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 5. 
 
 bay, the most convenient place for landing 
 the horse of any in England. The forces 
 were landed with such diligence and 
 tranquillity, that the whole army was on 
 shore before night. It was thus that the 
 prince of Orange landed in England, 
 without any opposition, on the 5th of 
 November, whilst the English were cele- 
 brating the memory of their deliverance 
 from the powder-plot about fourscore 
 years before," &c. Hume also says, " The 
 prince had a prosperous voyage, and 
 landed his army safely in Torbay on the 
 5th of November, the anniversary of the 
 gunpowder treason." These historians 
 ground their statements on the authority 
 of bishop Burnet, who was onboard the 
 fleet, and from other writers of the period, 
 and their accuracy is provable from the 
 public records of the kingdom, notwith- 
 standing the almanac-makers say to the 
 contrary. It must be admitted, however, 
 that the fourth is kept as the anniversary 
 of the landing of king William, a holi- 
 day at different public offices. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Strawberry-tree. Arbutus. 
 Dedicated to St. Brinstan. 
 
 St. Bertille, Abbess of Chelles, a. n. 692. 
 
 ^objticr plot, 1605. 
 
 This is a great day in the calendar of 
 the church of England : it is duly noticed 
 by the almanacs, and kept as a holiday at 
 the public offices. In the "Common Prayer 
 Book," there is " A Form of Prayer with 
 Thanksgiving, to be used yearly upon the 
 1' ifth day of November ; for the happy 
 deliverance of King James I., and the 
 three Estates of England, from the most 
 Traiterous and bloody-intended Massacre 
 by Gunpowder : And also for the happy 
 Arrival of His late Majesty (King Wil- 
 liam III.) on this Day, for the Deliver- 
 ance of our Church and Nation." 
 
 GUY FAWKES. 
 
 There cannot be a better representation 
 of "Guy Fawkes," as he is borne about 
 the metropolis, " in effigy," on the fifth of 
 November, every year, than the drawing 
 to this article by Mr. Cruikshank. It is 
 not to be expected that poor boys should 
 be well informed as to Guy's history, or be 
 
 particular about his costume. With them 
 " Guy Fawkes-day," or, as they as often 
 call It, " Pope-day," is a holiday, and as 
 they reckon their year by their holidays, 
 this, on account of its festivous enjoy- 
 ment, is the greatest holiday of the sea- 
 son. They prepare long before hand, not 
 " Guy," but the fuel wherewith he is to 
 be burnt, and the fireworks to fling about 
 at the burning: "the Guy" is the last 
 thing thought of, " the bonfire" the first. 
 About this time ill is sure to betide the 
 owner of an ill-secured fence ; stakes are 
 extracted from hedges, and branches torn 
 from trees; crack, crack, goes loose pa- 
 ling; deserted buildings yield up their 
 floorings ; unbolted fiip-tiapping doors 
 are released from their hinges as supernu- 
 meraries ; and more burnables are deemed 
 lawful prize than the law allows. These 
 are secretly stored in some enclosed place, 
 which other "collectors" cannot find, or 
 dare not venture to invade. Then comes 
 the making of " the Guy," which is easily 
 done with straw, after the materials of 
 dress are obtained : these are an old coal, 
 waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, which 
 usually as ill accord in their proportions 
 and fitness, as the parts in some of the, 
 new churches. His hose and coat art 
 frequently "a world too wide;" in such 
 cases his legs are infinitely too big, and 
 the coat is " hung like a loose sack about 
 him." A barber's block for the head is 
 "the very thing itself;" chalk and char- 
 coal make capital eyes and brows, which 
 are the main features, inasmuch as the 
 chin commonly drops upon the breast, 
 and all deficiencies are hid by " button- 
 ing up : " a large wig is a capital achieve- 
 ment. Formerly an old cocked hat was 
 the reigning fashion for a " Guy ;" though 
 the more strictly informed " dresser of 
 the character" preferred a mock-mitre; 
 now, however, both hat and mitre have 
 disappeared, and a stiff paper cap paint- 
 ed, and knotted with paper strips, in imi- 
 tation of ribbon, is its substitute ; a frill 
 and ruffles of writing-paper so far com- 
 pletes the figure. Yet this neither was 
 not, nor is, a Guy, without a dark lan- 
 tern in one hand, and a spread bunch 
 of matches in the other. The figure thus 
 furnished, and fastened in a chair, is car- 
 ried about the streets in the manner re- 
 presented in the engraving ; the boys 
 shouting forth the words of the motto 
 with loud huzzas, and running up to pas- 
 sengers hat in hand, with " pray remem- 
 ber Guy ! please to remember Guy 
 
 715 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK— NOVEMBER 5. 
 
 GUY FAWKES. 
 
 Please to remember the fifth of November 
 
 Gunpowder treason and plot ; 
 We know no reason, why gunpowder treason 
 
 Should ever be forgot ! 
 
 Holla boys 1 holla boys ' huzza — a — a ' 
 
 A stick and a stake, for king George's sake, 
 A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes's rump ! 
 
 Holla boys ! holla boys '. huzza — a — a 
 
 ScuflBcs seldom happen now, but " in ed in the capture of the "Guy" bo'onging 
 
 my youthful days," "when Guy met Guy to the vanquished. Sometimes despe- 
 
 — then came the tug of war ! " The par- rate bands, who omitted, or were destitute 
 
 tisans fought, and a decided victory end- of the means to make " Guy«," went forth 
 
 716 
 
THE EVtPti'-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 5. 
 
 like Froissart's knights " upon adven- 
 tures." An enterprise of this sort was 
 called "going to smug a Guy," that is, to 
 steal one by " force of arms," fists, and 
 sticks, from its rightful owners. These 
 partisans were always successful, for they 
 always attacked the weak. 
 
 In such times, the burning of " a good 
 Guy" was a scene of uproar unknown to 
 the present day. The bonfire in Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields was of this superior order of 
 disorder. It was made at the Great 
 Queen-street corner, immediately oppo- 
 site Newcastle-house. Fuel came all day 
 long, in carls properly guarded against 
 surprise : old people have remembered 
 when upwards of two hundred cart-loads 
 were brought to make and feed this bon- 
 fire, and more than thirty "Guys" were 
 burnt upon gibbets between eight and 
 twelve o'clock at night. 
 
 At the same period, the butchers in 
 Clare-market had a bonfire in the open 
 space of the market, next to Bear-yard, 
 and they thrashed each other " round 
 about the ^wood-fire," with the strongest 
 slne'Vs of slaUi"-htered bulls. Large par- 
 ties of butchers »rom all the markets pa- 
 raded the streets, ringing peals from 
 marrow-bones-and-cleavers, so loud as to 
 overpower the storms of sound that came 
 f''on) the rocking belfries of the churches. 
 By ten o'clock, London was so lit up by 
 bonfires nxiu. hicworks, that from the 
 suburbs il locked in one red heat. Many 
 were the overthrows of horsemen and 
 carriages, from the discharge of hand- 
 rockets, and the pressure of moving mobs 
 inflamed to violence by drink, and fight- 
 ing their way against each other. 
 
 TJiis fiery zeal has gradually decreased. 
 Men no longer take part or interest in 
 such an observance of the day, and boys 
 carry about their " Guy" with no other 
 sentiment or knowledge respecting him, 
 than body-snatchers have of a newly- 
 raised corpse, or the method of dissecting 
 it ; their only question is, how much they 
 shall get by the operation to make merry 
 with. They sometimes confound their 
 confused notion of the principle with the 
 mawkin, and for " the Guy," they say, 
 " the Pope." Their difference is not by 
 the way of distinction, but ignorance. 
 " No popery," no longer ferments ; the 
 spirit is of the lees. 
 
 Tne day is cnmmonly called Gunpow- 
 der treason, and has been kept as an 
 
 anniversary from 1605, when the plot 
 was discovered, the night before it was to 
 have been put in execution. The design 
 was to blow up the king, James I., the 
 prince of Wales, and the lords and com- 
 mons assembled in parliament. One of 
 the conspirators, being desirous of saving 
 lord Monteagle, addressed an anonymous 
 letter to him, ten days before the parlia- 
 ment met, in which was this expression, 
 " the danger is past, so soon as you have 
 burnt the letter." The earl of Salisbury 
 said it was written by some fool or mad- 
 man ; but the king said, " so soon as yot 
 have burnt the letter," was to be inter- 
 preted, in as short a space as you shall 
 take to burn the letter. Then, comparing 
 the sentence with one foregoing, " that 
 they should receive a terrible blow, this 
 parliament, and yet should not see who 
 hurt them," he concluded, that some sud- 
 den blow was preparing by means of 
 gunpowder. Accordingly, all the rooms 
 and cellars under the parliament-house 
 were searched; but as nothing was dis- 
 covered, it was resolved on the fourth of 
 November, at midnight, the day before 
 tlie parliament met, to search under the 
 wood, in a cellar hired by Mr. Percy, a 
 papist. Accordingly sir Thomas Knevet, 
 going about that time, found at the door 
 a man in a cloak and boots, whom he 
 apprehended. This was Guy Fawkes, 
 who passed for Percy's servant. On re- 
 moving the wood, &c. they discovered 
 thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, and on 
 Guy Fawkes being searched, there were 
 found upon him, a dark lantein, a tin- 
 der-box, and three matches. Instead of 
 being dismayed, he boldly said, if he had 
 been taken within the cellar, he would 
 have blown up himself and them together 
 On his examination, he confessed the 
 design was to blow up the king and par- 
 liament, and expressed great sorrow that 
 it was not done, saying, it was the devil 
 and not God that was the discoverer. 
 The number of persons discovered to have 
 been in the conspiracy were about thirteen; 
 they were all Roman catholics, and theii 
 design was to restore the catholic religion 
 in England. It appears that Guy Fawkes 
 and his associates had assembled, and 
 concerted the plot at the old King's-head 
 tavern, in Leadenhall-street. Two of tht 
 conspirators were killed, in endeavouring 
 to avoid apprehension ; eight were exe- 
 cuted. Two Jesuits, Oldcorn and Garnet, 
 also suffered death ; the former for saying, 
 *' the ill success of the conspiracy did uot 
 
 717 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER G. 
 
 r.mder it the less just ;" the latter for 
 being privy to the conspiracy and not re- 
 pealing it. 
 
 A corporation notice is annually left at 
 the house of every inhabitant in the city 
 of London, previous to lord mayor's 
 day. The following (delivered in St. 
 Bride's) is its form : 
 
 SIR, October the llth, 1825. 
 
 BY Virtue of a Precept from my Lord 
 Mayor, in order to prevent any Tumults 
 and Riots that may happen on the Fifth of 
 November and the next ensuing Lord 
 Mayor's Day, you are required to charge 
 all your Servants and Lodgers, that they 
 neither make, nor cause to be made, any 
 Squibs, Serpents, Fire Balloons, or 
 other Firew^orks, nor fire, tling, nor 
 throw them out of your House, Shop, or 
 Warehouse, or in the Streets of this City, 
 on the Penalties contained in an Act of 
 Parliament made in the Tenth year of the 
 late King William. 
 
 A^ote. The Act was made perpetual, 
 and is not expired, as some ignorantly 
 suppose. 
 
 C- Puckeridge, Beadle. 
 
 Taylor, Printer, Basinghall Street. 
 
 On the fifth of November, a year or two 
 ago, an outrageous sparkle of humour 
 broke forth. A poor hard-working man, 
 while at breakfast in his garret, was en- 
 ticed from it by a message that some one 
 who knew him wished to speak to him at 
 the street door. When he got there he 
 was shaken hands with, and invited to a 
 chair. He had scarcely said " nay" 
 before " the ayes had him," and clappina: 
 him in the vacant s?at, tied him there. 
 They then painted his face to their liking, 
 put a wig and paper cap on his head, 
 fastened a dark lantern in one of his 
 hands, and a bundle of matches in the 
 other, and carried him about all day, 
 with shouts of laughter and huzzas, beg- 
 ging for their " Guy." When he was re- 
 leased at night he went home, and having 
 slept upon his wrongs, he carried them 
 the next morning to a police office, whi- 
 ther his offenders were presently brought 
 by warrant, before the magistrates, who 
 ordered them to find bail or stand com- 
 mitted. It is illegal to s^nug a man for 
 " a Guy." 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Angular Physalis. Physalis Alkakengi. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Bertille. 
 
 ^obember 6. 
 
 St. Leonard, 6th Cent. St. TVinoc, Ab- 
 bot, 8th Cent. St. lltutus, 6th Cent. 
 
 Now Mo7isieur Teum will come to town. 
 The lawyer pulteth on his gown ; 
 Revenge doth run post-swift on legs, 
 And's sweet as muscadine and eggs; 
 And this makes many go to law 
 For that which is not worth a straw. 
 But only they their mind will have, 
 No reason hear, nor council crave. 
 
 Poor Robin s Almanac, 1757. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, October, 1825. 
 
 Presuming the object you have in view 
 in your Every-Day Book is to convey 
 useful and pleasing iuformation with the 
 utmost coiiecuiess, and, if possible, with- 
 out contradiction, I beg leave to say, 
 your statement in page 100, "that in 
 each term there is one day whereon the 
 courts do not transact business, namely, 
 on Candlemas-day in Hilary Term, As- 
 cension-day in Easter Term, Midsummer- 
 day in Trinity Term, and AU-Saints'-day 
 in Michaelmas Term," is not quite correct 
 with respect to the two last days ; for in 
 last term (Trinity) Midsummer-day was 
 subsequent to the last day, which was on 
 the 22d of June. And if Midsummer- 
 day falls on the morrow of Corpus 
 Christi, as it did in 1614, 1698,1709, 
 and 1791, Trinity full Term then com- 
 mences, and the courts sit on that day ; 
 otherwise, if it occurs in the term it is a 
 dies non. In 1702, 1713, 1724, 1795. 
 and 1801, when Midsummer-day fell 
 upon what was regularly the last day of 
 term, the courts did not then sit, regard- 
 ing it as a S-unday, and the term was pro- 
 longed to the 25th. (See Blackstone's 
 Commentaries, vol. iii. page 278.) With 
 respect to AU-Sai-nts'-day, (1st of Novem- 
 ber,) it does not now occur in Michaelmas 
 Term, for by the statute 24th Geo. II. c. 
 48, (1752,) the Essoin day of that term is 
 on the morrow of All-Souls, 3d of Novem- 
 ber, consequently Michaelmas Term does 
 not actually commence before the 6th 
 of November. 
 
 With respect to the grand days of the 
 inns of court, I find by " The Student's 
 Guide to Lincoln's Inn," the two first days 
 you mention are correct with respect to 
 that society; but in Trinity Term the 
 grand day is uncertain, unless Midsum 
 mer-day is in the term, then that ia 
 
 718 
 
THE EVERi-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 7, 8. 
 
 generally the grand day. In Michaelmas 
 Term, grand day is on the second Thursday 
 ' in the term. 
 
 In page 156, you state, "It is of an- 
 cient custom on the first day of term for 
 the judges to breakfast with the lord 
 chancellor in Lincoln's Inn Hall." Till 
 within these few years, and only on the 
 present lord chancellor removing from 
 Bedford-square, the judges, together with 
 the master of the rolls and his officers, the 
 vice-chancellor, the masters in chancery, 
 the king's Serjeants and counsel, with the 
 different officers of the court of chancery, 
 always assembled at the chancellor s house 
 to breakfast, and from thence, following 
 the chancellor in his state carriage, to 
 Westminster. But on the removal of 
 lord Eldon to Hamilton-place, his lord- 
 ship desired to meet the gentlemen of the 
 courts of law and equity in Lincoln's Inn 
 Hall; and from that time, the judges, &c. 
 have met in Lincoln's Inn. This place is 
 better adapted to the convenience of the 
 profession than one more distant. 
 
 The above observations, if worth no- 
 tice, may be used on the first day of next 
 term, the 6th of November ; but as the 6th 
 is on a Sunday, term will not actually 
 begin until the 7 th. 
 
 I am, sir, &c. 
 Lincoln's Inn, Ncw-sijnare. S. G. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Yew. Taxns baccata. 
 Dedicated to St. Leonard. 
 
 ^obemljcr 7. 
 
 St. iniUbrord, 1st Bp. of Utrecht, a. d. 
 738. St. ff'croifrid. St. Prosdecionus, 
 1st. Bp. of Padiia, a. d. 103. 
 
 Chronology. 
 Hats and Bonnets. 
 On the 7th of November, 1G15, (Mi- 
 chaelmas Term, 13 Jac. I.) when Ann 
 Turner, a physician's widow, was indicted 
 at the bar of the court of king's bench, 
 before sir Edward Coke (as an accessary 
 before the fact) for the murder of sir 
 Thomas Overbury, the learned judge ob- 
 serving she had a hat on, told her " to put 
 it ofl'; that a woman might be covered in 
 a church, but not when arraigned in a 
 
 court of justice." Whereupon she said 
 she thought it singular that >he might be 
 covered in the house of God, and not in 
 the judicature of man. Sir Edward told 
 her, " that from God no secrets were hid ; 
 but that it was not so with man, whose 
 intellects were weak ; therefore, in the 
 investigation of truth, and especially 
 when tlie life of a fellow creature is pu! 
 in jeopardy, on the charge of having dfii 
 prived another of life, the court should 
 see all obstacles removed ; and, becaust 
 the countenance is often an index to the 
 mind, all covering should be taken away 
 from the face." Thereupon the chief 
 justice ordered her hat to be taken oft", 
 and she covered her hair with her hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 On Sunday, the 7th of November, 1 824, 
 being the hundredth anniversary of the 
 death of the celebrated John Eyrie, Esq., 
 Pope's " Man of Ross," the new society 
 of ringers in that town rung a "muffled 
 peal" on the occasion. — Hereford Paper .* 
 
 floral directory 
 
 Large Fureroea. Furerora Gigantca. 
 Dedicated to St. If'illibrord. 
 
 ftohmihti' 8. 
 
 The four crowned Brothers, Martyrs, 
 a. d. 304. St. JFillchud, Bp. a. d 
 787. St. Godfrey, Bp. A. D. 11 [Q. 
 
 Now the leaf 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
 Oft istartling such as studious walk below ; 
 And slowly circles through the waving air. 
 
 As the maturing and dispersing of 
 seeds was a striking character of the last 
 month, so the fall of the leaf distinguishes 
 the present. From this circumstance, the 
 whole declining season of the year is often 
 in common language denominated the 
 fall. The melancholy sensations which 
 attend this gradual death of vegetable na- 
 ture, by which the trees are stripped of 
 all their beauty, and left so many monu- 
 ments of decay and desolation, forcibly 
 suggest to the reflecting mind an apt 
 comparison for the fugitive gensrations of 
 man.f 
 
 Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, 
 Now green in youth, now with'ring on the ground. 
 
 The Times, 17ih November, i824. 
 
 t Aikin's Natural History of the Year. 
 
 710 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 Another race the following spring supplies; 
 Tliey fall successive, and successive rise : 
 So generations in their course decay, 
 So flourish these, when those are pass'd away. 
 
 Pope\ Ilonier. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cape Aletris. Veltheimia glanca. 
 Dedicated to The four Brothers. 
 
 ^obember 9, 
 
 The Dedication of the Church of St. 
 John Laterans. St. Theodorus, sur- 
 named Tyro, a. d. 306. St. Mathurin, 
 A. D. 388. St. Fanne, or Vitonus, Bp. 
 A. D. 525. St. Benignus, or Binen, 
 Bp. A. o. 468. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 Enclosed are official printed copies 
 •jf the two precepts issued previous to 
 lord mayor's day, for the purpose of in- 
 forming the master and wardens of the 
 respective livery companies, to whom 
 they are directed, (as well as the alder- 
 men of the wards through which the pro- 
 cession passes,) of the preparations neces- 
 sary to be made on that day. These pre- 
 cepts are first ordered to be printed at a 
 court of aldermen ; directions accordingly 
 are afterwards given by the town clerk, 
 and, when printed, they are sent to the 
 four attornies of the lord mayor's court, 
 by whom they are filled up, afterwards 
 they are left at the mansion-house, and 
 lastly they are intrusted to the marshal- 
 men to be delivered. The larger precept 
 is sent to the aldermen of the wards of 
 Cheap, Cordwainer, Vintry, Farringdon 
 within, Farringdon w.;thout. Bread-street, 
 Cripplegate within, and Castle Baynard. 
 The smaller precept is forwarded to t'ne 
 whole of the livery companies. 
 
 I am, sir, &c. 
 
 S. G. • 
 November 2, 1825. 
 
 Precept to the Aldermen. 
 
 By the MAYOR. 
 
 To the Aldermen of the IVard of 
 
 Forasmuch as William Venables, 
 Esquire, lately elected Lord Mayor of 
 this City for the Year ensuing, is on 
 
 IVednesday the Ninth Day of November 
 next to be accompanied by his Brethren 
 the Aldermen, and attended by the Livery 
 of the several Companies of this City, to 
 go from Guildhall, exactly at Eleven 
 o'clock in the Forenoon, to Blackfriara 
 Stairs, and from thence by Water to 
 JVestminster there to be sworn, and at 
 his return will land at Blackfriars Stairs, 
 and pass from thence to Fleet Bridge, 
 through Lndgate Street, Saint Paul's 
 Church Yard, Cheapside, and down King 
 Street to the Guildhall, to Dinner : 
 
 Now, for the more decent and orderly 
 Performance of the said Solemnity, and 
 for preventing any Tumults and Disorders 
 which may happen by the great Concourse 
 of People, 
 
 These are in his Majesty's Name vo re- 
 quire you to cause tlie Constables withiij 
 your Ward to keep a good and sufficient 
 double Watch and Ward of able Men 
 well weaponed on that Day, as well as at 
 the landing Places as in the Streets 
 through which the said Solemnities are to 
 pass ; and you are required to charge the 
 said Constables to preserve the saij 
 Streets and Passages free and clear froia 
 all Stops and Obstructions, and not per- 
 mit any Coach, Cart, or Dray to stand 
 therein ; and if any Coachman, Dray- 
 man, or Carman refuse to move out of 
 the said Streets, that they carry such 
 Coachman, Drayman, or Carman to one 
 of the Compters, and such Coach, Dray, 
 or Cart to the Green Yard, and take their 
 Numbers that they may be prosecuted ac- 
 cording to Law. And although every 
 Person is bound by the Law to take 
 Notice of all general Acts of Parliament, 
 yet that there may not be the least colour 
 or pretence of Ignorance or Inadvertency, 
 these are also to require you to cause your 
 Beadle to go from House to House, and 
 acquaint the several Inhabitants, that by 
 an Act of Parliament made in the ninth 
 and tenth years of the Reign of King 
 William the Third (which is made per- 
 petual,) It is enacted that no Person oi 
 what degree or quality soever shall make, 
 sell, or expose to sale, any Squibs, Ser 
 pents, or other Fireworks ; or any Cases 
 Moulds, 01 other Implements whatsoever 
 
 720 
 
THE EVERY DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 for making' sucli Fireworks, nor sliall per- 
 mit any I'erson to cast or tlirow any 
 Sijiiibs, Serpents, or otiier Fireworks 
 from out of, or in their Houses, Lodgings, 
 or Habitation, nor sliall any Person 
 •whatsoever cast, throw, or fire any such 
 Squibs, Serpents, or other Fireworks, in, 
 out of, or into any Street, House, or Pas- 
 sage; every such OflPence being adjudged 
 by the said Act to be a c /mmon Nuisance, 
 and every Offender for every sucli single 
 Offence being liable to the several Penal- 
 ties inflicted by the said Act. 
 
 And you are to enjoin your Constables 
 and Watchmen carefully to observe and 
 apprehend all such Persons as shall pre- 
 sume to offend against the said Act, or 
 shall commit any Riots, Tumults, or 
 other Disorders whatsoever, and bring 
 them before me or seme other of his Ma- 
 jesty's Justices of the Peace within this 
 City, that they may be punished accord- 
 ing to the said Act, and as the Law di- 
 rects. 
 
 And that you cause Notice to be given 
 to the Inhabitants of your Ward toadoiu 
 the Fronts and Balconies of their Houses 
 ■with their best Hangings or other Orna- 
 ments, and that they cause the Streets be- 
 fo e their respective Houses to be cleanly 
 swept and well paved and amended, 
 vhereof the Scavengers are also to take 
 Notice, and to be warned that they see the 
 same duly and effectually performed. 
 And if any Constable, Beadle, or other 
 Officer shall be found remiss and negli- 
 gent in their Duty, in not apprehending 
 
 any offending, they shall be prosecuted 
 forsuch their Neglect, l)efault,orRemiss- 
 ness. according to the utmost Severity of 
 the Law. Dated this Eleventh Day of 
 October, 1825. WolODTHOBeB. 
 
 PrimeJ by Arthur Taylor, Pr'n er to the Hooourablo tityof 
 LonduD, Basiughail Stieeu 
 
 Precept to the Companies 
 
 By the MAYOR. 
 
 To the Master and Wardens of the 
 Company of 
 
 Whereas the Right Honourable the 
 Lord Mayor Elect aud Court of Alder- 
 men have appointed at their return from 
 Westinitister, on Wecbiesday the 9th day 
 of November next, to land at Blackfriars 
 Stairs, and pass from thence to Fleet 
 Street, through Ludgate Street, to St. 
 FauVs Church Yard, down Cheapsidesind 
 King-street, to the Guildhall to Dinner: 
 
 These are therefore to require you to 
 he in your Barge by Eleven o'clock in the 
 Forenoon precisely, his Lordship being 
 resolved to be going by that time ; and 
 that as well in your going as return you 
 will cause your Barge to go in order 
 according to your precedency; and 
 that such of your Company as walk 
 in the Streets land at Blackfriars Stairs 
 aforesaid ; and that you be early and re- 
 gular in taking and keeping your Stand.- 
 ings. Dated the Eleventh day of Otto- 
 ber, 1825. 
 
 "WoODTUORPE. 
 
 Printed bj A. Tay'or, 10, Basiughall Street. 
 
 LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. 
 Behold 
 
 How London did pour out her citizens ! 
 The Mayor and all his brethren in best sort ! 
 
 ShaJcespere, 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 721 
 
 3 A 
 
THE EVERY-DAY liOvm.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 The procession of the corporation of 
 London to Westminster on the occasion 
 of the new lord mayor being sworn into 
 office, is familiar to most residents in the 
 metropolis, and the journals annually re- 
 cord the modern processions and festivals 
 in the Guildhall, sufficiently to acquaint 
 those who have not witnessed theni with 
 the nature of the proceedings. It is not 
 purposed then, for the present, to describe 
 what passes in our own times, but to ac- 
 quaint the citizens and all who feel an 
 interest in ancient customs, with some- 
 thing of the splendour attendant upon the 
 ceremony in old times. 
 
 In 1575, " William Smythe, citezen 
 and haberdasher of London," wrote " A 
 breffe description of the Royall Citie of 
 London, capitall citie of this realme of 
 England." This manuscript which is in 
 existence sets forth as follows : 
 
 " The day of St. Simon and St. Jude, 
 ihe mayor enters into his state and office. 
 The next day he goes by water to West- 
 minster in most triumphant-like manner, 
 his barge being garnished with the arms of 
 the city ; and near it a ship-boat of the 
 queen's majesty being trimmed up and 
 rigged like a ship of war, with divers 
 pieces of ordnance, standards, pennons, 
 ond targets of the proper arms of the said 
 mayor, of his company, and of the mer- 
 chants' adventurers, or of the staple, or 
 of the company of the new trades ; next 
 before him goeth th© barge of the livery 
 of his own company, decked with their 
 own proper arms ; then the bachelors' 
 barge ; and so all the companies in Lon- 
 don, in order, every one having their own 
 proper barge, with the arms of their com- 
 pany. And so passing along the Thames, 
 ne landeth at Westminster, where he 
 taketh his oath in the exchequer before 
 the judge there ; which done, he returneth 
 by water as aforesaid, and landeth at 
 Paul's wharf, where he, and the rest of 
 the aldermen take their horses, and in 
 great pomp pass through Cheapside. 
 And first of all cometh two great stand- 
 ards, one having the arms of the city, and 
 the other the arms of the mayor's com- 
 pany : next them two drums and a flute, 
 then an ensign of the city, and then about 
 Ixx or Ixxx poore men marching two and 
 two, in blue gowns, with red sleeves and 
 caps, every one bearing a pike and a tar- 
 get, whereon i<? painted the arms of all 
 them that have been mayors of the same 
 company that this new mayor is of. Then 
 two banners, one of th" king's arms the 
 
 other of the mayor's own prtper arms 
 Then a set of hautboys playing, and aftei 
 them certain loiffflers* in velvet coats 
 and chains of gold, with white staves in 
 their h^nds ; then the Pageant of Tri- 
 umph richly decked, whereupon by cer- 
 tain figures and writings, some matter 
 touching justice and the office of a ma- 
 gistrate is represented. Then sixteen 
 trumpeters, eight and eight, having ban- 
 ners of the mayor's company. Then 
 certain toyjjlers in velvet coats and chains, 
 with white staves as before. Then the 
 bachelors, two and two, in long gowns, 
 with crimson hoods on their shoulders of 
 satin ; which bachelors are chosen every 
 year of the same company, that the mayor 
 is of, (but not of the living) and serve as 
 gentlemen on that and other festival days, 
 to wait on the mayor, being in number 
 according to the quantity of the company, 
 sometimes sixty, or one hundred. After 
 them twelve trumpeters more, with ban- 
 ners of the mayor's company ; then the 
 drum and flute of the city, and an ensign 
 of the mayor's company; and after, the 
 waits of the city in blue gowns, red 
 sleeves and caps, every one having a 
 silver collar about his neck. Then they 
 of the livery in their long gowns, every 
 one having his hood on his left shouldur, 
 half-black and half-red, the number of 
 them accoi'ding to the greatness of the 
 company whereof they are. Afrer them 
 follow sheriff"s-officers, and then the 
 mayor's officers, with other officers of the 
 
 * Wliiffler, Mr. Douce says, in his " Illustra- 
 tions of Slwkipeare ," is a term undoubtedly bor- 
 rowed from whiffle, another name for a fife or 
 small flute ; for whifflers were originally those 
 ■who preceded armies or processions, as fifcrs or 
 pipers : in process of time the term u'/iij/lei\ 
 which had been always used in the sense of a 
 Jifer, came to signify any person who went be- 
 fore in a procession. He observes, that Min- 
 shew defines him to be a club or staff-bearer 
 and that it appears, whifflers carried whito 
 staves, as in the annual feast of tlie printers, 
 founders, and ink-makers, described by Randle 
 Holme. 
 
 Mr. Archdeacon Nares, in his Glossary, cites 
 Grose's mention of the whifflers at Norwich, 
 ■who make way for the corporation by flourish- 
 ing their swords. 
 
 A friend informs me, tnat the dexterity of the 
 Norwich whifflers in turning their swords to 
 every possible direction is amazing. 
 
 Mr. Archdeacon Nares remarks, that in the 
 city of London, young freemen, who march at 
 the head of their proper <^ompanies on the 
 lord Mayor's day, sometimes with flags, were 
 called whifflers, or bachelor whijiiers, not be- 
 cause they cleared the way, but because they 
 went first as whijjiers did ; and he quotes a cha- 
 racter in the old play of the City Match, saying, 
 " I look'd the next lord mayor's day to see you 
 o' the livsry, or one of the bachelor whifflers." 
 Hone on .]/t/ilcries 
 
 722 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOoK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 city, as the common serjeant, and the 
 chamberlain ; next before the mayor 
 goeth the sword-bearer, having on his 
 liead ihe cap of honour, and the sword of 
 tlie city in his right hand, in a rich scab- 
 bard, set with pearl, and on his left hand 
 goeth the common crier of the city, with 
 his great mace on his shoulder all gilt. 
 The mayor hath on a long gown of scar- 
 let, and on his left shoulder a hood of 
 black velvet, and a rich collar of gold ot 
 SS. about his neck, and with him rideth 
 tlie old mayor also, in his scarlet gown, 
 hood of velvet, and a chain of gold about 
 his neck. Then all the aldermen, two 
 and two, (among whom is the recorder,) 
 all in scarlet gowns ; those that have been 
 mayors have chains of gold, the otheis 
 liave black velvet tippets. The two she- 
 riffs come last of all, in their black scarlet 
 gowns and chains of gold. In this order 
 they pass along through the city to the 
 Guildhall,where they dine that day, to the 
 number of one thousand persons, all at the 
 charge of the mayor and the two sheriffs. 
 This feast costeth 400/., whereof tlie 
 mayor payeth 200/. and each of the she- 
 riff's 100/. Immediately after dinner, 
 they go to St. Paul's church, every one of 
 the aforesaid poor men bearing staff, 
 torches, and targets, which torches are 
 lighted when it is late, before they come 
 from evening prayer."* In more ancient 
 times, the procession to and from West- 
 minster was by land; until in 1453, sir 
 John Norman built a sumptuous barge at 
 his own expense, for the purpose of going 
 by water, whereupon watermen made a 
 song in his praise, beginning, " Row thy 
 boat, Nortnan.^' The twelve companies 
 emulating their chief have, from that 
 period, graced theThames on led mayor's 
 day. 
 
 The first account of this annual exhi- 
 bition known to have been published, was 
 written by George Peele, for the inaugu- 
 ration of sir Wolstone Dixie, knight, on 
 the 29th of October, 1585. On that oc- 
 casion, as was customary to the times, 
 there were dramatic representations in the 
 procession — of an allegorical character. 
 Children were dressed to personify the 
 city, magnanimity, loyalty, science, the 
 country, and the river Thames. They 
 also represented a soldier, a sailor, and 
 nymphs, with appropriate speeches. The 
 show opened witli a moor on the back of 
 a lynx. On sir Thomas Middleton's 
 
 ♦ Di. brake's Sljakspearcand his Times, vol. ii. 
 
 mayoralty, in 1613, the solemnity is de- 
 scribed as unparalleled for the cost, art, 
 and magnificence of the shows, pageants, 
 chariots, morning, noon, and night tri- 
 umphs. In 1655, the city pageants, after 
 a discontinuance of about fourteen years, 
 were revived. Edmund Gayton, the au- 
 thor of the description for that year, says, 
 that " our metropolis for these planetary 
 pageants, was as famous and renowned in 
 foreign nations, as for tlieir faith, wealth, 
 and valour." In the show of 1659, an 
 European, an Egyptian, and a Persian, 
 were personated. On lord mayor's day, 
 1671, the king, queen, and duke of York, 
 and most of the nobility being present 
 there were " sundry shows, shapes, scenes, 
 speeches and songs, in parts;" and the 
 like, in 1672, and 1673, when the kiijg 
 again " graced the triumphs." The king, 
 queen, duke and duchess of York, prince 
 Rupert, the duke of Monmouth, foreign 
 ambassadors, the chief nobility, and se- 
 cretary of state, were at the celebration of 
 lord mayor's day, in 1674, when there 
 were " emblematical figures, artful pieces 
 of architecture, and rural dancing, witb 
 pieces spoken on each pageant." 
 
 The printed description of these pro- 
 cessions are usually entitled " Tritaiipks," 
 though they are more commonly called 
 " Tlie London Pageants,'' all of them are 
 scarce, and some of such extreme rarity, 
 as to bear a price at the rate of two and 
 three guineas a leaf. The description of 
 sir Patience Ward's show, on the 29th of 
 October, 1680, composed by Thomas 
 Jordan, is an interesting specimen of the 
 setting out and pageantry of this proces- 
 sion. The lord mayor being of the livery 
 of the merchant-tailors' company, at seven 
 o'clock in the morning, liverymen of the 
 first rank, appointed to conduct the busi- 
 ness of the day, assembled at merchant- 
 tailors' hall, to meet the masters, wardens, 
 and assistants, in their gowns, faced with 
 foyns, (the =kin of the martin.) In the 
 second rank, others in gowns faced with 
 budge, (lambs'-skin, with the wool dressed 
 outwards,) and livery -hoods. In the 
 third rank, a number of foyns-bachelors, 
 and forty budge-bachelors, both attired in 
 scarlet hoods and gowns. Sixty gentle- 
 men-ushers, in velvet coats and chains cf 
 gold, bearing white staves. Thirty more 
 m plush and buff, bearing colours and 
 banners. Thirty-six of the king's trum- 
 peters, with silver trumpets, headed by 
 the serjeant-trumpeter, he wearing two 
 scarfs, one the lord mayor's, and the other 
 
 ■23 
 
THE EVKRY-UAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 the company's colours. The king's drum- 
 major followed by four of the king's 
 drums and fifes. Seven other drums and 
 two fifes, wearing vests of butf, with black 
 breeches and waste scarfs. Two city 
 marshals on horseback, with attendants. 
 The foot- marshal, with a rich broad 
 shoulder-scarf, to put (hem in rank and 
 file, attended by six others. The fence- 
 master, with attendants, bearing bright 
 broadswords drawn. Poor pensioners, 
 with g(,wns and caps, bearing standards 
 and banners. A troop of poor persons, 
 in azure gowns and caps. One hundred 
 more with javelins and targets, bearing 
 the arms of their benefactors. Being all 
 assembled, they are by the foot-marshal's 
 judgment, arranged into six divisions, 
 ranked out by two and two. The first 
 division containsxhe ensigns of the com- 
 pany, followed by the poor company of 
 pensioners. Four drums and one fife. 
 Pensioners in coats as before described. 
 Persons of wo-th, each bearing a standard 
 or banner. Four trumpets. Two mer- 
 chant-tailor's ensigns, bearing their sup- 
 porters and crest, kSix gentlemen-ushers. 
 The budge-bachelors, marching in mea- 
 sured order, iSecond divison. Six trum- 
 pets. Two gentlemen, bearing the coats 
 of arms of the city, and the merchant- 
 tailors'company, Eight Gentlemen, wear- 
 ing gold chains. The foyns-bachelors. 
 Third division. Two gentlemen in velvet 
 coats with banners. Ten gentlemen- 
 ushers in coats and chains of gold, as be- 
 fore described. A large body of the 
 livery in their gowns and livery-hoods, 
 followed by "all lord mayors in i\\e po- 
 tential mood." In their rear divers of the 
 city trumpets. Two gentlemen bearing 
 the arms of the city and the lord mayor. 
 Gentlemen-ushers. The court of assist- 
 ants. Four drums. Six trumpets. Three 
 gallants, bearing the banners of the dia- 
 dem. The king's, queen's, and city's 
 ensigns, attended by six gentlemen as 
 pages. The masters and wardens of the 
 merchant-tailors' company. Thus formed 
 they march from merchant-tailors' hall to 
 the lord mayor's house, where his lordship 
 and the aldermen take horse, according to 
 their degree, and the whole body proceed 
 in state to Guildhall. Being met at the 
 gate by the old lord mayor, and there at- 
 tired with the gown, fur hood, and scarf, 
 and guarded by knights, esquires, and 
 gentlemen, they all march thrcuigh King- 
 street down to Three-Crane-vvJiatf, where 
 the lord mayor and aldermen,discharging 
 
 some of the attendants, take barge at the 
 west-end of the wharf; the court of as- 
 sistants' livery, and the best of the gen- 
 tlemen-ushers taking barge at the ea-t- 
 end. The rest of the ushers, with the 
 foyns and the budge-bachelors, remain 
 ashore, with other'', to await the return of 
 his lordship, who proceeds with several 
 city companies by waier, and is rowed 
 all along by the Strand to Westminster, 
 a pleasure boat wiih great guns aboard 
 saluting him on the way. At New Palace 
 Stairs they disembark, and making a lane 
 to the hall, the lord mayor passes along 
 to take the oatli and go through the usual 
 ceremonies. These being completed, he 
 makes a liberal donation to the poor of 
 Westminster, re-embarks with all liis re- 
 tinue, and being rowed back to Black- 
 friars Stairs, he lands there under beat of 
 drimi and a salute of three volleys from 
 the artillery company in their martial 
 ornaments, some in butf, with head-pieces, 
 many being of massy silver. From 
 Blackfriars they march before the lord 
 mayor and aldermen through Cheapside 
 to Guildhall. The pensioners and ban- 
 ners who went not to Westminster, being 
 set in order to march, the foot-marshal in 
 the rear of the artillery company, leads 
 the way along by the channel up Ludgate- 
 hill, through Ludgate, into St. Paul's 
 Churchyard, and so into Cheapside, 
 where his lordship is entertained by the 
 first p igeant, consisting of a large stage 
 with the coat armnur of the merchant- 
 tailors' company, eminently erected, con- 
 sisting of a large tent royal, (jfitfes, fringed 
 and richly garnished, or, lined, faced, 
 and doubled ermine. This stage is 
 winged or flanked by two other stages, 
 bearing two excellent figures of lively 
 carved camels, the supporters to the com- 
 pany's coat. On the back of one camel, 
 a black native Indian, in a golden robe, a 
 purple mantle fringed with gold, pearl 
 pendants in his ears, coronet of gold with 
 feathers, and golden buskins laced with 
 scarlet ribbon, holds a golden bridle in 
 his left, and a banner of the company, 
 representing Treasure in his right hand. 
 On the other camel, a West Indian, in a 
 robe of silver, scarlet mantle, diamonds 
 pendant from his ears, buskins of silver, 
 laced with purple ribbons, a golden crown 
 feathered, holds a silver bridle in his left, 
 and a banner of the lord mayor, repre- 
 senting Traffic, in his right hand. On 
 one of the camel stages four figures sit on 
 pedestals, one at each corner, represent- 
 
 ^24 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 ing Diligence, Indust'i/, Ingenuifi/, and 
 Success; on the other camel-sta^e, in 
 like manner, I/ediocrifi/, Aniity, Verity, 
 Variety, ^\ richly habited in silk or sar- 
 cenet, bear splendid emblemsand banners. 
 The royal tent, or imperial pavilion, be- 
 tween these two stages, is supported on 
 one side by a minister of state represent- 
 ing Royalty, and on the other side by 
 another representing Loyalty ; eacli in 
 ricii robes of honor gules, wearing on 
 their left arms shields azure, with this 
 motto in gold, For the king and kingdom, 
 one bearing a banner of the king's, and 
 tiie other one of the city banners. On 
 a liigh and eminent seat of throne-like 
 ascension is seated Sovereignty, in royal 
 posture and alone, with black curled hair, 
 wearing an imjicrial crown, a robe of 
 purple velvet, lined, faced, and caped 
 with ermine, a collar of SS with a George 
 pendant; bearing in one hand a golden 
 globe, in the other a royal sceptre. On 
 u seat beneath, are Principality, No- 
 bility, and Honour, all richly habited. 
 On the next sea% gradually descending 
 beneath, are, 1. Gentility, shaped like a 
 scholar and soldier, holding in one hand, 
 clad with a golden gauntlet, a silver 
 spear, in the other a book ; 2. Integrity, 
 wearing an earl's coronet for the court, a 
 loose robe of scarlet-coloured silk for the 
 city, underneath a close coat of grass- 
 green plush for the county; 3. Common- 
 alty, as a knight of the shire in parlia- 
 mentary robes On the lowest seat, 
 an ancient English Hero, with brown 
 curling hair, in ancient armour, as worn 
 by chief commanders, the coat of mail 
 ricldy gilt, crimson and velvet scarf 
 fringed with gold, a quiver of arrows in 
 a gold belt on one side, a sword at the 
 other, bnskins laced with silver and gold, 
 a silver helmet with red and white plumo, 
 in one hand a large long bow, and a spear 
 in the other. This personage, represent- 
 ing ;SV/' John Hairkwood, a merchant- 
 tailor of martial renown under Edward 
 111 , when he conquered France, as soon 
 as he perceives the lord mayor prepared, 
 wiih attention riseth up, and with a mar- 
 tial bow exhibiteth a speech in verse of 
 thirty-seven lines, in compliment to the 
 merchant-tailors and the lord mayor. 
 His lordship testifying his approbation, 
 rideth with all his brethren through the 
 throng of spectators, till at Milk-street 
 end, be is intercepted by the second pa- 
 geant, wiiich is a cliariot of ovation, or 
 peaceful triumph, adorned with delightful 
 
 pieces of curious painting, and drawn by 
 a golden lion and a lamb. On the lion 
 is mounted a young negro prince, richly 
 habited, according to the royal mode in 
 India, holding a golden bridle, and in the 
 oilier hand !St. George's banner, repre- 
 senting Power. On the lamb is mounted 
 a white beautiful seraphim-like creature, 
 with long bright flaxen curled hair, and 
 on it a golden coronet of cherubims' 
 heads and wings, a carnation sarcenet 
 robe, with a silver mantle and wings of 
 gold, silver, purple, and scarlet, reining 
 the lamb by a silver bridle in his left 
 hand, and with his right bearing an an- 
 gelical staiJ', charged with a red cross, 
 representing Clemency. In the chariot 
 sittelh seven persons, 1. Concordia, 2. 
 Unanimia, 3. Pacifica, 4. Consentania, 
 5. Melodea, 6. Benevolentia, (whose 
 habits, and those of other characters 
 already and hereafter mentioned, are not 
 described here for want of room) and 7. 
 " Harmonia, a lady of great gravity, with 
 masculine aspect, wearing a lovely dark 
 brown peruke, curiously curled, on which 
 is planted a crown imperial; she wears 
 a robe of French green velvet, pleasantly 
 embroidered with gold, a crimson co- 
 loured silk and silver mantle, and sitting 
 majestically alone in front, upon the ap- 
 proach and fixation of my lord mayor, 
 improves the opportunity, riseth up, and 
 delivereth an oration." This consists of 
 forty-four lines in verse, wherein she 
 acquaints his lordship that the other 
 charactersareher attributes, recommends 
 unity, because division is the policy of the 
 pope and the Jesuits, expresses her belief 
 that if the lion and the Lmb fall out, she 
 should run to ruin, descants upon magis- 
 trate-like virtues, and in the end tells 
 his lordship, — 
 
 Youhavedoneall things fair, no action foul; 
 Your sherevalry gave relish of good rule, 
 Kor need they doubt your mayoralty,the.e- 
 
 fore. 
 Begging your pardon, I shall say no more. 
 
 Tliis speech being concluded, his lordship 
 exhibiting a gracious aspect of favourable 
 acceptation, advanceth further towards 
 Uuiidliall, but is civilly obstructed by 
 another scene, and in regard, his lordship 
 is a merchant, and his com])any mer- 
 chant- tailorSjthe Third Triimiphal Scene, 
 or Pageant, is a ship called the Patience, 
 with masts and sails, fully rigged and 
 manned, the captain whereof addresseth 
 to my lord a speech beginning, — 
 
 72- 
 
THE EVERY-DAi" BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 Wluit cheer, my lord ? I am retnrn'd from 
 
 sea, 
 To amplifie your day of Jubilee, 
 1 u this tried vessel , &c. 
 
 Ilis lordship having surveyed the. ship, 
 and the trumpets sounding, he continueth 
 his determined course toward Guildhall, 
 but by the way is once more obstructed 
 by another scene, called the Palace oj 
 Pleasure, which is a triumphal ionic arch 
 of excellent structure, where, in distinct 
 and perspicuous situations, sitteth nine 
 beautiful and pleasant ladies, whose 
 
 names, naiurrs, and ornaments are con- 
 sentaneous, 1. Jollity, 2. Delight, 3. 
 Fancy, A. Felicity, 6. IVit, 6. Invention, 
 7. Tumult, 8. Slaughter, 9. Gladness ; 
 all of them properly enrobed and adorn- 
 ed ; and to augment their delight, there 
 are several persons properly habited, 
 playing on sundry loud instruments of 
 music, Oiie of which, with a voice as loud 
 and as tunable as a treble hautboy, 
 chanteth oui a Ditty in commendation of 
 the Merchant-tailors'" Trade, commenciiig 
 thus, 
 
 Of all the professions that ever were nam'd 
 The Taylers though slighted, is much to be fam'd : 
 For various invention and antiquity. 
 No trade with the Taylers compared may be : 
 For warmth and distinction and fashion he doth 
 Provide for both sexes with silk, stuff, and cloth : 
 Then do not disdain him or slight him, or flout him. 
 Since (if well consider'd) you can't live without him. 
 But let all due praises (that can be) be made 
 To honour and dignifie the Taylers trade. 
 
 When Adam and Eve out of Eden werchurl'd. 
 
 They were at that time king and queen of the world : 
 
 Yet this royal couple were forced to play 
 
 The Taylem, and put themselves in green array ; 
 
 For modesty and for necessity's sake 
 
 They had figs for the belly, and leaves for the back 
 
 And afterward clothing of sheep-skins they made 
 
 Then judge if a Tayler was not the first trade, 
 
 The oldest profession ; and they are but railers, 
 AVho scoff and deride men that be Merchant-Taylcrs. 
 
 This song, containing five more verses, 
 being ended, the foot-marshal places the 
 assistants, livery, and the companies on 
 both sides of King's-street, and the pen- 
 sioners with their targets hung on the 
 tops of the javelins; in the rear of them 
 the ensign-bearers ; drums and fifes in 
 front; he then hastens the foins and 
 budge-bachelors, together with the gen- 
 tlemen ushers, to Guildhall, where his 
 lordship is again saluted by the arlillery- 
 men with three volleys more, which con- 
 cludes their duty. His land attendants 
 pass through the gallery or lane so made 
 into Guildhall ; after which the company 
 repairs to dinner in the hall, and the 
 several silk -works and triumphs are like- 
 wise conveyed into Blackwell-hall ; and 
 the officers aforesaid, and the children 
 that sit in the pageants, there refresh 
 Jhemselves until his lordship hath dined. 
 At the dinner in Guildhall, his lordship 
 and the guests being all seated, the city 
 music begin to touch their instruments 
 with very aitfcl fingers. Their ^ars being 
 
 as well feasted as their palates, and a 
 concert lesson or two succeeding, " a 
 sober person with a good voice, grave 
 humour, and audible utterance, proper 
 to the condition of the times," sings a 
 song called The Protestants' Exhortation, 
 the burden whereof is. Love one another, 
 and the subject against the catholics. 
 The song being ended, the musicians play 
 divers new airs, which having done, three 
 or four " habit themselves according to 
 the humour of the song," and one of 
 them chanteth forth The Plotting Papist's 
 Litany, in ten stanzas, the first of which 
 ends with 
 
 Joyntly then wee 'I ao;ree. 
 
 To sing a Litany, 
 And let the burden be, 
 
 Ora pro nobis. 
 
 In the year 1688, the second mayoralty 
 of sir Thomas Pilkington, who being of 
 the skinner's company, a pageant in 
 honour of their occupation, consisted of 
 " a spacious wilderness, haunted and 
 
 725 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK — NOVEMBER q. 
 
 inhabited witli all manner of wild bea^its 
 and birds of various shapes and colours, 
 even to beasts of prey, us wolves, bears, 
 panthers, leopards, sables, and beavers ; 
 likewise dogs, cats, foxes, and rabbits, 
 which tossed up now and then into a 
 balcony fell oft upon the company's heads, 
 and by them tossed again into the crowd, 
 afforded great diversion ; melodious har- 
 mony likewise allayed the fury of the 
 wild beasts, who were continually moving, 
 dancing, curvetting, and tumbling to the 
 music." 
 
 On the alteration of the style, tlie 
 swearing in of the lord mayor and the 
 accompanying show, which had been on 
 the 29th of October, was changed to the 
 9th of November. The speeches in the 
 pageants were usually composed by the 
 city poet, an officer of the corporation, 
 with an annual salary, who provided a 
 printed description for the members of 
 the corporation before the day. Settle, 
 the last city poet, wrote the last pamph- 
 let intended to describe a lord mayor's 
 show ; it was for sir Charles Duncombe's, 
 in 1708, but the prince of Denmark's 
 death the day before, prevented the exhi- 
 bition. The last lord mayor who rode 
 on horseback at his mayoralty was sir 
 Gilbert Heatlicote in tlie reign of queen 
 A::ne. 
 
 It will be remarked after this perusal, 
 that the modern exhibitions have no pre- 
 tension to vie with the grandeur of the 
 old " London triumphs." In 1 760, the 
 court of common council recommended 
 pageants to be exhibited for the entertain- 
 ment of their majesties on lord mayor's 
 day. Such revivals are inexpedient, yet 
 probably some means might be devised 
 for improving the appearance of the pre- 
 sent procession, without further expendi- 
 ture from the city funds, or interfering 
 with the public appropriation of the 
 allowance for the support of the civic 
 dignity. All that remains of the lord 
 mayor's show, to remind the curiously 
 informed of its ancient character, is in 
 the first part of the procession, wherein 
 the poor men of the company to which 
 the lord mayor belongs, or persons hired 
 to represent them, are habited in long 
 gowns and close caps of the company's 
 colour, and bear painted shields on their 
 arms, bnt without javelins. So many of 
 ttiese head the show, as there are years in 
 the lord mayor's age. Their obsolete 
 costume and hobbling walk are Sf ort for 
 the unsedate, who, from imperfect tradi- 
 
 tion, year after year, are accustomed to 
 call them " old bachelors" — tongues less 
 polite call them " old fogeys." The nu- 
 merous band of gentlemen-ushers in 
 velvet coats, wearing chains of gold and 
 bearing white staves, is reduced to half- 
 a-dozen full-dressed footmen, carrying 
 umbrellas in their hands. The antiquarian 
 reminiscences occasioned by the throw- 
 ing o substances that stone-eaters alone 
 would covet, from the tops of the houses, 
 can arise no more ; and even the giants 
 in Guildhall are elevated upon octagon 
 stone columns, to watch and ward the 
 great west window, in no other than a 
 gigantic capacity : their proper situation 
 they were displaced from some few years 
 ago, owing, it is presumed, to lack of in 
 formation in the civic authorities, tha* 
 figures of giants anciently belonged to 
 Guildhall, and that their corporate station 
 was at the Guildhall door. In their pre- 
 sent station, they are as much out of 
 place as a church weathercock would be 
 if it were removed from the steeple, and 
 put on the sounding board of the pulpit. 
 
 Husbands and Wives. 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 It is not often that men, now-a-days, 
 send copies of verses to their wives, but 
 I think the editor of the Every-Day Book 
 who is fond of the times gone by, is still 
 old fashioned enough not to condemn the 
 practice. The following lines, which 
 have not appeared in print, are much at 
 your service. My best wishes attend the 
 complete success of your useful and in- 
 structive undertaking. 
 
 I remain, 
 Your constant reader, 
 
 II. 
 Norfolk, Oct. 19, 1825. 
 
 To Mrs. on my Birth-day. 
 
 My Betsy lo ! the year's gone round, 
 
 We see this day once more, 
 November's leaves bespread the ground, 
 
 And I am forty-four. 
 
 I look me back to boyhood's days, 
 
 'WTien I was wont to pore 
 O'er grammar, 'neath a master's gaze. 
 
 Nor thought of forty-four. 
 
 The mathematics I began. 
 
 Twice two I said was four. 
 What more know I, tho' time has ran, 
 
 And made me forty four. 
 
 727 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 Of French and crabbed Latin too 
 
 I laid in little store, 
 Yet both are p]easing to my view, 
 
 Now I am forty -lour. 
 
 Thus time makes pleasant in his round 
 
 What once to us was sore, 
 This truth full often have I found, 
 
 Ere I was forty-four. 
 
 One nymph to crown our nuptial bliss, 
 See dancing on the floor, 
 
 May all our days be blest as this 
 On wliich I am fortj-four. 
 
 Tlio' small my girl, our share, our wealth. 
 
 On wolf we bar the door; 
 If Providence but sends me health, 
 
 I'm blest at forty- four. 
 
 For thee, my love, long life I ask, 
 
 That blessing sent of yore, 
 When men like boys conn'd o'er a ta;k 
 
 A.t ten times foity-four. 
 
 THE AERIAL, OR THE GREAT UNKNOWN, 
 
 AT VAUXHALL. 
 
 "The earth hath bubbles as the water has. 
 And this is of them." 
 
 728 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— NOVEMBEH 9. 
 
 Tliis personig'e has obtained liimself to 
 be sketched and lithogra[)hed. It is a true 
 portraiture of his dress and form, but not 
 of his face. By way of denoting his \n-e- 
 tension to "deathless notoriety," it has 
 these few exjjressive words beneatli it ; 
 namely, — " VVithout equal in nature or 
 art, this or in any other age or globe." Af- 
 terwards follows this intimation, "Pub- 
 lished as the act directs, by Mr. Leeming, 
 London, October, 18'25." In vain did he 
 solicit the printsellers to sell the prints 
 for five shillings each. Although he had 
 coupled it with written intimation that he 
 is "theiErial invaluable," and that after 
 his decease will be inscribed on his 
 tomb, " If this was not a gentleman, he 
 would not have been buried in christian 
 burial," yet the publishers were impene- 
 trable to his " assuiance," and therefore 
 beforeandafter,andon6uyFawkes'sday, 
 a man was employed to walk the streets 
 with a board bearing a couple of the im- 
 pressions pasted thereon, the said man 
 bearing also unpasted ones, " to all who 
 choose to buy them" at one shilling each. 
 
 The first puhlic intimation of this 
 " phenomenon," is in the Times of Satur- 
 day. July 2, 1825: — "An individual in 
 a splendid dress of Spanish costume has 
 excited much attention at Vauxhall gar- 
 dens. Having walked or rather skipped 
 round the promenade, with a great air 
 of consequence, saluting the company as 
 he passed along, he at length mingled 
 amongst tie audience in the front of the 
 orchestra, and distributed a number of 
 cards, on each of which was written, 
 ' The ^^rial challenges the whole world 
 to find a man that can in any way com- 
 pete with him as such.' After having 
 served about three or four hundred of 
 these challenges, he darted off like light- 
 ning, taking the whole circuit of the gar- 
 dens in his career, and made his exit 
 through the grand entrance into the road 
 where a carriage was in waiting for him, 
 into which he sprang, and was driven otf." 
 
 Postponing a few particulars of this vi- 
 sitationof Vauxhallby '•'•The^riaV fora 
 minute or two, we proceed to state that he 
 declares himself " an Adonis ; that to 
 glad the eyes of artists with a view of his 
 uncommon person, he condescended to 
 leave the good town of Manchester by tlie 
 common stage coach, and that assuming 
 the disguise of common dress, like Apollo 
 in "Midas" after expulsion from the ce- 
 lestials, he arrived in London on the 
 day of June. Dull as he found iliis me- 
 
 tropolis to personal merit, yet, to h*3 
 " Agreeable Surprise," there were some 
 who said in the linguage of Lingo: — 
 
 " Such beauties in view I 
 Can never praise too high." 
 
 Sculptors and painters of eminence to 
 whom he proffered disclosure of his ele- 
 !» ant person were honoured by visits from 
 him. He represents some interviews to 
 this effect. Sir Thomas Lawrence, the 
 president of the royal academy, gazed 
 upon him, and inquired what "he con- 
 sidered the essential principle of man ?" • 
 the .lEi ial immediately answered *' the 
 thigh." Sir Thomas insensible to the 
 mundane charms before him, observed 
 that he thought the beauties of the mind 
 should be preferred to those of the body, 
 and therefore suggested the propriety of 
 his cultivating mental beauty. This was 
 an indignity, for it was opposed to the 
 theory maintained by the iErial, that 
 mental beauty results from personal beau- 
 ty. Mr. Haydon was not quite so shock- 
 ing; he admitted to, and to the cost of, the 
 yl3i ial, as will hereafter appear, that he had 
 "a beautiful leg." His oral develope- 
 ment of his sylph-like perfections to Mr. 
 Chantry, induced that gentleman to de- 
 cline prolongation of the interview, and 
 to say he should at once call himself 
 iErial, and from that moment he did. Mr. 
 Behnes told him that he was " no con- 
 juror," and that every body laughed at 
 him. The ^Erial was not to be so sub- 
 dued, nor by such means humbled lie 
 deemed them to be the sayings of envy. 
 His organ of self-esteem attained a new 
 swell, and in harmonious strength he 
 rose like Anta3us from the dust, a giant 
 refreshed. 
 
 He conceives that he is the most beau- 
 tiful person in the world, and hence be- 
 sides calling himself " the ^^^rial," the 
 "New Discovery," and "the Great Un- 
 known," he adds " the Paragon of Per- 
 fection," "the Phcen X," "the God of 
 Beauty," and "the (irand Arcana of 
 Nature." Some one intimated that arca- 
 num would be correct ; he said, he ditl 
 not choose to hum., and he was " not to be 
 hummed.''^ It was hinted tha' he might 
 assume the name of Apollo; he turned 
 from thespeaker with contempt — "Apollo 
 is nothing compared with me: there is 
 no figure to co':npete with me in any re- 
 spect, except the Achilles in the park, 
 which may be som'"what like me in the 
 under part of the foot upon the ground. 
 
 729 
 
THE EVERY-DA-t BOOK— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 but iijion tliat it is impossible to deter- 
 mine with accuracy, unless the figuie tlew 
 from the pedestal." 
 
 He relates, that he visited Dr. Thorn- 
 ton, who lectures at the Marlborough 
 rooms, in Great Marlborough-street, on 
 " craniology, botany, chemistry, astrono- 
 my, vis'ion, hearing, the circulation of the 
 blood, digestion, and the beneficial ef- 
 fects produced by the different gases in 
 tiie cure of diseases." He inquired of 
 this gentleman whether he thought " an 
 exhibition of something never before seen 
 under the sun, and which, when seen, 
 people would fall down and worship, 
 would be likely to take?" Tiie doctor 
 inquired what the " something'' was ; the 
 /Erial answered by inquiring which of all 
 the exhibitions v/as likely to be the most 
 successful; the doctor answered, "the 
 panorama of London in the Regent's- 
 park when it opens." "But what do you 
 think an infinitely more attractive exhi- 
 bition will produce." " It is impossible 
 to say — perhaps 20,000?. a year ; but what 
 is yours .'" — " You shall see — but not now 
 — to-morrow." On the morrow the iErial 
 came with a small bundle; and having 
 obtained permission to retire therewith, 
 alone to a room, promised to return in a 
 few minutes, and cheer the sight of the 
 doctor and his family with a more asto- 
 nishing production of nature than the 
 doctor or all mankind born before him 
 had seen, or after ages could see. 
 During his absence, the doctor's house- 
 hold were on tiptoe expectation till the 
 long-looked-at door opened, when the 
 j'Erial entered in a close-fitting dress, and 
 walking to the middle of the room, threw 
 out his chest and left arm, and projecting 
 his right arm behind, cried, " Behold !" 
 Determined on an immediate public 
 exhibition, the iErial conceived the idea 
 of a new joint stock company, " capital 
 one million ;" for which " good and valu- 
 able consideration, he proposed to put 
 himself at the disposition of the com- 
 pany " so soon as the subscription was 
 filled up." To certain observations of 
 the chancellor against the " new compa- 
 nies," the Tl^rial attributed a general in- 
 difference to personal overtures that he 
 made to several individuals, with a view 
 to arrangements for bringing him " into 
 the market." He resolved to speculate 
 on his own account ; the first thing to 
 be obtained was a " grand room ;'' but 
 the proprietor of the " Egyptian-hall" 
 was deaf to the voice of the charmer, and 
 
 every room in London was denied to him, 
 except on degrading conditions which 
 people " without souls" are accustomed to 
 require on such applications. Could he 
 have obtained one friend to have gone 
 shares with him, the summnm bomim might 
 have been obtained. Ifonlyo«e monied 
 man would have advanced with capital, 
 the iErial would have advan-ced in per- 
 son. It was to have been an exhibition 
 by candlelight, for candlelight he said 
 was indispensable to produce " extreme 
 height," and render him in common eyes 
 " a giant." This effect of exhibition by 
 candlelight would be, he said, a " new 
 discovery;" and therefore he added to 
 himself the title of the " New Discovery." 
 lie is five feet one inch and a quarter high. 
 Some one unthinkingly conversing in his 
 presence, stated him to be five feet one 
 inch and a half ; the ili,rial corrected the 
 inaccuracy with severity. " A quarter, 
 sir," he said ; " five feet one and a rjiiar- 
 ter, sir; mine is the perfect height; a 
 f/narter of an inch more would be higher, 
 a quarter of an inch less would be lower 
 than the standard of perfection !" 
 
 Acquiring experience from disappoint- 
 ment, and deeming that the wonder of his 
 person might be as insupportable as 
 " excess of light," the iErial purposed to 
 let himself in upon the public by degrees. 
 At his chambers in Thavies-inn, he pro- 
 cured the attendance of a person to 
 mould that limb, which Mr. Haydon, 
 from inability to duly appreciate the rest 
 of his body, had denominated " a beauti- 
 ful leg." The operation was so tedious, 
 that the mould was not completed till 
 eleven o'clock in the evening. It was 
 then carried away for the purpose of 
 being cast, but the iErial suspected " all 
 was not right," and " convinced," he 
 says, " that the artist was sitting up to 
 surreptitiously take a thousand casts from 
 it, in the course of the night, and sell them 
 all over the country," he jumped into a 
 hackney, between one and two in the 
 morning, and caused the coachman to 
 drive him " as fast as the horses could 
 go," to the artist's house. The coach- 
 man, then he, the door-knocker seized, 
 and there both kept " lowd rub a dub 
 tabering, with frapping rip rap.'' The 
 drowsy servant roused from slumber, 
 " creeping like snail, unwillingly" opened 
 the street door ; the iErial called out 
 " where's my leg ! I'm come for my leg!" 
 and, seizing " the candle," rushed to the 
 workroom, which to his astonishment was 
 
 730 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9 
 
 in darkness till illumined by his presence, 
 and the light he bore in his hand. On 
 seeing the mould of his leg in the basket 
 just as it had been brought, he seized and 
 bore it ofl' to liis own home, and after this 
 achievement slept in peace. In the 
 morning he carried it himself to another 
 place, and having had a cast taken from 
 it in his own presence, conveyed both 
 away, and meditated how " all might see, 
 and having seen, admire." Finally, he 
 deposited the cast with Mr. Cottrell, at 
 his " last and boot-tree manufactory," No, 
 J 25, (near Leather-lane,) Holborn, upon 
 a promise that it should be exhibited in 
 the shop window without note or com- 
 ment : " it will speak for itself," he said. 
 He frequently made kind inquiries as to 
 this portional representation of himself, 
 till he was informed, that " two hundred 
 pounds had been bid for it :" this was not 
 enough. On a subsequent interview, he 
 was acquainted that " another person 
 said he was willing to give three hundred 
 for it." This undervaluation was decisive. 
 " Such people,'' he said, " shall not have 
 a part of my person : give me my leg ; 
 plenty now will desire an entire cast of 
 me : I will submit to it for the sake of 
 the world for a thousand pounds ; no 
 less : here is my address, let any one vviio 
 desires it come to me." He once more 
 resumed the actual possession of the cast, 
 but no one came, and he pondered in 
 vain to account for the motives of " the 
 world." At length, by accident, he let 
 the cast fall and broke it ; this he entirely 
 destroyed. He next sought how to dis- 
 pose of the mould without disgrace to it, 
 or to himself. Sudden and quick in pur- 
 pose, he resolved to bury it in the ocean. 
 The mail carried him to Dover, and from 
 on board a steam-vessel, when midway 
 between England and France, he let it 
 down to the bed of the sea. as to the bed 
 of honour, and " left it alone in its glory." 
 After this funeral excursion, which had 
 extended to Calais, he was, on Monday, 
 the 29th of August, at the public office, 
 Marlborough - street. The newspapers 
 state the circumstance to this ediect : — 
 " A young man, smart and flippant withal, 
 was introduced to Mr. Conant, the pr^ 
 siding magistrate. Whetlier the indivi- 
 dual thought with Burke, that ' mystery 
 was an attribute of the sublime,' we 
 know not — but this we know, he at first 
 attempted to hide his merits under the 
 humble appellative of Joseph Thompson; 
 but subsequently owned a lawful right to 
 
 the name of Joseph Leeming; — whethei 
 to an immoderate love of the grape, or 
 malt, was to be attributed the inclination 
 of Joseph Leeming matters not, a serious 
 charge of drunkenness, and its almost 
 certain offspring, a riotous comportment 
 in his majesty's highway, was made 
 against him. When it was demanded 
 what part of the metropolis was dignified 
 by the sojourn of Joseph, he replied. 
 No. 20, Newman-street, where he had 
 tarried about a week. Indeed, Joseph, 
 by his own avowal, is of the swallow na- 
 ture — one of those roving sons of fortune 
 who fillip the world aside, and cock their 
 hat at fate. With this disposition he 
 seldom remains more than a week any- 
 Y.-here, — perhaps he thinks with V^irgil, 
 that 'in no fixed place the happy souls 
 reside,' and therefore puts his happiness 
 in quick migration. He had come direct 
 from Calais. * And pray, sir,' said the 
 magistrate, ' what was your business at 
 Calais V — ' My business ? ' retorted 
 Joseph Leeming, ' business, indeed ! ' — 
 ' Well, sir,' replied the magistrate, mak- 
 ing due acknowledgment for having 
 imagined that Joseph Leeming could 
 have any business, ' what was your plea- 
 sure ?' but our hero was not to be cate- 
 chised in this manner, yet feeling that his 
 dependence on his powers were gradually 
 relaxing, he sent for an artist to astonish 
 the world by a publication of that fame 
 which the modesty of Joseph Leeming 
 kept concealed. The messenger said the 
 ariist was not at home, but he learned 
 from a man at the house, that Joseph 
 Leeming was, what no one could have 
 discovered, namely, a conjuror; and then 
 came the grand discovery which we have 
 now to relate. England is now the mu- 
 seum of the world ; she has balloons, 
 fighting-dogs, fighting- men, giantesses, 
 and griping churchmen. Mr. Leeming, 
 with a laudable spirit to improve the 
 number of these curiosities, and to dis- 
 tend the jaws of public wonderment 
 somewhat wider, had hit upon a plan by 
 which he might fly through the air and 
 wage an equal battle with rooks and mag- 
 pies. He had purposed, by the aid of a 
 pair of patent wings, (to be had only of 
 the inventor,) to fly from one of the 
 Dover clifl's down into the town of Calais, 
 or, upon extraordinary occasions, to light 
 upon Paris gates, thereby saving a world 
 of trouble resulting from passports and 
 gendarmerie. However, nothing is more 
 uncertain than the resolve of genius, Mr. 
 
 731 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 9. 
 
 Leemingliad lately examined the cliffs of 
 Dover, and whether, as he surveyed the 
 siiores of France from clialky England, 
 he thought a trip to the 'land of theCJaul' 
 was too venturous for a soose we know 
 not, but the feat was relinquished, and 
 the good people of Dover and Calais were 
 denied the pleasure of beholding an 
 aerial race between Mr. Leeming and a 
 sea gull for the point of destination. After 
 this introduction of Mr. Leeming, in his 
 national greatness, to Mr. Conant, his 
 worship recurred to the original sidiject, 
 and asked Mr. Leeming if he had his 
 'wings' about him. Mr. Leeming said 
 it was' a question he should not answer. 
 ' Because if you have,' said Mr. Conant, 
 'you may fly out of the olHce as soon as 
 you please, after j^ou have paid five shil- 
 lings fur being drunk.' Mr. Leeming 
 paid the five shillings ; and so much had 
 the adventure awakened curiosity to the 
 suggested Voyage, that the spectators 
 could not divest themselves of the hope 
 of seeing INIr. Leeming fly from the step 
 of the office-door to a neighbouring 
 chimney-pot; in this, however, they were 
 deceived, as he preferred walking out." 
 
 Whether Mr. Leeming proposed" to fly" 
 from Dover cliffs or not is of little conse- 
 quence, but a person at Dover who me- 
 ditated and perhaps achieved the experi- 
 ment, deemed it inexpedient to be consi- 
 dered the .lEi ial of Marlhorough-street, 
 and by public announcement, disclaimed 
 the identity, llis appearance at tliat 
 j)ulice office was after his return from 
 Calais. Lie was on his way home to 
 Newman-street, in " tipsy-dance," when 
 in the imperative mood, he inquired his 
 way of a watchman, who, preferring the 
 suaviter inniodo, lodged him in the house 
 appointed for the reception of many who 
 indulge too freely in "life in London." 
 The constable inquired " who are you ? " 
 " If you cannot jierceive I am a great man 
 with a mere look," said the ^rial, " I 
 sliall not tell you: I will have you all 
 punished." The result as we have seen, 
 was the proceedings before Mr. Conant. 
 
 For the visit to Vauxhall mentioned in 
 The Times, he madeduepreparation. His 
 dress was a close jacket of blue and sil- 
 ver; theatrical" trunks,"orshort breeches, 
 reaching' to within two or three inches 
 above the knee; white silk stockings of 
 twenty shillings the pair ; blue kid shoes ; 
 a double frill or rulf, edged with lace 
 round the neck ; and wristbands trimmed 
 with lace, llis entrance into the gardens 
 
 without a hat surprised and a'^tonished 
 the waiters, who ran aiM'oss to each otiier 
 inquiring "who is he?" They imagined 
 him a distinguished foreigner, but as he 
 walked the gardens unrecognised their 
 curiosity ceased. During the perform- 
 ances he was little noticed, for being 
 uncovered, the company presumed he 
 was some performer awaiting his turn to 
 exiubit; but when the amusements had 
 ceased, one or two visitors begged to 
 know whom they had the honour of ad- 
 dressing. He answered "you'll find out 
 by and bye." Inquiries becoming trou- 
 blesome, and a cn;wd of gazers pressing 
 on, he suddenly broke through, and sus- 
 tained the character ofiErial, by a "light- 
 fantastic toe " sort of flight, from one part 
 of the ground to another, till having 
 arrived at the saloon and rotunda escape 
 was impossible. From a private pocket 
 he handed the printed card copied in 
 The Times paragraph, with another in- 
 scribed, "The New Discovery chal- 
 lenges the whole World, and artists indi- 
 vidually, to find a man, or even design, 
 that can in any way, inform or shape, be 
 compared to him.'" Tlie distribution of 
 three or four hundred of these challenges 
 were, in general, satisfactory answers; 
 and when he intimated an inclination to 
 walk, a passage was made, through which 
 he passed with the mostdignified deport- 
 ment he could assume, while the company 
 followed huzzaing. A gentleman retjuired 
 a ring for him; it was instantly complied 
 with, and the .Serial put himself into 
 various positions, with the intent of dis- 
 playing his transcendant form in the atti- 
 tudes of ancient statues; that which 
 seemed to give the most lively satisfaction 
 to himself and his increasing audience 
 was the gladiator, wherein he is repre- 
 sented by the engraving to this article. 
 He maintained it with painful perseve- 
 rance and patient endurance, while the 
 perspiration poured down his fa^e, and 
 the spectators shrieked with laughter and 
 amazement. This aciiievement was the 
 height of his ambition ; at its conclusion 
 he withdrew to a couch, whereon he duly 
 reclined in a studied attitude, to the ad- 
 miration of thousands, who, tempted by 
 the " Wonderful Discovery," flocked in 
 from the supper rooms to gaze. Loud 
 cries and shouts of " encore," roused iiini 
 from temporary repose ; but it was not to 
 indulge the anxious desire, for he walked 
 apparently undistin-bed by the distinction 
 he had obtained, and entering a bcx 
 
 
TOE EVERY-DAY BO:)K.— NOVExMCER 9. 
 
 called for "wine, mighty wine." Draughts 
 of this were succeeded by potations of 
 rack-punch, while loud calls upon hiin 
 were unanswered ; allegations derogatory 
 to his dignity were noticed bj' looks of 
 indignation and contempt; "he spoke 
 not, he moved not," till increased throng 
 and uproar raised his indignation, wiien 
 a person withdrew him from the gardens, 
 ])ut on his cloak, and the ^Erial retired 
 delighted with his reception. 
 
 Perusing the papers on the morrow, 
 and not finding accounts respecting his 
 Vanxhall adventure, he found an adver- 
 tisement of a song dedicated to the 
 Duke of Yoik, printed in blue and 
 white. " Tiiey are my colours," said 
 the .^rial, " iliey are the colours of an 
 serial, — the duko is an *ri:il." Elated 
 by tliis concejition, he buuglit another 
 new pair of silk stockings, and accom- 
 'plislied another visit to Vanxhall the 
 same evening, where being immediately 
 recognised by some who had seen iiim the 
 evening before, he was soon surrounded. 
 On this occasiiin he adventured a chal- 
 lenge, with an offer of 500^. to an\ one 
 who would match himself against him for 
 beauty. Being pusheil and pursued lie 
 sprung on the supper-table of a company, 
 to the loss or great damage of his secoi.d 
 pair of silks, and went home on foot by 
 daylight, amidst tlie grins of unappre- 
 ciating people passing to their labour. 
 
 On the niglit of the juvenile fete, as 
 the Duke of Cambridge was to be present 
 wih his son, the ^rial once more visited 
 Vauxliall. Unliappily, the Duke and 
 the young prince were the attracting ob- 
 jects. 
 
 Descried in his utmost need, 
 By those liis former fancies led, 
 the iErial retired to a box, and, through 
 the medium of the waiters, consoled him- 
 self from their beaufets so effectually, that 
 before supjier time he was better qualified 
 to represent an attendant in a bacchanal 
 procession, than the celestial character he 
 assumed. Imagining that certain smiles 
 indicated a deadly jealousy of bis super- 
 human structure, and dreading assassina- 
 tion from tlie hands of the envious, he 
 manifested his feelings in an undaunted 
 manner, and was overpowered in a scuffle. 
 Being unable to walk from excess of de- 
 votion to the rosy deity, he was deposited 
 in one of the cloak rooms, and left to re- 
 pose: on awaking and sallying forth 
 into the gardens he was astonished to find 
 the p'ace deserted; and, for lam.p-light,tlie 
 
 glare of the sun. His cloak and purse 
 were not to be found ; remonstrance and 
 entreaty were a'ike vain; he was assured 
 he should have both when they were 
 recoverable, but not then, and he found it 
 convenient to accept the best substitute 
 the place afforded. To be content, where 
 discontent avails not, is a philosophical 
 ru I i men t, and therefore he philosophically 
 submitted to be assisted by the waiters 
 into a moth-eaten, mould}', ragged 
 watchman's scarlet frieze cloak, with 
 " R. G. V. H.," denoting " Koyal Gar- 
 dens, Vanxhall," worked in large worsted 
 letters on the back; an 1 in this attire he 
 wandered, " not unseen," to his dormitory 
 at a few miles' distance. The particular 
 compliments he received by the way are 
 not relatable. After a few hours' rest, he 
 made personal application at Vanxhall for 
 li is cloak and purse, and both were return- 
 ed to him, accompanied by an assurance 
 from them that he must not appear there 
 again. Undaunted by so unexpected a 
 return for the patronage he had vouch- 
 safed towardsthe gardens, and conceiving 
 tiiat the proprietors ought not to sustain 
 tlie injury his ab^ence would inflict on 
 them, he laid out another pound in a 
 fourth pair of hose, and again, "in silk 
 a;tiie," covered by a cloak, presented 
 himself at the door, but be had scarcely 
 advanced from paying his entrance- 
 n.oney w hen constables hurried him out, 
 and he was not allowed to re-enter. This 
 was the last appearance of the ^'Erial at 
 Vanxhall. 
 
 Conceiving tliat the managers of the 
 theatres would gladly avail themselves of 
 his attractive powers, he habited himself 
 as before described, and announced him- 
 self at their doors as " The .(Erial ;" but 
 they were "not at home," nor were they 
 "at home'' to his subsequent calls. Such 
 gross inattention to their interests was in- 
 conceivable: for it seems he coveted no 
 other remuneration than "to walk across 
 the stage and back again, and receive the 
 plaudits of the audience." lie affirms 
 that he appeared on the boards of the 
 Alanchester theatre, and that the people 
 hooted because he would not deign to 
 remain long enough for the gratification 
 of their extreme curiosity. Though con- 
 vinced that no one ever ap[)cared to such 
 advantage as he does, in the dress wherein 
 he has already appeared in public, yet he 
 walks en deshahiU': on ordinary occasions, 
 lest he should suffer violence from the fa- 
 thers, brothers, and lovers of the Brilish 
 
THE EVF,RY-DAY BOOK.— NUVEMBEIl 0. 
 
 ladies, wno, according to his own affirma- 
 tion, are ready to throw themselves at his 
 feet upon the least encouragement. lie 
 says he is determined to ally himself to 
 her alone, if she can be found, who 
 knows herself to be a Venus as he knows 
 himself to be an Adonis. He is of opinion 
 that he is " winning each heart and de- 
 lighting each eye ;" and he calls himself 
 
 " the immortal Mr. L ." It was 
 
 suggested to him as possible, that as no 
 income resulted from his outgoings, his 
 property might be expended. His answer 
 was to this effect : — " When I am aJt the 
 last extiemity I can marry any lady I 
 please with thirty thousand pounds." If 
 he should find himself mistaken in his 
 conceptions before matters have pro- 
 ceeded so far, those to whom his flights 
 have rendered him a public character will 
 soon forget his extraordinary assumptions, 
 and he will find a common station more 
 conducive to his personal quiet. He is 
 unknown to the writer of this article, 
 who, nevertheless, is so well informed 
 respecting him as to be persuaded that 
 when Mr. L.'s feveris)i excitement is over, 
 his talents merely lequire diligent culti- 
 vation in a different direction to ensure 
 this. A man is in less danger who thinks 
 too meanly, than he who thinks too highly 
 of himself. It is easier to be comfortable 
 in a lower sphere, than to reach an ele- 
 vated one and live happy in it. 
 
 Letter from the Mrial. 
 When this sheet was going to press a 
 letter was received ; which, being properly 
 authenticated, is here subjoined, with 
 the words in italics as marked in the 
 original. 
 To the Editor of the Everv-Duy Book. 
 Sir, November 16, 1825. 
 
 I conceive that nothing but my 
 " death," or at least " the beautiful leg, ' 
 will atone to the world for my little in- 
 discretions. If you expect me to appeal 
 to the public, I answer, that I have been 
 without father and mother eleven years 
 nearly, though now only twenty-five 
 years old, and measuring five feet two 
 inches and a half, and in the hands of 
 guardians, though not wanting money, 
 foxir of whom it took to put me in the 
 watchhouse, and I answer that I would 
 rather be hanged if " the most liberal 
 nation of the earth" wishes it. 
 
 You have observed that the company 
 shrieked with laughter and amazement. 
 
 Now I say 7 was the only one who 
 shrieked with laughter, as i should at 
 another hoax on the public. You might 
 have spared me the trouble of answering 
 you, if you had not introduced a most 
 immutable picture of my conduct. You 
 have represented me as the individual 
 courting excessive censure or praise ; but 
 I must here be puppy enough to talk of 
 general opinion, and say, that notwith- 
 standing the pretended christian burial 
 of me by the newspapers, it still appears 
 by each and every of them that in the 
 end the magistrate had no just cause to 
 hate me. Besides acquiring experience 
 from disappointment, and Mr. Chantry 
 who sent for me, I had a dream which 
 clearly convinced me I should not part 
 with the cast. 
 
 I have no occasion to mention the 
 author of the following quotation : — 
 " Let Hercules himself do what he rnay. 
 The cat will mew, the dog will have his day." 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 Joseph Leeming. 
 N'o. 61, Berwick Street, Soho. 
 
 Having inserted this letter here the 
 matter ends, for nothing remains to be 
 said. 
 
 It being within the purpose of the 
 Every- Day Book to observe on the phe- 
 nomena of the times, Mr. Leeming, as 
 " the iErial," was included, but not until 
 he had been previously in print from the 
 character he assumed. His present let- 
 ter speaks for itself. He admits " little" 
 indiscretions: among these '■'^ little" ones a 
 large one was, what he terms, his " hoax" 
 on the public ; but his visits to the artists 
 are of another character. There exists 
 no feeling towards him, on the part of 
 the editor of this work, but a kind one ; 
 and he advises him, for his own sake, to 
 " study to be quiet" 
 
 Happy the man whose wish and care, 
 
 A few paternal acres bound ; 
 Content to breathe his native air. 
 
 In his own ground. 
 
 Whose herds with milk, whose fields with 
 bread. 
 Whose flocks supply him with attire ; 
 Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
 
 In v/inter fire. 
 
 Blest, who can unconcern'dly find 
 
 Hours, days, and years, slide sflft awny 
 In health ot body, peace of mmd, 
 
 (^uiet by day 
 
 734 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVE^IBER 10,11. 
 
 Sound sleep by night, study and ease 
 Togetlier niix'd ; sweet recreation ! 
 And innocence which most does please 
 
 With meditation. 
 
 Thiis let me live, unseen, unknown, 
 
 'i'hus uulamented let me die ; 
 Steal from the world, and not a stone 
 
 Tell where I lie. 
 Pufje, 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Gliiucus Aletris. Vtltheimia glauca. 
 Dedicated to St. John Lateran. 
 
 ^obnnljfr 10. 
 
 St. Andrew AveUino, a. d. 1608. Sts. 
 Tnjpho and Respicins, a. d. 230. St. 
 Nt/mpha, 5th Cent. St. Ju.ifus, Ahp. 
 of' Canterbury, a. d. 627. St. Milles, 
 Bp., and Sts. Abrosimus and Sina, 
 A. D. 341. 
 
 Day after Lord Mayor's Day. 
 
 London on the \Oth of November. 
 
 Tliin attendance on 'Change to-day — 
 dull eyes — languid countenance — a little 
 nervous this morning — fresh demand for 
 soda-water and ginger-beer — much break- 
 fasting at the coffee-houses about twelve 
 — scrags of mutton in great request — 
 confounded head-ache — shall be home 
 early to-morrow, my dear — let me have a 
 little broth — deuce take the lord mayor; 
 I'll never go again.* — 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Scotch Fir. Pinus Silveitris. 
 Dedicated to <S/. Nympha. 
 
 iBobnnljer 11. 
 
 St. Martin, Bp. a. d. 397. St. Mennas, 
 A. D. 304. 
 
 ^t. iBartm. 
 
 lie is in the church of England calen- 
 dar and the almanacs. By Romish wri- 
 ters he is called " the Great St. Martin, 
 the glory of Gaul." They say that he was 
 born in Lower Hungary, about 316, and 
 becoming a soldier, a beggar requested 
 alms, when having no money he drew his 
 sword, and cutting his cloak into two 
 pieces, gave tialf to the beggar, and 
 wrapped himself up in the other ; where- 
 upon Clirist appeared to him the next 
 
 * Mciruin Advt-rtiser, Nov. 15, IblM. 
 
 night, in the half he had given away, asked 
 him if he knew it, and said to angels that 
 surrounded him, " Martin has given me 
 this garment." This occasioned him tt 
 leave the army and enter the church, and 
 he was made an exorcist by St. Hilary. 
 Turning hermit, he lived on roots and 
 wild herbs, and unawares ate a quantity 
 of hellebore sufficient to kill an unprivi- 
 leged person. After this, one of his dis- 
 ciples fell ill of a fever, and died suddenly 
 without baptism; "whereupon," saysAl- 
 ban Butler," feeling in himself a divine im- 
 pulse to work a miracle," he stretched 
 himself upon the body, and prayed till 
 the deceased came to life. She said her 
 soul had been before the divine tribunal, 
 and been sentenced to a dark dungeon ; — 
 but that on two angels representing St. 
 Martin was praying for her coming back, 
 she was ordered to be restored to the 
 body and raised to life. " Another time 
 the saint restored to life, in the same man- 
 ner, a slave who had hanged himself.'" In 
 371, he was chosen bishop of Tours, and 
 is said to have lived in a narrow hole in the 
 side of a rock. Near to it was a chapel 
 with an altar, over a tomb, but St. Martin 
 would not visit it, because, although the 
 person buried was represented to have 
 been a martyr, he was not assured that 
 the relics were genuine. He went, how- 
 ever, one day with some of his clergy, and 
 prayed for information, whereupon on his 
 left hand, " he saw near him a pale giiCs^t 
 of a tierce aspect, whom he commanded 
 to speak ; the ghost told his name, and it 
 appeared tliat he had been a robber who 
 was executed for his crimes, whom the 
 people honoured as a martyr ; none but 
 St. Martin saw him, the rest only heard 
 his voice ; he thereupon caused the altar 
 to be removed. After the rectification of 
 this trifling mistake, he went on raising 
 the dead, casting out devils, and receiving 
 revelations ; but as he grew older " it cost 
 him more difSculty, and longer prayers, to 
 cast out devils than formerly." He died 
 in 397, and his shrine worked the usual 
 miracles. This account of St. Martin is 
 abstracted from the rev. Alban Butler'? 
 life of him. 
 
 iHartiiimag. 
 
 A custom anciently prevailed, thongli 
 generally confined at present to country 
 villages, of killing cows, oxen, swine, &c. 
 at this season, which were cured for the 
 winter, when fresh provisions were seldom 
 or never to be hud. 
 
 735 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 11. 
 
 "Wlien E ister comes, who knows not than 
 Tiiat veale and bacon is the man ? 
 And Mart '/mass Z3ec/e doth beare good tacke, 
 When couutrey t'olke do dainties lacke. 
 
 Tusser. 
 
 Martlemas beef was beef dried in tlie 
 chimney, as bacon, and is so called, be- 
 cause it was usual to kill the beef for this 
 (iro vision about the feast of St. Martin.* 
 There is mention of 
 — dried flitches of some smoked heeve, 
 llang'd on a writhen wythe since Martin's 
 Eve. Hall. 
 
 Mr. Brand relates, that rustic fami- 
 lies in Northumberland clubbed at Mar- 
 tinmas to buy a cow or other animal; the 
 union for this purchase is called a "mart.'' 
 After the animal was killed, they filled 
 the entrails with a kind of pudding meat, 
 c(msisting of blood, suet, groats, &c. 
 which being formed into little sausage 
 links, were boiled and sent about as pre- 
 sents. These are called "black-puddings" 
 from their colour. There is also noticed 
 a kind of entertainment in Germany, 
 called the "feast of sausages," which 
 was wont to be celebrated with great joy 
 and festivity. The day is a great festival 
 on the continent : new wines then begin 
 to be tasted, and the hours are spent in 
 carousing. An old author says, that 
 the great doings on this occasion almost 
 throughout Europe in his time, are de- 
 rived from an ancient Athenian festival, 
 observed in honour of Bacchus, upon the 
 eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth days of 
 the month Anthesterion, corresponding 
 with our November. Another says, that 
 the eleventh month had a name from the 
 ceremony of "tapping their barrels on 
 it;" when it was customary to make 
 merry. It is likewise imagined by Dr. 
 Stnkeley, in his "Itinerary" concerning 
 Martinsal-hill, ihws,: "I take the name 
 of this hill to come from the merriments 
 among the northern people, called Mar- 
 itna^ia, or drinking heali hs to the memory 
 of St Martin, practised by our Saxon 
 and Danish ancestors. I doubt not but 
 upon St. Martin's day, or Martinmas, all 
 the young people in the neighbourliood 
 assembled liere, as they do now upon tlie 
 adjacent St. Ann's-hili, upon St Ann's 
 day." He adds, that " St. Martin's day, 
 in the Norway clogs, (or wooden alma- 
 nacs) is marked with a goose; for on that 
 day they always feasted with a roasted 
 goose : they say, St. Martin, being elected 
 to a bisliojjrick, hid himself, (noluit 
 
 * Taiscr Redivivus. 
 
 episcopari) but was discovered by that 
 animal. We have transferred the cere- 
 mony to Michaelmas."* 
 
 Dr. Forster, so often cited, ob- 
 serves, that a medal has lately been struck 
 in France in commemoration of this 
 laudable custom ; on one side of which 
 is embossed a goose, and on the reverse 
 occurs the word Martinalia. Relative to 
 the custom of goose-eating, it is further 
 noticed in the " Perennial Calendar," 
 that the festival of St. Martin occurs 
 when geese are in high season. "It is 
 always celebrated with a voracity the 
 more eager, as it happens on the eve of 
 tlie petit careme, when fowls can no 
 longer be presented on the tables of a 
 religious age A German Monk, Martin 
 Sehoock, has made it a caseof conscience 
 whether, even on the eve of the little 
 Lent, it be allowable to eat goose : ' J ?i 
 liceat Martinalihus anserem comedere T 
 After havin<T dived into the weedy pool 
 of the casuist's arguments, the delighted 
 devotee emerges with the permission to 
 roast bis goose ; and thus the goose came 
 to be a standing dish on Martinmas as 
 well as Michaelmas day." 
 
 In some of the old church calen- 
 dars the celebration of this day is 
 called " The Martinalia, a genial feast; 
 wines are tasted of and drawn from the 
 lees; Bacchus is the figure of Martin. "f 
 "Time's Telescope," for 1814, cites 
 some extracts from a little ballad, entitled 
 " Martilmasse Day :" — 
 It is the day of Mirtilmasse, 
 Ciippes of ale should freelie passe; 
 What thoufih Wynter has bcgunne 
 To push downe the Summer sunne, 
 To our fire we can betake, 
 And enjoye the crackling brake, 
 Never heedinge Wynter's face 
 On the day of Martilmasse. 
 Some do the citie now frequent, 
 Where costlie sliows and merriment 
 Do weare the vaporish eveninge out 
 With interlude and reveliinge rout; 
 Such as did pleasure Englande's queene 
 When here her Eoyal Grace was scene, 
 Yet will they not tliis day let passe, 
 The merrie day of Martilmasse. 
 When the dailie sportes be done, 
 Bound the market crossc they runne, 
 Prentis laddes and gallant blades 
 Dancing with their gamesome maids, 
 Till the Beadel, stout and sowre. 
 Shakes his bdl, and cads the houre; 
 Then farewell ladde and farewell lasse 
 To the merry' niglit of Martihnasse. 
 
 •Brand. 
 
 tBiaiy's Clavis Oalendaria. 
 
 Hi 
 
 36 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 12, 13. 
 
 jrartilmasse sliall come againc, 
 Spite Df wind, and snow, and raine ; 
 But many a strange thing must be done, 
 Many a cause be lost and won, 
 Many a tool must leave his pelfe, 
 Many a worldlinge cheat himselfe. 
 And many a marvel come to passe, 
 Before return of Martilmasse. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Weymouth Pine. Pinns Strobns. 
 Dedicated to St. Martin. 
 
 ^obember 12. 
 
 St. Martin, Pope, a. d. 655. St. A^iliis, 
 A. D. 390. St. Livin, a. d. 633. St. 
 Lebiv'm, Patron of Daventer, 8lh Cent. 
 
 Birtk-daif of Admiral Vernon. 
 
 The anniversary of this famous old 
 arlmiral's nativity was formerly kept with 
 great enthusiasm. It was distinguished 
 in 1740 in a very extraordinary manner, 
 by the ringing of bells, and public din- 
 ners in many places, &c. In the evening 
 there were the greatest rejoicings, bon- 
 fires, and illuminations in London and 
 other cities, that had been known for 
 many years. Don Blass was burnt in 
 some places, and at Chancery-lane-end 
 was a pageant, whereon was represented 
 admiral Vernon, and a Spaniard on his 
 knees offering him a sword; a view of 
 Porte Bello, &c. ; over the admiral was 
 wrote, " Venit, vidit, vicit ;" and under 
 him, " V^ernon semper viret."* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Graf 6 Aloe. Velthennia Uvaria. 
 Dedicated to St. Nilus. 
 
 ^ohtmhti' 13. 
 
 Si. Homobonns, a. d. 1197. St. Didacus, 
 A. D. 1463 St. Stanislas Kostka, a. d. 
 1568. St. Mitrius. St. Brice, a. d. 
 444. St. Co)i«^z?i^ of Logherne, a. d. 
 777. St. Chillen, or Killian, of Ire- 
 land. 
 
 ^t. Brire. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar and the almanacs, for what rea- 
 son is unknown. He was born at Tours, 
 
 • Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 became a monk under St. Martin, and 
 succeeded him in the see of tli.it city. 
 
 St. John's, Clerkekwell. 
 The church of St. John, Cierkenwell, 
 having been closed for reparation since 
 the fiist Sunday in July, was opened for 
 divine service on the 1,3th of November, 
 1825, by the Rev. W. E. L. Faulkner, 
 M A. rector of the parish. The exterior 
 of the present edifice is altogether un- 
 seemly. It is frequently called St. John's 
 chapel, and has more the air of a meeting 
 for dissenting worship, than a structure 
 of the establishment ; if it had not a sort 
 of steeple with a bell, it might be mis- 
 taken for a theatre; but the interior is in 
 eveiy respect befitting its ecclesiastical 
 use. It has spacious galleries, is well 
 pewed below, and thoroughly lighted, 
 with a very commodious vestry. In 
 these respects it is creditable to the in- 
 liabitants who have now so judiciously 
 fitted it up, that it will not reruire more 
 than usual cleaning for many years. 
 Still it is to be regretted, that a .structure, 
 essentially gothic, should have been ac- 
 commodated to modern archit':'cfure The 
 deviation seems to have taken place on 
 its appropriation to the use of Hil (.arish 
 of St. John, about a century preceding 
 the reparation it has now undergone. 
 
 St. John's parish is distinct fvom the 
 parish of St. James, although, as regards 
 their poor, they are under one manage- 
 ment ; and the parish of St. James has, 
 in other respects, an ascendancy, which 
 formerly was the cause of open dissen- 
 tion. This difference originated on the 
 setting out of the parish, the boundaries 
 whereof are described by an entry in 
 the vestry-book, which states in what way 
 the church became parochial. Before 
 referring to it, a glance may be taken of 
 the annexed engraving. It is from an 
 original drawing of a south view of the 
 church in the year 1508, and preserved 
 in the Cotton collection. It is especially 
 curious, because it shows the old square 
 tower, on the site whereof the present 
 church stands, with the great bell tower 
 above, which is rapturously described by 
 Stowe, as will be mentioned presently. 
 Th° building with two windows between 
 three buttresses, surmounted by pinnacles. 
 was anciently the library. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 737 
 
 3 B 
 
THE EVEBY-DAY BOOK.-NOVEMBEE 13. 
 
 CHURCH OF ST. JOHN, CLERKENWELL, IN 1508, 
 
 ENTRY IN THE VESTRY BOOK. 
 
 The History of the Parish of St. John, 
 Clerkenivell. 
 
 On fviday ihft twenty seventh Day of 
 December in the year of our Lora Christ 
 one thousand seven hundred twenty end 
 three, and in the tenth Year of the Reigu^ 
 of George by the Grace of God, king of 
 Great Britain, &c. being St. John's Day, 
 this Church was consecrated and dedi- 
 cated to t'ne Service of Almighty God 
 by the Right Reverend Father in God 
 Edmund [Gibson] by Divine Permission 
 Lord Bishop of London, by the Name of 
 the Church of St. John Clerkenwell in 
 the County of Middlesex. 
 
 This Church is what was the Choir of 
 the antient Church of the Knights Hos- 
 pitallers, or the Knights of St. John of 
 Jerusalem in England, which Order be- 
 gan at Jerusalem about the Year of our 
 Lord Christ 1099, taking its rise and 
 name from an Hospital built for the re- 
 ception of Christian Strangers and Pil- 
 grims, who came to perform their Devo- 
 tion at the Place of our Lord's Sepulchre, 
 and from a Church adjoining dedicated to 
 St. John Baptist. 
 
 In the 11th Century the Christians in 
 the Holy Land were very much harassed 
 by the Turks, till some Merchants from 
 Amalfi in Italy visited the parts about 
 Syria and Egypt, and so far recommend- 
 
 ed themselves to the Inhabitants by tlie 
 many rare and pretious commodities they 
 brought thither, that the Calif of Egypt 
 gave them a part of Jerusalem to live in, 
 wiiere they built a Cloister and trans- 
 planted thither from Italy an Abbot with 
 some Benedictine Monks, who entertain- 
 ed all Christian Pilgrims and travellers : 
 soon after a Cloister was erected for Wo- 
 men, and these being too small, the Hos- 
 pital or Aims-House just mentioned was 
 founded for the reception of both sick and 
 well, under the direction of an Overseer 
 maintained chiefly by Alms from Amalfi 
 and other parts of Italy : shortly after, the 
 Church was built, and dedicated to St. 
 John Baptist ; tradition informing, that 
 his Father Zachary had often travelled 
 that way, from whence those of this 
 Foundation took the Name of Joannitae, 
 and continued an Order of Hospitalers 
 or Alms-men some few Years. 
 
 In the year 1099, when the Christian 
 Princes, under the command of Godfrey 
 of Bologne, Duke ofLorrain besieged Je- 
 rusalem, Gerard the then overseer, with 
 the rest of the Hospitalers by a sudden 
 and unexpected Sally upon the rear of the 
 Turks, contributed greatly to the over» 
 throw of the infidels, and the recovery of 
 the Holy-Land. Godfrey made public 
 acknowledgments of this signal piece of 
 Service, and being created King of Jerusak* 
 
 738 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 13. 
 
 lem gave the Hospitalers large presents, 
 and put the defence of many Towns into 
 their hands. From this time their Order 
 commenced that of Knighthood, Gerard 
 being their first Grand Master. The Order 
 was confirmed by Pope Ilonorius the se- 
 cond, and by the then Patriarch of Jeru- 
 salem. The members of it were called 
 indiffere Uly the Knights Hospitallers of 
 St. John of Jerusalem. It was their Vow 
 and Profession to exercise hospitality, to 
 resist the Barbarians that should offer any 
 injury to Pilgrims on the High Ways,and 
 to maintain the Christian religion by 
 force of Arms in their Country. They 
 soon greatly increased in Fame and Riches 
 and spread into many nations : the ser- 
 vices they did to Christian Princes pro- 
 cured them every where great respect. 
 Wealth and Privileges, insomuch that 
 tho' at first they professed voluntary 
 poverty, they were afterwards at once in 
 Possession of 19000 Manors in Christen- 
 dom. 
 
 This Order flourished with great pomp 
 and splendour in this Nation : their Prior 
 was reckoned the first Baron in England ; 
 their Establishment here was very early, 
 for about a Year after their first Institu- 
 tion at Jerusalem, viz. An. Dom. 1100, 
 Jordan Briset Baron, and Muriel his wife, 
 founded a Priory in this place for the 
 Knights of this Order, and built a Church, 
 which was dedicated to the Honour of 
 St. John Baptist, in the Year 1185, being 
 then consecrated by Heraclius Patriarch 
 of Jerusalem. Both Church and House 
 were burnt in 1381, by the Essex Re- 
 bels, but were afterwards rebuilt and con- 
 tinued in the possession of the Knights 
 Hospitallers till the 32nd Y'ear of Henry 
 the 8th (which was years after the general 
 Dissolution of Religious Houses in this 
 Kingdom,) when by a particular Act of 
 Parliament the Priory was suppressed, 
 and the House, Church, and all the Lands 
 of the Knights Hospitallers were vested 
 in the Crown, with all Privileges, &c. 
 thereto belonging, other than the right of 
 Sanctuary, which Right is by this Act dis- 
 charged, but with an express saving of 
 the Privileges common to Churches and 
 Church Yards applied and used to God's 
 service. In this Act of Parliament the 
 Hospital, House, Church, &c. are men- 
 tioned, not as a part of, or within the 
 Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, but as 
 situate and being near to the City of Lon- 
 don, in the County of Middlesex, and 
 so the same are mentioned in the grant 
 from the Crown and subsequent writings. 
 
 Tlie Hospital or Priory Church, and 
 House of St. John were preserved from 
 Spoil and down-pulling so long as Henry 
 the 8th lived ; but in the third Year of 
 King Edward the 6th the Body and side 
 Isles with the great Bell tower, (a most 
 curious piece of workmanship, graven, 
 gilt, and enamelled,) were pulled down; 
 but the Choir, (which remained,) was 
 closed up in the reign of Queen Mary, 
 who restored the Order and incorporated 
 a Priory and several Brethren, and grant- 
 ed to them this Church, House, and many 
 Lands ; but the Order being again dis- 
 solved by Queen Elizabeth, the Church 
 and Priory remained in the Crown till 
 the 9th day of May, in the 5h year of 
 King James the first, when by Letters 
 Patent of that date the King granted the 
 same to Ralph Freeman and his heirs, 
 in free and common Soccage by the name 
 of the City or House of the late Hospital 
 of St. John of Jerusalem in England, in 
 the County of Middlesex, and all the 
 City, Circuit, and Precinct of the same 
 House, having therein one great Mansion 
 House, one great Chapel, &c., containing 
 by estimation 5 acres. From Freeman 
 the said Church or Chapel, and part of 
 the great house and gardens, came in 
 the 10th Year of King James the first Ld. 
 Wm. Cecil Lord Burghley, Son and 
 Heir apparent of Thomas Earl of Exeter 
 by whose daughter the Lady Diana, it 
 ))assed in marriage in the 5th Y^ear of 
 King Charles the 1st to Thomas, Lord 
 Bruce, afterwards Earl of Elgin, whose 
 son Robert was created Earl of Ailes- 
 bury, in which Family this Church or 
 Chapel, (from thence called Ailesbury 
 Chapel,) continued till the Y^ear 1706, 
 and being then sold by them, was after- 
 wards, viz. in the Year 1721, purchased 
 by Mr. Simon Michell, with intent to ac- 
 commodate the Inhabitants of a new 
 Street by him then partly built, called 
 Red Lion Street, and the neighbouring 
 inhabitants with a convenient place for 
 Divine Worship. He afterwards en- 
 larged the said Chapel, or what was 
 used as such, being the middle Isle only 
 by restoring thereto the North isle, 
 (which had been made part of a dwell- 
 ing-house,) and also the South Isle, 
 (the upper part of which had been con- 
 verted into a Library, and the lower part 
 separated by a wall fiom what was lei 
 to the Chapel,) and having likewise en 
 tirely new built the west front, and new 
 roofed the whole, and furnished the Cha- 
 pel with convenient Galleries pews and •* 
 
 ■39 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 13. 
 
 he proposed it thus rebuilt and beautified 
 to the Commissioners appointed in pur- 
 suance ot" Acts of Parliament for building 
 50 New Churches in and about London, 
 as proper to be by them converted into a 
 Parochial Churcli for such an adjoining 
 District, as they should think fit to ap- 
 point for a Parish to the same. 
 
 This proposal being accepted and an 
 agreement made by the Commissioners 
 with Mr. Simon Michell, he and Mr. 
 liutton (his trustee) by barsain and sale 
 enrolled in Ciiancery, bearing date the 
 29th day of August 1723, conveyed the 
 Chapel, and the ground extending from 
 the East end tliereof to St. John's Street, 
 \.on the front part whereof next to St. 
 John's Street, stood 2 houses,) to the 
 said Commissioners, who by Deed bear- 
 ing date the 11th day of December 1723 
 and afterwards enrolled in Chancery, did, 
 pursuant to their Power, granted by the 
 said Acts of Parliament, declare and ap- 
 point the Chapel to be from and for ever 
 after the Enrollment of that Deed and the 
 consecration of the Chapel, a Parish 
 Church by such Name as should be given 
 thereto in the act of Consecration ; and 
 oy the same Deed the said Commission- 
 ers did pursuant to the said Acts of Par- 
 liament set out and appoint a Parish for 
 the said Church, and ascertained the 
 r>onds and Limits of such iievv parish to 
 be as followeth : — 
 
 The entry in the vestry-book, hitherto 
 given verbatim, proceeds to set out the 
 parish bounds in words, and a copy of the 
 act of consecration. 
 
 It is interesting to go a little farther 
 into the history of this ancient church. 
 
 While Henry VIII. reigned, " the rebels 
 of Essex and Kent," in 1381, set fire to 
 the house, causing it to burn for the space 
 of seven days together, and not suffering 
 any to quench it : afterwards the church, 
 and houses thereto appertaining, were new 
 built, and the church finished by Thomas 
 Docwray, lord prior there about the year 
 1504, as appears by the inscription over 
 flie gate-house, mentioned by Stow as re- 
 maining in his time, and which still re- 
 mains. The church was employed as a 
 storehouse for the king's "toyles and tents 
 for hunting and for the wars,'' &c. Stow,who 
 says this, speaking of its destruction in 
 the third year of king Edward VI., adds, 
 that the church for the most part, to wit, 
 ihe body and side isles with the great bell 
 lower was undermined and blown up 
 with gunpowder, and the stone thereof 
 
 employed in building the lord protector's 
 (Somerset) house in the Strand. The 
 great bell tower he calls " a most curious 
 piece of workmanship, graven, gilt, and 
 inameled to the great beautifying of the 
 city, and passing all other that I have 
 sceene." He adds that the part of the 
 quire which remained, with some side 
 chapels,was closed up at the west end by 
 cardinal Pole, in the reign of queen Mary, 
 and the other was repaired, and sir Tho- 
 mas Tresham Knight, made the lord 
 prior there with the restitution of some 
 lands. At the suppression, the priory 
 was valued " to dispend in lands, 3385/. 
 \9s. 8d. yearly; sir William Weston be- 
 ing then lord prior, died on the 7th of 
 May, 1540." The king granted " great 
 yeerely pensions" to the knights ; and to 
 the lord prior, during his life, 1000/ " but 
 he never received a penny." He died 
 of a broken heart on Ascension-day in the 
 same year, the very day the house was 
 suppressed. An account of the exhuma- 
 tion of his body on the 27th of April, 
 1788, on taking down the old church of 
 St. James, Clerkenwell, with interesting 
 particulars respecting him, may be seen 
 in the " Gentleman's Magazine" for that 
 year. Mr. Bartholomew of Red Lion- 
 street, Clerkenwell, a lover, and as far as 
 he is permitted by the other inhabitants, 
 a preserver of the antiquities of his pa- 
 rish of St. John, is in possession of a por- 
 tion of prior Weston's cere-cloth. 
 
 Tlie only vestiges of the antiquity and 
 e-xtent of this church are in Jerusalem - 
 court, which runs from St. John's-square 
 into St. John's-street, and is bounded on 
 the left by houses or dwellings construct- 
 ed within the remaining part of the south 
 wall : they are now, (in November, 1825,) 
 undergoing reparation by new facing, 
 but portions of the old church buttresses 
 rsmain, though they are much mutilated, 
 and their shafts buried to the extent of 
 many feet below the pavement. There 
 is not a single inscription or monument 
 of any age remaining. The only remark- 
 able stone in the churchyard is a memo- 
 ritur of the late " Mrs. Sarah Newman ol 
 No. 63, Cow-cross-street, St. Sepulchre," 
 who died a few years ago, and is rendered 
 " remarkable" by an amplification ot the 
 ever-recuiring epitaph, " Affliction sore" 
 &c. She is made to say — 
 
 Pain was my portion, 
 Physic was my food. 
 Groans was my devotion, 
 Drusjs did me no good ; 
 
 740 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-NOVEMBER 14 
 
 Christ was my physician, 
 Knew wliat way was best. 
 To ease me of my pain. 
 He took my soul to rest. 
 
 A mural inscription in the church, 
 represents " Simon IMichell Esq. a mem- 
 ber of the Middle Temple and Lincoln's 
 Iim, descended from a family of that 
 name in Somersetshire. He died August 
 30, 1750, aged 74." He was a barrister, 
 and member of parliament for Boston. 
 Red Lion-street, built by hmi, is the best 
 class of houses erected in his time in 
 Clerkenwell, which, among the " lower 
 orders," is called " Jack Adams's parish," 
 for a reason that, if it can be authen- 
 tically communicated, will be hereafter 
 inserted. 
 
 The old gateway of St. John's priory 
 remains in the state wherein it is seen 
 monthly on the title-page of the " Gentle- 
 man's Magazine." The east turret and the 
 great rooms over the gateway, are used 
 as a tavern called " The old St. John of 
 Jerusalem," occupied and kept by Mr. 
 William Flint, who formerly carried on 
 the business of a printer in the Old Bailey. 
 The lower part of the west turret is the 
 watchhouse of St. John's parish. On 
 entering the gateway from the south, 
 the fixed iron shaft of the top hinge, 
 whereon the ancient gate swung, is about 
 level with the elbow of a person of ordi- 
 nary stature: from this, the height to which 
 the ground has been raised above the 
 old level may be imagined The gate- 
 way itself has been lately repaired at the 
 parish expense, chiefly at the instance of 
 Mr. Bartholomew, who took great pains 
 to ascertain and properly colour the arms 
 of Prior Docwray on the ciown of the 
 arch, and the remaining ornaments, some 
 of which had been hidden in the watch- 
 house. An ancient door in the watch- 
 liouse bricked up, and boarded over by 
 the wainscotting, retains an old carved 
 oak-facing at the top ; through Mr. Bar- 
 tholomew's persistance it was not des- 
 troyed, and he has caused a small flap 
 with hinges to be inserted in the wainscot 
 for the purpose of disclosing this carving, 
 from time to time, to curious inquirers. 
 He is one of the few inhabitants of 
 Clerkenwell, who take an interest in 
 maintaining the reputation of this suburb 
 for its former grandeur. 
 
 The rental of St. John's parish in tlie 
 year 1782, was 12,658/. In 1825, it 
 
 amounted to 21,724/., not so much from 
 additional building, as from increase in 
 the value of property. 
 
 St. John's-gate will be always remem- 
 bered in connection with the " Gentleman's 
 INlagazine," which was first printed there 
 by Edmund Cave. 
 
 TLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Bay. Lunrns poetica. 
 Dedicated to St. Homobonus. 
 
 i^obnnljtr 14. 
 
 St. Laicrence, Abp. of Dublin, a. b 
 1180. St. Diibrichts, A. v. 522. 
 
 Stamford Bull Running. 
 This annual custom in the county of 
 Lincoln is fixed for the 13th of November; 
 which, in 1825, being Sunday, it was post- 
 poned to the next day, Monday the 14th. 
 A correspondent's communication sets 
 forth ample and curious particulars of 
 the usage. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Sir, 
 
 As your very respectable and highly 
 entertaining publication, the Every-Day 
 Book, is a receptacle for local usages 
 and customs, doubtless the Stamford 
 bull-running, which takes place annually 
 on the 13th of November, will be accept- 
 able. It is conducted with a most de- 
 termined spirit, and unlike most other 
 customs, seems to increase in notoriety 
 yearly. 
 
 Butcher says, " the bull-running is a 
 sport of no pleasure, except to such as 
 take a pleasure in beastliness and inis- 
 chief. It is performed just the day six 
 weeks before Christmas. The butchers 
 of the town at their own charge, against 
 the time, purchase a wild bull; this bull 
 over night is had into some stable or 
 barn belonging to the alderman ; the next 
 morning proclamation is made by the 
 common bellman of the town, round about 
 the same, that each one shut up his shop- 
 doors and gates, and none, under pain 
 of imprisonment, do any violence to 
 strangers ; for the preventing whereof (the 
 town being a great thoroughfare, and then 
 being in term time,)a guard is appointed for 
 the passing of travellers through the same, 
 without hurt. None [to] have any iron 
 upon their bull-clubs, or other staff which 
 they pursue the bull with : which procla- 
 
 741 
 
THE EVEllY-DAY BOOK.— NOVKMBER 14. 
 
 matioTi made, and the gates all shut up, 
 the bull is turned out of the alderman's 
 Iiouse, and then, hivie, skivy, tag-rag, 
 men, women, and children, of all sorts 
 and sizes, with all the dogs in the town, 
 promiscuously running after him with 
 their bull-clubs, spattering dirt in each 
 other's faces, that one would think them 
 to be so many furies started out of hell 
 for the punishment of Cerberus, as when 
 Theseus and Perillus conquered the place, 
 as Ovid describes it — 
 
 " ' A ragged troop of boys and girls, 
 
 Do pellow him with stones, 
 With clubs, with whips, and many nips, 
 
 They part his skin from boues.' 
 
 " And (which is the greater shame) I have 
 seen both Senatores majorum gentium et 
 matione de euodem gradu, following this 
 bulling business, 
 
 " I can say no more of it, but only to 
 set forth the antiquity thereof, (as the 
 tradition goes,) William, earl of Warren, 
 in the time of king John, standing upon 
 his castle-wall under the same, saw two 
 bulls fighting for one cow. A butcher of 
 the town, the owner of one of the bulls, 
 with a great mastiff dog, accidentally 
 coming by set his dog upon his own bull, 
 who forced the same bull up into the 
 town, which no sooner was come within 
 the same, but all the butcher's dogs, great 
 and small, followed in pursuit of the bull, 
 which by this time made stark mad witli 
 the noise of the people, and the fierceness 
 of the dogs, ran over man, woman, and 
 child, that stood in his way. This caused 
 all the butchers and others in the town to 
 rise up as it were in a tumult, making 
 such a hideous noise that the sound 
 thereof came into the castle into the ears 
 of earl Warren, who presently mounted 
 on horseback, and rid into the town to see 
 the business ; which then appearing (to 
 his humour) very delightful, he gave all 
 the meadows in which the bulls were at 
 first found fighting, (which we now call 
 the castle meadows,) perpetually as a 
 common to the butchers of the town, to 
 keep their cattle in till the time of slaugh- 
 ter, upon this condition, that upon the 
 day on which this sport first began, the 
 butchers of the town should from time to 
 time yearly for ever, find a mad bull for 
 the continuance of that sport." 
 
 Mr. Lowe speaks more favourably of 
 the " bull-running" than Butcher. He 
 calls it " a good old custom," and says, 
 
 " there is nothing similar to it in his ma- 
 jesty's dominions, nor 1 believe in the 
 dominions of any other potentate on the 
 globe : no, it stands without a rival." 
 " If," says Lowe, " the doctrine of trans- 
 migration be true, nothing can be more 
 certain than that the soul of earl Warren 
 anima'ed the body of Mr. Robert Rid 
 lington, once a tanner, alderman, and 
 mayor, of this corporation, who to perpe- 
 tuate this gallant diversion as much as in 
 him lay, left half-a-crown to be paid an- 
 nually to each of the five parishes (of 
 Stamford,) for the trouble of stopping the 
 gates and avenues of the town, which is 
 received on St. Thomas's-day. I there- 
 fore hold it incumbent on me to record 
 this spirited bequest, and to let this par 
 nobile fratrum go hand in hand to poste- 
 rity, for which legacy every buUard in 
 gratitude ought to drink on that day to 
 the joint memory of both. Since this 
 account may chance to fall into the hands 
 of some who are strangers to the town, I 
 would have such know that when this 
 gala-day falls either on a market-day or 
 on a Sunday, that neither the market nor 
 even the sabbath is put off on its account , 
 but, on the contrary, it is itself postponed 
 till the morrow, which must be acknow- 
 ledged to be an instance of great forbear- 
 ance !" 
 
 So much for the accounts of Butcher 
 and Lowe. I shall now proceed to state 
 the manner in which the sport is con- 
 ducted in the present day. 
 
 The bull being duly procured, is shut 
 up the night previous to the appointed 
 morn, in a place provided for the purpose, 
 and, long ere dawn of day, no peaceable 
 person lying on his bed, can enjoy the 
 pleasing and renovating stupor which, if 
 unmolested by the cry of " bull for ever," 
 the leaden key of Somnus would afford 
 him. At eleven o'clock, Taurus is loosed 
 from his prison-house generally into a 
 street stopped at each end, which he 
 parades in majesty sublime. At this 
 dangerous juncture every post, pump, and 
 the like is in requisition, and those who 
 are fortunate enough to get sheltered be- 
 hind one sit in conscious security, 
 
 " grinning with a ghastly smile" 
 
 at those who less fortunate than them- 
 selves must, for protection, have recourse 
 to flight. The carts and waggons which 
 form the stoppage at the ends of the 
 street, are crowded with individuals, as 
 
 r42 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 15 
 
 well as the roofs of houses ; in short, every 
 place tenable is occupied. Some years 
 back it was customary to irritate the bull 
 by goading him with pointed sticks, but 
 this is now wholly done away wit-h, it 
 being declared unnecessarily cruel, and 
 different means are->resorted to to enrage 
 him. Frequently, a hogshead with both 
 ends knocked out is brought, wherein a 
 man places himself, and by rolling it to 
 the bull, provokes him to toss it. He 
 tosses, but tosses in vain ; its inmate is 
 trained too well to the sport to be easily 
 dislodged ; so that by this and other 
 means equally harmless and teazing, he is 
 rendered sufficiently infuriated to afford 
 *' prime sport." The street is then un- 
 stopped, when, all agog, men, boys, and 
 bull, tumble one over the otiier to get free. 
 Bridging the bull is next thought of; 
 this, if he be much enraged, is the most 
 dangerous part of the ceremony ; it con- 
 sists in driving him upon the bridge, 
 which is a great height from the water, 
 and crowds of people press to him on 
 three sides. 
 
 " Shouts rend the air and onward goes the 
 
 tlirong, 
 Arms locked in arms, and man drives man 
 
 along," 
 
 Regardless of the danger to which thevan 
 is exposed, they press closer and closer ; 
 at length, in spite of his amazing powers 
 he yields to the combmed strength of his 
 numerous opponents, and is tumbled into 
 the water. On again rising to the surface, 
 his first care generally is to land, which, 
 in most cases, he effects in the meadows ; 
 these are very swampy, full of rivers, and 
 spacious. November being a month in- 
 variably attended with rain, the stay-laced 
 sportful dandy, alas! too frequently finds 
 that the slippery ground is no respecter 
 of persons, and in spite of all his efforts 
 to maintain his equilibrium, in submis- 
 sive, prostrate attitude, he embraces his 
 mother earth. 
 
 The sport is attended regularly by a 
 patroness, — 
 
 '• A bold virago stout and tall, 
 
 ijike Joan of France, or English Mall," 
 
 clad in blue, with a rare display of rib- 
 Dons, and other insignia of her high oflRce, 
 who by close of day generally imbibes so 
 much of the inspiring spirit of sir John 
 Barleycorn, as to make her fully "erify 
 the words of Hamlet, viz. — 
 
 " Frailty, thy name is woman." 
 
 Thus the amusement continues, until 
 night puts a stop to the proceedings; t.'ie 
 baited animal is then slaughtered, and his 
 carcass sold at a reduced price to the 
 lower classes, who to " top the day," re- 
 gale themselves with a supper of bull 
 beef. 
 
 So ends this jovial sport, which, as 
 Mr. Lowe says, " stands without a 
 rival." In conclusion, it only remains for 
 me to state, that I have been more than 
 once present at this " bull-running," and 
 am far from forming the idea that it is 
 so cruel as some represent it to be; fa- 
 tigue is the greatest pain the bull is sub- 
 jected to ; and, on the other hand, the 
 men who so courageously cope with him 
 are in imminent danger of loss of life, or 
 broken limbs, whilst they possess not the 
 most distant idea of doing any thing more 
 injurious to the animal than irritating 
 him. 
 
 I am. Sir, kc. 
 
 Joseph Jibb. 
 
 Sleaford, 
 October 17, 1825. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Portugal Laurel. Cerasus Lusitanica. 
 Dedicated to St. Lawrence. 
 
 ^ohtmhtv 15. 
 
 St. Gertrude, Abbess, a. d. 1292. St. 
 Leopold, Marquis of Austria, a. d 
 1136. St. Eugenins, a. d. 275. St 
 Mulo, or Maclou, a. d. 565. 
 
 ^t. i¥lad)utu5. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar and almanacs. He is the "St. 
 Malo, or Maclou," of Alban Butler; ac- 
 cording to whom he was born in England, 
 and sent to Ireland for his education, 
 where he was offered a bishopric but 
 declined it. Going to Brittany he be- 
 came disciple to a recluse named Aron, 
 near Aleth, of which city he was the first 
 bishop, and died November 15, 565. 
 St. Malo derives its name from him The 
 ground whereon he stands in the church 
 of England calendar is unknown. 
 
 floral directory. 
 Sweet Coltsfoot. Tussiltgo frngruns. 
 Dedicated to St. Gertrude 
 
 743 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 16, 17. 
 
 ^obembtr 16. 
 
 St. Edmund, Abp. of Canterbury, a. d. 
 1242. St. Eucherins, Bp. of Lyons, 
 A. D. 460. 
 
 Stoni bridge Fair. 
 
 A correspondent in the subjoined note 
 mentions a singular character, which 
 should be taken into the particulars con- 
 cerning this fair related at page 1300. 
 
 {For the Every-Day Book.) 
 Mr. Editor, 
 
 In addition to your account of Stour- 
 bridge fair I send you the following, re- 
 lated to me by an individual of great 
 veracity,who attended the fairs in 1766 and 
 1767. 
 
 Exclusive of the servants in red coats 
 there was also another person dressed in 
 similar clothing, with a string over his 
 shoulders, from whence were suspended 
 quantities of spigots and fossetts, and 
 also round each arm many more were 
 fastened. He was called " Lord of the 
 Tap," and his duty consisted in visiting 
 all tlie booths in which ale was sold, to 
 determine whether it was fit and proper 
 beverage for the persons attending the 
 fairs. 
 
 In the account published at Cambridge 
 in 1806, as given in your excellent mis- 
 cellany, no notice is taken of this person- 
 age, and it may therefore be presumed the 
 oiice had been discontinued. 
 
 J.N 
 
 November 16, 1825. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 African Hemp. Sansciviera Gidneam. 
 Dedicated to St. Edmund. 
 
 ^obembtr 17. 
 
 St. Gregory Thanmaturgus, Bp. a. T). 
 270. St. Dionysius, Abp. of Alexan- 
 dria, A. u. 265. St. Gregory, Bp. of 
 Tours, a. d. 596. St. Hugh, Bp. of 
 Lincoln, a. d. 1200. St. Anian, or 
 Agnan, Bp. a. u. 453. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth's Accession. 
 
 Tliis day was formerly noted in the 
 almanacs as the anniversary of queen 
 Elizabeth's accession to the throne, in the 
 year 1558. In 1679, while the bill for 
 excluding the duke of York, afterwards 
 James II., from the throne o'" England, 
 
 was in agitation, there was a remarkable 
 cavalcade in London on this day. The 
 following account of it was drawn up at 
 the time: — 
 
 " The bells generally about the town 
 began to ring at three o'clock in the 
 morning. At the approach of evening, 
 all things being in readiness, the solemn 
 procession began, setting forth from 
 Moor-gate, and so passed first to Aldgate, 
 and from thence through Leadenhall- 
 street, by the Royal Exchange, through 
 Cheapside, and so to Temple-bar, in tlie 
 ensuing order, viz. 
 
 " 1. Six whifiiers, to clear the way, in 
 pioneers' caps, and red waistcoats. 
 
 " 2. A bellman ringing, and with a loud 
 but dolesome voice, crying out all the way, 
 * remember justice Godfrey.' 
 
 " 3. A dead body, representing justice 
 Godfrey, in a decent black habit, carried 
 before a Jesuit in black, on horseback, in 
 like manner as he was carried by the 
 assassins to Primrose-hill. 
 
 " 4. A priest, in a surplice, with a 
 cope embroidered with dead bones, skele- 
 tons, sculls, and the like, giving pardons 
 very plentifully to all those fhat should 
 murder protestants, and proclaiming it 
 meritorious. 
 
 " 5. A priest in black, alone, with a 
 great silver cross. 
 
 " 6. Four Carmelites, in while and 
 black habits. 
 
 " 7. Four grey-fryars, in the proper 
 habits of their order. 
 
 " 8. Six Jesuits, with bloody daggers. 
 
 " 9. A concert of wind music. 
 
 " 10. Four bishops, in purple, and 
 lawn sleeves, with a golden cross on their 
 breast, and crosier staves in their hands. 
 
 "11. Four other bishops, in pontifi- 
 cal ibus, with surplices and rich embroi- 
 dered copes, and golden mitres on their 
 heads. 
 
 " 12. Six cardinals, in scarlet robes 
 and caps. 
 
 " 13. The pope's doctor, (sir George 
 Wakeman, the queen's physician,) with 
 Jesuit's powder in one hand, and an urinal 
 in the other. 
 
 " 14. Two priests in surplices, with 
 two golden crosses. 
 
 '• Lastly, the pope, in a lofty glorious 
 pageant, representing a chair of state, 
 covered with scarlet, richly embroidered 
 and fringed, and bedecked with golden 
 balls and crosses. At his feet a cushion 
 of state, and two boys in suiplices, with 
 white silk banners, and bloody crucifixei 
 
 744 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 17. 
 
 and daggers, witli an incense pot before 
 them, censin-g his holiness, who was 
 arrayed in a splendid scarlet gown, lined 
 through with ermine, and richly daubed 
 with gold and silver lace; on his head a 
 triple crosvn of gold, and a glorious collar 
 of gold and precious stones, St. Peter's 
 keys, a number of beads, agnus dels, and 
 other catholic trumpery. At his back, 
 his holiness's privy councillor, (the desjia- 
 ded seraphim, anglice, the devil,) fre- 
 quently caressing, hugging, and whisper- 
 ing him, and ofttimes instructing hiin 
 aloud, ' to destroy his majesty, to forge 
 a protestanl plot, and to fire the city 
 again;' to which purpose he held an in- 
 fernal torch in his hand. 
 
 " Tiie whole procession was attended 
 with 150 flambeaux and lights, by order; 
 but so many more came in voluntarily 
 that there was some thousands. 
 
 " Never were the balconies, windows, 
 and houses more numerously lined, or 
 the streets closer thronged with multi- 
 tudes of people, all expressing their ab- 
 norrcnce of popery, with continual shouts 
 and exclamations, so that it is modestly 
 computed that, in the whole progress, 
 there could not be fewer than 200,000 
 spectators. 
 
 " Thus, with a slow and solemn state 
 they proceeded to Temple-bar ; where, 
 with innumerable swarms, the houses 
 seemed to be converted into heaps of 
 men, and women, and children ; for whose 
 diversion there were provided great variety 
 of excellent fireworks. 
 
 " Temple-bar being, since its rebuilding, 
 adorned with four stately statues, viz. 
 those of queen Elizabeth and king James 
 on the inward, or eastern side, fronting 
 the city, and those of king Charles I. and 
 king Charles II. on the outside, facing 
 towards Westminster ; and the statue of 
 queen Elizabeth, in regard to the day, 
 having on a crown of gilded laurel, and 
 in her hand a golden shield, with this 
 motto inscribed, — ' Tie Protestant Reli- 
 gion and Magna Charta,' and flam- 
 beauxs placed before it ; the pope being 
 brought up near thereunto, the following 
 song (alluding to the posture of those 
 statues) was sung in parts, between 
 one representing the English cardinal, 
 fllovvard.) and others acting the people. 
 
 Cardinal. 
 '' From York to London town we came, 
 
 To talk of popish ire, 
 To reconcile you all to Rome, 
 
 And prevent Smilhtield tire 
 
 Peopli^. 
 
 *' Cease, cease, thou Norfolk cardinal, 
 
 See vonder stands queen Bess, 
 Who sav'd our souls from popish thrall, 
 
 O ! queen Bess, queen Bess, queen Bess. 
 
 " Vour popish plot and Smithfield threat 
 
 We do not tear at all ; 
 For lo ! beneath queen Bess's feel 
 
 You fall, you fall, you tall ! 
 
 " 'Tis true, our king's on t'other side. 
 
 Looking tow'rds Whitehall, 
 But could we bring him round about, 
 
 He'd counterplot you all, 
 
 " Then down with James and set up Charles 
 
 On good queen Bess's side, 
 That all true commons lords, and earls. 
 
 May wish him a fruitful bride. 
 
 ♦' Now God preserve great Charles our king 
 
 And eke all honest men ; 
 And traitors all to justice bring. 
 
 Amen, amen, amen. 
 
 "Then having entertained the thronging 
 spectators for some time with the inge- 
 nious fireworks, a vast bonfire being 
 prepared just over against the Inner Tem- 
 ple Gale, his holiness, after some compli- 
 ments and reluctances, was decently 
 toppled from all his grandeur into the 
 impartial flames; the crafty devil leaving 
 his infallibilityship in the lurch, and 
 laughing as heartily at his deserved igno- 
 minious end as subtle Jesuits do at the 
 ruin of bigotted lay-catliolics whom 
 themselves have drawn in; or as cre- 
 dulous Coleman's abettors did, when, with 
 pretences of a reprieve at the last gasp, 
 they made him vomit up his soul with a 
 lie, and sealed up his dangerous chops 
 with a flatter. This justice was attended 
 with a prodigious shout, that might be 
 heard far beyond Somerset-house, (where 
 the queen resided,) and it was believed the 
 echo, by continual reverberations, before 
 It ceased, reached Scotland, [the duke 
 was then there,] France, and even Rome 
 itself, damping them withal with a dread- 
 ful astonishment." 
 
 These particulars, from a tract in lord 
 Somers's collection, are related in the 
 " Gentleman's Magazine " for 1740; and 
 the writer adds, that " the place of 
 prompter-general, Mr. North insinuates, 
 was filled by lord Shaftesbury." 
 
 fLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Tree Stramony. Datura arhorca. 
 Dedicated to Ht. Grngury. 
 
 745 
 
THE EVERY-DAY ROOK.— NOVEMBER 18. 
 
 riie Dedication of the Churches of Sts. 
 Peter, and Paul, at Rome. Sts. Al- 
 phceus, and Zachceus ; also Romanus, 
 and Barulas. St. Odo, Abbot of 
 Cluni, A. D. 942. St. Hilda, or Hild, 
 Abbess, a. d. 680. 
 
 The " Mirror of the Months," a 
 pleasing volume published in the au- 
 tumn of 1825, and devoted to the service 
 of the year, points to the appearance 
 of nature at this time : — "Tlie last storm 
 of autumn, or the first of winter, (call it 
 wliich you will) h:ts strewed the bosom oi 
 the all-receivipg earth with the few leaves 
 that were still clinging, though dead, to 
 the already sapless branches ; and now 
 all stand bare once more, spreading out 
 their innumerable ramifications against 
 the cold grey sky, as if sketched there for 
 \ study by the pencil of your only suc- 
 tessful drawing-mistress — nature. 
 
 *' Of all the numerous changes that are 
 perpetually taking place in the general 
 appearance of rural scenery during the 
 year, there is none so striking as this 
 which is attendant on the falling of the 
 leaves ; and there is none in which the 
 unpleasing effects so greatly predominate 
 over the pleasing ones. To say truth, a 
 grove denuded of its late gorgeous attire, 
 and instead of bowing majestically before 
 the winds, standing erect and motionless 
 while they are blowing through it, is ' a 
 sorry sight,* and one upon which we will 
 not dwell. But even this sad conse- 
 quence of the coming on of winter (sad 
 in most of its mere visible effects,) is not 
 entirely without redeeming accompani- 
 ments ; for in most cases it lays open to 
 our view objects that we are glad to see 
 again, if it be but in virtue of their asso- 
 ciation with past years; and in many 
 cases it opens vistas into sweet distances 
 that we had almost forgotten, and brings 
 into view objects that we may have been 
 sighing for the sight of all the summer 
 long. Suppose, for example, that the 
 summer view from the windows of a fa- 
 vourite sleeping-room is bounded by a 
 screen of shrubs, shelving upwards from 
 the turf, and terminating in a little copse 
 of limes, beeches, and sycamores ; the 
 prettiest boundary that can greet the 
 morning glance when the shutters are 
 opened, and the sun slants gaily in at 
 them, as if glad to be again admitted. 
 How pleasant is it, when (as now) the 
 winds of winter have stripped the branches 
 
 that thus bound our view in, to spy be- 
 yond them, as if through network, the 
 sky-pointing spire of the distant village 
 church, rising from behind the old yew- 
 tree that darkens its portal ; and the trim 
 parsonage beside it, its ivy-grown win- 
 dows glittering perhaps in the early sun! 
 Oh, none but those who will see the 
 good that is in every thing, know how 
 very few evils there are without some ol 
 it attendant on them, and yet how much 
 of good there is unmixed with any evil. 
 
 " But though the least pleasant sight 
 connected with the coming on of winter in 
 this month is to see the leaves that have 
 so gladdened the groves all the summer 
 long, falling every where around us, 
 withered and dead, — that sight is ac- 
 companied by another which is too often 
 overlooked. Though most of the leaves 
 fall ill winter, and the stems and branches 
 which they beautified stand bare, many of 
 them remain all the year round, and look 
 brighter and fresher now than they did in 
 spring, in virtue of the contrasts that are 
 every where about them. Indeed the 
 cultivation of evergreens has become so 
 general with us of late years, that the 
 home enclosures about our country 
 dwellings, from the proudest down to 
 even the poorest, are seldom to be seen 
 without a plentiful supply, which we 
 now, in this month, first begin to observe, 
 and acknowledge the value of. It must 
 be a poor plot of garden-ground indeed 
 that does not now boast its clumps 
 of winter-blowing laurestinus ; its trim 
 lioUy bushes, bright with their scarlet 
 berries ; or its tall spruce firs, shooting 
 up their pyramid of feathery branches 
 beside the low ivy-grown porch. Of this 
 last-named profuse ornamentor of what- 
 ever is permitted to afford it support, 
 (the ivy) we now too every where per- 
 ceive the beautifully picturesque effects : 
 though there is one effect of it also per- 
 ceived about this time, which I cannot 
 persuade myself to be reconciled to : I 
 mean where the trunk of a tall tree is 
 bound about with ivy almost to its toji, 
 which during the summer has scarcely 
 been distinguished as a separate growth, 
 but which now, when the other leaves 
 are fallen, and the outspread branches 
 stand bare, offers to the eye, not a con- 
 trast, but a contradiction. But let us not 
 dwell on any thing in disfavour of ivy, 
 which is one of the prime boasts of tlie 
 village scenerj of our island, and which 
 even at this season of the year offers pic- 
 
 746 
 
THE EVERY-UA\ BOOK.— NOVEMBER 19, 20, 21 
 
 tiires to the eye that cannot be paralleled 
 elsewhere. Perhaps as a single obj. cl of 
 sight, there is nothing which gives so 
 much innocent pleasure to so many per- 
 sons as an English village church, when 
 the ivy has held undisputed possession of 
 it for many years, and has hung its fan- 
 tastic banners all around it. There is A 
 charm about an object of this kind,which 
 it is as difficult to resist as to explain." 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Curly Passion-flower. Pa.ssijlora serrata. 
 
 Dedicated to the Churches of Sts. Peter 
 
 and Paul. 
 
 ff.ohtmhtv 19. 
 
 St. Elizabeth, of Hungary, a. d. 1231. 
 .S^ Pontiun, 'Pope, a. u. 230. S<. 
 Barlaam. 
 
 .^pple-fruited Passion-flower. Passijlora 
 
 maliformh: 
 
 Dedicated to St. Elizabeth. 
 
 shot him to death with arrows. Tlie 
 place where Edmund was interred had 
 the name of St. Edmund's Bury, but is 
 now generally called Bury. Canute the 
 Great built a stately church over his 
 grave, and greatly enlarged the town 
 
 ^obrmber 20. 
 
 St. Ednmnd, King and Martyr, a. d. 870. 
 St. Humbert, Bp. of the East Angles, 
 A. D. 855. St. Felix, of Valois, a. d. 
 1212. St. Bermvard, Bp., a. d. 1021. 
 St. Masentia, 7th Cent. 
 
 King and Martyr 
 
 This English king and saint is in the 
 cnurch of England calendar and al- 
 manacs. St. Edmund was king of East 
 Anglia, which took its name from a peo- 
 ple called the Angles, who landed on the 
 eastern coast of Britain, imder twelve 
 chiefs, the survivor of whom, Ufia, as- 
 sumed the title of king of the East An- 
 gles. This kingdom contained Norfolk 
 and Suflblk, with part of Cambridgeshire. 
 The chief towns were Norwich, Thetford, 
 Ely, and Cambridge. In 867, the Danes 
 'ended in East Anglia, and after ravaging 
 different parts of the island, and continu- 
 mg some time in Northumberland, re- 
 turned into East Anglia, committing, in 
 their route, the most horrid barbarities. 
 Edmund the king opposed them ; bu< his 
 army was defeated at Thetford, and the 
 king being taken prisoner, fell a miserable 
 victim to their barbarity, for they tied 
 him to a tree, as a butt, o: mark, and then 
 
 floral directory. 
 
 Red Stapelia. Stapelia rufa. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Edmund, King. 
 
 ^obnuljer 21. 
 
 The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin 
 Mary. St. Columban, Abbot, a. d. 
 G15. iS^ Gelasius, Pope, a. d. 496. 
 
 Ghost of an Arm Chair. 
 A lady assured the editor of the " Pe- 
 rennial Calendar," of the truth of the 
 following story. She had ordered an 
 armed chair which stood in her room to 
 be sent to a sick friend, and thought it 
 had been sent conformably to her orders. 
 "Waking, however, in the night, and look- 
 ing by the light of the night-lamp at tlie 
 furniture in her room, she cast her eyes 
 on the place where the said chair used' to 
 stand, and saw it, as she thought, in its 
 place. She at first expressed herself to 
 her husband as being vexed that the chair 
 had not been sent ; but, as he protested 
 that it was actually gone, she got out of 
 bed to convince herself, and distinctly 
 saw the chair, even on a nearer approach 
 to it. What now became very remark- 
 able was, that the spotted chair-cover 
 which was over it, assumed an unusual 
 clearness, and the pattern assumed the 
 appearance of being studded with bright 
 stars. She got close to it, and putting 
 her hand out to touch it, found her fingers 
 go through the spectrum unresisted. As- 
 tonished, she now viewed it as an illusion, 
 and presently saw it vanish, by becoming 
 fainter till it disappeared. Dr. Forster 
 considers this apparition as affording a 
 clue to one mode by which spectra are 
 introduced, namely, by local association. 
 The lady had anticipated seeing the chair 
 in its place, from its always being asso- 
 ciated with the rest of the furniture; and 
 this anticipation of an image of percep- 
 tion was the basis of a corresponding 
 image of spectral illusion. 
 
 FLORAL directory. 
 
 Largeflowered Wood Sorrel. Oxalis 
 
 grandiforn. 
 
 Dedicated to the Presentation of the V 
 
 Mary. 
 
 747 
 
THE E VERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 22. 
 
 ST. CECILIA. 
 
 -Divine Cecilia came, 
 
 Inventress of the vocal frame ; 
 The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred st( re, 
 
 Enlarg'd the former narrow bou;ids, 
 
 And added length to solemn sounds, 
 With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. 
 
 Let old Timotheus yield the prize, 
 
 Or both divide the crown ; 
 
 He rais'd a mortal to tlie skies. 
 
 She drew an angel down. 
 
 Drydeii, 
 
 fiobcmber 22. 
 
 St. Cecily, A. D. 230. St. Theodnrns, 
 A. D. 821. Sts. Philemon, and Appia. 
 
 St. Cecilia. 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar, and in the almanacs. Her 
 having existed has been doubted, but she 
 is a saint of the Romish church, and But- 
 ler gives her life, wherein he calls her 
 ** the patroness of church music." He 
 says, that she was married to a nobleman 
 named Valerian, whom, with her brothei 
 Tibertius, she converted, and with them 
 she was martyred. Various legends, and 
 many pictures and prints, represent her 
 
 as engaged in music, or listening to it from 
 celestial performers. Hence the ode for 
 St. Cecilia's day by Dryden, who was a 
 catholic, concludes by saying, 
 
 " She drew an angel down." 
 
 Formerly, concerts on her festival-day 
 were fashionable, and Pope honoured her 
 in numbers, though " the numbers came" 
 not to him, as to Dryden. The preceding 
 engraving is from a design by M. de V^os, 
 engraved by .T. Sadler. Her husband is 
 represented, allured by the harmony,enter- 
 ing a room, wherein she sits. According 
 to catholic story, he found a young man 
 playing on the organ, Cecilia describee! 
 
 748 
 
TIIE EVF.RY-DAV BOOK.— NOVEMBER ?3. 
 
 him to Valerian as an angel, and from 
 tliat time she received " angeb' visits." 
 
 FLORAL DIRFCTORY. 
 
 Trumpet-flowered Wood Sorrel. Oxalis 
 
 ubijiora. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Cecilia. 
 
 ^obfinbtr 23. 
 
 v^r Clement, ?o^e, a. d. 100. St. Am- 
 p/iilochius, Bp. of Lconium, A. d. 394. 
 St. Tron, A. D. 693. St. Daniel, Bp 
 ... ->. 645= 
 
 This sami is in the cuarch of England 
 calendar ana the ^imanaos. 
 
 Clement was a t'ollower and coadjutor 
 of the apostle Paul, who, writing to the 
 Philippiaits, (iv. 3.) requires them to be 
 mindful of the flock and their teachers, 
 and distinguishes Clement by name — 
 " help those women which laboured with 
 me in the gospel, and with Clement also, 
 and with other my fellow-labourers " 
 The Romish writers contend for the direct 
 papal succession from the apostles, and call 
 Clement a pope; but in the uninterrupted 
 succession they claim for the pontifis of 
 their hierarchy, they fail in establishing 
 as indisputable whether he was the first, 
 second, or third pope ; the name itself 
 was not devised imtil centuries afterwards. 
 Some of them say he was martyred, others 
 contend that he died a natural death. 
 The advocates for his martyrdom assign 
 him an anchor as a symbol of distinction, 
 because they allege that lie was thrown 
 into the sea with an anchor about his 
 neck. It is further alleged that two of 
 his disciples desirous of recovering his re- 
 mains, assembled a multitude and prayed 
 for the discovery, and, as usual, there was 
 a miracle. " Immediately the sea retired 
 for the space of three miles, or a league, 
 in such sort that they could go into it for 
 all that space as upon the dry land ; and 
 they found in it a chapel, or little church, 
 made by the hands of angels; and within 
 the church a chest of stone, in which was 
 the body of St. Clement, and by it the 
 anchor with which he had been cast into 
 trie sea. This miracle did not happen 
 only tnat year in which the holy pope 
 tried, but it happened also every year, and 
 the sea retired itself three miles, as was 
 
 said, leaving the way dry for seven days 
 namely, the day of his martyrdom, and 
 the other six following days."* Though 
 " travellers see strange sights," no modem 
 tourist has related this anirjal miracle, 
 which is still performed by the sea in the 
 neighbourhood of Rome, on the day? 
 aforesaid, as duly and truly as the annual 
 liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius 
 at Naples — " or, if not, why not ?" 
 
 Protestants, in London, are reminded of 
 St. Clement's apocryphal death by his 
 anchor being the weathercock that " tarns 
 and turns," to every wind, on the steeple 
 of the parish church of St. Clement Danes 
 in the Strand. It denotes the efflux of time 
 as a minute-hand upon the clock; it de- 
 notes the limits of the parish as a mark 
 upon the boundary stones ; it graces the 
 beadles' staves ; and on the breasts of the 
 charity children is, in the eyes of the 
 parishioners, " a badge of honour." 
 
 It appears from a slate proclamation, 
 dated July 22, 1540, that children were 
 accustomed to be decked, and go about 
 on St. Clement's day in procession. From 
 an ancient custom of going about on the 
 night of this festival to beg drink to make 
 merry with, a pot was formerly marked 
 against the 23d of November upon the 
 old clog-almanacs. f 
 
 St. Clement is the patron of Olack-wiiths. 
 His quality in this respect is not noticed 
 by Brand, or other observers of our an- 
 cient customs, nor do they mention any 
 observances by that trade in commem- 
 oration of his festival But the following 
 communications will show the estimation 
 wherein he is held among the " cunning 
 workmen in iron." 
 
 Tu the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 ChaJtcery-lane, Nov. 19, 1825. 
 Sir, 
 As secretary of the " Benevolent Insti- 
 tution of Smiths," I take the liberty of 
 jogging your memory. I hope you will 
 not forset our St Clement, (Nov. 23,) in 
 your '\n\.GTe?,\\r\^ Every -Day Book. When 
 I was a child, an old man went about in 
 the trade, reciting the fi^llowing ode on 
 smithery, which, I believe, is very old 
 If you think it worthy a place in you. 
 work, it will much oblige me and out 
 trade; for it is now quite forgot, with 
 many good customs of hospitality of the 
 
 * RiliRdeneira. 
 
 \ Plot's Staftordihire. 
 
 749 
 
THE F.VERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 23. 
 
 olden days -.vliich are no more. I hope 
 you will cull your flowers of antiquity, and 
 collect all you can foi our trade ; there is 
 
 a story of St. Dunstan, the jmitb, with 
 his tongs, pinching the devil by the nof-e, 
 &c 
 
 An Ode on Smithery, 1610. 
 
 " By reading of old authors we do find 
 
 The srr.iths have been a trade time out of mind ; 
 
 And it's believed they may be bold to say. 
 
 There's not the like to them now at this day. 
 
 For was it not for smiths what could we do, 
 
 We soon should loose our lives and money too; 
 
 The miser would be stript of all his store, 
 
 And lose the golden god he doth adore : 
 
 No tradesman could be safe, or take his rest 
 
 But thieves and rogues would nightly him molest ; 
 
 It's by our cunning art, and ancient skill, 
 
 That we are saved from those who would work ill. 
 
 The smith at night, and soon as ne doth rise, 
 Doth always cleanse and wash his face and eyes ; 
 Kindles his fire, and the bellows blows, 
 Tucks up his shirt sleeves, and to work he goes : 
 Then makes the hammer and the anvil ring, 
 And thus he lives as merry as a king. 
 
 A working smith all other trades excels, 
 In useful labour wheresoe'er he dv, ells ; 
 Toss up your caps ye sons of Vulcan then, 
 P'or there are none of all the sons of men, 
 That can with the brave working smiths compar«, 
 Their work is hard, and jolly lads they are. 
 What though a smith looks sometimes very black, 
 And sometimes gets but one shirt to his back 
 And that is out at elbows, and so thin 
 That you through twenty holes may see his skin ; 
 Yet when he's drest and clean, you all will say, 
 That smiths are men not made of common clay 
 They serve the living, and they serve the dead. 
 They serve the mitre, and the crowned head ; 
 They all are men of honour and renown, 
 Honest, and just, and loyal to the crown. 
 The many worthy deeds that tliey have done. 
 Have spread their fame beyond the rising sun 
 So if we have oflfended rich or poor, 
 W^e will be good boys, and do so no more. 
 
 1 hope you >vill polish up for insertion. 
 I will call for the old copy at your office : 
 I should have sent it sooner, but could 
 not find it, and the trouble it has cost me 
 has made it valuable. 
 
 I remain, Sec. 
 J. Johnson. 
 7, HiU'Street, 
 Southwark. 
 
 Tlie editor has given the " ode" without 
 Mr. Johnson's alterations and additions, 
 because its original state is better suited 
 to convey a notion of his predecessors' 
 
 manners; for the same reason, his sugges- 
 tion to " polish up" has been declined 
 The homeliness of those who preceded 
 liim is not discreditable to him, or any of 
 the brethren of his trade. They are daily 
 increasing in respectability, and ought to 
 be a thriving branch. Compared with 
 those who lived before them, they have 
 extraordinary means of becoming ac- 
 quainted with the pr/HCJ/)/ra of their varied 
 manufacture, by becoming members of 
 the Mechanics' Institution. Many black- 
 smiths have already joined that society. 
 A diligent and good hand who knows 
 
 750 
 
 1 
 
THE E VERY-DAY EOOK.-NOVEMBER 24. 
 
 more ilmn his tellovvs, will be the best 
 w orkinan, and get the most money ; and 
 tiiigality abroad, and economy at home, 
 ^\lll secure his independence. Attend- 
 ance at the Mt'chaiiics' Iiistitntion will 
 leach these things : and St. Clement can- 
 not be better lionoured than by observing 
 them. 
 
 St. Clf.ment, at JFoolwich. 
 R. R. obligingly communicates with 
 liis name, the following account of an 
 annual ceremony on the evening of St. 
 Clement's day, by the blacksmiths' ap- 
 prentices of the dockyard there. 
 
 (For the Everij-Duii Book J 
 
 One of the senior apprentices being 
 chosen to serve as old Clciit, (so called by 
 them,) is attired in a great coat, having 
 his head covered with an oakham wig, 
 face masked, and a long white beard 
 flowing therefrom ; thus attired, he seats 
 iiimself in a large irooden chair, chiefly 
 covered with a sort of stuff' called buntin, 
 with a crown and anchor, made of wood, 
 on the top, and around it, four transpar- 
 encies, representing " the blacksmiths' 
 arms," "anchor smiths at woik," "Bri- 
 tannia with her anchor,'' and " Mount 
 Etna.'' He lias before him a wooden 
 anvil, and in his iiands a pair of tongs 
 and wooden hammer which, in general, 
 he makes good use of whilst reciting his 
 speech. A mate, also masked, attends 
 him with a wooden sledge-hammer ; he 
 is also surrounded by a number of other 
 attendants, some of whom carry torches, 
 banners, flags, &c. ; others battle-axes, 
 tomahawkes, and other accoutrements of 
 war. This procession, headed by a drum 
 and fife, and six men with old Clem 
 mounted on their shoulders, proceed round 
 the town, stopping and refreshing at neariy 
 every public house, (which, by the by, 
 are pretty numerous,) not forgetting to 
 call on the blacksmiths and officers of the 
 dockyard : there the money-box is pretty 
 freely handed, after old Clem and his mate 
 liave recited their speeches, which com- 
 mence by the mate calling for order, with 
 
 " Gentlemen all, attention give, 
 
 And wish St. Clem, long, long to live." 
 
 Old Clem then recites the following 
 speech : — 
 
 " I am the real St. Clement, the first 
 founder of brass, iron, and steel, from the ore. 
 I iiave been to Mount Etna, where the god 
 Vulcan fiist built his forge, and forged the 
 armour and thunderbolts for the god 
 i ipiter. 1 liave been through the deserts of 
 
 Arabia ; through Asia, Africa, and America ; 
 through tiie city of Tongrove ; through the 
 town of Tipmingo; and all the northern parts 
 of Scotland. 1 arrived in London on the 
 twenty-third of November, and came down to 
 his majesty's dockyard, at Woolwich, to see 
 how ail the geutlemeii Vulcans came on there. 
 1 found them all hard at work, and wish to 
 leave them well on the twenty-fourth." 
 
 Tiie mate then subjoins : — 
 
 " Come all you Vulcans stout and strong, 
 Unto St. Clem we do belong, 
 1 know this house is well prepared 
 With plenty of money and good strong beer, 
 And we must drink before we part. 
 All for to cheer each merry heart. 
 (Jonie all you Vulcans, strong and stout, 
 Unto St. Clem I pray turn out ; 
 For now St. Clem's going /ound the town. 
 His coach and six goes merrily round. 
 Huzza, — a, — a." 
 
 After having gone round the town and 
 collected a pretty decent sum, they retire 
 to some public house, where they enjoy as 
 good a supper as the money collected will 
 allow. R. R. 
 
 FI.OUAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Convex Wood Sorrel. Oralis convexida. 
 Dedicated to St. Clement. 
 
 f^obnnljfr 24. 
 
 St. John of the Cross, a. v>. 1591. .<^/. 
 Chrysogonus. Sts. Flora and Mury, 
 A. D. 831. St. Cianan, or Kenan, Bp. 
 of Duleek, in Iieland, a. d.489. 
 
 London in November. 
 
 In the already cited " Mirror of the 
 Months," there is a feeling account of 
 certain days in the metropolis, at this 
 season, which every one who has sojourn- 
 ed in " that overgrown place" will imme- 
 diately recognize to be " quite correct." 
 
 " Now the atmosphere of London be- 
 gins to thicken over head, and assume its 
 natural appearance, preparatory to its be- 
 co.ming, about Christmas time, that * pal- 
 ]iable obscure,' which is one of its proud- 
 est boasts ; and which, among its otliei 
 merits, may reckon that of engendering 
 those far-famed fogs, of which every body 
 has heard, but to which no one has ever 
 done justice. A London fog, in Novem- 
 ber, is a thing for which I have a soit of 
 natural afliection — to say nothing of an 
 acquired one — the result of a hackney- 
 coach adventure, in which the fair part of 
 
 7ol 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— TJOVEMBER 25. 
 
 the fare threw herself into my arms for 
 protection, a-midst the pleasing horrors of 
 an overtl)row. 
 
 " As an affair of mere breatli, there is 
 something tangible in a London focj. In 
 the. evanescent air of Italy, a man might 
 Hs well not breathe at all, for any thing 
 ne knows of the matter. But in a well- 
 mixed metropolitan fog, there is some- 
 thing substantial and satisfying. You can 
 fcel what you breathe, and see it too. It 
 is like breathing water, — as we may sup- 
 pose the fishes to do. And then the taste 
 i>f it, when dashed with a due seasoning 
 of seacoal smoke, is far from insipid. It 
 B also meat and drink at the same time : 
 Something between egg-flip and omelette 
 (ouffl^e, but much more digestible than 
 either. Not that I would recommend it 
 medicinally, especially to persons of queasy 
 stomachs, delicate nerves, and afflicted 
 with bile. But foy persons of a good ro- 
 bust habit of body, and not dainty withal, 
 (which such, by the by, never are,) there 
 is nothing better in its way. And it wraps 
 you all round like a cloak, too — a patent 
 water-proof one, which no rain ever pene- 
 trated. No — I maintain that a real Lon- 
 don fog is a thing not to be sneezed at — 
 jf you help it. Mem. As many spurious 
 imitations of the above are abroad, — such 
 as Scotch mists, and the like, — which are 
 no less deleterious than disagreeable, — 
 please to ask for the ' true London parti- 
 cular,' — as manufactured by Thames, 
 Coalgas, Smoke, Steam, & Co. No others 
 are genuine." 
 
 fVater-proof Donts and Shoes. 
 
 Take one pound of drying (boiled lin- 
 seed) oil, two ounces of yellow wax, two 
 ounces of spirits of turpentine, and one 
 of Burgundy pitch, melted carefully over 
 a slow fire. With this composition new 
 shoes and boots are to be rubbed in the 
 sun, or at a distance from the fire, with a 
 small bit of sponge, as often as they be- 
 come dry, until they are fully saturated ; 
 the leather then is impervious to wet, the 
 thoes and boots last much longer, acquire 
 fcoftness and pliability, and thus pre- 
 pared, are the most effectual preservatives 
 against cold. 
 
 A Notable TVoman. 
 
 On the 24th of November, 1735, a 
 t)utcher near Rumford, in Essex, was 
 rode up to by a women well mounted oil 
 
 a side saddle, who, to his astonishment, 
 presented a pistol, and demanded his 
 money. In amazement he asked hef 
 what she meant, and received his answe 
 from a genteel looking man, who coming 
 to him on horseback, said he was a brute 
 to deny the lady's request, and enforcea 
 this conviction by telling him that if he 
 did not gratify her desire immediatelyhe 
 would shoot him through the head. The 
 butcher could not resist an invitation to 
 be gallant, when supported by such argu 
 ments, and he placed six guineas and \\ 
 watch in her hands* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Starry Stapelia. Sfapelia rad'iata 
 Dedicated to St. J-ohn of the Cross. 
 
 ^obeml)er25. 
 
 St. Catharine, 3d Cent. St. Erasmus, or 
 Elme. 
 
 M. Catf)arine. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar, and the almanacs. It is doubt- 
 ful whether she ever existed ; yet in mass- 
 books and breviaries, we find her prayed 
 to ^nd honoured by hymns, with stories 
 of hf miracles so wonderfully apocryphal 
 that even cardinal Baronius blushes for 
 the threadbare legends. In Alban But- 
 ler's memoirs of this saint, it may be dis- 
 covered by a scrutinizing eye, tiiat while 
 her popularity seems to force him to re- 
 late particulars concerning her, he leaves 
 himself room to disavow them ; but this 
 is hardly fair, for the great body of read- 
 ers of his " Lives of th° Saints," are too 
 confiding to criticise hidden meanings. 
 " From this martyr's uncommon erudi- 
 tion," he says, " and the extraordinary 
 spirit of piety by which she sanctified her 
 learning, and the use she made of it, she 
 is chosen, in the schools, the patroness 
 and model of christian philosophers." 
 According to his authorities she was be- 
 headed under the emperor Maxentius, or 
 Maximinus 11. He adds, " She is said 
 first to liave been put upon an engine 
 made of four wheels joined together, and 
 stuck with sharp pointed spikes, Iha 
 when the wheels were moved her bodt 
 might be torn to pieces. The acts ado, 
 that at the first stirring of the terrible 
 engine, the cords with which the martyf 
 
 * Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 752 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOR.— NOVEMBER 25. 
 
 ST. CATHARINE AND THE EMPEROR MAXENTIUS. 
 Feom a stained glass Window in West Wickuam Church, Kent, 1825. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 753 
 
 3 C 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 25. 
 
 was tied, were broke asunder by the in- 
 visible power of an angel, and, the engine 
 falling to pieces by the wheels being se- 
 parated from one another, she was deli- 
 vered from that death. Hence, the name 
 of " St. Catharine's wheel." 
 
 The Catharine-wheel, a sign in the 
 Borough, and at other inns and public 
 houses, and the Catharine-wheel in fire- 
 works, testify this saint's notoriety in 
 England. Besides pictures and engrav- 
 ings representing her pretended mar- 
 riage with Christ, others, which are more 
 numerous, represent her with her wheel. 
 She was, in common with other papal 
 saints, also painted in churches, and there 
 is still a very fine, though somewhat mu- 
 tilated, painting of her, on the glass win- 
 dow in the chancel of the church of West 
 Wicknam, a village delightfully situated 
 in Kent, between Bromley and Croydon. 
 The editor of the Every-Day Book went 
 thither, and toek a tracing from the win- 
 dow itself, &nd now presents an engraving 
 from that tracing, under the expectation 
 that, as an ornament, it may be accept- 
 able to all, and, as perpetuating a relic of 
 antiquity, be still more acceptable to 
 a few. The figure under St Catharine's 
 feet is the tyrant Maxentius. In this 
 church theie are other fine and perfect 
 remains of the beautifully painted glass 
 which anciently adorned it. A coach 
 leaves the Ship, at Charing-cross, every 
 afternoon for the Swan, at West Wick- 
 ham, which is kept by Mr. Crittel, who 
 can give a visiter a good bed, good cheer, 
 and good information, and if need be, put 
 a good horse into a good stable. A shoit 
 and pleasant walk of a mile to the church 
 the next morning will be gratifying in 
 many ways. The village is one of the 
 most retired and agreeable spots in the 
 vicinity of the metropolis. It is not yet 
 deformed by building speculations. 
 
 St. Catharines Day. 
 
 Old Barnaby Googe, from Naogeor- 
 gi.s, says— 
 
 *' What should T tell what sophisters 
 on Cathiins dny devise ? 
 
 Or else the superstitious toyes 
 
 that maisters exercise." 
 
 Anciently women and girls in Ireland 
 kept a fast every Wednesday and Satur- 
 day throughout the year, and some of them 
 also on St. Catharine's day ; nor would 
 they omit it though it happened on their 
 birthday, or they were ever so ill. The 
 reason given for it was that the girls 
 might get good husbands, and the women 
 better ones, either by the death, desertion, 
 or reformation of their living ones.* 
 
 St. Catharine was esteemed the saint 
 and patroness of spinsters, and her holi- 
 day observed by young women meeting 
 on this day, and making merry together, 
 which they call " Cathar'ning." f Some- 
 thing of this still remains in remote parts 
 of England. 
 
 Our correspondent R. R. (in Novem- 
 ber, 1825,) says, "On the 25th of No- 
 vember, St. Catharine's day, a man 
 dressed in woman's clothes, with a large 
 wheel by his side, to represent St. Catha- 
 rine, was brought out of the royal arsenal 
 at Woolwich, (by the workmen of that 
 place,) about six o'clock in the evening, 
 seated in a large wooden chair, and car- 
 ried by men round the town, with attend- 
 ants, &c. similar to St. Clement's. Tiiey 
 stopped at different houses, where they 
 used to recite a speech ; but this cere- 
 mony has been discontinued these last 
 eight or nine years." 
 
 Much might be said and contemplated 
 in addition to the notice already taken of 
 the demolition of the church of St. Ca- 
 tharine's, near the Tower. Its destruction 
 has commenced, is proceeding, and will 
 be completed in a short time. The sur- 
 render of this edifice will, in the end, 
 become a precedent for a spoliation ima- 
 gined by very few on the day when he 
 utters this foreboding. 
 
 25th of November, 1825. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 'oiweet Butter-bur. Tussilas^o fragrans 
 Dedicated to St. Catharine. 
 
 * Camden Brit. 
 
 t La Motte on Poetry and Painting, 17>0, tSmo. 
 
 754 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 2'J. 
 
 St. Peterf Martyr, Bp. of Alexandria, a. d 
 3\\.St.Alcon, suvunmed Metaiioite, a.d. 
 998. St. Si/lvestcr Gozzolbd, a. d. 
 1267. .S^ Conrad, Bp. of Constance, 
 A. D. 976. 
 
 A New Moon Custom, 
 
 and " more last ivords" respecting 
 
 Captain Stapkey. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every- Day , Book. 
 
 Sir, 
 I do not remember to have seen in 
 your book, " where every-day we turn 
 the leaf to read," any notice of a custom, 
 which is not only very prevalent, but 
 which is, also, most harmless in its na- 
 ture and endearing in its tendency — pro- 
 mores in its practice goodwill and good 
 humour — and, not unfrequently, with 
 those who view tlie " future i' th' in- 
 stant," love itself. Among the many 
 new moon customs, such as looking 
 through a new silk, handkerchief to ascer- 
 tuin the number of your lovers, feeling 
 for money in your pocket, to see if you 
 will have a lucky month, &c. ; I know of 
 none so pleasant, or, to my thinking, so 
 rational, as that of claiming the first 
 
 KISS FOR A PAIR OF NEW GLOVES ! The 
 
 person, in a company, male or female, 
 who tirst gets a glimpse of the new 
 moon, immediately kisses some member 
 of the company, and pronounces with a 
 triumphant cliuckle, " Aha ! J-ane, (or 
 as the name may be,) there's a pair of 
 gloves for me .'" By this means a plea- 
 sant interruption is often given to a te- 
 dious tale, or uninteresting debate, and a 
 new subject starts, in which all may join 
 with greater or less avidity. How happy 
 is some modest youth, should the blushing 
 and ingenuous girl, whom he has secretly 
 " singled from the world," have laid him 
 under the penalty of a pair of new 
 gloves, by that soft phrase and that first 
 delicious kiss — how fruitful are his sweet 
 anticipations of that golden time — 
 " When life is all one dream of love and 
 flowers." 
 How joyful is an amiable sister, if, by 
 this species of initiation, she has been 
 enabled to re-conciliate the vagrant affec- 
 tions of some estranged brother: and 
 even where love and sisterly feelings are 
 out of the question, viewed as an iiiter- 
 ciiange of common (coinmoa !) friend- 
 ship, between the sexes, how felicitous is 
 
 it in effect and operation ! Should you, 
 Mr. Editor, be of opinion with me, re- 
 specting this no longer " tyrant custom," 
 you may, possibly, bv printing this letter 
 be productive of much good humour, and 
 rt pair of new gloves. 
 1 am. 
 
 Your constant and approving reader, 
 W. G. T. 
 New castle-on- Tyne. 
 
 P. S. I cannot write the name of the 
 town where I reside, without feeling a 
 strong inducement to say one word of 
 him, who has been so pleasantly immor- 
 talized by youiself, and the inimitable 
 being who wrote so aflectingly of " Ro- 
 samund Gray," i^nd the " Old Familiar 
 Faces" — I mean poor Starkey. I was 
 born, and have lived all my life (not 
 a long one), in the town where he term- 
 inated his humble career, and gave 
 another name to the neglected and un- 
 pitied list of those, who seem chiefly to 
 have entered the world for the purpose 
 of swelling 
 
 " The short and simple annals of the 
 poor," 
 
 and my earliest recollections are haunted 
 by his meagre care-worn form ; — many a 
 time have I shrunk from the shaking of 
 his stick, and the imperious " dem your 
 binds," which he bestowed with uncom- 
 mon celerity on the defenceless heads of 
 his young and unthinking sources of an- 
 noyance, as they assailed him from the 
 corners which he was accustomed to 
 ])ass. But the captain was a humble 
 man, and these " moods of the mind" 
 were seldom indulged in, save when he 
 was returning, brinj-fuU of brief and in- 
 temperate importaf.^e, from the Black 
 Horse, in Pilgrim-street, the tap-room of 
 which was the scene of many a learned 
 disputation with the " unwashed arti- 
 ficers" of the evening, and in which the 
 captain was always proportionably bril- 
 liant to the number of gills he had 
 drank. On these occasions, in his efibrts 
 to silence the sons of toil, he did not 
 scruple to use his Latin — and, in such 
 instances, appeal was impossible, and 
 victory sure. Among several anecdotes, 
 I am in possession of two, which you, his 
 most ceiebrious biographer, may not 
 think unworthy of recording. On one 
 evening, when he was returning from a 
 carousal, furnished by the generosity oJ 
 friends, or his own indiscretion — for the 
 captain despised to-morrow ^ much as 
 
 Vi)0 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 27. 
 
 any man, and was fully convinced of the 
 propriety of the apophthegm, " sufficient 
 unto the day is its own evil'' — he found 
 the gate of the Freemeu's Hospital, 
 where he resided, closed, and no one in 
 a better condition for exclaiming with 
 Dr. Beattie, 
 
 " Ah ' who can tell how hard it is to 
 climb '" 
 
 than himself. What was to be done? To 
 fly over was impossible — and he was much 
 too deep m the scale of intoxication to 
 dream of scaling the wall. A party of 
 young bucks, " ripe for fun," fresh from 
 their sacrifices at the shrine of " the 
 reeling goddess with the zoneless waist," 
 came up the street ; to these, hat in 
 hand, did the captain prefer his petition 
 to be assisted over, and they, with a 
 thoughtlessness hardly to be excused by 
 their condition, took him up, and threw 
 him completely on to the grass plot on 
 the other side. The veteran scram- 
 bled to his legs, and, for the wall was 
 not very high on the inside, returned 
 them thanks in his best manner for their 
 timely assistance, utterly forgetful that it 
 might have proved m&st disastrous both 
 to himself and them. The second, and 
 with which I must conclude a postscript 
 which has already far outgrown the letter, 
 was less harmless and equally illustrative 
 of the man. He had gone, with another 
 eleemosynary worthy, on some gratula- 
 ♦ory occasion, to the hall of one of the 
 
 members for the town, and the butler 
 who was well aware of ihe object of his 
 guests, treated them handsomely in hi 
 refectory to cold beef and good ale. He 
 was accidentally called away, and the 
 two friends were left alone. Alas ! for 
 the temptations which continually beset 
 us 1 The '* expedition of" the captain's 
 " violent love outran the pauser, rea- 
 son :" he suggested, and both adopted, 
 the expedient of secreting a slice or two 
 of the member's beef, to make more 
 substantial the repast of the evening. 
 Starkey's share was deposited in his hat. 
 The man in office returned, pressed his 
 visiters afresh " and still the circling 
 cup was drained,'' until the home- 
 brewed had made considerable inno- 
 vations, and the travellers thought it fit- 
 ting to depart. The captain's habitual 
 politeness was an overmatch for his cun- 
 ning : whilst he was yet at the door, 
 casting his" last lingering looks beliind," 
 he must needs take off his hat to give 
 moreettect to the fervour of his farewell — 
 when — '• out upon 't" — the beef fell as flat 
 on his oration, as did the hat of corporal 
 Trim on the floor in the scene of his 
 eloquence. Starkey was dumb-founded, 
 his associate was in agonies, and the but- 
 ler was convulsed with the most " side- 
 splitting" laughter. The captain, like 
 other great men, has not fallen " un- 
 sung." Hearken to Gilchrist, one of tlie" 
 " bards of the Tyne,'' who thus sings in 
 his apotheosis of Benjamin Starkey : — 
 
 " His g'ame is up, his pipe is out, an' fairly laid bis craw, 
 His fame 'ill blaw about just like coal dust at Shiney-Raw. 
 He surely was a joker rare — whal times tliere'd been for a' the nation. 
 Had he but lived to be a mayor, the glory o' wor corporation ! 
 
 " Whack, &c." 
 
 W. G. T. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Linear Wood Sorrel. Oralis linearis 
 Dedicated to St. Conrad. 
 
 ^obtmftn* 27. 
 
 St. Ma.rimus, Bp. of Riez, a. d. 460. St. 
 James, surnamed Intercisus, a. d. 421. 
 St. Maharsapor, a. d. 421. St. Virgil, 
 Bp. of Saltzburg, a. d. 784. St. Sc- 
 cnndin, or Seachnal, Bp. of Dunsaghlin, 
 in Meath, a. d. 447. 
 
 ANNIVERSARY OF 
 
 IN ENGLAND. 
 
 In Little IVild-street chapel, Lincolr.'s 
 Inn Fields, a sermon is annually preached 
 on this day in commemoration of the 
 " Great Storm" in 1703. 
 
 This fearful tempest was preceded by a 
 strong west wind, which set in about the 
 middle of the month ; and every day, and 
 almost every hour, increased in force until 
 
 756 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— NOVEMBER 27 
 
 tlie 2-Jth, uheii h blew furiously, occa- 
 sioned much alarm, and some damage was 
 sustained. On the 25lh, and through 
 the night following, it continued with 
 Unusual violence. On the morning or 
 Friday, the 26ih, it raged so fearfully that 
 only few people had courage to venture 
 abroad. Ibwards evening it rose still 
 higher ; the night setting in with exces- 
 sive darkness added general horror to the 
 scene, and prevented any from seeking 
 security abroad from their homes, had 
 that been possible. Tlie extraordinary 
 power of the wind created a noise, hoarse 
 and dreadful, like thunder, which carried 
 terror to every ear, and appalled every 
 heart. There were also appearances in 
 the heavens that resembled lightning. 
 " The air," says a writer at the time, 
 " was full of meteors and fiery vapours ; 
 yet," he adds, *' I am of opinion, that 
 there was really no lightning, in the com- 
 mon acceptation of the term ; for the 
 clouds, that flew with such violence 
 through the air, were not to my observa- 
 tion such as are usually freighted with 
 thunder and lightning; the hurries nature 
 was then in do not consist with the system 
 of thunder." Some imagined the tempest 
 was accompanied with an earthquake. 
 " Horror and confusion seized upon all, 
 whether on shore or at sea ; no pen can 
 describe it, no tongue can express it, no 
 thought can conceive it, unless theirs who 
 were in the extremity of it ; and who 
 being touched with a due sense of the 
 sparing mercy of their Maker, retain the 
 deep impressions of his goodness upon 
 their minds though the danger be past. 
 To venture abroad was to rush into instant 
 death, and to stay within afforded no 
 other prospect than that of being buried 
 under the ruins of a falling habitation. 
 Some in their distraction did the foimer, 
 and met death in the streets ; others the 
 latter, and in their own houses received 
 their final doom." One hundred and 
 twenty-three persons were killed by the 
 falling of dwellings; amongst these were 
 the bishop of Bath and Wells (Dr. 
 Richard Kidder) and his lady, by the fall 
 of part of the episcopal palace of Wells; 
 and lady Penelope Nicholas, sister to the 
 bishop of London, at Horsley, in Sussex. 
 Tliose who perished in the waters, in the 
 floods of the Severn and the Thames, on 
 the coast of Holland, and in ships blown 
 away atv' nrver heard of afterwards, are 
 computed to h.ive amounted to eight 
 thousand 
 
 All ranks and degrees were affected by 
 this amazing tempest, for every family 
 that had anything to lose lost something: 
 land, houses, churches, corn, trees, rivers, 
 all were disturbed or damaged by its 
 fury; small buildings were for the most 
 part wholly swept away, " as chaff be- 
 fore the wind.'' Above eight hundred 
 dwelling-houses were laid in ruins. Few 
 of those that resisted escaped from being 
 unroofed, which is clear from the prodi- 
 gious increase in the price of tiles, which 
 rose from twenty-one shillings to six 
 pounds the thousand. About two thou- 
 sand stacks of chimnies were blown 
 down in and about London. When the 
 day broke the houses were mostly strip- 
 ped, and appeared like so many skeletons. 
 The consternation was so great that trade 
 and business were suspended, for the first 
 occupation of the mind was so to repair 
 the houses that families might be pre- 
 served from the inclemency of the weather 
 in the rigorous season. The streets were 
 covered with brickbats, broken tiles, 
 signs, bulks, and penthouses. 
 
 The lead which covered one hundred 
 churches, and many public buildings, 
 was rolled up, and hurled in prodigious 
 quantities to distances almost incredible; 
 spires and turrets of many others were 
 thrown down. Innumerable stacks of 
 corn and hay were blown away, or so 
 torn and scattered as to receive great 
 damage. 
 
 Multitudes of cattle were lost. In one 
 level in Gloucestershire, on the banks of 
 the Severn, fifteen thousand sheep were 
 drowned. Innumerable trees were torn 
 up by the roots ; one writer says, that he 
 himself numbered seventeen thousand in 
 part of the county of Kent alone, and 
 that, tired with counting, he left off 
 reckoning. 
 
 The damage in the city of London, 
 only, was computed at near two millions 
 sterling. At Bristol, it was about two 
 hundred thousand pounds. In the 
 whole, it was supposed that the loss was 
 greater than that produced by the great 
 fire of London, 166(5, which was esti- 
 mated at four millions. 
 
 The greater part of the navy was at 
 sea, and if the storm had not been at its 
 height at full flood, and in a spring-tide, 
 the loss might have been nearly fatal to 
 the nation. It was so considerable, that 
 fifteen or sixteen men of war were cast 
 away, and more than two thousand sea- 
 men perished. Few merchantmen were 
 
 757 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 27. 
 
 lost; for most of those that were driven 
 to sea were safe. Rear-admiral Beau- 
 mont with a squadron then lying in the 
 Downs, perished witli his own and seve- 
 ral other ships on the Goodwin Sands. 
 
 The sliips lost by the storm were esti- 
 mated at three hundred. In the river 
 Thames, only four ships remained be- 
 tween London-bridge and Limehouse, 
 the rest being driven below, and lying 
 there miserably beating against one an- 
 other. Five hundred wherries, three 
 hundred ship-boats, and one hundred 
 lighters and barges were entirely lost ; 
 and a much greater number received con- 
 siderable damage. The wind blew from 
 the western seas, which preventing many 
 ships fiom putting to sea, and driving 
 others into harbour, occasioned great 
 numbers to escape destruction. 
 
 The Eddystone lighthouse near Ply- 
 mouth was precipitated in the surround- 
 ing ocean, and with it Mr. Winstanley, 
 the ingenious architect, by whom it was 
 contrived, and the people who were with 
 him. — " Ilaving been frequently told that 
 the edifice was too slight to withstand 
 the fury of the winds and waves, he was 
 accustomed to reply contemptuously, that 
 he only wished to be in it when a storm 
 should happen. Unfortunately his de- 
 sire was gratified. Signals of distress 
 were made, but in so tremendous a sea 
 no vessel could live, or would venture to 
 put off for their relief"* 
 
 The amazing strength and rapidity of 
 the wind, are evidenced by the following 
 well authenticated circumstances. Near 
 Shaftesbury a stone of near four hundred 
 pounds weight, which had lain for some 
 years fixed in the ground, fenced by a 
 bank with a low stone wall upon it, Avas 
 lifted up by the wind, and carried into a 
 hollow way, distant at least seven yards 
 from the place. This is mentioned in a 
 sermon preached by Dr. Samuel Stennett, 
 in 1788. Dr. Andrew Gifford in a ser- 
 mon preached at Little Wylde-street, on 
 the 'i7th of November, 1 734, says that " in 
 a country town, a large stable was at 
 once removed off its foundation and in- 
 stantly carried quite across the highway, 
 over the heads of five horses and the man 
 that was then feeding them, without 
 hurting any one of them, or removing 
 the rack and manger, both of which re- 
 mained for a considerable time to the 
 admiration of every beholder." Dr. 
 Gitford in the same sermon, gives an ac- 
 
 ♦ Bslsham's Hist, of G. Biitaiii. 
 
 count of " several remarkable deliver 
 ances." One of the most remarkaule 
 instances of this kind occurred at a house 
 in the Strand, in which were no kss than 
 fourteen persons : " Four of them fell 
 with a great part of the house, &c. three 
 stories, and several two; and though 
 buried in the ruins, were taken out un- 
 hurt: of these, three weie children; 
 one that lay by itself, in a little bed near 
 its nurse ; another in a cradle ; and the 
 third was found hanging (as it were 
 wrap'd up) in some curtains that hitch'd 
 by the way ; neither of whom received 
 the least damage. In another place, as 
 a minister was crossing a court near his 
 house, a stone from the top of a chimney 
 upwards of one hundred and forty pounds 
 weight, fell close to his heels, and cut 
 between his footsteps four inches deep 
 into the ground. Soon after, upon draw- 
 ing in his arm, which he had held out on 
 some occasion, another stone of near the 
 same weight and size, brush'd by his 
 elbow, and fell close to his foot, which 
 must necessarily, in the eye of reason, 
 have killed him, had it fallen while it 
 was extended." In the Poultry, where 
 two boys were lying in a garret, a huge 
 stack of chimnies fell in, which making 
 its way through that and all the other 
 floors to the cellar, it was followed by 
 the bed with the boys asleep in it, who 
 first awaked in that gloomy place of con- 
 fusion without the least hurt. 
 
 So awful a visitation produced serious 
 impressions on the government, and a 
 day of fasting and humiliation was ap- 
 pointed by authority. The introductory 
 part of the proclamation, issued by queen 
 Anne for that purpose, claims attention 
 from its solemn import. 
 
 WHEREAS, by the late most 
 terrible and dreadful Storms of 
 Wind, with which it hath pleased Al- 
 mighty God to afflict the greatest part of 
 this our Kingdom, on Friday and Satur- 
 day, the Twenty-Sixth and Twenty- 
 Seventh days of November last, some of 
 our Ships of War, and many Ships of our 
 loving Subjects have been destroyed and 
 lost at Sea, and great numbers of our 
 subjects, serving on board the same have 
 perished, and many houses and other 
 buildings of our good Subjects have 
 been either wholly thrown down and 
 demolished, or very much damnified and 
 defaced, and thereby several persons 
 have been killed, and many Stacks of 
 Corn and Hay thrown down and scat- 
 
 '58 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— NOVEMBER 27. 
 
 tered abroad, to the great damage and 
 •inpoverishment of many others, espe- 
 cially the poorer sort, and great numbers 
 of Timber and other Trees have by the 
 said Storm been torn up by the roots in 
 many parts of this our Kingdom: a Cala- 
 mity of tills sort so dreadful and asto- 
 nishing, that the like hath not been seen 
 or felt in the memory of any person living 
 in this our Kingdom, and which loudly 
 calls for the deepest and most solemn 
 humiliation of us and our people : tht-re- 
 fore out of a deep and pious sense of 
 what we and all our people have suffered 
 by the said dreadful Wind and Storms, 
 'which we most humbly acknowledge to 
 be a token of the divine displeasure, and 
 that it was the infinite Mercy of God 
 that we and our people were not thereby 
 wholly destroyed,) We have Resolved, 
 and do hereby coinmand, that a General 
 Public Fast be observed," &c. 
 
 This public fast was accor'^ingly ob- 
 served, throughout England, on the nine- 
 teenth of January following, with great 
 seriousness and devotion by all orders 
 and denominations. The protestant dis- 
 senters, notwithstanJing their objections 
 to the interference of the civil magistrate 
 in matters of religion, deeming this to be 
 an occasion wherein they might unite 
 with their countrymen in openly bewail- 
 ing the general calamity, rendered the 
 supplication universal, by opening their 
 places of worship, and every church and 
 meetinor-house was crowded. 
 
 AnVERTlSF.MF-NT. 
 
 " It may not be generally known, that 
 a Mr. Joseph Taylor, having experi- 
 enced a merciful preservation, during the 
 'Great Storm,' in 1703; and, being at 
 that period, a member of the (Baptist) 
 church, meeting in Little Wild-street, 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields, instituted an annual 
 sermon, to perpetuate the recollection of 
 that affecting occurrence ; leaving, in 
 trust, i small sum to be thus annually 
 expended." 
 
 The above announcement is prefixed to 
 a sermon preached in the before-men- 
 tioned chapel, in the year 18'21, by the 
 rev. George Pritchard. The annual ser- 
 mon at that place has been regularly 
 preached, but Mr. Pritchard's is the last 
 printed one. It has an appendix of " re- 
 markable facts, which could not so con- 
 veniently be introduced into the dis- 
 course." Tlie rev. Robert Winter, A.M. 
 
 (now D.D.) preached the sermon of 1798 
 which was the last published one precea 
 ing Mr. Pritchard's. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Taylor was a bookseller in 
 Paternoster-row. He left 40^. for the 
 purpose mentioned, to which the church 
 added 5/., and purchased 50/. three per 
 cent, consols, which is now standing in 
 the name of three trustees, who pay the 
 minister. £. #. ' d. 
 
 For the sermon - 10 
 
 Distributing of Notices 2 6 
 Cleik - - - 2 6 
 
 Two Pew-openers 2*. 6d. 
 
 each 5 
 
 £i 10 
 
 The following is a copy of the no- 
 tice, printed and distributed in the yeai 
 1325. 
 
 "GREAT STORM. 
 
 On Sunday Evening, November 27, 1825, 
 
 THE 
 
 3[nnual Sermon 
 
 lu commemoration of the Great Storm in 1703, 
 
 WILL BE PREACHED 
 
 In Little Wild Street Chapel, 
 
 Lincoln's inn fields. 
 
 By the Rev. Thomas Griffin, 
 
 0/ Fresco t Street 
 
 " A collection will be made after the service 
 for the support of the Evening Lecture, which 
 was commenced at the beginning of the pre- 
 sent year, and will be continued every Sun- 
 day evening, to which the inhabitants of Wild- 
 street, and its vicinity, are earnestly solicited 
 to attend. 
 
 "Service commences at half-past six o'clock.' 
 
 Etymology of the Seasons. 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Mr Editor, 
 
 I am, no doubt, with many others, 
 obliged by the information contained in 
 your Every-Day Book, especially in 
 giving the etymology and origin of things 
 of- old and present practices. 
 
 But being a dabbler in etymology my- 
 self, I was disappointed in finaing none 
 for the present season of the year, au- 
 tumn ; and as many of our rsm^s ol 
 
 ro9 
 
THE EVER f -DAT BOOK NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 places were, no doubt, given by our Saxon 
 ancestors, we in the north retain more of 
 that language, and consequently more 
 familiar with the names of places than 
 you in England. 
 
 Perhaps there is not one hundred per- 
 sons in Langbourn ward know any 
 meaning to the two words by which the 
 ward is called ; but to any child in Scot- 
 land the words are significant. 
 
 Will you then allow me to give you my 
 etymology of the seasons ? 
 
 Spring makes itself familiar to almost 
 every one ; but summer, or as we would 
 say in Scotland, means an addition, or 
 " sum-more," or " some-mere ;" viz. if a 
 person was not satisfied with his portion 
 of victuals, he would say " I want sum- 
 mere." 
 
 And does not this correspond with 
 the season, which in all the plants and 
 fruits of the field and garden, is getting 
 " sum-mere" every day, until the months 
 of August and September, when accord- 
 ing to the order and appointment of the 
 ereat Lawgiver, they are brought to per- 
 fection, and gathered in? 
 
 Then comes the present season, au- 
 tumn, or as we would in the north say, 
 " ae-tum," or " all empty," which is the 
 present state of the gardens, trees, and 
 fields ; they are " ae-tum." 
 
 The last season brings with it its own 
 name by its effects, " wind-tere." 
 
 If these observations will add any thing 
 to your fund of information, it will not 
 diminish that of 
 
 Your humble ■servant, 
 
 A North Britain. 
 
 PS.— Observe, they pronounce the A 
 in Scotland as in Fiance, Aa. 
 November 16, 1825. 
 
 FL0R.4L DIRECTORY. 
 
 Lupinleaved Wood Sorrel. OxuHs htpi- 
 
 vifoHa. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Virgil. 
 
 ftobnnljfr 28. 
 
 St. Stephen the Youny;er, a. d. 764. St. 
 James of La Murea, of Ancona, a. d. 
 ;i476 
 
 [Micliaelmas Term ends.] 
 
 Burmese State Carriage. 
 
 Ejrhilnted in November. 1825. 
 
 An invitation to a private view of the 
 ' Kath," or state carriage of the king of 
 
 Ava, or emperor of the Burmans, at the 
 Egyptian-hall, Piccadilly, gave the editor 
 of the Every-Day Book an opportunity 
 of inspecting it, on Friday, the 18th cf 
 November, previous to its public exhibi- 
 tion ; and having been accompanied by 
 an artist, for whom he obtained permis- 
 sion to make a drawing of the splendid 
 vehicle, he is enabled to present the ac- 
 companying engraving. 
 
 The Times, m speaking of it, remarks, 
 that " The Burmese artists have produced 
 a very formidable rival to that gorgeous 
 piece of lumber, the lord mayor's coach. 
 It is not indeed quite so heavy, nor quite 
 so glassy as that moving monument of 
 metropolitan magnificence; but it is not 
 inferior to it in glitter and in gilding, and 
 is far superior in the splendour of the 
 gems and rubies which adorn it. It dif- 
 fers from the metropolitan carriage in 
 having no seats in the interior, and no 
 place for either sword-bearer, chaplain, or 
 any other inferior officer. The reason of 
 this is, that whenever the ' golden mo- 
 narch' vouchsafes to show himself to 
 his subjects, who with true legitimate 
 loyalty worship him as ar^emanation from 
 the deity, he orders his throne to be re- 
 moved into it, and sits thereon, the sok 
 object of their awe and admiration." 
 
 The British Press well observes, that 
 " Independent of the splendour of this 
 magnificent vehicle, its appearance in this 
 country at the present moment is attended 
 with much additional and extrinsic in- 
 terest. It IS the first specimen of the 
 progress of the arts in a country of the 
 very existence of which we appeared to 
 be oblivious, till recent and extraordinary 
 events recalled it to our notice. The 
 map of Asia alone reminded us that an 
 im.mense portion of the vast tract of 
 country lying between China and our 
 Indian possessions, and constituting the 
 eastern peninsula of India, was de- 
 si^inated by the name of the Burmah em.- 
 pire. But so little did we know of the 
 people, or the country they inhabited, 
 that geographers were not agreed upon 
 the orthography of the name. The attack 
 upon Chittagong at length aroused our 
 attention to the concerns of this warlike 
 people, when one of the first intimations 
 v/e received of their existence was the 
 threat, after they had expelled us from 
 India, to invade England. Our soldiers 
 found themselves engaged in a contest 
 diPerent from any they had before expe- 
 rienced in that part of the world, and 
 
 760 
 
niE EVER'Y-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 28 
 
 THE EATH, OE BURMESE IMPERIAL STATE CARRIAGE; 
 Captured in SepteTuber, 1825, at Tavoy, a sea-port in the Burmese Empire, 
 
 761 
 
THE EVERY-DAt BOOK.— NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 with a puopk who, to the impetuous bra- 
 ver\ ot savages, added all the artifices of 
 civilized warfare. We had to do with an 
 enemy of whose history and resources we 
 knew absolutely nothing. On those heads 
 our information is still but scanty. It is 
 the information which ' the Rath,' or im- 
 perial carriage, afiords respecting the 
 state of the mechanical arts among the 
 Burmese, that we consider particularly 
 curious and interesting." 
 
 Before more minute description it may 
 be remarked, that the eye is chiefly struck 
 by the fretted golden roof, rising step by 
 stop from the square oblong body of the 
 carriage, like an ascending pile of rich 
 shrine -work. "It consists of seven 
 stages, diminishing in the most skilful 
 and beautiful proportions towards the 
 top. The carving is highly beautiful, and 
 the whole structure is set thick with 
 stones and gems of considerable value. 
 These add little to the efi'ect when seen 
 from below, but ascending the gallery of 
 the hall, the spectator observes them, 
 relieved by the yellow ground of the gild- 
 ing, and sparkling beneath him like dew- 
 drops in a field of cowslips. Their pre- 
 sence in so elevated a situation well 
 serve to explain the accuracy of finish 
 preserved throughout, even in the nicest 
 and most minute portions of the work. 
 Gilt metal bells, with large heart-shaped 
 chrystal drops attached to them, surround 
 the lower stages of the pagoda, and, when 
 the carriage is put in motion, emit a soft 
 and pleasing sound.''* The apex of the 
 roof is a pinnacle, called the tee, elevated 
 on a pedestal. The tee is an emblem of 
 j royalty. It is formed of movable belts, or 
 coronals, of gold, wherein are set large 
 amethysts of a greenish or purple colour : 
 its summit is a small banner, or vane, d 
 crystal. 
 
 The length of the carriage itself is thir- 
 teen feet seven inches ; or, if taken from 
 the extremity of the pole, twenty-eight 
 feet five inches. Its width is six feet nine 
 inches, and its height, to the summit of 
 the tee, is nineteen feet two inches. The 
 carriage body is five feet seven inches 
 in length, by four feet six inches in width, 
 and its height, taken from the interior, 
 is five feet eight inches. The four wheels 
 are of uniform height, are remarkable for 
 their lightness and elegance, and the pe- 
 culiar mode by which the spokes are se- 
 cured, and measure only four feet two 
 
 • The BrilisU Fie't. 
 
 inches : the spokes richly silvered, are 
 of a very hard wood, called in the east, 
 iron ivood: the felloes are cased in brass, 
 and the caps to the naves elegantly de- 
 signed of bell metal. The pole, also oi 
 iron wood, is heavy and massive; it was 
 destined to be attached to elephants by 
 which the vehicle was intended to be 
 drawn upon all grand or state occasions. 
 The extremity of the pole is surmounted 
 by the head and fore part of a dragon, a 
 figure of idolatrous worship in the east; 
 this ornament is boldly executed, and 
 richly gilt and ornamented ; the scales 
 being composed of a curiously coloured 
 talc. The other parts of the carriage are 
 the wood of the oriental sassafras tree, 
 which combines strength with lightness, 
 and emits a grateful odour ; and being hard 
 and elastic, is easily worked^ and pe- 
 culiarly fitted for carving. The body of 
 the carriage is composed of twelve panels, 
 three on each face or front, and these are 
 subdivided into small squares of the clear 
 and nearly transparent horn of the rhino- 
 ceros and buffalo, and other animals of 
 eastern idolatry. These squares are set in 
 broad gilt frames, studded at every angle 
 with raised silvered glass mirrors : the 
 higher part of these panels has a range of 
 rich small looking-glasses, intended to 
 reflect the gilding of the upper, or pagoda 
 stages. 
 
 The whole body is set in, or supported 
 by four wreathed dragon-like figures, 
 fantastically entwined to answer the pur- 
 poses of pillars to the pagoda roof, and 
 carved and ornamented in a style of 
 vigour and correctness that would do 
 credit to a European designer : the scaly 
 or body part are of talc, and the eyes of 
 pale ruby stones. 
 
 The interior roof is latticed with small 
 looking-glasses studded with mirrors as 
 on the outside panels : the bottom or 
 flooring of the body is of matted cane, 
 covered with crimson cloth, edged with 
 gold lace, and the under or frame part 
 of the carriage is of matted cane in 
 panels. 
 
 The upper part of each face of the body 
 is composed of sash glasses, set in broad 
 gilt frames, to draw up and let down after 
 the European fashion, but without case or 
 lining to protect the glass from fracture 
 when down ; the catches to secure them 
 when up are simple and curious, and the 
 strings of these glasses are wove crimson 
 cotton. On the frames of the glasses is 
 much writing in the Burmese character 
 
 762 
 
THE EVERY-DaY rook.— NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 bnt tlie language being utterly unknown 
 in this country, cannot be deciphered; it 
 is supposed to be adulatory sentences to 
 the " golden monarch" seated within. 
 
 The body is staid by braces of leather; 
 the springs, which are of iron, richly giU, 
 differ not from the present fashionable C 
 spring, and allow the carriage an easy 
 and agreeable motion. The steps merely 
 hook on to the outside : it is presumed 
 they were destined to be carried by an 
 attendant ; they are light and elegantly 
 formed of gilt metal, with cane threads. 
 
 A few years previous to the rupture 
 which placed tiiis carriage in the posses- 
 sion of the British, the governor-general 
 of India, having heard that his Burmese 
 majesty was rather curious in his car- 
 riages, one was sent to him some few 
 years since, by our governor-general, but 
 it failed in exciting his admiration — lie 
 said it was not so handsome as his own. 
 [ts having lamps rather pleased him, but 
 he ridiculed other parts of it, particularly, 
 that a yjortion so exposed to being soiled 
 as the steps, should be folded and pjit up 
 within side. 
 
 The Burmese are yet ignorant of that 
 useful formation of the fore part of the 
 carriage, which enables those of European 
 manufacture to be turned and directed 
 with such facility : the fore part of that 
 now under description, does not admit of 
 a lateral movement of more than four 
 inches, it therefore requires a very ex- 
 tended space in order to bring it com- 
 pletely round. 
 
 On a gilt bar before the front of the 
 body, with their heads towards the car- 
 riage, stand two Japanese peacocks, a 
 bird which is held sacred by this super- 
 stitious people; their figure and plumage 
 are so perfectly represented, as to convey 
 the natural appearance of life ; two others 
 to correspond are perched on a bar be- 
 hind. On the fore part of the frame of 
 the carriage, mounted on a silvered pe- 
 destal, in a kneeling position, is tiie tee- 
 bearer, a small carved image with a lofty 
 golden wand in his hands, surmounted with 
 a small tee, the emblem of sovereignty : he 
 is richly dressed in green velvet, the fron', 
 laced with jargoon diamonds, with a 
 triple belt round the body, of blue sap- 
 Dhir'^s, emeralds, and jargoon diamonds ; 
 nis leggings are also embroidered with 
 saT)p1iires. In the front of his cap is a 
 rich cluster of white sapphires encircled 
 viih a double star of rubies and emeralds : 
 the cap is likewise thickly studded with 
 
 the carbuncle, a stone little Known to us, 
 but in high estimation with the ancients. 
 Behind the carriage are two figures ; their 
 lower limbs are tattooed, as is the 
 custom with the Burmese : from their 
 position, being on one knee, their hands 
 raised and open, and their eyes directed 
 as in the act of firing, they are supposed 
 to have borne a representation of the 
 carbine, or some such fire-arm weapon of 
 defence, indicative of protection. 
 
 The pagoda roof constitutes the mo^t 
 beautiful, and is, in short, the only itnpo- 
 siitg ornament of the carriage. The gild- 
 ing is resplendent, and the design and 
 carving of the rich borders which adorn 
 each stage are no less admirable. These 
 borders are studded with amethysts 
 emeralds, jargoon diamonds, garnets 
 hyacinths, rubies, tourmalines, and other 
 precious gems, drops of amber and crystal 
 being also interspersed. From every 
 angle ascends a light spiral gilt ornament, 
 enriched with crystals and emeralds. 
 
 This pagoda roofing, as well as that of 
 the great imperial palace, and of the 
 state war-boat or barge, bears an exact 
 similitude to the chief sacred temple at 
 Shoemadro. The Barman sovereign, the 
 king of Ava, with every eastern Bhuddish 
 monarch, considers himself sacred, and 
 claims to be worshipped in common with 
 deity itself; so that when enthroned in 
 his palace, or journeying on warlike or 
 pleasurable excursions in his carriage, 
 he becomes an object of idolatry. 
 
 The seat or throne for the inside is 
 movable, for the purpose of being taken 
 out and used in council or audience on a 
 'ourney. It is a low seat of cane work, 
 richly gilt, folding in the centre, and co- 
 vered by a velvet cushion. The front is 
 studded with almost every variety of pre- 
 cious stone, disposed and contrasted with 
 the greatest taste and skill. The centre 
 belt is particularly rich in gems, and the 
 rose-like clusters or circles are uniformly 
 composed of what is termed the stones of 
 the orient: viz. pearl, coral, sapphire, 
 cornelian, cat's-eye, emerald, and ruby, 
 A range of buffalo-horn panels ornament 
 the front and sides of the throne, at each 
 end of which is a recess, for the body of 
 a lion like jos-god figure, called Sing, a 
 mythological lion, very richly carved and 
 gilt ; the feet and teeth are of pearl ; the 
 bodies are covered with sapphires, hya- 
 cinths, emeralds, tourmalines, carbuncles, 
 'argoon diamonds, and rubies ; the ryes 
 are of a tri-coloured sapphire. Six small 
 
 763 
 
T[IE EVERV-DAr BOOK— NOVEMDER 28. 
 
 carved and gilt figures in a praying or 
 supplicatory attitude, are fixed on each 
 side of the seat of the throne, they may 
 be supposed to be interceding for the 
 mercy or safety of the monarch : their 
 eyes are rubies, their drop ear-rings cor- 
 nelian, and their hair the light feather of 
 the peacock. 
 
 The chattah, or umbrella, which over- 
 snadows the throne, is an emblem or re- 
 presentation of regal authority and power. 
 
 It is not to be doubted, that the ca- 
 parisons of the elephants would equal in 
 splendour the richness of tlie carriage, b'lit 
 one only of the elephants belonging to the 
 carriage was captured ; the caparisons 
 for both are presumed to have escaped with 
 the other animal. It is imagined that the 
 necks of these ponderous beings bore 
 their drivers, with small hooked spears to 
 guide them, and that the cortige combin- 
 ed all the great officers of stale, priests, 
 and attendants, male and female, besides 
 the imperial body - guard mounted on 
 eighty white elephants. 
 
 An>ong his innumerable titles, the em- 
 peror of the Burmans styles himself " king 
 of the white elephant." Xacca, the 
 founder of Indian idolatry, is affirmed by 
 the Brahmins to have gone through a me- 
 tampsychosis eighty thousand t:mes, his 
 soul havmg passed into that number of 
 brutes ; that the last was m a white ele- 
 phant, and that after these changes he 
 was received into the company of th-e 
 gods, and is now a pagod. 
 
 This carnage was taken with the work- 
 men who built it, and all their accounts. 
 From these it appeared, that it had been 
 three years in building, that the gems 
 were supplied from the king's treasury, or 
 by contribution from the various states, 
 and that the workmen were remunerated 
 by the government. Independent of these 
 items, the expenses were stated in the ac- 
 counts to have been twenty-five thousand 
 rupees, (three thousand one hundred and 
 twenty-five pounds.) The stones are not 
 less in number than twenty thousand, 
 which its reputed value at Tavoy was a 
 lac of rupees, twelve thousand five hun- 
 dred pounds. 
 
 It was in August, 1824, that the ex- 
 pedition was placed under the command 
 of lieutenant-colonel Miles, C. B., a dis- 
 tinguished officer in his majesty's service. 
 It comprised his majesty's 89th regiment, 
 7th Madras infantry, some artillery, and 
 
 The 
 
 An Enlarged View «..? 
 
 ClK €tt, 
 
 ornament surmounting the roof of 
 the Burmese State Carriage, 
 
 7G4 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 o'ner native troops, amounting in the 
 whole to about one thousand men. The 
 IiHval force, under the command of cap- 
 liin Hardy, consisted of the Teignmouih, 
 Mercury, Thetis, Panang cruiser Jesse, 
 ivith three gun boats, three Malay prows, 
 and two row boats. The expedition sail- 
 ed from Rangoon on the 26th of August, 
 and proceeded up the Tavoy river, which 
 is full of shoals and natural ditficulties. 
 On the 9th of September, Tavoy, a place 
 of considerable strength, with ten thou- 
 sand fighting men, and many mounted 
 guns, surrendered to the expedition. The 
 viceroy of the province, his son, and other 
 persons of consequence, were among the 
 prisoners, and colonel Miles states in his 
 despatch, that, with the spoil, he took 
 " a new state carriage for the king of 
 Ava, with one elephant only." This is 
 the carriage now described. After subse- 
 quent successes the expedition returned 
 to Rangoon, whither the carriage was also 
 conveyed ; from thence, it was forwarded 
 to Calcutta, and there sold for the benefit 
 of the captors. The purchaser, judging 
 tliat it would prove an attractive object ot 
 curiosity in Europe, forwarded it to Lon- 
 don, by the Cornwall, captain Brooks, 
 and it was immediately conveyed to the 
 Egyptian-hall for exhibition It is not 
 too much to say that it is a curiosity. 
 A people emerging from the bosom of a 
 remote region, wherein they had been 
 concealed until captain Symes's embassy, 
 and struggling in full confidence against 
 British tactics, must, in every point of 
 view, be interesting subjects of inquiry. 
 The Burmese state carriage, setting aside 
 its attractions as a novelty, is a remark- 
 able object for a contemplative eye. 
 
 Unlike Asiatics in general, the Bur- 
 mese are a powerful, athletic, and intelli- 
 gent men. They inhabit a fine country, 
 rich in rivers and harbours. It unites the 
 British possessions in India with the im- 
 mense Chinese empire. By incessant en- 
 croachments on surrounding petty states, 
 they have swallowed them up in one vast 
 empire. Their jealousy, at the prepon- 
 derance of our eastern power, has been 
 manifested on many occasions. They 
 aided the Mahratta confederacy ; and if 
 the promptness of the marquis of Hastings 
 nad not deprived them of their allies 
 oefore they were prepared for action, a 
 diversion would doubtless have then been 
 made by them on our eastern frontier. 
 
 Burmah is the designation of an active 
 and vigorous race, originally inhabiting 
 the line of mountains, separating the great 
 peninsula, stretching from the confines of 
 Tartary to the Indian Ocean, and consi- 
 dered, by many, the Golden Chera^onesus of 
 the ancients. From their heights and 
 native fastnesses, this people have suc- 
 cessively fixed their yoke upon the entire 
 peninsula of Aracan, and after seizing 
 successively the separate states and king- 
 doms of Ava, Pegue, &c., have condensed 
 their conquests into one powerful state, 
 called the Burmah empire, fiom their own 
 oiiginal name. This great Hindoo-Chi- 
 nese country, has gone on extending itself 
 on every possible occasion. They sub- 
 dued Assam, a fertile province of such 
 extent, as to include an area of sixty 
 thousand squa;e miles, iniiabited by a 
 warlike people who had stood many 
 powerful contests with neighbouring 
 states. On one occasion, Mohammed Shar, 
 emperor of Hindostan, attempted to con- 
 quer Assam with one hundred thousand 
 cavalry ; the Assamese annihilated them 
 The subjugation of such a nation, and 
 constant aggressions, have perfected the 
 Burmese in every species of attack and 
 defence : their stockade system, in a moun- 
 tainous country, closely intersected with 
 nullahs, or thick reedy jungles, sometimes 
 thirty feet in height, has attained the 
 highest perfection. Besides Aracan, they 
 have conquered part of Siam, so that on 
 all sides the Burmese territory appears to 
 rest upon natural barriers, which might 
 seem to prescribe limits to its progress,, 
 and ensure repose and security to its gran- 
 deur. Towards the east, immense deserts 
 divide its boundaries from China ; on the 
 south, it has extended itself to tlie ocean ; 
 on the north, it rests upon the high moun- 
 tains of Tartary, dividing it from Tibet; 
 on the west, a great and almost impass- 
 able tract of jungle wood, marshes, and 
 alluvial swamps of the great river Houghly, 
 or the Ganges, has, till now, interposed 
 boundaries between itself and the British 
 possessions. Beyond this latter boun- 
 dary and skirting of Assam is the district 
 of Chittagong, the point whence origin- 
 ated the contest between the Burmese 
 and the British. 
 
 The Burmese population is estimated 
 at from seventeen to nineteen millions 
 of people, lively, industrious, energetic, 
 further advanced in civilization than most 
 of the eastern nations, frank and candid, 
 and destitute of that pusillanimity which 
 
 765 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 characterises the Hindoos, and of that re- 
 vengeful maliijnity which is a leading 
 trait in the Malay character. Some are 
 even pov.'erful logicians, and take delight 
 in investigating new subjects, be they ever 
 so abstruse. Ilieir learning is confined to 
 the male sex, and the boys are taught by 
 the priests. Females are denied educa- 
 tion, except in the higher classes. Their 
 books are nvmierous, and written in a 
 flowing and elegant style, and much inge- 
 nuity is manifested in the construction of 
 their stories. 
 
 The monarch is arbitrary. He is the 
 sole lord and proprietor of life and pro- 
 perty in his dominions ; his word is ab- 
 solute law. Every male above a certain 
 age is a soldier, the property of the sove- 
 reign, and liable to be called into service 
 at any moment. 
 
 The country presents a rich and 
 beautiful appearance, and, if cultivated, 
 would be one of the finest in the world. 
 Captain Cox says, " wherever I have land- 
 ed, I have met with security and abun- 
 dance, the houses and farmyards put me 
 in mind of the habitations of our little 
 farmers in England." 
 
 There is a variety of other information 
 concerning this extraordinary race, in the 
 interesting memoir which may be obtain- 
 ed at the rooms in Piccadilly. These 
 were formerly occupied by " Bullock's 
 Museum." Mr. Bullock, however, re- 
 tired to Mexico, to form a museum in that 
 country for the instruction of its native 
 population ; and Mr. George Lackington 
 purchased the premises in order to let 
 such portions as individuals may require, 
 from time to time, for purposes of exhi- 
 bition, or as rooms for the display and 
 sale of works in the fine arts, and other 
 articles of refinement. Mr. Day's " Exhi- 
 bition of the Moses of the V'atican," and 
 other casts from Michael Angelo, with 
 numerous subjects in sculpture and paint- 
 ing, of eminent talent, remains under 
 the same roof with the Burmese carriage, 
 to charm every eye that can be delighted 
 by magnificent objects. 
 
 This tprm denotes the conijvg of the 
 Saviour. In ecclesiastical language it is the 
 
 denomination of the four weeks preced- 
 ing the celebration of his birthday. In 
 tlie Romish church this season of prepara- 
 tion for Christmas is a time of penance 
 and devotion. It consists of four weeks, 
 or at least four Sundays, which commence 
 from the Sunday nearest to St, Andrew's 
 day, whether before or after it : anciently 
 it was kept as a rigorous fast.* 
 
 In the church of England it com- 
 mences at the same period. In 1825, St. 
 Andrew's day being a fixed festival on 
 the 30th of November, and happening on 
 a Wednesday, the nearest Sunday to it, 
 being the 27th of November, was the first 
 Sunday in Advent ; in 1826, St. Andrew's 
 day happening on a Thursday, the nearest 
 Sunday to it is on the 3d of December, 
 and, therefore, the first Sunday in Advent. 
 
 ^tlu ^innual ^ittvntxivt. 
 
 THE AMULET. 
 
 The literary character and high em- 
 bellishment of the German almanacs, 
 have occasioned an annual publication 
 of beautifully printed works for presents 
 at this season. The Amulet, for 1826, is 
 of this order. Its purpose is to blend 
 religious instruction with literary amuse- 
 ment. Messrs. W. L. Bowles, Milman, 
 Bowring, Montp;omery, Bernard Barton, 
 Conder, Clare, T. C. Croker, Dr Anster, 
 Mrs. Hofland, &c. ; and, indeed, indivi- 
 duals of various denominations, are con- 
 tributors of siy'y original essays and 
 poems to this elegant volume, which is 
 embellished by highly finished engravings 
 from dcoigns by Martin, Westall, Brooke, 
 and other painters of talent. Mr. Mar- 
 tin's two subjects are engraved by himseli 
 in his own peculiarly effective manner. 
 Hence, while the Amulet aims to inculcate 
 tiie fitness of Christian precepts, and the 
 beauty of the Christian character, it is a 
 specimen of the progress of elegant litera- 
 ture and fine art. 
 
 Tlie Amulet contains a descriptive poem, 
 wherein the meaning of the word advent 
 is exemplified ; it commences on the nex! 
 page. 
 
 * Butler on the Fastt. 
 
 766 
 
THE E^^ELlY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 28. 
 
 The Rustic Funeral. 
 
 A Poetical Sketch. 
 
 By John Holland. 
 
 Twas Christmas — and the morning of that day. 
 
 When holy men agree to celebrate 
 
 The glorious advent of tlieir common Lord, 
 
 The Christ of God, the Saviour of mankind ! 
 
 I, as my wont, sped forth, at early dawn. 
 
 To join in that triumphant natal hymn, 
 
 By Christians offer'd in the house of prayer. 
 
 Full of these thoughts, and musing of the then;e. 
 
 The high, the glorious theme of man's redemptron, 
 
 As I pass'd onward through the village lane, 
 
 My eye was greeted, and my mind was strucV- 
 
 By the approach of a strange cavalcade, — 
 
 If cavalcade that might be called, which here 
 
 Six folks composed — the living and the dead. 
 
 It was a rustic funeral, off betimes 
 
 To some remoter village. I have seen 
 
 The fair or sumptuous, yea, the gorgeous rites. 
 
 The ceremonial, and the trappings proud, 
 
 With which tiie rich man soeth to the dust ; 
 
 And I have seen the pauper's coffin borne 
 
 With quick and hurried step, without a friend 
 
 To fol'ow — one to stand on the grave's brink, 
 
 To weep, to sigh, to steal one last sad look, 
 
 Then turn away for ever from the sight. 
 
 But ne'er did pompous funeral of the proud. 
 
 Nor pauper's coffin unattended borne, 
 
 Impress me like this picturesque array. 
 
 Upright and tall, the coffin-bearer, first 
 
 Rode, mounted on an old gray, shaggy ass ; 
 
 A cloak of black hung from his shoulders dcwa 
 
 And to the hinder fetlocks of the beast 
 
 Depended, not unseemly : from his hat 
 
 A long crape slreame' did the old man wear, 
 
 Which ever and ano* play'd with the wind : 
 
 'Hie wind, too, frequently blew back his cloak, 
 
 And then I saw the plain neat oaken coffin. 
 
 Which held, perchance, a child of ten years old. 
 
 Around the coffin, from beneath the lid, 
 
 Appear'd the margin of a milk-white shroud. 
 
 All cut, and crimp'd, and pounc'd with eyelel-holed 
 
 As well became the last, last earthly robe 
 
 In which maternal love its object sees. 
 
 A couple follow'd, in whose looks I read 
 
 The recent traces of parental grief, 
 
 Which griel and agony had written there. 
 
 A junior train — a little boy and girl, 
 
 Next follow'd, in habiliments of black ; 
 
 And yet with faces, which methought bespoKe 
 
 Somewhat of pride in being niarshall'd thus, 
 
 No less than decorous and demure respect. 
 
 The train pass'd by : but onward as I sped, 
 
 I could not raze the picture from my mind; 
 
 7G7 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 29. 
 
 Nor could I keep the unavailing wish 
 That I had own'd albeit but an hour, 
 Thy gifted pencil, Stothard ! — rather still, 
 That mine had match'd thy more than graphic pen. 
 Descriptive Wo-dsworth ! This at least 1 claim, 
 Feebly, full feebly to have sketch'd a scene, 
 Which, 'midst a thousand recollections stor'd 
 Of village sights, impress'd my pensive mind 
 With some emotions ne'er to be forgot.* 
 
 Sheffield Park. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTOKY. 
 
 Variegated Stapelia. Stapelia variegnta. 
 Dedicated to St. Stephen, the younger. 
 
 St. Saturninus, Bp. k. d. 257. St. Rad- 
 bod,Bp. A.D. 918. 
 
 Chronology. 
 
 Invention of Printing by Steam. 
 
 The Tmcv journal of Tuesday, Novem- 
 ber the29ih, 1814, was the first newspaper 
 printed by steam. To the editor of the 
 Every-Day Book the application of ma- 
 chinery, through this power, to the pro- 
 duction of a newspaper seemed so preg- 
 nant with advantages to the world, that he 
 purchased The Times of that morning, 
 within an hour of its appearance, " as a 
 curiosity," and here transcribes from it 
 the words wherein it announced and de- 
 scribed the mode by which its fitness for 
 publication wai on that day effected. 
 
 The Times introduces the subject, 
 through its " leading article," thus : — 
 
 " LojJDON, Tuesday, Nove.mber 29, 
 1814. 
 
 " Our journal of this day presents to 
 the public the practical result of the 
 greatest improvement connected with 
 printing, since the discovery of the art 
 itself. The reader of this paragraph now 
 holds in his hand, one of the many thou- 
 sand impressions of The Times newspa- 
 per, which were taken off last night by a 
 mechanical apparatus. A system of ma- 
 chinery almost organic has been devised 
 and arranged, which, while it relieves the 
 human frame of its most laborious efforts 
 in printing, far exceeds all human powers 
 in rapidity and despatch. That the mag- 
 nitude of tiie invention may be justly 
 ippreciated by its effects, we shall inform 
 
 * 'fw Amulet. 
 
 the public, that after the letters at^ placed 
 by the compositors, and enclosed in what 
 is called the form, little more remains for 
 man to do, than to attend upon, and 
 watch this unconscious agent in its opera- 
 tions. The machine is then merely sup- 
 plied with paper: itself places the form, 
 inks it, adjusts the paper to the form 
 newly inked, stamps the sheet, and gives 
 it forth to the hands of the attendant, at 
 the same time withdrawing the form for 
 a fresh coat of ink, which itself again dis- 
 tributes, to meet the ensuing sheet now 
 advancing for impression; and the whole 
 of ihcse complicated acts is performed 
 with such a velocity and simultaneousness 
 of movement, that no less than eleven 
 hundred sheets are impressed in one hour. 
 
 " That the completion of an invention 
 of this kind, not the effect of chance, but 
 the result of mechanical combinations 
 methodically arranged in the mind of the 
 artist, should be attended with many ob- 
 structions and much delay, may be readily 
 admitted. Our share in this event has, 
 indeed, only been the application of the 
 discovery, under an agreement with the 
 Patentees, to our own particular business; 
 yet few can conceive, — even with this 
 limited interest, — the various disappoint- 
 ments and deep anxiety to which we have 
 for a long course of time been subjected. 
 
 " Of the person who made this disco- 
 very we have but little to add. Sir 
 Christopher Wren's noblest monument 
 is to be found in the building which he 
 erected; so is the best tribute of praise, 
 which we are capabii of offering to the 
 inventor of the Printing Machine, com- 
 prised in the preceding description, which 
 we have feebly sketched, of the powers 
 and utility of his invention. It must 
 sutlice to say farther, that he is a Suxod 
 
 768 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 30. 
 
 by birth; that his name is Kcenig; and 
 that the invention has been executed 
 under the direction of his friend and 
 oountryman Bauer " 
 
 On the 3d of December, 1824, The 
 Times commences a series of remarks, 
 entitled, " Invention of Printing by 
 Steam," by observing thus. " Ten years 
 elapsed on the 29th of last month, since 
 this journal appeared for the first time 
 printed by a mechanical apparatus ; and 
 it has continued to be printed by the same 
 method to the present day." It speaks 
 of consequent advantages to the public, 
 from earlier publication, and better press- 
 work, and says, " This journal is un- 
 doubtedly the first work ever printed by 
 a mechanical apparatus : we attempted 
 on its introduction to do justice to the 
 claims of the inventor Mr. Krenig, who 
 some years afterwards returned to his 
 native country, Germany, not benefited, 
 we fear, up to the full extent of his me- 
 rits, by his wonderful invention and his 
 exertions in England." In refuting some 
 pretensions which infringed on Mr. Kce- 
 nig'.s claim to consideration as the author 
 of the invention. The Times states, that 
 *' before Mr. Kcenig left this country, he 
 accomplished the last great improvement, 
 — namely, the printing of the sheet on 
 both sides. In consequence of successive 
 improvements, suggested and planned by 
 Mr. Kcenig the inventor, our machines 
 now print 2,000 with more ease than 
 1,100 in their original state." Hence, as 
 in 1814, 1,100 is represented to have 
 been the number then thrown off within 
 the hour, it follows that the number now 
 printed every hour is 2,000. The Times 
 adds, *' we cannot close this account 
 without giving our testimony not only to 
 the enlightened mind and ardent spirit of 
 Mr. Kcenig, but also to his strict honour 
 and pure integrity. Our intercourse with 
 him was constant, during the very critical 
 and trying period when he was bringing 
 his invention into practice at our office ; 
 so that we had no slight knowledge of his 
 manners and character: and the conse- 
 quence has been, sincere friendship and 
 high regard for him ever since.' 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Splienogyne. Spheno^yne pilijliru. 
 Dedicated to St. Saturninus 
 
 Sf Andrew, Apostle. St. Nurses, Bp. 
 
 and Companions. Sts. Sapor and 
 
 Ltaae. Bps. Maluines, Abraham, and 
 Simeon, a. d. 339 
 
 Patron Saint of Scotland. 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar and the almanacs. He was one ot 
 the apostles. It is affirmed that he was put to 
 death in the year 69, at Patrae, in Acl.aia, 
 by having been scourged, and then fast- 
 ened with cords to a cross, in which 
 position he remained " teaching and in- 
 structing the people all the time," untD 
 his death, at the end of two days. It is 
 the common opinion that the cross of St. 
 Andrew was in the form of the letter X, 
 styled a cross decussate, composed of two 
 pieces of timber crossing each other ob- 
 liquely in the middle. That such crosses 
 were sometimes used is certain, yet no 
 clear proofs are produced as to the form 
 of St. Andrew's cross. A part of what 
 was said to have been this cross was 
 carried to Brussels, by Philip the Good, 
 duke of Burgundy, and Brabant, who in 
 honour of it, instituted the knights of the 
 golden fleece, who, for the badge of their 
 order, wear a figure of this cross, called 
 St. Andrew's cro'ss, or the cross of Bur- 
 gundy. The Scots honour St. Andrew 
 as principal patron of their country, and 
 their historians tell us, that a certain ab- 
 bot called Regulus, brought thither from 
 Constantinople in 369, certain relics of 
 this apostle, which he deposited in a 
 church that he built in his honour, with 
 a monastery called Abernethy, where 
 now the city of St. Andrew stands. 
 Many pilgrims resorted thither from fo- 
 reign countries, and the Scottish monks 
 of that place were the first who were 
 culdees. The Muscovites say, he preached 
 among them, and claim him as the prin- 
 cipal titular saint of their empire. Peter 
 the Great instituted the first order of 
 knighthood under his name. This is the 
 order of the blue ribbon ; the order of 
 the red ribbon, or of St. Alexander 
 Kewski, was instituted by his widow and 
 successor to the throne, the empress 
 Catherine.* 
 
 Naogeorgus, in the words of his trans- 
 lator Barnaby Googe, says. 
 
 YoC. I. 
 
 769 
 
 3 D 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— NOVEMBER 30. 
 
 To Andrew all the lovers and 
 
 the lustie wooers come, 
 Beleeving through his ayde, and 
 
 certaine ceremonies done, 
 (While as to him they presentes bring, 
 
 and conjure all the night,) 
 To have good lucke, and to obtaine 
 
 their chiefe and sweete delight. 
 
 In an account of the parish of Easling, 
 in Kent, it is related that, "On St. An- 
 drew's day, November 30, there is yearly a 
 diversion called squirrel-hunting in this 
 and the neighbouring parishes, when the 
 labourers and lower kind of people, as- 
 sembling together, form a lawless rabble, 
 and being accoutred with guns, poles, 
 clubs, and other such weapons, spend the 
 greatest part of tlie day in parading 
 through the woods and grounds, with 
 loud shoutings ; and, under the pretence 
 of demolishing the squirrels, some few of 
 which they kill, they destroy numbers of 
 hares, pheasants, partridges, and in short 
 whatever comes in their way, breaking 
 down the hedges, and doing much other 
 mischief, and in the evening betaking 
 themselves to the alehouses."* 
 
 At Dudingston, distant from Edinburgb 
 a little more than a mile, many opu- 
 lent citizens resort in the summer months 
 to solace themselves (iver one of the 
 ancient homely dishes of Scotland, for 
 which the place has been long celebrated, 
 singed sheep's heads boiled or baked. The 
 frequent use of this solace in that village, 
 is supposed to have arisen from the prac- 
 tice of slaughtering the sheep fed on the 
 neighbouring hill for the market, remov- 
 ing the carcases to town, and leaving the 
 head, &c. to be consumed in the place.f 
 Brand adds, that " singed .cheep's heads 
 are borne in the procession before the 
 Scots in London, on St. Andrew's day," 
 
 There is a marvellous pleasant story in 
 the " Golden Legend," of a bishop that 
 loved St. Andrew, and worshipped him 
 above all other saints, and remembered 
 him every day, and said prayers in ho- 
 nour of God and St. Andrew, insomuch 
 that the devil spitefully determined to do 
 him mischief. Wherefore, on a certain 
 day, the devil transformed himself " in to 
 the fourme of a ryght fayre woman," and 
 came to the bishop's palace, and d-esired 
 in that " fourme" to confess, as women 
 
 * Hasted's Kent. 
 ^ Sir J Sinclair's Statist. Ace. of ScoUauv' 
 
 do. When the bishop was informed of 
 the message, he answered that she should 
 go and confess herself to his " peny- 
 tauncer," who had power fiora him to 
 hear confessions. Thereupon she sent 
 the bishop word, that she would not re- 
 veal the secrets of her confession to any 
 but himself; therefore the bishop com- 
 manded her to be brought to him. Where- 
 upon, being in his presence, she told him, 
 that her father was a mighty king, who 
 had purposed to give her to a prince in 
 marriage, but that havuig devoted herself 
 to piety, she refused, and that her father 
 had constrained her so much, that she 
 must either have consented to his will, or 
 suffered divers torments; wherefore she 
 chose to live in exile, and had fled se- 
 cretly away to the bishop, of whose holy 
 life she had heard, and with whom she 
 now prayed to live in secret contempla- 
 tion, " and eschewe the evyll pervll 
 this present lyfe." Then the bishoj) mar- 
 velled greatly, as well for the nobility of 
 her descent, as for the beauty of her per- 
 son, and said choose thee an house, " and 
 I wyll that thou dyne with me tiiis 
 diye;" and she answered that evil suspi- 
 cion might come thereof, and the splen- 
 dour of his renown be thereby impaired. 
 To this the bishop replied, that there 
 would be many others present, therefore 
 there could be no such suspicion. Then 
 the devil dined with the bishop, who did 
 not know him, but admired him as a fair 
 l.idy, to whom therefore the bishop paid 
 so much attention, that the devil per- 
 ceived his advantage, and began to in- 
 crease in beauty more and more ; and 
 more and more the bishop marvelled at 
 the exceeding loveliness before him, and 
 did homage thereto, and conceived greater 
 affection than a bishop should. Then a 
 pilgrim smote at the bishop's gate, and 
 though he knocked hard they would not 
 open the door; then the pilgrim at the 
 gate knocked louder, and the bishop grew 
 less charitable and more polite, and asked 
 the beautiful creature before him, whether 
 it was her pleasure that the pilgrim should 
 enter; and she desired that a question 
 should be put to the pilgrim, which, if 
 he could answer, he should be received, 
 and if he could not, he should abide 
 without as not worthy to come in. And 
 the company assented thereto, and the 
 bishop said, none of them were so able to 
 propose the question as the lady, because 
 in fair speaking and wisdom, she sur- 
 passed them all. Then she required that 
 
 770 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —NOVEMBER 30. 
 
 it should be demanded of the pilgrim, 
 which is the greatest marvel in tlie small- 
 est space that ever God made ? And 
 then the bishop's messenger propounded 
 the question to the pilgrim, who answered 
 that it was the diversity and excellence of 
 the faces of men, because from the begin- 
 ning of the world there are not two men 
 whose faces " were lyke, and semblanle 
 in all thynges :" and the company de- 
 clared that this was a very good answer 
 to the question. Then she said, that to 
 prove the further knowledge of the pil- 
 grim, he ought to be asked wiiat thing ot 
 the earth is higher than all the heaven ; 
 and the pilgrim answered, the body o 
 Jesus Christ, which is in the imperial 
 heaven, is of earthly flesh, and is' more 
 high than all the heaven ; and by this 
 answer they were again surprised, and 
 marvellously praised the pilgrim's wis- 
 dom. Then she desired that a third ques- 
 tion might be asked of the pilgrim, which 
 if he could answer, then he would be 
 worthy to be received at the bishop's 
 table ; and by her order, the messenger 
 demanded this question of the pilgrim, 
 " What is the distance from the bottom- 
 less pit unto the imperial heaven?" and 
 the pilgrim answered, " Go to him that 
 sent thee to me, and ask the question o£ 
 hhn, for he can better answer it, because 
 he measured this distance when he fell 
 from heaven into the bottomless pit, and 
 / never measured it:" and when the mes- 
 senger heard this, he was sore afraid, and 
 fearfully told the pilgrim's message to the 
 bishop and all the others, who when they 
 heard the same, were also sore afraid. 
 Then forthwith the devil vanished away 
 from before their eyes ; and the bishop 
 repented, and sent the messenger to bring 
 in the pilgrim, but he could not be found. 
 So the bishop assembled the people and 
 told them what had happened, and re- 
 quired them to pray that it might be re- 
 vealed who this pilgrim was, that had de- 
 livered him from so great peril : and the 
 same night it was revealed to the bishop, 
 that it was St. Andrew who had put him- 
 self into the habit of a pilgrim for the 
 bishop's deliverance. " Than began the 
 bisshop more and more to have devoc\on 
 and remembraunce of saynt Andrewe 
 than he hadde tofore." 
 
 The celebrated Belzoni died at the 
 close of the year 1823, and at the same 
 period of the year 1825, the newspapers 
 contain advertisements and appeals, in 
 behalf of his widow, to a British public, 
 whose national character Belzoni has ele- 
 vated, by introducing into England many 
 splendid remains of ancient grandeur. 
 The journals of another year will record 
 whether these representations were suffi- 
 cient to rouse national feeling to a sense 
 of national honour, and the necessity 
 of relieving a lady whose husband pe- 
 rished in an enterprise to enrich her 
 country, by making it the deposit of 
 his further discoveries. Belzoni had pe- 
 netrated and examined distant regions, 
 and after disclosing the results of his inves- 
 tigations, and all the curious monuments 
 of art he collected on his travels, he left 
 London for the deserts of Africa, where he 
 fell while labouring towards Timbuctoo, 
 for other specimens of human ingenuity, 
 and endeavouring to explore and point 
 out channels of enterprise to our manu- 
 facturers and merchants. It is from these 
 classes especially that his fate claims 
 commiseration ; and from them, and the 
 public in general, Mrs. Belzoni should de- 
 rive aid. Removal of her embarrassment, 
 is only a suspension of the misfortunes 
 that await a bereaved female, if she is not 
 afforded the means of future support 
 This is said by one who never saw her or 
 her late husband, and who only volunteers 
 the plain thoughts of a plain man, who 
 knows the advantages which England 
 derives from Belzoni's ardour and perse- 
 verance, and is somewhat qualified, per- 
 haps, to compassionate Mrs. Belzoni's 
 helplessness. During a season of festal 
 enjoyment, when friends and neighbours 
 " make wassail," any individual of right 
 feeling might thaw indifference into re- 
 gard for her situation, and " make the 
 widow's heart sing for joy." 
 
 Subscriptions are advertised to be received 
 by the following bankers, Messrs. Coutts and 
 Co ; Esdaile and Co. ; Goslings and Co. ; Ilam- 
 niersley and Co. ; Hopkinson and Co. ; Hoare, 
 Barnett, and Co. ; Jones, Lloyd, and Co. ; 
 Masterman and Co ; Smith, Payne, and Co.; 
 Snow and Paul ; Willis, Percival, and Co, ; 
 Wright and Co. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Three-coloured Wood Sorrel. 
 tricolor. 
 Dedicated to St. Sapor. 
 
 Oxalis 
 
 71 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— DECEMBER. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 And after him came next the chill December ; 
 . Yet he, through merry feasting which he made 
 
 And great bonfires, did not the cold remember 
 His Saviour's birth so much his mind did glad. 
 Upon a shaggy bearded goat he rode. 
 The same wherewith Dait Jove in tender years, 
 They say was nourisht by the Idsean mayd; 
 And in his hand a broad deepe bowle he bearca, 
 Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peers. 
 
 Spe}2ser. 
 
 This is the tweli'th and last month of 
 the year. By our ancestors " December 
 hath his due appellation given him in the 
 name of winter-monat, to wit, winter- 
 rometh ; but after the Saxons received 
 Christianity, they then, of devotion to the 
 jirth-time of Christ, termed it by the 
 Dame of heli^h-monut, that is to say, holy- 
 Cometh."* They also called it midtvinter- 
 
 vionath and guil erra, which means the 
 former or first giul. The feast of Thor, 
 which was celebrated at the wmter solstice, 
 was called gml from iol, or ol, which sig- 
 nified ale, and is now corrupted into yulo. 
 This festival appears to have been con. 
 tinued through part of January.* 
 
 Our pleasant guide to " The Months,'' 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt, says of December thus :— . 
 
 • Verstegan. 
 
 Or. I'. Say en. 
 
 772 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.—DECEMBEn. 
 
 It is now complete winter. The vapour- 
 ish and cloudy atmosphere wraps us about 
 with dimness and chilliness; the reptiles 
 and other creatures that sleep or hide 
 during the cold weather, have all retired 
 to their winter quarters ; the farmer does 
 little o^ nothing out of doors ; the fields 
 are too damp and miry to pass, except in 
 sudden frosts, which begin to occur at the 
 end of the month ; and the trees look but 
 ^like skeletons of what they were — 
 
 Bare ruined choirs in which the sweet birds 
 sang, 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The evergreen trees with their beautiful 
 cones, sucii as firs and pines, are now 
 particularly observed and valued. In the 
 warmer countries, where shade is more 
 desirable, their worth and beauty are more 
 regularly appreciated. Virgil talks of the 
 pine as being handsomest in gardens; and 
 it is a great favourite with Theocritus, 
 especially for the fine sound of the air 
 under its kind of vaulted roof. 
 
 But we have flowers as well as leaves 
 in winter-time; besides a few of last 
 month, there are the aconite and helle- 
 bore, two names of very different celebrity; 
 and in addition to some of the flourishing 
 shrubs, there is the Glastonbury thorn, 
 which puts forth its beauty at Christmas, 
 It is so called, we believe, because the 
 abbots of the famous monastery at that 
 place first had it in their garden from 
 abroad, and turned its seasonable efilores- 
 cence into a miracle. 
 
 The evergreens and n-iriler flowers are 
 like real friends, who, whatever be their 
 peculiar disposition, whether serious or 
 gay, will never forsake us. Even roses, 
 with which we are so apt to associate sum- 
 mer weather, flourish from May to De- 
 cember inclusive ; and during the winter 
 months will live and prosper in apart- 
 ments. We need never be without them 
 from the first day of the year to the last ; 
 and thus, to the numerous comparisons 
 made between roses and the fair sex, may 
 be added this new one, as complimentary 
 to their friendship as it is true. 
 
 We have anticipated our general ob- 
 servations on winter-tune in our remarks 
 %t the beginning of the year. December 
 
 is in general too early a month for the fine 
 manly exercise of skating, which indeed 
 can be taken but rarely, on account of our 
 changeful weather and the short contin- 
 uance of frost. Like swimming, all the 
 difficulty of it is in the commencement, at 
 least for the purposes of enjoyment. The 
 graces of outside strokes, and spread eagles, 
 are the work of time and ambition. 
 
 But December has one circumstance in 
 it, which turns it into the merriest month of 
 the year, — Christmas. This is the holiday, 
 which, for obvious reasons, may be said 
 to have survived all the others ; but still 
 it is not kept with any thing like the 
 vigour, perseverance, and elegance of our 
 ancestors. They not only lan Christmas- 
 day, new-year's-day, and twelfth-night, all 
 into one, but kept the wassail-bowl float- 
 ing the whole time, and earned their right 
 to enjoy it by all sorts of active pastimes. 
 The wassail-bowl, (as some of our readers 
 may know by experience, for it has been 
 a little revived of late,) is a composition of 
 spiced wine or ale, with roasted apples 
 put into it, and sometimes eggs. They 
 also adorned their houses with green 
 boughs, which it appears, from Herrick, 
 was a practice with many throughout the 
 year, — box succeeding at Candlemas to 
 the holly, bay, rosemary, and misletoe of 
 Christmas, — yew at Easter to box, — birch 
 and flowers at Whitsuntide to yew, — and 
 then bents and oaken boughs. The whole 
 nation were in as happy a ferment at 
 Christmas, with the warmth of exercise and 
 their firesides, as they were in May with 
 the new sunshine. The peasants wrestled 
 and sported on the town-green, and told 
 tales of an evening ; the gentry feasted 
 then, or had music and other elegant pas- 
 times ; tlie court had the poetical and 
 princely entertainment of masques ; and 
 all sung, danced, revelled, and enjoyed 
 themselves, and so welcomed the new 
 year like happy and grateful subjects of 
 nature. 
 
 This is the way to turn winter to sum- 
 mer, and make the world what heaven has 
 enabled it to be ; but as people in general 
 manage it, they might as well turn sum- 
 mer itself to winter. Hear what a poet 
 says, who carries his own sunshine about 
 with him : — 
 
 As for those chilly orbs, on the verge of creation 
 Where «;unshine and smiles must be equally rare 
 
 Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, 
 Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could spare. 
 
 773 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 1. 
 
 Oh, think what a world we should have of it here, 
 If the haters of peace, of affection, and glee. 
 
 Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere, 
 
 And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Nor is it only on holidays that nature 
 tells us to enjoy ourselves. If we were wise, 
 we should earn a reasonable portion of 
 leisure and enjoyment day by day, instead 
 of resolving to do it some day or other, 
 and seldom doing it at all. Company is 
 not necessary for it, at intervals, except 
 that best and most necessary company of 
 one's family-partners in life, or some one 
 or two especial friends, truly so called, 
 who are friends for every sort of weather, 
 winter as well as summer. A warm car- 
 
 pet and curtains, a sparkling fire, a book, 
 a little music, a happy sympathy of talk 
 or a kind of discussion, may then call to 
 mind with unenvying plac-idity the very 
 rarest luxuries of the summer-time ; and 
 instead of being eternally and foolishly 
 told, that pleasures produce pains, by 
 those who really make them do so with 
 their profligacy or bigotry, we shall 
 learn the finer and manlier knowledge 
 — how to turn pain to the production of 
 pleasure. 
 
 Lawrence, of virtuous father, virtuous son, 
 
 Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire. 
 Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
 Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 
 From the hard season gainmg ? Time will run 
 On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 
 The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
 The lily and rose, which neither sowed nor spun. 
 What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice. 
 Of Attick taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
 To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 
 Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air ? 
 He who of these delights can judge, and spare 
 To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 ©mmber 1. 
 
 St. Eligius, or Eloy, Bp. of Noyon. a. d. 
 659. 
 
 The Season. 
 
 It is observed by Dr. Forsfer in the 
 *' Perennial Calendar," that the weather 
 at this time is usually mild, and wet, with 
 fogs ; we have an occasional interchange 
 of frosts. On some occasions a kind o. 
 weather occurs now which occasionally 
 happens during all the winter months. 
 The air becomes perfectly calm, the sky 
 clouded and dark, without much mist 
 below, the ground gets dry, and not a leaf 
 stirs on the trees, and the sounds of dis- 
 tant bells, and other sounds and noises are 
 heard at a great distance, just as they are 
 on other occasions before rain. The 
 thermometer is often from 45° to 52'. The 
 barometer rises to "set fair" and remains 
 steady, and the current of smoke from the 
 chimnies either goes straight upright into 
 
 the air in a vertical col'imn, or inclines so 
 little with the breath of air as to indicate 
 sometimes one wrod and sometimes 
 another. At this time the cTo\\ing of the 
 cocks, the noise of busy rooks and daws, 
 which feed in flocks in the meadows, and 
 fly at morning and eventide in flocks to 
 and from their nests, the music of distant 
 sirrging, and the strokes of the church 
 clocks and chimes are heard for miles, as 
 if carried along under the apparent sound- 
 ing board of the clouds above. Even the 
 voices of persons are heard at a vast dis- 
 tance, all being hushed around. 
 
 FLORAL DIRFXTOKY. 
 
 Dark Stapelia. StapcUa piilJa. 
 Dedicated to St. FAigius. 
 
 J3ereml)tr 2. 
 
 St. Bibiania, a. d. 363. 
 Chronology. 
 On the ?d of Decemi/er, 1823, tin* 
 
 774 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 2. 
 
 London Mechanics' Institution was form- 
 ed, and on the anniversary of the day, in 
 1824, the first stone of its theatre for the 
 delivery of the lectures, in Southampton 
 Buildings, Chancery-lane, was laid by 
 Dr. Birkbeck. In a cavity of the stone 
 was placed a bottle, wherein were sealed 
 up a book of the laws of the institution — 
 the tenth number of the " Mechanics' 
 
 IMagazine," which contained an account o* 
 the first meeting of the members — a vellum 
 roll,on which was inscribed the names of the 
 olhcers of the institution, — and a portrait 
 of Dr. Birkbeck, the president. The 
 bottle having been deposited, the president 
 proceeded to lay the stone, which bears 
 the following inscription, with the names 
 of all the oflHcers of the institution : — 
 
 This Stone, the first of the Lecture Room, 
 
 was laid on the 2d ol December, 182 1, 
 
 Being the First Anniversary of the Establishment 
 
 of the 
 
 LONDON MECHANICS' INSTITUTION, 
 
 by 
 
 GEORGE BIRKBECK, M. D PRESIDENT, 
 
 In the presence of the following Officers of tiie Institution, 
 
 Vice-Presidents, Trustees, Auditors, 
 
 John Martin eau, Esq., 
 
 Professor Millington, 
 
 John Borthwick Gilchrist, LL. D. 
 
 Robert M'WiUiam, Esq. 
 
 After the stone was laid, Dr. Birkbeck 
 addressed the meeting in nearly the fol- 
 lowing words : — " Now have we founded 
 our edifice for the diffusion and advance- 
 ment of human knowledge. Now have 
 we begun to erect a temple, wherein man 
 shall extend his acquaintance with the 
 universe of mind, and shall acquire the 
 means of enlarging his dominion o\er tlie 
 universe of matter. In this spot, here- 
 after, the charms of literature shall be 
 displayed, and the powers of science shall 
 be unfolded to the most humble inquirers ; 
 for to ' the feast of reason' which will be 
 here prepared, the invitation shall be as 
 unbounded as the region of intellect. 
 For an undertaking so vast in its design, 
 and so magnificent in its objects (no- 
 thing short, indeed, of the moral and intel- 
 lectual amelioration and aggrandizement 
 of the human race), the blessing of heaven, 
 I humbly trust, will not be implored in 
 vain. If, in this institution, we seek to 
 obey the mandate which has gone forth, 
 that knowledge shall be increased ; if we 
 act in obedience to the injunction, that in 
 all our gettings we should get understand- 
 ing ; if we succeed in proving, that for 
 the existence of the mental wilderness, 
 the continuance of which we all deeply 
 deplore, we ought ' to blame the culture, 
 not the soil ;' if by rendering man more 
 percipient of the order, harmony, and 
 benevolence, which pervade the universe, 
 we more effectually • assert eternal Pro- 
 vidence, and justify the ways of God to 
 
 man ;' and if thus we shall be the happy 
 means of rendering it palpable, that the 
 immortal essence within us, when freed 
 from the deformity of ignorance and vice, 
 has been created in the express image of 
 God — then may we confidently hope that 
 Omniscience will favourably behold our 
 rising structure ; and that in its future 
 progress. Omnipotence, without whose 
 assistance all human endeavours are vain, 
 will confer upon us a portion of his 
 powers. Whilst I remind you that the 
 illustrious Bacon, long ago, maintained 
 that * knowledge is power,' I may apprize 
 you that it has, since his time, been es- 
 tablished that knowledge is wealth — is 
 comfort — is security — is enjoyment — is 
 happiness. It has been found so com- 
 pletely to mingle with human affairs, that 
 it renders social life more endearing ; has 
 given to morality more sprightliness ; and, 
 politically, has produced more consistent 
 obedience — it takes from adversity some 
 of its bitterness, and enlarges the sphere, 
 as well as augments the sweetness of every 
 laudable gratification ; and lastly, un- 
 questionably oce of its brightest influ- 
 ences, it becomes at once an avenue and 
 a guide to that * temple which is not made 
 with hands, eternal in the heavens.' " 
 
 FLORAL DIKECTORY. 
 
 Lemon Geodorum. Geodomm citrinum 
 Dedicated to St. Bibiania. 
 
 775 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 3, 4. 
 
 IBernnljer 3. 
 
 St. Francis Xavier, a.d. 1552. St. 
 
 Birhms, first Bp. of Dorchester, a. d. 
 
 650. St. Sola, A. D. 790. St. Lucius, 
 
 King, A. D. 182. 
 
 Royal Dance »f Torches. 
 
 Berlin, December 3, 1821.— Of all 
 the entertainments which took place in 
 this capital, on the occasion of the mar- 
 riage of the prince royal with the prin- 
 cess of Bavaria, none appeared so extra- 
 ordinary to foreigners, as the dance Oj 
 torches, {Fakeltanz.) It was executed 
 after the grand marriage feast, in the fol- 
 lowing manner: — "The royal family, 
 followed by all the personages who had 
 partook of the feast at separate tables, 
 proceeded to the white saloon. The 
 dance was immediately opened by the 
 privy councillor, marshal of the court, the 
 baron de Maltzahn, bearing his baton ot 
 order. After him followed two and two, 
 according 1o seniority of rank, the privy 
 councillors and the ministers of state, 
 bearing ivax torches. The august bride 
 and bridegroom preceded the above 
 dancers, and walked round the saloon 
 The princess royal stopped before the 
 king, and making him a profound rever- 
 ence, invited him to dance. After having 
 danced one turn with his majesty, she 
 danced with all the princes. The prince 
 royal, in like manner, danced with dU the 
 princesses. After the ball, the royal 
 family passed into the apartment of 
 Frederick I., where the grand mistress, 
 countess of Norde, distributed the garter 
 of the bride. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Indian Tree. Euphorbia TirucalU. 
 Dedicated to St. Francis Xavier. 
 
 Mtmnhtt 4. 
 
 St. Peter Chrysologus, a. d. 450. St. 
 Barbara, a. d. 306. St. Anno, Abp. 
 of Cologn, a. d. 1075. St. Osmund, 
 Bp. a. d. 1099. St. Maruthas, Bp. 5th 
 Cent. St. Siran, or Sigiranuus, a. v. 
 655. St. Clement, of Alexandria, a. d. 
 189. 
 
 Ancient Divinations in Advent. 
 
 From the following lines of Barnaby 
 Googe, it appears that rustic young girls 
 in ancient times, indulged at this season 
 in attempting to divine the name of the 
 man they were to marry, from forcing the 
 
 growth of onions in the cnnnnev-corner, 
 and that they ascertained the temper of 
 the good man, from the straitness or 
 crookedness of a faggot-stick drawn from 
 a woodstack. Advent seems likewise to 
 have been a time wherem the young 
 ones went about and levied contributions 
 
 Three weekes before the day whereon 
 
 was borne the Lorde of Grace, 
 And on the Tliuisday boyes and girles 
 
 do runne in every place. 
 And bounce and beate at every doore, 
 
 with blowes and lustie snaps, 
 And crie, the advent of the Lord 
 
 not borne as yet perhaps. 
 And wishing to the neighbours all, 
 
 that in the houses dwell, 
 A happie yeare, and every thing 
 
 to spring and prosper well : 
 Here have they peares, and plumbs, ^i<d 
 pence, 
 
 ech man gives willinglee, 
 For these three nightes are always thought 
 
 unfortunate to bee: 
 Wherein they are afrayde of sprites, 
 
 and cankred witches spight, 
 And dreadfuU devils blacke and grim, 
 
 that then have chiefest might. 
 In these same dayes yong wanton gyiles 
 
 that meete for marriage bee, 
 Doe search to know the names of them 
 
 that shall their husbands bee, 
 Foure onyons, five, or eight, they take 
 
 and make in every one. 
 Such names as they do fansie most, 
 
 and best do thinke upon. 
 Thus neere the chimney them thej set, 
 
 and that sameonyon than. 
 That first doih sproute, doth surely beare 
 
 the name of their good man. 
 Their husbandes nature eke they steke 
 
 to know, and all his guise, 
 When as the sunue hath hid himselfe, 
 
 and left the starrie skies. 
 Unto some woodstai'ke do they go, 
 
 and while they there do stande 
 Echeone drawesout a faggot sticke, 
 
 the next that commes tohande. 
 Which if it streight and even be, 
 
 and have no knots at all, 
 A gentle husband then they thinke 
 
 shall surely to them fall. 
 But if it fowle and crooked be, 
 
 and knottie here and theare, 
 A crabbed churlish husband then, 
 
 they earnestly do feare. 
 These thinges the wicked paplstes beare, 
 
 and suffer willingly. 
 Because they neyther do the ende, 
 
 nor fruites of faith espie : 
 And rather had the people shot;ld 
 
 obey their foolish lust, 
 Than truely God to know ; and in 
 
 him here alone to trust. 
 
 776 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 5. 
 
 FLORAL DiUEcTORY. Foot Ball in Scotlujid 
 
 Barbadou Gooseberry. Cactus Pere^kia. /^ ry. , , , , ^ -r^ 
 
 Dedicated t., ii. Peter Chry.ologus. ,„?." Tuesday the 5th of December 
 
 ' 181 o, a great loot-ball match took place 
 
 ~ at Carterhaugh, Ettrick Forest (a spot 
 
 j-| ? rt ♦ K classical in minstrelsy), betwixt the Et- 
 
 ilJt IvmUvl O* trick men and the men of Yarrow ; the 
 
 „, „ , . , , „ „ . one party backed by the earl of Home, 
 
 St. S«^;a,s Abbot, a. i. 532. St. Cris- and the other by sir Walter Scott, 
 
 pina, A. D. 304. St. hicetms, Bp. of sheriff of the forest, who wrote two songs 
 
 Iriers, a. d. 566. f^^^ ,1^^ occasion, one whereof follows :— 
 
 Lifting the Banner uf the House of Buccleiigh, 
 at the great Foot-ball match, on Carterhaugh. 
 
 From the brown crestof Newark its summons extending. 
 
 Our signal is waving in smoke and in Hame ; 
 And each forester blithe from his mountain descending. 
 
 Bounds light o'er the heather to join in the game. 
 
 Chorn.i, 
 
 Then up with the banner, let forest winds fan her, 
 She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more ; 
 In sport we'll attend her, in battle defend her. 
 With heart and with hand, like our fathers' before. 
 
 When the southern invader spread waste and disorder, 
 At the glance of her crescents he paus'd and withdrew 
 
 For around them were marshal'd the pride of the border. 
 The flowers of the forest, the bands of Buccleuch. 
 Then up with the banner, &c. 
 
 A stripling's weak hand to our revel has borne her, 
 No mail glove has grasp'd her, no spearmen around ; 
 
 But ere a bold foeman should scathe or should scorn her, 
 A thousand true hearts would be cold on the ground. 
 Then up with the banner, 8cc. 
 
 We forget each contention of civil dissension. 
 
 And hail, like our brethren. Home, Douglas, and Car ; 
 
 And Elliot and Pringle in pastime shall mingle, 
 
 As welcome in peace as their fathers in war. 
 
 Then up with the banner, Sec. 
 
 riien strip lads, and to it, though sharp be the weather, 
 
 And if, by mischance, you should happen to fall, 
 There are worse things in life than a tumble on heather. 
 
 And life is itself but a game at foot-ball 1 
 Then up with the banner, &c. 
 
 And when it is over, we'll drink a blythe measure 
 To each laird and each lady that witness'd our fun. 
 
 And to every blythe heart that took part in our pleasure, 
 To the lads that have lost and the lads that have won. 
 Then up with the banner, &c. 
 
 May the forest still flourish, both borough and landward 
 From the hall of the peer to the herd's ingle nook ; 
 
 And huzza ! my brave hearts, for Buccleuch and his standard 
 For the king and the country, the clan and the duke ! 
 Then up with the banner, &c. 
 
 QUOTi! THE SHTRIFF OF TUE FORIST 
 
 Abbots ford, Dec. 1, 1815. 
 
 777 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 67 
 
 Something lias been said concerning 
 ball-}.la%j, at p. 863, and more remains to 
 be observed, with wliich foot-bviU will be 
 mentioned hereafter. At present the year 
 hastens tlie volume to a close, and we 
 must put by many things to make ready 
 for the " great festival :" — 
 
 Clirintmas is a coming, 
 
 We'll have flowing bowls, 
 Laughing, piping, drumming, 
 We'll be jovial souls. 
 
 FLOr.AL niRECTORY. 
 
 I.ongslalked Hibiscus. Hibiscus pcduu- 
 
 culatns. 
 
 Dedicated to St. Crispi:ia. 
 
 Sf. Nicliolas, Abp. of Myra, a. D. 342. 
 Sts. Dionysia, Dativa, JSmilianus, Bo- 
 niface, Leontia, Tertius, and Mnjoricus, 
 Martyrs. St. Peter Pa.schal, a. d. 1 300. 
 St. Theophilus, Bp. of Antioch, a. d. 
 
 190. 
 
 ^t. ^irftolad. 
 
 He is in the almanacs, and church of 
 England calendar. He is patron or titular 
 sairit of virgins, boys, sailors, and the wor- 
 shipful company of parish clerks of the city 
 of London. Mr. Audley briefly observes 
 of him, that he was remarkable in his in- 
 fancy for piety, and the knowledge of the 
 scriptures ; that he was made bishop of 
 Myra, in Lycia, by Constantine the Great, 
 and that "he was present in the council 
 of Nice, where, it is said, he gave Arius a 
 box on the ear."* 
 
 According to catholic story, St. Nicho- 
 las was a saint of great virtue, and dis- 
 posed so early in life to conform to eccle- 
 siastical rule, that when an infant at the 
 breast he fasted on Wednesday and Friday, 
 and sucked but once on each of those 
 days, and that towards night.f A story 
 is related to his credit which is of consi- 
 derable curiosity. It is told, that " an 
 Asiatic gentleman" sent his two sons to 
 *' Athens" for education, and ordered them 
 'o wait on the bishop for his benediction. 
 On arriving at Myra with their baggage 
 they took up their lodging at an inn, 
 purposing, as it was late in the day, to 
 defer their visit till the morrow ; but in 
 the mean time tlie innkeeper, to secure 
 iheir effects to himself, wickedly killed the 
 young gentlemen, cut them into pieces, 
 salted them, and intended to sell them 
 
 Aud'cy's C<ircipanioii to the Almanac. 
 + Ki'jacleneira. 
 
 for pickled pork. Happily St. Nicholas 
 was favoured with a sight of these pro- 
 ceedings in a vision, and in the morning 
 went to the inn, and repioached the cruel 
 landlord with his crime, who immediately 
 confessed it, and entreated the saint to 
 pray to heaven for his paidon. Then the 
 bishop, being moved by his confession 
 and contrition, besought forgiveness for 
 him, and supplicated restoration of life to 
 the children ; whereupon the pickled 
 pieces reunited, and the reanimated youths 
 stepping from the brine-tub threw them- 
 selves at the feet of St. Nicholas, who 
 raised them up, exhorted them to return 
 thanks to God alone, gave them good 
 advice for the future, bestowed his bles- 
 sing on them, and sent them to Athens 
 with great joy to prosecute their studies.* 
 
 The Salisbury missal of 1534, fol. xxvii 
 contains a prayer to St. Nicholas, before 
 which is an engraving on wood of the 
 bishop with the children rising from the 
 tub ; but better than all, by a licence that 
 artists formerly assumed of representing 
 successive scenes in the same print, the 
 landlord himself is shown in the act of 
 reducing a limb into sizes suitable for his 
 mercenary purpose. There are only two 
 children in the story, and there are three 
 in the tub of the engraving ; but it is fairly 
 to be conjectured, that the story was 
 thought so good as to be worth making a 
 little better. It is deemed seemly to 
 introduce this larration by a fac-simiie 
 
 * Rev. Mr. Cole . see G«>nHenian's Magaiine, 
 
 778 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 6. 
 
 of the missal cut. Ribadeneira says of 
 St. Nicholas, that " being present at the 
 council of Nice, among three hundred and 
 eighteen bishops, who were there assem- 
 bled together to condemn the heresy of 
 Anus, he shone among them all with so 
 great clarity, and opinion of sanctity, tliat 
 he appeared like a sun amongst so many 
 stars.'' It will be remembered that he is 
 affirmed to have given Arius a clarifying 
 " box on the ear." 
 
 Cf)e 33op Bis!l)Cip» 
 
 If there were no other, the miracle of 
 the pickled children would be sufficient 
 to establish Nicholas's fame as the patron 
 of youth, and we find his festival day was 
 selected by scholars, and the children of 
 the church, for a remarkable exhibition 
 about to be described. 
 
 Anciently on the 6th of December, it 
 being St. Nicholas's day, the choir boys in 
 cathedral churclies, chose one of their 
 number to maintain the state and authority 
 of a bishop, for which purpose the boy was 
 habited in rich episcopal robes, wore a 
 mitre on his head, and bore a crosier in 
 his hand ; and his fellows, for the time 
 being, assumed the character and dress 
 of priests, yielded him canonical obe- 
 dience, took possession of the church, and 
 except mass, performed all the ecclesias- 
 tical ceremonies and offices. Though tlie 
 boy bishop's election was on the 6th of 
 December, yet his office and authority 
 lasted till the 28th, being Innocents' day. 
 
 It appears from a printed church book 
 containmg the service of the boy bishop 
 set to music, that at Saruni,* on the eve of 
 Innocents' day, the boy bi^hop and his 
 youthful clergy, in their copes, and with 
 burning tapers in their hands, went in 
 solemn procession, chanting and singing 
 versicles as they walked into the choir by 
 the west door, in such order that the 
 dean and canons went foremost, the 
 chaplains next, and the boy bishop with 
 his priests in the last and highest place. 
 He then took his seat, and the rest of the 
 children disposed themselves on each side 
 of the choir upon the uppermost ascent, 
 the canons resident bore the incense and 
 the book, and the petit-canons the tapers 
 according to the Romish rubric. Af- 
 terwards the boy bishop proceeded to 
 the altar of the Holy "Trinity, and All 
 Saints, which he first censed, and next 
 the image of the Holy Trinity, while his 
 priests were singing. Then they all 
 
 * Pmcpfsionale ad <isiim insipnit et prtclare 
 E( cicsie Sarum. Ho.homagi 1556, 4tO. 
 
 chanted a service with prnyers and re- 
 .'<ponses, and the boy bishop taking his 
 seat, repeated salutations, prayers, and 
 versicles, and in conclusion gave his be- 
 nediction to the people, the chorus an- 
 swering, Deo grat'ms. Having received 
 his crosier from the cross-bearer other 
 ceremonies were performed ; he chanted 
 the complyn ; turning towards the quire 
 delivered an exhortation ; and last of all 
 said, " Benedicat Vos omniputens Deiis, 
 Pater, et Filius, et Spiritns Sunctus." 
 
 By the statutes of the church of Sarum, 
 for the regulation of this extraordinary 
 scene, no one was to interrupt or press 
 upon the boy bishop and the other chil- 
 dren, during their procession or service in 
 the cathedral, upon pain of anathema. 
 It farther appears that at this cathedra, 
 the boy bishop held a kind of visitation, 
 and maintained a corresponding state and 
 prerogative ; and he is supposed to have 
 had power to dispose of prebends that 
 fell vacant during his episcopacy. If he 
 died within the month he was buried like 
 other bishops in his episcopal ornaments, 
 his obsequies were solemnized with great 
 pomp, and a monument was erected to 
 iiis memory, with his episcopal effigy. 
 
 About a hundred and fifty years ago a 
 stone monument to one of these boy 
 bishops was discovered in Salisbury ca- 
 thedral, under the seats near the pulpit, 
 from whence it was removed to the north 
 part of the nave between the pillars, and 
 covered over with a box of wood, to the 
 great admiration of those, who, unac- 
 quainted with the anomalous character it 
 designed to commemorate, thought it 
 "almost impossible that a bishop should 
 be so small in person, or a child so great 
 in clothes." 
 
 Mr. Gregorie found the processional 
 of the boy bishop. He notices the same 
 custom at York ; and cites Molanus as 
 saying," that this bishop in some places did 
 reditat census, ct capones annuo accipere, 
 receive rents, capons, &c. during his 
 year," &c. He relates that a boy bishop 
 in the church of Cambray disposed of a 
 prebend, which fell void during his epis- 
 copal assumption to his master ; and he 
 refers to the denunciation of the boy 
 bishop by the council of Basil which, at 
 the time of the holding of that cou7>cil, 
 was a well-known custom. Mr. Gregorie, 
 who was a prebendary of Salisbury, de- 
 scribes the finding of the boy bishop's 
 monument at that place, and inserts a re- 
 presentation of it in his treatise, from 
 which the annexed engraving is taken. 
 
 779 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 6. 
 
 MONUMENT TO A BOY BISHOP 
 IN SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. 
 
 Tlie ceremony of the boy bishop is 
 supposed to have existed not only in 
 coilegiate churches, but in almost every 
 parish in England. He and his com- 
 panions walked the streets in public pro- 
 cession. A statute of the collegiate church 
 of St. Mury Qvery, m 1337, restrained 
 one of them to the limits of his own 
 parish. On December 7, 1-229, the day 
 after St. Nicholas's day, a boy bishop hi 
 the chapel at Heton, near Newcastle-upon- 
 Tyne, said vespers before Edward I. on 
 his way to Scotland, who made a con- 
 siderable present to him and the other 
 boys who sang with him. In the reign 
 of king Edward IH., a boy bishop re- 
 ceived a present of nineteen shillings and 
 rixpence for singing befce the king in 
 his private chamber on Innocents' day. 
 Dean Colet in the statutes of St. Paul's 
 school which he founded in 1512, ex- 
 ordssly ordains that his scholars should 
 every Childermas (Innocents) day, " come 
 'o Paulis Churche and hear the Chylde- 
 
 Bishop's sermon : and after be at tne 
 hygh masse, and each of them offer a 
 penny to the Chylde-Bishop : and with 
 tliem the maisters and surveyors of the 
 scole." 
 
 By a proclamation of Henry VIII. 
 dated July 22, 1542, the show of the 
 boy bishop was abrogated, but in the 
 reign of Mary it was revived with other 
 Romish ceremonials. A flattering song 
 was sung before that queen by a boy 
 bishop, and printed. It was a panegyric 
 on her devotion, and compared her to 
 Judith, Esther, the queen of Sheba, and 
 the Virgin Mary. 
 
 The accounts of St. Mary at Hill, 
 London, in the 10th Henry VI., and for 
 1549, and 1550, contain charges for the 
 boy bishops of those years. At that 
 period his estimation in the church seems 
 to have been undiminished ; for on No- 
 vember 13, 1554, the bishop of London 
 issued an order to all the clergy of his 
 diocese to have boy bisitops and theii 
 
 780 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY T^OOK —DECEMBER 
 
 processions ; and in the same year theee 
 young sons of the old cliurch paraded 
 ISt. Andrew's, Holborn, and St. Nicholas 
 Olaves, in Bread-street, and other pa- 
 rishes. In 1556, Strype says that the 
 boy bishops again went abroad singiiig 
 in the old fashion, and were received by 
 many ignorant but well-disposed persons 
 
 into their houses, anu nad mucti good 
 
 cheer.* 
 
 FLORAL UIRECiORy. 
 
 Nestflowered Heath. Ent^a nidifivra 
 Dedicated to St. Nicholas. 
 
 * Hone on Ancient Mysteries 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Hoary, and dim, and bare, and shivering, 
 
 Like a poor almsman comes the aged Year, 
 
 With kind " God save you all, good gentlefolks I'' 
 
 Heap on fresh fuel, make a blazing fire. 
 
 Bring out the cup of kindness, spread the board. 
 
 And gladden Winter with our cheerfulness ! 
 
 Wassail ! — To you, and yours, and all ! — All health ! 
 
 Bfcnnljer 7. 
 
 St. Am 
 
 brose, a. 
 
 D. .397. 
 
 St, 
 
 Far a, Ab- 
 
 bess, 
 
 A. u. 65 
 
 5. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 
 
 The 
 
 natural 
 
 commen 
 
 cement 
 
 of the 
 
 winter 
 
 season. 
 
 according 
 
 to 
 
 Mr 
 
 . How- 
 
 ard's " Tables," i? on the 7th of December 
 Tills quarter of the year comprehends 
 eiglity-nine days, except in leap-year, 
 when it has ninety days. Winter exhi- 
 bits as large a proportion of tlie cold, as 
 summer did of the heat. In spiing the 
 cold gradually goes o9, to be leplaced iu 
 
 781 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 8. 
 
 the middle of the season by warmth ; the 
 respective proportions being like those 
 which obtain in autumn, while their posi- 
 tions are reversed. 
 
 " The mean temperature of the season 
 m the country is 37.76 degrees. Tiie 
 medium temperature of the twenty-four 
 hours, descends from about 40 to 34i 
 degrees, and returns again to the former 
 point. 
 
 " Tlie mean heigiit of the barometer 
 is 29.802 inches, being .021 inches above 
 that of autumn. The range of the co- 
 lumn is greatest in this season ; and in 
 the course of twenty winters it visits 
 nearly the two extremities of the scale of 
 three inches. The mean winter range is 
 however 2.25 inches. 
 
 " The piedommaiing winds at the be- 
 ginning of winter aie the south-west: in 
 the middle these give place to northerly 
 wmds, after which the southerly winds 
 prevail again to the close : they are at 
 this season often boisterous at night. 
 
 " The mean evaporation, taken in situ- 
 ations which give more than the natural 
 quantity from the surface of the earth, 
 (being 30 467 inches on the year,) is 
 3.587 inches. This is a third less than 
 
 the proportion indicated by the mean 
 temperature ; showing the dampness ol 
 the air at this season. 
 
 " De Luc's hygrometer averages about 
 78 degrees. 
 
 " The average rain is 5.868 inches. 
 The /ain is greatest at the commencement, 
 and it diminishes in rapid proportion to 
 the end. In this there appears a salutary 
 provision of divine intelligence : for had 
 it increased, or even continued as heavy 
 as in the autumnal months, the water in- 
 stead of answering the purpose of irriga- 
 tion, for which it is evidently designed, 
 would have descended from the saturated 
 surface of the higher ground in perpetual 
 floods, and wasted for the season the 
 plains and valleys. 
 
 " Notwithstanding the sensible indica- 
 tions of moisture, which in the intervals 
 of our short frosts attend this season, the 
 actual quantity of vapour in the atmos- 
 phere is now, probably, at its lowest pro- 
 portion, or rather it is so at the com- 
 mencement of the season ; after which it 
 gradually increases with the temperature 
 and evaporation."* 
 
 * Howard's Climate of Loudon. 
 
 Winter. 
 
 This is the eldest of the seasons : he 
 
 Moves not like spring with gradual step, nor grows 
 From bud to beauty, but with all his snows 
 
 Comes down at once in hoar antiquity. 
 
 No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests flee 
 Before him, nor unto his time belong 
 The suns of summer, nor the charms of song, 
 
 That with May's gentle smiles so well agree. 
 
 But he, made perfect in his birth-day cloud. 
 Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound, 
 And with a tender footstep prints the ground, 
 As tho' to cheat man's ear : yet while he stays 
 He seems as 'twere to prompt our merriest days, 
 
 And bid the dance and joke be long and loud. 
 
 Literary P. Book. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Hairy Achania. Achania pilosa. 
 Dedicated to St. Ambrose. 
 
 23eaml)et' 8. 
 
 The Conception of the Blessed Virgin 
 Mary. St. Romaric, Abbot, a. d. 653. 
 The winter season of the year 1818, 
 was extraordinarily mild. On the 8th of 
 December, the gardens in the neighbour- 
 hood of Plymouth showed the following 
 flowers in full bloom, viz. : — Jonquils, 
 tarcissus, hyacinths, anemonies, pinks, 
 
 stocks, African and French marigolds, 
 the passion flowers, and monthly roses, in 
 great perfection, ripe strawberries and 
 raspberries. In the fields and hedges 
 were the sweet-scented violets, heart's- 
 ease, purple vetch, red robin, wild straw- 
 berry blossom, and many others. The 
 oak and the elm retained much of their 
 fohage, and the birds were sometimes 
 heard as in spring. 
 
 782 
 
FLORAL DIRECTORY, 
 
 Portugal Cyprus. Cuprcs.sus LnsUanica. 
 Dedicated to St. Eulalia. 
 
 THE EVER-^ DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 9, 10, 11. 
 
 7LORAL DIRECTORY. obliged to be taken off before the coffin 
 
 Ar ;oi vitae. Thuja uccidentalifi. could be admitted, and it was so heavy, 
 
 Dedicated tc the Conception of the B. V. that the attendants were forced to movei^ 
 
 Mary. along the churchyard upon rollers.* 
 
 IBernnter 9. 
 
 St. Leocndiii, a. d. 304. The Seven Mar- 
 tyrs at Suniosata, a. d. 297. St. ff'ulf- 
 iillde, A. D. 990. 
 
 BURIED ALIVE. 
 
 A remarkable instance of premature in- 
 terment, is related in the case of the rev. 
 Mr. Richards, parson of the Hay, in 
 lleiefordshire, who, in December, 1751, 
 was supposed to have died suddenly. His 
 friends seeing his body and limbs did not 
 stiffen, after twenty-four hours, sent for a 
 surgeon, who, upon bleeding him, and not 
 being able to stop tlie blood, told tliem that 
 he was not dead, but in a sort of trance, 
 and oidered them not to bury him They 
 paid no attention to the injunction, but 
 committed the body to the grave the next 
 day. A person walking along the church- 
 yard, hearing a noise in the grave, ran 
 and prevailed with the clerk to have the 
 grave opened, where they found a great 
 bleeding at the nose, and the body in a 
 profuse sweat ; whence it was conjectured 
 that he was buried alive. They were now, 
 however, obliged to let him remain, as all 
 appearance of further recovery had been 
 precluded by his interment * 
 
 A writer in the " Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine" some years before, observes, " I have 
 undoubted authority for saying, a man was 
 lately (and I believe is still) living at 
 Hustley, nearWinchester,December,l 747, 
 who, after lying for dead two days and 
 two nights, was committed to the grave, 
 and rescued from it by some boys luckily 
 playing in the churcliyard !" 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Corsican Spruce. Pinns Laricio. 
 Dedicated to St. Leocadia. 
 
 Mmmhtv 10. 
 
 St. Mflchiadcs, Pope, a. d. 314. St. 
 Eulalia. 
 
 BIG MAN. 
 
 On the 10th of December, 1741, died 
 Mr. Henry Wanyford, late steward to the 
 earl of Essex. He was of so large a 
 size, that the top of the hearse was 
 
 * GeuUemdu's Mugiiziue, 1751 
 
 JBrnmbfr IK 
 
 St. Damasus, Pope, a. d. 384. Sts. Fn.i- 
 cian, Victoricux, and Gentian, a. d. 287. 
 St. Daniel, the Stylite, a. d. 494. 
 
 ST. KICUOLAS in RUSSIA. 
 
 A gentleman obligingly contributes the 
 subjoined account of a northern usage on 
 the 5th of December, the vigil of St. 
 Nicholas. He communicates his name to 
 the editor, and vouches for the authenti- 
 city of his relation, " having himself been 
 an actor in the scene he describes.'* 
 
 (Fui the Every-Day Book.) 
 In the fine old city of Leewvavden, the 
 capital of West Friezland, there are some 
 carious customs preserved, connected 
 with the celebration oi the anniversary of 
 this saint. From time immemorial, in 
 this province, St. Nicholas hc»s been 
 liailed as the tutelary patron of children 
 and confections ; no very inappropriate 
 association, perhaps. ( )n the eve, or 
 AvGnd, as it is there termed, of this fes- 
 tival, the good saint condescends, (as 
 currently asserted, and religiously be- 
 lieved, by the younger fry,) to visit these 
 sublunar spheres, and to irradiate by his 
 majestic presence, the winter fireside of 
 his infant votaries. 
 
 During a residence in the above town, 
 some twenty years agone, in the brief 
 days of happy boyhood, (that green spot 
 in our existence,) it was my fortune to be 
 present at one of these annual visitations. 
 Imagine a group of happy youngsters 
 sporting around the domestic hearth, in 
 all the buoyancy of riotous health and 
 spirits, brim-full of joyful expectation, 
 but yet in an occasional pause, casting 
 frequent glances towards the door, with a 
 comical expression of impatience, mixed 
 up with something like dread of the im- 
 pending event. At last a loud knock is 
 heard, in an instant the games are sus- 
 pended, and the door slowly imfolding, 
 reveals to sight the venerated saint him- 
 self, arrayed in his pontificals, with pas- 
 
 * GeatlciQua's Magazine. 
 
 V«i) 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 12. 
 
 toral staff and jewelled mitre. Methinks 
 I see him now ! yet he did " his spiriti7ig 
 gently," and his tone of reproof, " was 
 more in sorrow than in anger .'" 
 
 In fine, the family peccadillos being 
 tenderly passed over, and the more fa- 
 vourable reports made the subject of due 
 encomiums, good father Nicholas gave 
 his parting benediction, together with the 
 promise, (never known to fail,) of more 
 substantial benefits, to be realized on the 
 next auspicious morning. So ends the 
 first act of the farce, which it will be rea- 
 dily anticipated is got up with the special 
 connivance of papa and mamma, by the 
 assistance of some family friend, who is 
 quite au fait to the domestic politics of 
 the establishment. The concluding scene, 
 however, is one of unalloyed pleasure to 
 the delighted children, and is thus ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 Before retiring to rest, each member of 
 the family deposits a shoe on a table in a 
 particular room, which is carefulltj locked, 
 and the next morning is opened in the 
 presence of the assembled household ; 
 when lo ! by the mysterious agency 
 (doubtless) of the munificent saint, the 
 board is found covered with bans bans, 
 toys, and trinkets. 
 
 It may not be deemed irrelevant to 
 add, that on the anniversary, the confec- 
 tioners' shops display their daintiest in- 
 ventions, and are gaily lighted up and 
 ornamented for public exhibition, much 
 in the same way as at Paris on the first 
 day of the new year. 
 
 These reminiscences may not prove 
 unacceptable to many, who contemplate 
 with satisfaction the relics of ancient ob- 
 servances, belonging to a more primitive 
 state of manners, the memory of which is 
 rapidly passing into oblivion ; and who, 
 perhaps, think with the writer, in one 
 sense at least, that modern refinements, 
 if they tend to render us wiser, hardly 
 make us happier ! H. H. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Aleppo Pine. Pinus Halipensis. 
 Dedicated to St. Damasus. 
 
 JBfcemI)cr 12. 
 
 Sts. Epimackusawd ^lexander,iic.A.D. 250. 
 St. Finian, or Finan, Bp. in Ireland. 
 A. D. 552. St. Columba, son of Crim- 
 thain, A. d. 548. St. Cormac. St. 
 Colman, Abbot, a. d. 659. St. Ead- 
 burge, A. D. 751. St. Valery, Abbot, 
 
 A. D. 622. St. Corentin, 1st. Bp. of 
 Quimper, 5th Cent. Another St. Co- 
 rentin, or Curt/, A. D. 401 
 
 ./in intoxicated Servant. 
 In Lloyd's Evening Post of December 
 12-14, 1781, there is the following ad- 
 vertisement : — 
 
 A YOUNG MAN having yesterday 
 left his master's service in Smith- 
 field, on a presumption of his pocket being 
 picked of one hundred pounds, his mas- 
 ter's property, when he was in liquor; 
 this is to inform him, that he left it in the 
 shop of his master, who has found it; 
 and if he will return to his master's ser- 
 vice he will be kindly received 
 
 Such was the state of society, in the 
 year 1781, that a drunken servant would 
 be " kindly received " by his employer. 
 We are so far better, in the year 1825, 
 that if such a servant were kindly received, 
 he would not be permitted to enter on 
 his duties till he was admonished not to 
 repeat the vice. Drunkenness is now so 
 properly reprobated, that no one but a 
 thorough reprobate dares to practise it, 
 and the character of sot or drunkard in- 
 variably attaches to him. 
 
 In the subjoined extract taken from an 
 old author, without recollection of his 
 rame, there is something apt to the occa- 
 sion. 
 
 THE TRADE OF BREWING. 
 
 By a writer, in the year 1 621 . 
 Of all the trades in the world, a brewer 
 is the loadstone which draws the cus- 
 tomes of all functions unto it. It is the 
 mark or upshot of every man's ayme, and 
 the bottomlesse whirlepoole that swal- 
 lowes up the profits of rich and poore. 
 The brewer's art (like a wilde kestrell or 
 lemand hawke,) flies at all games ; or like 
 a butler's boxe at Chrisbmasse, it is sure 
 to winne, whosoever loses. In a word, it 
 rules and raignes, (in some sort,) as Au- 
 gustus Caesar did, for it taxeth the whole 
 earth. Your innes and alehouses are 
 brookes and rivers, and their clients are 
 small rills and springs, who all, (very 
 dutifully) doe pay their tributes to the 
 boundless ocean of the brewhouse. For, 
 all the world knowes, that if men and 
 women did drinke no more than sufficed 
 nature, or if it were but a little extraor- 
 dinary now and then upon occasion, or 
 by chance as you may teniie it ; if drink- 
 ing were used in any reason, or any rea- 
 son used in drinking, I pray ye what 
 
 784 
 
THE EvTERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 13. 
 
 would become of the brewer then ? 
 Surely we doe live in an age,* wherein 
 the seven deadly sins are every man's 
 trade and living;. 
 
 Pride is the maintainer of thousands, 
 which would else perish; as mercers, 
 taylors, embroydrers, silkmen, cutters, 
 drawers, senipsters, laundresses, of which 
 functions there are millions which 
 would starve but for Madam Pride, with 
 her changeable fashions. Letchery, what 
 a continual crop of profits it yeelds, ap- 
 pears by the gallant thriving and gawdy 
 outsides of many he and she, private and 
 publicke sinners, both in citie and sub- 
 urbs. Covetousnesse is embroydered 
 with extortion, and warmly lined and 
 furred with oppression ; and though it be 
 a divell, yet is it most idolatrously adored, 
 honoured, and worshipped by those sim- 
 ple sheep-headed fooles, whom it hath 
 undone and beggared. I could speake of 
 other vices, how profitable they are to a 
 commonwealth; but my invention is 
 thirsty, and must have one carouse more 
 at the brewhouse, who (as I take it) hath 
 a greater share than any, in the gaines 
 which spring from the world's abuses. 
 
 If any man hang, drowne, stabbe, or 
 by any violent incanes make away his 
 life, the goods and lands of any such per- 
 son are forfeit to the use of the king ; and 
 I see no reason but those which kill them- 
 selves with drinking, should be in the 
 same estate, and be buried in the high- 
 ways, with a stake drove thorovv them ; 
 and if I had but a grant of this suite, I 
 would not doubt but that in seven yeeres 
 (if my charity would but agree with my 
 wealth,) I might erect almes-houses, free- 
 schooles, mend highways, and make 
 bridges ; for I dare sweare, that a num- 
 ber (almost numberlesse) have confessed 
 upon their death-beds, that at such and 
 such a time, in such and such a place, 
 they dranke so much, which made them 
 surfeite, of which surfeite they languished 
 and dyed. The maine benefit of these 
 superfluous and manslaughtering expen- 
 ses, comes to the brewer, so that if a 
 brewer be in any office, 1 hold him to be a 
 very ingrateful man> if he punish a drunk- 
 ard ; for every stiffe, potvaliant drunkard 
 
 • Some make a profit of quarreling ; Bonie 
 pick their livings out olccnteiitions and debate ; 
 Bome thrive and grow fat by gluttony ; many 
 are bravely maintained by bribery, theft, cheat- 
 ing, roguery, and villiany ; but put all these 
 together, and joine to them all sorts of peo- 
 ple else, and they all in general are drinkers, 
 and consequently the brewer's clients and cu«- 
 toD ei» 
 
 is a post, beam, or pillar, which holds up 
 the brewhouse ; for as the barke is to the 
 tree, so is a good drinker to the brewer. 
 
 FLORAL DIKECTORY. 
 
 Crowded Heath. Erica conferta. 
 Dedicated to St. Eadburge. 
 
 &m\\\^tv 13. 
 
 <S^ Lucy, A. D, 304. St. Judoc, or Josse, 
 A. u. 669. St. Keneliii, King, a. d. 
 820. St. Aubert, Bp. of Cambray and 
 Arras, a. d. 669. B. John Mariuoni, 
 a. d. 1562. St. Othilla, a. d. 772. 
 
 This saint is in the church of England 
 calendar and the almanacs. She was a 
 young lady of Syracuse, who preferring 
 a religious single life to marriage, gave 
 away all her fortune to the poor Hav- 
 ing been accused to Peschasius, a heathen 
 judge, for professing Christianity, she was 
 soon after barbarously muidered by his 
 officers.* 
 
 TRANSATLANTIC VERSES. 
 
 The following effiisions are from 
 America. The first, by Mr. R. H. Wilde, 
 a distinguished advocate of Georgia ; the 
 second, by a lady of Baltimore, who 
 moots in the court of the muses, with as 
 much ingenuity as the barrister in his 
 own court. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 My life is like tlie summer rose 
 That opens to the morning sky, 
 
 But, ere the shades of evening close, 
 Is scattered on the ground to die. 
 
 Yet on that rose's humble bed 
 
 The sweetest dews of niglit are shed. 
 
 As it she wept such waste to see ; 
 
 Bat none shall wtep a tear for rae. 
 
 My life is like the aultimn leaf 
 
 That trembles in the moon's pale ray. 
 Its hold is frail, its date is brief. 
 
 Restless, and soon to pass away. 
 Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, 
 The parent tree shall mourn its shade^ 
 The winds bewail the leafless tree, 
 But none shall breath a sigh for me. 
 
 My life is like the prints which feet 
 Have left on Tempe's desert strand, 
 
 Soon as the rising tide shall beat 
 All trace will vanish from the sand. 
 
 Yet, as if grieving to efl'ace 
 
 All vestige of the human race. 
 
 On that lone shore loud moans the sea; 
 
 But none, alas ! shall mourn for me. 
 
 * Audley'a Companion to the Aiuauar- 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 785 
 
 E 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.- DECEMBER 14, 15, 16. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 The dews of night may fall from heaven, 
 
 Upon the wither'd rose's bed, 
 And tears of fond regret be given, 
 
 To mourn the virtues of the dead . 
 Yet morning's sun the dews will dry. 
 And teais will fade from sorrow's eye, 
 Affection's pangs be lull'd to sleep, 
 And even love forget to weep. 
 
 The tree may mourn its fallen leaf, 
 And autumn winds bewail its bloom, 
 
 And friends may heave the sigh of grief, 
 O'er those who sleep within the tomb. 
 
 Yet soon will spring renew the flowers, 
 
 And time will bring more smiling hours ; 
 
 In friendship's heart all grief will die. 
 
 And even love forget to sigh. 
 
 The sea may on the desert shore, 
 
 Lament each trace it bears away ; 
 The lonely heart its grief may pour 
 
 O'er cherish'd friendship's fast decay : 
 Yet when all trace is lost and gone, 
 The waves dance bright and daily on ; 
 Thus soon affection's bonds are torn, 
 And ev2n love forgets to mou7~n. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cypress arbor vitre. Thuja ciiprexsioides 
 Dedicated to St. Lxicy. 
 
 s;.f. A^;- 
 
 Bemnbei* 14. 
 
 St. Spiridion, Abp. a. d. 348 
 
 casiiis, 9lh Abp. of Rheims, and his 
 Companions, 5th Cent. 
 
 ember CTuk. 
 
 Tliis is an ancient fast, wherein monks 
 were enjoined to great abstinence pre- 
 paratory to the festival of Christmas. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Swamp Pine. Pimis palugtfi 
 Dedicated to St Spiridion. . 
 
 Mtmnhtx 15. 
 
 St. Ensebius, Bp. of Vercelli, a. d. 371. 
 
 St. Florence, or Flann, Abbot. 
 seasonable 
 
 There is a class of those who are said 
 to " dearly love the lasses, oh ?" by whom 
 the verses below may be read without 
 danger of their becoming worse. 
 
 A Winter Piece. 
 It was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow, 
 And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow ; 
 When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewilder'd in hcv way, 
 Press'd her baby to her bosom, and Sidly thus did say : 
 
 " Oh ! cruel was my father, that shut his door on me. 
 And cruel was my mother, that such a sight could see ; 
 And cruel is the wintry wind, that chills my heart with cold ; 
 But crueller than all, the lad that left my love for gold ! 
 
 " Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast ; 
 Ah, little thinks thy father how sadly we're distrest I 
 For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare, 
 He'd shield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air. 
 
 " Cold, cold, my dearest jewel ! thy little life is gone . 
 Oh ! let my tears revive thee, so warm that trickle down ; 
 My tears that gush so warm, oh ! they freeze before they fall 
 Ah! wretched, wretched mother ! thou 'rt now bereft of all." 
 
 Then down she sunk despairing upon the drifted snow. 
 And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe : 
 She kiss'd her babe's pale lips, and laid it by her side ; 
 
 Then cast her eyes to heaven, then bow'd her head, and died. 
 
 floral DrRECTORY. 
 
 Pitch Pine. Pinus resinosa. 
 Dedicated to St. Florence. 
 
 Mtmnhtt 16. 
 
 St. Ado, Abp. of Vienne, a. d. 875, St. 
 Alice, or Adelaide, Empress, a. d. 999. 
 St. Beanus, Bp. in Leinster. 
 
 [Cambridge Term end*.] 
 " O Sapientia." 
 This day is so marked in the church of 
 England calendar and the almanacs. 
 Many have been puzzled by this distinc- 
 
 tion, and some have imagined that " o 
 sapientia" was a saint and martyr, one 
 ofthe celebrated eleven thousand virgins 
 of St. Ursula. Mr. Audley, however, has 
 rightly observed that, "This day is so 
 called from the beginning of an anthem 
 in the service of the Latin church, which 
 used to be sung for the honour of Christ's 
 advent, from this day till Christmas 
 eve." — The anthem commenced with 
 these words, "o sapientia quae ex ore 
 altissimi prodidisti," 8cc. 
 
 786 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 17. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Chinese arbor vitse. Thuja orientalis. 
 Dedicated to St. Alice 
 
 Mmmhtv 17. 
 
 St. Olympias, a. d. 410. St. Begga, 
 Abbess, a. d. 698. 
 
 [Oxford Term ends.] 
 
 The Season. 
 
 By this time all good housewives, with 
 an eye to Christmas, have laid in their 
 stores for the coming festivities. Their 
 mincemeat has been made long ago, and 
 they begin to inquire, with some anxiety, 
 concerning the state of the poultry mar- 
 ket, and especially the price of prime 
 roasting beef 
 
 " O the roast beef of old England, 
 And O the old English roast beef!" 
 
 Maimer of Roasting Beef anciently. 
 
 A correspondent, who was somewhat 
 niffled in the dog-days by suggestions for 
 preventing hydrophobia, let his wrath go 
 down before the dog-star; and in calm 
 good nature he communicates a pleasant 
 anecdote or two, which, at this time, 
 may be deemed acceptable. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 Dear Sir, 
 As an owner of that useful class of 
 animals, dogs, I could not but a little 
 startle at the severity you cast on their 
 owners in your " Sirius," or dog-star of 
 July 3rd. In enumerating their different 
 qualities and prescribing substitutes, you 
 torgot one of the most laborious em- 
 ployments formerly assigned to a species 
 of dogs with long backs and short legs, 
 called " Turnspits." 
 
 The mode of teaching them their busi- 
 ness was more summary than humane : 
 the dog was put in a wheel, and a 
 burning coal with him ; he could not 
 stop without burning his legs, and so was 
 kept upon the full gallop. These dogs 
 were by no means fond of their profes- 
 sion ; it was indeed hard work to run in 
 a wheel for two or three hours, turning a 
 piece of meat which was twice their own 
 weight. As the season for roasting meat 
 is fast approaching, perhaps you can find 
 a corner in your Every-Day Book for the 
 insertion of a most extraordinary circum- 
 stance, relative to these curs, which took 
 place many years ago at Bath. 
 
 It is recorded, that a party of young 
 wags hired the chairmen on Saturday 
 night to steal all the turnspits in the town, 
 and lock them up till the following even- 
 ing. Accordingly on Sunday, when every 
 body desires roast meat for dinner, all the 
 cooks were to be seen in the streets, — 
 " Pray have you seen our Chloe ?" says 
 one. " Why," replies the other, " I was 
 coming to ask you if you had seen our 
 Pompey;" up came a third while they 
 were talking, to inquire for her Toby, — 
 and there was no roast meat in Bath that 
 day. It is recorded, also, of these dogs 
 in this city, that one Sunday, when they 
 had as usual followed their mistresses to 
 church, the lesson for the day happened 
 to be that chapter in Ezekiel, wherein the 
 self-moving chariots are described. When 
 first the word " wheel" was pronounced, 
 all the curs pricked up their ears in alarm ; 
 at the second wheel they set up a doleful 
 howl ; and when the dreaded word was 
 uttered a third time, every one of them 
 scampered out of church, as fast as he 
 could, with his tail between his legs. 
 
 Nov. 25, 1825. John Foster. 
 
 A real Every-Day English Dialogue. 
 (From the Examiner.) 
 
 A. (Advancing) " How d'ye do, 
 Brooks?" 
 
 B. " Very well, thank'ee ; how do you 
 do?" 
 
 A. "Very well, thank'ee; is Mrs. 
 Brooks well ?" 
 
 B. " Very well, I'm much obliged t'ye. 
 Mrs. Adams and the children are well, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 A. " Quite well, thank'ee." 
 (A pause.) 
 
 B. " Rather pleasant weather to-day " 
 A. " Yes, but it was cold in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 B. " Yes, but we must expect that at 
 this time o' year." 
 
 I Another pause, — neckcloth twisted 
 and switch twirled.) 
 
 A. " Seen Smith lately ? " 
 
 £. "No, — I can't say I have — but I 
 have seen Thompson." 
 
 A. " Indeed — how is he ?" 
 
 B. " Very well, thank'ee." 
 
 A. " I'm glad of it. — Well, — good 
 morning." 
 
 B. " Good morning." 
 
 Here it is always observed that the 
 speakers, having taken leave, walk fastei 
 than usual for some hundred yards. 
 
 ^87 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 17. 
 
 WILD FOWL SHOOTING IN FRANCE. 
 
 Or where tlie Northern ocean, in vast whirls 
 Boils round the naked melancholy isles 
 O. farthest Thule, and th' Atlantic surge 
 Pours in among the stoiiny Hebrides ; 
 Who can recount what transmigrations there 
 Are annual made? what nations come and go? 
 And how the living clouds on clouds arise ? 
 Infinite wings till all the plume-dark air 
 And rude, resounding shore, are one wild cry. 
 
 Thomson 
 
 To a spoiling friend, the editor is in- 
 debted for the seasonable information in 
 tlie accompanying letter, and the draw- 
 ings of the present engravings. 
 
 Abbeville, Nov. 14, 1825. 
 
 Dear Sir 
 It is of all things in the world the most 
 unpleasant to write about nothing, when 
 one knows a letter with something is ex- 
 
 f)ected It is true I promised to look out 
 or pious chansons, miraculous stories, 
 and other whims and wonders of the 
 French vulgar; and though I do not 
 
 send you a budget of these gallimaufry 
 odds and ends, whereon I know you have 
 set your heart, yet I hope you will believe 
 that I thoroughly determined to keep my 
 word. To be fiank, I had no sooner 
 landed, than desire came over me to 
 reach my domicile at this place as fast as 
 possible, and get at my old field-sports 
 I therefore posted hither without delay, 
 and, having my gun once more in my 
 hand, have been up every morning with 
 the lark, lark shooting, and letting fly at 
 ail that flies — my conscience flying and 
 flapping in my face at every recollection 
 
 788 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECE:\IBEE 1 7. 
 
 of my pnganement to you. I well re- 
 member your telling me I should forget 
 you, and my answering, that it was " im- 
 possible!'' Birds were never more plenti- 
 ful, and till a frost sets them ofi' to a 
 milder atmosphere, I cannot be ofi' for 
 England. I am spell-bound to the fields 
 and waters. Do not, however, be dis- 
 heartened ; I hope yet to do something 
 handsome for your '* hobby," but I have 
 one of my own, and I must ride him 
 while I can. 
 
 It strikes me, however, that I can 
 communicate something in my way, that 
 will interest some readers of the Every- 
 Day Book, if you think proper to lay it 
 before them. 
 
 Every labouring man in France has a 
 right to sport, and keeps a gun. The 
 consequence of this is, that from the mid- 
 dle of October, or the beginning of this 
 month, vast quantities of wild-fowl are 
 annually shot in and about the fens of 
 Picardy, whither they resort principally 
 in the night, to feed along the different 
 ditches and small ponds, many of which 
 are artificially contrived with one, two, 
 and sometimes three little huts, according 
 to the dimensions of the pond. These 
 huts are so ingeniously manufactured, and 
 so well adapted to the purpose that I 
 send you two drawings to convey ai idea 
 of their construction. 
 
 All wild-fowl are timorous, and easily 
 deceived. The sportsman's huts, to the 
 number of eight or ten, are placed in 
 such a situation, that not until too late do 
 the birds 9iscover the deception, and the 
 destruction which, under cover, the fowl- 
 ers deal among them. To allure them 
 from their heights, two or three tame 
 ducks, properly secured to stones near 
 the huts, keep up an incessant quacking 
 during the greater part of the night. The 
 huts are sufficier.tly large to admit two 
 men and a dog ; one man keeps watch 
 while his companion sleeps half the night, 
 when, for the remainder, it becomes his 
 turn to watch and relieve the other. They 
 have blankets, a mattress, and suitable 
 conveniences, for passing night after 
 night obscured in their artificial caverns, 
 and exposed to unwholesome damps and 
 fogs. The huts are formed in the follow- 
 ing manner : — A piece of ground is raised 
 sufficiently high to protect the fowler 
 fr m the wet ground, upon which is 
 placed the frame of the temporary edi- 
 fice. This is mostly made of ozier, firmly 
 interwoven, as in this sketch. 
 
 This frame is covered with dry reeds, 
 and well plastered with mud or clay, to 
 the thickness of about four inches, upon 
 which is placed, very neatly, layers of 
 turf, so that the whole, at a little distance, 
 looks like a mound of verdant earth. 
 Three holes, about four inches in diame- 
 ter, for the men inside to see and fire 
 through, are neatly cut ; one is in the 
 front, and one on each side. Very fre- 
 quently there is a fourth at the top. This 
 is for the purpose of firing from at the 
 wild-fowl as they pass over. The fowlers, 
 lying upon their backs, discharge guess 
 shots at the birds, who are only heard by 
 the noise of their wings in their flight. 
 Fowlers, with quick ears, attain consi- 
 derable expertness in this guess-firing. 
 
 The numbers that are shot in this way 
 are incredible. They are usually there- 
 fore sold at a cheap rate. At forty sous 
 a couple, (Is. 8rf. English) they are dear, 
 but the price varies according to their 
 condition. 
 
 In the larger drawing, I have given the 
 appearance of the country and of the 
 atmosphere at this season, and a duck- 
 shooter with his gun near his hut, on the 
 look out for coming flocks; but I fear 
 wood engraving, excellent as it is for 
 most purposes, will fall very short of the 
 capability of engraving on copper to con- 
 vey a correct idea of the romantic eflftct 
 of the commingling cloud, mist, and sun- 
 shine, I have endeavoured to represent in 
 this delightful part of France. Such as it 
 is, it is at your service to do with as you 
 please. 
 
 For myself, though for the sake of va 
 riety, I have now and then crept into a 
 fowler's hirt, and shot in ambuscade, I 
 
 789 
 
HIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 18. 
 
 prefer open warfare, and I assure you I 
 i.ave had capital sport. That you may 
 De acquainted with some of these wild- 
 fowl, I will just mention the birds I have 
 shot here within the last three weeks, 
 beginning with the godwit ; their names 
 in French are from my recollection of 
 Buffon 
 
 The GodvAt. 
 Common Godwit, la grand barge. 
 Red Godwit, la barge rousse. 
 Cinereous Godwit, {Beivick). 
 Cambridge Godwit, {Latham). 
 Green-shanked Godwit, la barge vari^e. 
 Red-legged Godwit, le chevalier rouge. 
 Redshank, le chevalier aux pieds rouges. 
 
 Sandpipers. 
 Ruffs and Reeves, le combattant. 
 Gretn Sandpiper, le becasseau, ou cul- 
 
 blanc 
 Common Sandpiper, la guignette. 
 Blown Sandpiper, {Bewick.) 
 Dunlin, la brunette. 
 Ox-eye, I'alouette de mer. 
 Little Stint, la petite alouette de jner, 
 
 (Brisson) &c. &c. 
 
 Curlews. 
 Curlew, la courles. 
 Whimbiel, le petite courles. 
 
 Heron. 
 Common, le heron hupe. 
 i3ittern, le butor. 
 Little Bittern, le blongois. 
 
 Ducks. 
 The common Wild Duck, le canard sau- 
 
 vage. 
 Gadwell, or Gray, le chipeau. 
 Widgeon, le canard sij/ietir. 
 Pochard, penelope, le millovin. 
 Pintail, le canard a longue queue. 
 Golden-eye. le garrot. 
 Morillon, le morillon. 
 Tufted Duck, le petit tnorillon. (Brisson.) 
 Gargany, la sarcelle. 
 Teal, la petite sarcelle. 
 
 If you were here you should have a 
 " gentleman's recreation," of the most 
 delightful kind. Your propensity to look 
 for " old masters," would turn into look- 
 ing out for prime birds. The spotted 
 red-shanks, or barkers, as they are some- 
 times called, would be fine fellows for 
 you, who are fond of achieving difficul- 
 ties. They come in small flocks, skim- 
 ming about the different ponds into which 
 tliey run to the height of the body, pick- 
 
 ing up insects from the bottom, and look- 
 ing as if they had no legs. They are 
 excessively wary, and above all, the mosi 
 difficult to get near. Confound all" black 
 letter" say I, if it keeps a man from such 
 delightful scenes as I have enjoyed every 
 hour since I came here ; as to picture- 
 loving — come and see these pictures which 
 never tire by looking at. I like a good 
 picture though myself, and shall pick up 
 some prints at Paris to put with my 
 others. You may be certain therefore of 
 my collecting something for you, after the 
 birds have left, especially wood cuts. 
 I shall accomplish what I can in the scrap 
 and story-book way, which is not quite in 
 my line, yet I think I know what you 
 mean. In my next you shall have some- 
 thing about lark-shooting, which, in Eng- 
 land, is nothing compared with what the 
 north of France affords. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 J.J.H. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECrORY. 
 
 White Cedar. Cupressus thyoides. 
 Dedicated to St. Olympias, 
 
 IBmmljer 18. 
 
 Sts. Rufus and Zozimus, a. d. 116. St, 
 Gatian, 1st. Bp. of Tours, 3d. Cent. 
 St fVinebald, a. d. 760. 
 
 THE ASS AND THE CAMEL. 
 
 Fault was found because a newspaper 
 commenced a police-office report of one 
 of the humane endeavours of the warm- 
 hearted member for Galway, in behalf of 
 the proverbially most patient of all quad- 
 rupeds, by saying, " Mr. Martin came to 
 this office with another ass." Ridicule, 
 however, never injures a just man with 
 the just-minded ; Mr. Martin has been 
 properly supported in every judicious 
 effort by public opinion. 
 
 The notice of the all-enduring ass, 
 in former pages, occasions a letter 
 from a gentleman, (with his name) whose 
 researches have been directed to the geo- 
 graphical and natural history of foreign 
 countries. In this communication he re- 
 fers to a work of considerable interest 
 relative to Africa, which it may be im- 
 portant for inquirers regarding the inte- 
 rior of that region to be acquainted with. 
 
 To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. 
 
 Sir, November 2'9,\B'i5. 
 
 The facetious Tim Tist^. u: youi 
 
 790 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 19. 
 
 Every-Day Book, of the 19th of Septem- 
 ner, (p. 1309.) cites the amusing and 
 accurate Leo Africanus, as asserting " that 
 asses may be taught to dance to music." 
 This is an error. Leo, in his description 
 of Africa, (Elzevir edition, 1632. p. 749.) 
 says. "I saw in Cairo a camel dance to 
 tlie sound of a drum, and as the master 
 told me, this is. the mode of teaching: a 
 young camel is selected and placed for 
 half an hour in a place prepared for him 
 of about the size of a stove, the pavement 
 of which is heated by tire. Some one 
 then, outside the door, beats the drum, 
 and the camel, not on account of the mu- 
 sic, but of the hre by which his feet are 
 hurt, lifts first one leg then another, after 
 the manner of a dancer, and after having 
 been thus trained for ten or twelve months, 
 he is led into public, when, on hearing 
 the drum, and remembering the burning 
 of his feet, he immediately begins to 
 jump, and thinking himself to be on the 
 same floor, he raiics himself on his hind 
 legs, and " ipears to dance ; and so, use 
 becoming sev.ond nature, he continues to 
 do.'' 
 
 The only ass described by Leo, is the 
 ass of the woods, found only in the desert 
 or its borders. It yields to the Barb, or 
 Arabian, (Leo says they are the same,) in 
 swiftness, and is caught vi'ith the greatest 
 difficulty. When feeding, or drinking, 
 he is always moving. 
 
 A word more about the camel. He is 
 of a mosA. kind and mild nature, and par- 
 takes in a manner of the sense of man. 
 If, at any time, between Ethiopia and 
 Barbary (in the great desert) the day's 
 journey is longer than ordinary, he is not 
 to be driven on by stripes (or beating,) 
 but the driver sings certain short songs, 
 by which the camel being allured, he goes 
 on with such swiftness, that no one is 
 able to keep up with him. 
 
 When I open this highly valued book, 
 I never know when to close it; and, 
 indeed, the less at this time, when we are 
 all on tip-toe with respect to Africa. 
 
 Now it does appear strange to me, that 
 not one word has been said, either by 
 the travellers, or those who have traced 
 them, about this little work. One rea- 
 son may be, that it has nevef been wholly 
 translated into English. It is called by 
 liartman, (who has been deemed the 
 ablest editor of these oriental authors,) a 
 golden book, which had he wanted, he 
 should as frequently have wanted light. 
 The author, who was a man of a noble 
 
 family and great acquirement?,, had been 
 at Tombuto twice at least. Once he ac- 
 companied his father oh his embassy from 
 the king of Fez to that city, and after- 
 wards as a merchant. This must have 
 been at the very beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, for he finished this work at 
 Home, the 5th of March, 1526. lie 
 describes Tombuto, as well as Bor- 
 nou, and Cano, and many other of the 
 Negro kingdoms with great minuteness, 
 and with respect to the Niger, (which, 
 like the Nile, rises, falls, and fertilizes the 
 country,) he says, that its course is from 
 the kingdom of Tombuto towards the 
 west as far as Ginea or Jinnea, and even 
 Melli, which joins the ocean at the same 
 place where the Niger empties itself into 
 the sea. He also says, that at Cabra, 
 which id situate on the Niger, about 
 twelve miles from Tombuto , the mer- 
 chants sailing to Ginea or Melli, go on 
 board their vessels. 
 
 Moore, who resided as a writer and 
 factor under the African company, at the 
 mouth of the Gambia, about five years, 
 and in 1738, published his travels, de- 
 scribing the several nations for the space 
 of six hundred miles up that river, con- 
 cludes that river and the Niger to be the 
 same. In this work will be found an 
 English translation from the Italian, of 
 parts of Leo's work. 
 
 Jackson is a coxcomb, who copies 
 without acknowledgment. He fancies 
 the Niger runs backwards, and joins the 
 Nile, after which they most fraternally 
 run into the Mediterranean. 
 
 I am, Jcc. 
 
 T. O. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 New Holland Cyprus. Cupressus Aus- 
 
 t rails. 
 
 Dedicated to St. JFinebald. 
 
 'Bmmhtx 19. 
 
 St Nemes'wn, &c., a. d 250. St. Sam- 
 thanu, Abbess, a. d. 738. 
 
 CELESTIAL SCENERY. 
 
 By the contemplation of the " shining 
 heavens" at this season, the mind is 
 induced to the solemn thinking, beauti- 
 fully imagined by the greatest »ni\ most 
 wayward poet of our age. 
 
 791 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER ?0. 
 
 A Starlight Winter Nigld. 
 
 The stars are forth, the moon above the to]is 
 Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful I 
 I linger yet with Nature, for the night 
 Hath been to me a more familiar face 
 Than that of man ; and in her starry sliade 
 Of dim and solitary loveliness, 
 I learn'd the language of another world 
 I do remember me, that in my youth, 
 When I was wandering, — upon such a night 
 I stood within the Coloseum's wall, 
 'Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; 
 The trees which grew along the broken arches 
 Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars 
 Shone through the rents of ruin : from afar 
 The watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; and 
 More near from out the Caesars' palace came 
 The owl's long cry, and, mterruptedly, 
 Of distant sentinels the fitful song 
 Begun and died upon the gentle wind. 
 Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach 
 Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood 
 Within a bowshot — where the Caesars dwelt. 
 And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst 
 A grove which springs through Ifcvell'd battlements, 
 And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, 
 Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ;— 
 But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands, 
 A noble wreck in ruinous perfection ! 
 While Caesar's chambers, and the Augustan halls. 
 Grovel on earth in indistinct decay. — 
 And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 
 All this, and cast a wide and tender liglit, 
 Which softened down the hoar austerity 
 Of rugged desolation, and fiU'd up. 
 As 'twere, anew, the gaps of centuries ; 
 Leaving that beautiful which still was so, 
 And making that which was not, till the place 
 Became religion, and the heart ran o'er 
 With silent worship. 
 
 Bijron. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Two-coloured Heath. Erica bicolor. 
 Dedicated to St. Samthana. 
 
 UStrClllb^r 20. According to fabulous history, the vir- 
 tues of the hot springs at Bath, were dis- 
 
 3t Phihgonms, Bp. of Antioch, a. v. covered long before the christian era, by 
 
 322. St. Paul, of Latrus, or Lalra, Kladud, a British prince, who having 
 
 A. D. 956. been driven from his father's house be- 
 cause he was leprous, was reduced like 
 
 THE BATH SEASON. j,,g p,.odigal SOU to keep swine. His 
 
 Mr. Foster's letter, inserted on the 17lh pigs, says the story, had the same disease 
 
 instant, occasions the seasonable recol- as himself ; in their wanderings they came 
 
 lection, that this is the time when, in to this valley, and rolled in the mud where 
 
 fashionable language, " every body" goes these waters stagnated; and healed them, 
 
 to Bath. Whereupon prince Bladud, attaining 
 
 792 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 21. 
 
 unto the height of this great argument," 
 tried the same remedy with the same suc- 
 cess, and when he became king, built a 
 city upon the spot — the famous city of 
 Bath. 
 
 Nn.sh. 
 
 Beau Nash, the founder of the theatre 
 at Bath, made laws to regulate when and 
 where the company should assemble, and 
 when they should separate ; arranged the 
 tactics of the dance ; enacted the dress in 
 which ladies should appear ; and, if they 
 ventured to disobey, whatever was their 
 rank, turned them back. His strong sense 
 and sarcastic humour, being supported by 
 a prevailing sense of propriety, kept of- 
 fenders of this sort in awe. It has been 
 said that such a man in old times, would 
 have been selected for the king's fool ; he 
 seems to have considered himself in that 
 relation to the Bath visiters, and made 
 use of the privilege the character allowed 
 him. He lived on the follies of mankind, 
 and cultivated them. He gambled, and 
 his protits and his office required and 
 enabled him to live expensively, sport a 
 gay equipage, and keep a large retinue. 
 Vet he became old and lielpless, and 
 lived to need that charity which he had 
 never withheld from the needy, but which 
 none extended to him. He died poor, 
 neglected, and miserable ; and the inha- 
 bitants of Bath rewarded his services and 
 genius, in the usual manner; they erected 
 a statue to the honour of the man whom 
 they had suffered almost to starve. 
 
 His loss, to the assemblies was exem- 
 plified in a very remarkable manner. 
 Two ladies of quality quarrelled in the 
 ball-room. The company took part, some 
 on one side, some on the other : Nash 
 was gone, and his successor in office did 
 not inherit his authority: the partizans as 
 well as the combatants became outrageous, 
 a real battle-royal took place, and caps, 
 lappets, curls, cushions, diamond pins, 
 and pearls, strewed the floor of those 
 rooms, wherein during Nash's time order 
 was supreme. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Stone Pme. Pinux Pinea. 
 DtJicated to St. Philogonius. 
 
 Dercml^n* 21. 
 
 St. Thomas, the Apostle. St. Edbarge. 
 
 This apostle is in the church of England 
 calendar and almanacs. He is affirmed 
 to have travelled and promulgated Chris- 
 tianity among the Parthians, Medes, 
 Persians, and Carmenians, and to have 
 been the apostle of the Indies ; where he 
 effected numerous conversions, and by 
 his preaching raised the indignation of the 
 Bramins, who instigated the people against 
 him till they threw stones and darts at 
 him, and ended his life by running him 
 through the body with a lance. 
 
 It is said that the body of the apostle was 
 carried to the city of Edessa. On the dis- 
 covery of Malabar, by the Portuguese, they 
 found there the Nestorian christians of 
 St. Thomas, whom they treated as heretics, 
 and held a council, which passed decrees 
 for their purgation. Yet many of the 
 Malabarians still maintain the Nestorian 
 doctrines and ceremonies, and refuse to 
 acknowledge the authority of the pope. 
 
 Ribadeneira pretends that on the eve 
 of Christmas, in the church of St. Thomas 
 at Malabar, a stone cross commences to 
 shed blood as soon as the Jesuits begin to 
 say mass, " and not before." He says, 
 " The holy cross also begins, by little and 
 little, to change its natural colour, which 
 is white, turning into yellow, and after- 
 wards into black, and from black into 
 azure colour, until the sacrifice of the 
 mass being ended, it returns to its na- 
 tural colour : and that which augments 
 both admiration and devotion is, that, as 
 the holy cross changes its colours, it dis- 
 tils certain little drops of blood, and by 
 little and little they grow thicker, until 
 they fall in so great abundance that the 
 clothes with which they wipe it are dyed 
 with the same blood: and if any year this 
 miracle fail, it is held as a certain sign of 
 great calamity that is to come upon them, 
 as experience has shown them." Per- 
 haps it is further miraculous, that in a 
 country where there is liberty of thought 
 and speech, and a free press, no stone 
 cross will do the like 
 
 ST. THOMAS S DAY. 
 
 Going a goodlng on St. Tliomas's day 
 formerly prevailed in England. Women 
 begged money, and in return presented the 
 
 79o 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 22. 
 
 donors with sprigs of palm and branches 
 of primroses.* Mr. Ellis says, " tliis 
 practice is still kept up in Kent, in the 
 neighbourhood of JVIaidstone." Mr. Brand 
 adds, " My servant B. Jelkes, who is 
 from Warwickshire, informs me that there 
 is a custom in that county foi the poor on 
 St. Thomas's day to go with a bag to beg 
 c'orn of the farmers, which they call going 
 « corning." 
 
 LONDON ELECTIONS. 
 
 In London, on St. Thomas's day, waro- 
 motes are held for the election of the 
 inquest and common councilmen, and 
 other officers, who are annually chosen 
 for the service and representation of the 
 respective wards. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that the majority 
 of the inhabitants, in many wards, are 
 indifferent to these elections, and suffer 
 their ample franchise to run to waste, like 
 housewives who are careless of their ser- 
 viceable water ; hence important offices 
 are frequently filled by persons either 
 Ignorant of the duties they should dis- 
 cliarge, or indifferent to them, or unquali- 
 fied to understand them. 
 
 The Ward Inquests. 
 From " An Inquiry into the Nature 
 and Duties of the Office of Inquest Jury- 
 men," by Mr. Thomas Newell, of Crip^ 
 plegate Ward, published in 1825, it ap- 
 pears that the ward inquest should be 
 elected on St. Thomas's day, before the 
 common councilmen are elected, inas- 
 much as " the alderman is commanded 
 by his precept from the lord mayor, to 
 give all the articles of the precept in 
 charge to the inquest ; which they cannot 
 take charge of unless they are elected 
 tirst." It is now the common practice of 
 wardmotes, to elect the inquest last. This 
 has arisen, perhaps, from what may be 
 called, in the ordinary sense of the word, 
 the " political" importance usually at- 
 tached to the election of the common 
 councilmen, and by this means the in- 
 quest, though foremost in power, has been 
 degraded in rank, and sunk into compa- 
 rative insignificance. Withal it is to be 
 observed, that the inquest, with the al- 
 dermen, are the returning officers of 
 the election of the common council- 
 men ; so that where the practice 
 prevails of electing the inquest last, 
 such inquests are in fact constituted too 
 
 * fientleman'i Magazine, April, 1794. 
 
 late to take cognizance, as an inquest, of 
 the election of the common council, and 
 such inquests are consequently incompe- 
 tent upon their oaths, as inquest men, to 
 return the common councilmen as having 
 been truly and duly elected. 
 
 It appears further, that another extra- 
 ordinary inroad has been made in Lon 
 don, upon the right of the wardmote rn- 
 quests to return the jurors to serve in the 
 mayor's and sheriffs' courts of the city. 
 By some by-law or order of the court of 
 aldermen, that court claims to exercise 
 this most important and ancient right of 
 the wardmote inquests ; and issues a pre- 
 cept to the alderman of each ward, re- 
 quiring him to acquaint the inquest " that 
 they are not hereafter to intermeddle or 
 concern themselves rn the making of the 
 said returns." This mandate is said to 
 be conformed to at this time by all the in 
 quests ; so that the court of aldermen 
 seems to have obtained the inquests to 
 surrender their right to nominate the 
 juries in the city courts, without a struggle. 
 If the proceedings of the court of al- 
 dermen were illegal, it is clear that each 
 alderman, in his own ward, illegally dis- 
 possessed each inquest of its right, and 
 tlien, exercised their usurped power when 
 they met together as a court of alder- 
 men. 
 
 From the elections in each ward on 
 this day, the citizens are all in a hurry, 
 and there is much discussion at the few 
 remaining clubs and tavern parlours in 
 the different parishes, concerning the qua- 
 lifications of the respective candidates. 
 All freemen, being householders, are en- 
 titled 10 vote. 
 
 FLORAL or RECTORY. 
 
 Sparrowwort. Erica passerhm. 
 Dedicated to St. Thomas, Apostle. 
 
 ©ftember 22. 
 
 St. Ischyrion, a. d. 253. Sts. Cyril and 
 Methodius, a. d. 881. 
 
 Clark, the Miser of Dundee. 
 
 On the 22d of December, 1817, died, 
 at Dundee, aged sixty-six, Thomas Clark, 
 a labouring man, who, by dint of parsi- 
 mony and saving, had accumulateij pro- 
 perty to the amount of fiom 800/. to 
 lOOOt. before his death. There are per- 
 haps few authenticated instances of en- 
 durance which this person did not volun* 
 
 794 
 
THE EVERX-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 22. 
 
 larily submit to, in order to g^ratify his 
 ruling passion. He lived by himself, in a 
 small garret, in a filthy lane, called Tyn- 
 dal's Wynd. His diet consisted of a little 
 oatmeal, stirred into hot water, which he 
 begged from some one or other of the 
 neighbours every morning, to save the 
 expense of fuel. For many years he had 
 laboured under a painful disorder, but 
 would not put himself under the care of 
 a surgeon, fearful of the cost. Driven at 
 last to desperation by the intenseness of 
 his sufferings, about twelve months pre- 
 vious to liis decease, he sent for Mr. 
 Crichton, who found him lying, in the 
 most inclement season of the year, barely 
 covered by an old tattered blanket. The 
 furniture of the apartment consisted of 
 about a dozen pair of old shoes, some old 
 tuttered clothes, a plough-share, a wooden 
 dish, and horn spoon, a pair of scales 
 and weights, a tub for holding meal, and 
 an old crazy chair. Clark's disorder ha- 
 ving been ascertained to be stone in the 
 bladder, he was told that a surgical ope- 
 ration would be necessary for his relief. 
 This he expressed the utmost willingness 
 to undergo ; but when informed it would 
 also be necessary to have him removed to 
 a comfortable room, &c. his heart died 
 within him, and he said he must continue 
 as he was, until death relieved him. In 
 vain was he told that every thing needful 
 would be provided. He still persevered 
 in his determination. Leaving a trifle 
 with him to procure necessaries, Mr. 
 Crichton descended from the garret, and 
 made inquiry of the neighbours concern- 
 ing this miserable object ; from whom he 
 received the account narrated. Possessed 
 of this information he returned and rated 
 the wretch for his miserable disposition ; 
 but all that could be obtained, was a 
 promise to procure some bed-clothes, and 
 to allow the operation to be performed in 
 a room belonging to one of the neigh- 
 bours, and immediately to be hoisted 
 back to his own roost. The first morn- 
 Irig after the operation he was found 
 quarrelling and abusing the old woman 
 left in charge of him, for her extravagance 
 in making use of soap to wash the cloths 
 that were occasionally taken from under 
 him ; and he expressed great exultation 
 when she was given to understand that 
 soap was not absolutely necessary for the 
 purpose. A dose of castor oil that had 
 been prescribed for him, he would not 
 allow to be sent for; but in its place 
 swallowed a piece of soap, which, he said. 
 
 would equally answer the purpose, and 
 at much less cost. The cure going on 
 well, he was ordered some beef tea. The 
 parting with threepence every morning to 
 purchase half a pound of meat, was per- 
 fect torture, and recollecting a piece of 
 old rusty bacon, which he had formerly 
 picked up somewhere in his travels, lie 
 tried the expedient of converting part of 
 it into beef tea, and drank it with seem- 
 ing relish. Next morning, however, the 
 old woman, alarmed for the consequen- 
 ces, insisted peremptorily for money to 
 purchase fresh meat, at the same time 
 acquainting him that a supply of coals 
 was necessary. " The coals consumed 
 already ! Impossible ! They should have 
 served him for the winter ! She must have 
 carried off some of them ! Threepence 
 fur meat and eigliteen-pence for coals I 
 It's ruination! She must pack off imme- 
 diately ! But before she goes she must 
 account for the two shillings received on 
 the day of the operation 1" The pooi wo- 
 man being somewhat confused could not 
 bring to her recollection the disposal of 
 more than 1*. lOrf. It was then perfectly 
 plain she was robbing his room, and 
 ruining him by her extravagance, and she 
 must go to prison ! The garret was filled 
 with the neighbours, alarmed by his noisy 
 vociferation ; and nothing they could say 
 having pacified him, they sent for Mr. 
 Crichton, who thought it might be a wise 
 plan to leave him alone, and let him ma- 
 nage and feed himself in his own way. 
 By the help of a good constitution, lie 
 soon recovered his health, but never could 
 forget the expenses he had been put to 
 during his confinement. The failure also 
 of some people holding money of his in 
 their hands, tended much to embitter the 
 remainder of his life : and he was often 
 observed lamenting his misfortunes ; fre- 
 quently saying aloud, " all bankrupts 
 should be hanged !" There would be no 
 end to the detail of this miserable crea- 
 ture's miserable eccentricities. On a 
 bitter cold day, he went into one of the 
 neighbour's rooms to warm himself, before 
 ascending to his comfortless loft. The 
 next morning he was found almost stiff 
 with cold, and unable to move — the bed 
 clothes, which he had been made to pro- 
 vide himself with the year before, were 
 lying folded up in a corner ; he had not 
 the heart to use them. On Sunday he 
 lost the use of his faculties ; and on Men- 
 day he breathed his last. His only sur- 
 viving sister, a poor old woman, living 
 
 795 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER n. 
 
 somewhere in Strathmore, inherited his 
 property. 
 
 FLOKAt UIRECTOR-i. 
 
 Pellucid Heath. Erica pell adda. 
 Dedicated to iS^ Cynl. 
 
 Mtmwhtx: 23. 
 
 St. Servuiiis, a. d. 590. Ten Martyrs of 
 Crete. St. f^ictoria, a. u. 250. 
 
 A Trifiing Mistake. 
 
 In December, 1822, the Moriung 
 Chronicle sialfs the following whimsical 
 circumstance to have taken place at 
 the Black Swan inn, at York : — 
 
 An honest son of Neptune travelling 
 northwards, having put up there for the 
 night, desired the chambermaid to call 
 him early the next morning, as he wished 
 to proceed on his journey by the coach ; 
 and added, " as I am a very sound 
 sleeper, you will most likely be obliged 
 to come in and shake me." Accordingly 
 he left his door unfastened, and soon fell 
 asleep. The next morning when he 
 awoke, he found the sun was high, and 
 the coach must have left him some hours 
 behind. Vexation was his first feeling, 
 the next was that of vengeance against 
 the faithless Molly. Accordingly he pro- 
 ceeded to inform himself of the time of 
 day, that he might tax her accurately with 
 her omission, which was aggravated, in 
 his mind, by every additional hour that 
 he had lost ; but after groping for some 
 time under his pillow for his watch, it 
 iras not to be found ! This effectually 
 roused him, and he launched at once out 
 of bed, but no sooner found himself on 
 his feet, than he discovered that his 
 clothes had likewise vanished. It was 
 now evident to him that he had been 
 robbed ; however a little more rubbing of 
 the eyes convinced him that he must have 
 been also stolen himself, as the room, bed, 
 and furniture, were all strange to him ! 
 Indeed, he was positive in his own mind, 
 that he had never beheld them before. It 
 was equally clear to him that he had 
 gone to bed sober; so being completely 
 puzzled, Jack sate himself down on the 
 ted to " make a calculation," as he often 
 had don" at sea, in order to discover, if 
 possible, m what precise part of the 
 globe he just ihen happened to be, and 
 how he came there He had read of th** 
 enchanted carpet, by which persons could 
 be transDorted to the remo'est pa-ti of 
 
 the world in the twinkling of an eye ; but 
 he never had heard that tiiese fairy tricks 
 had been played at or near York, to 
 which place he had now distinctly traced 
 himself by his " log." His next thought 
 was to " take an observatoiti," by looking 
 out of the window, but he could observe 
 nothing but tops of houses. This view, 
 however, rejoiced his sight, for, thought 
 he, I am still in a civilized country ; this 
 place tnay be York^ where, if my senses do 
 not deceive me, I went to bed last night, 
 at all events I shall have justice done me. 
 But the enigma still remained unex- 
 plained, and poor Jack had no clothes to 
 go in quest of a solution. At last he spied 
 a bell-rope, and giving it a hearty tug, 
 leaped into bed again to wait the issue, 
 come who might. It was no enchanter 
 who answered this summons, but only 
 poor Molly. " So you are there, are you .' 
 Pray why did you not call me at seven 
 o'clock, as 1 desired you ?" " I did, sir, 
 but you did not answer me." " Then, 
 why did you not come in and shake me ."' 
 " [ did come in, sir, but you were gone." 
 " I tell you I have not been out of bed 
 all night; you must have gone to the 
 wrong room." " No, sir, I went to No. 
 22, the room that I put you in last 
 night; besides, there was your watch 
 under the pillow, your impression in the 
 bed, and your clothes placed ready for 
 putting on." " Then, where the devil 
 am I ? and how came I here ?" " You 
 are a story higher, sir ; just over your own 
 room." Our hero was now satisfied that 
 he had been rambling over the house 
 in his sleep, and had mistaken a story in 
 returning to his own room. He then re- 
 collected that this was a trick to which he 
 had been addicted when a boy, and he 
 devised that the fatigue of a long journey 
 had probably chiefly contributed to revive 
 his old habit. The whole affair was now 
 accounted for, and Molly proceeded to 
 fetch the clothes of the disenchanted 
 knight, resolving within herself never to 
 trust her own door open again, lest H 
 should be entered accidentally by som* 
 sleep-walking traveller. 
 
 FLOnAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Cedar ot Lebanon. Finns cedrui 
 Dedicated to St. Victoria. 
 
 79G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 Co t!)f iReatier. 
 
 1 am encouraged, by tlie approbation 
 of my labours, to persevere in tlie com- 
 pletion of my plan, and to continue this 
 little work next year as usual. 
 
 Not a sentence that has appeared in 
 the preceding sheets will be repeated, and 
 ir.f Engravings will be entirely new. 
 
 btteuiber, 1825. W. Hone. 
 
 JDcrnnber 24. 
 
 Sts. ThraslUa and Emiltana. St. Gregory 
 of Spoleto, A. D. 304. 
 
 CI)n'dtma5 &t. 
 
 This is the vigil of that solemn fe,-tival 
 which commemorates the day that gave 
 •' To man a saviour — freedom to the slave? 
 
 CALABRIAN SHEFHEEDS PLAYING IN ROME AT CHRISTMAS. 
 
 797 
 
IHE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 In tlie last days of Advent the Cala- 
 brian minstrels enter Rome, and are to be 
 seen in every street saluting the shrines 
 of tiie virgin mother with their wild music, 
 under the traditional notion of soothing 
 her until the birth-time of her infant at 
 the approaching Christmas. This circum- 
 stance is related by lady Morgan, who 
 observed them frequently stopping at the 
 shop of a carpenter. To ajuestions con- 
 cerning this practice, the workmen, who 
 stood at the door, said it was done out of 
 respect to St. Joseph. The preceding 
 engraving, representing this custom, is 
 from a clever etching by D. Allan, a 
 Scottish artist of great merit. In Air. 
 Burford's excellent panorama of the ruins 
 ofPompeii,exhibitedinthe Strand, groups 
 of these peasantry are celebrating the fes- 
 tival of the patron saint of the master of 
 a vineyard. The printed " Description '' 
 of the panorama says, these mountaineer': 
 are called Plfferari, and " play a pips 
 very similar in form and sound to the 
 bagpipes of the Highlanders." It is 
 added, as lady Morgan before observed, 
 that "just before Christmas they descend 
 from the mountains to Naples and Rome, 
 in order to play before the pictures of the 
 Virgin and Child, which are placed in 
 various parts of every Italian town." In 
 a picture of the Nativity by Raphael, he 
 has introduced a shepherd at the door 
 play'ng on the bagpipes. 
 
 Christmas Carols, 
 
 Carol is said to be derived from cantare, 
 to sing, and rola, an interjection of joy.* 
 It is rightly observed by Jeremy Taylor, 
 tliat " Glory to God in the highest, on 
 earth peace, and good-will towards men," 
 the song of the angels on the birth of the 
 Saviour, is the first Christmas carol. 
 
 Anciently, bishops carolled at Christmas 
 among their clergy ; but it would be 
 diverging into a wide field to exemplify 
 ecclesiastical practices on this festival ; 
 and to keep close to the domestic usages 
 of the season, church customs of that kind 
 will not now be noticed. 
 
 In Mr. Brand's " Popular Antiquities," 
 he gives the subjoined Anglo-Norman 
 carol, from a MS. in the British Museum,f 
 with the accompanying translation by his 
 " very learned and communicative friend, 
 Mr. Douce ; in which it will easily be 
 
 • T5oiirne in Brand's Antiquities 
 t Bib. Rjjf. 16.E.VII1, 
 
 observed that the translator has neces- 
 sarily been obliged t> amplify, but endea- 
 vours every where to preserve the sense 
 of the original." | 
 
 Anglo-Norman Carol. 
 
 Sci^nors ore entendez a r.us, 
 De loinz sumcs venuz a wous. 
 
 Pur quere Noel ; 
 Car lam nus dit que en cest hostel 
 Soleit tenir sa feste anuel 
 Ahi cest iiir. 
 
 Deu dnint a tnz iccls joie d'amurs 
 Qi a DANZ Noel ferunt honors. 
 
 4 
 
 Seif^nors io vus di por voir 
 Ke DANZ Noel ae uelt aveir 
 
 Si joie non ; 
 E repleni sa maison, 
 Dc payn, de char, & de peison. 
 
 Par faire honor. 
 
 Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur. 
 
 Seignors il est crie en lost, 
 £)e cil qui despent bien & tost^ 
 
 E largement ; 
 E fet les granz honors sovent 
 Deu li diible quanque il despent 
 
 Por faire honor. 
 Deu doint a. 
 
 Seignors escriez les malvcis. 
 Car vus nel les troverez janieis 
 
 De bone part : 
 Botun, batun, fcrun groinard, 
 Car tot dis a le quer cuuard 
 
 Por faire honor. 
 Deu doint. 
 
 Noel beyt hein li vin Engleis 
 E li Gascoin & li Franceys 
 
 E I'Angeuin . 
 Noel fait beivre son veisin, 
 Si quil se dort, le chief en clin, 
 
 Sovent le ior. 
 
 Deu doint . tuz eels. 
 
 Seignors io vus di par Noel, 
 E par li sires de cest hostel. 
 
 Car benez ben : 
 E io primes beurai le men, 
 E pois apres chescon le soen, 
 
 Par mon conseil, 
 Si io vus di trestoz Wesseyl 
 Dehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl. 
 
 Translnlion. 
 
 Now, lordings, listen to our ditty. 
 
 Strangers coming from afar ; 
 I<et poor niinstiels move your pity. 
 
 Give us welcome, soothe our care 
 In this mansion, as they tell us, 
 
 Cliristnias wassell keeps to day; 
 And, as the king of all good fellows, 
 
 Reigns with uncontrouled sway. 
 
 798 
 
THE EVKTIY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 Loi-oings, in these realms of pleasure. 
 
 Father Chiistinas yearly dwells ; 
 Deals out joy with Hheral measure. 
 
 Gloomy sorrow soon dispels . 
 Numerous guests, and viands dainty, 
 
 Fill the hall and grace the hoard ; 
 IV'iirth and beauty, peace and plenty. 
 
 Solid pleasures here afford. 
 
 Loi-dings, 'tis said the liberal mind, 
 
 'I'hat on tlie needy much bestows, 
 From Heav'n a sure reward shall find ; 
 
 From Heav'n, whence ev'ry blessing' 
 flows. 
 Who largely gives with willing hand, 
 
 Or quickly gives with willing heart, 
 His fame shall spread throughout the land, 
 
 His memory thence shall ne'er depart. 
 
 Lordings, grant not your protection 
 
 To a base, unworthy crew, 
 But cherish, with a kind affection. 
 
 Men that are loyal, good, and true. 
 Chace from your hospitable dwelling 
 
 Swinish souls, that ever crave ; 
 Virtue they can ne'er excel in. 
 
 Gluttons never can be brave. 
 
 Lordings, Christmas loves good drinkins;, 
 
 Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,* 
 English ale, that drives out thinking, 
 
 Prince of liquors old or new. 
 Every neighbour shares the bowl, 
 
 Drinks of the spicy liquor deep, 
 Drinks his fill without controul. 
 
 Till he drowns his care in sleep. 
 
 And no(v — by Christmas, jolly soul ! 
 
 By this mansion's generous sire ' 
 By the wine, and by the bowl, 
 
 And all the joys they both inspire ! 
 Here FU drink a health to all . 
 
 Tiie glorious task shall first be mine : 
 And ever may foul luck befal 
 
 Him that to pledge me shall decline ' 
 
 THE CHORUS. 
 
 Hail, father Christmas ! hail to thee . 
 Honour'd ever shalt thou be ! 
 All the siveets that love bestows, 
 Endless pleasures, wait on those 
 Who, like vassals brave and true. 
 Give to Christmas homage due. 
 
 From what has been observed of Christ- 
 mas carols in anothei work, by the editor, 
 a few notices will be subjoined with 
 this remark, that the custom of singing 
 carols at Christmas is very ancient; and 
 though most of those that exist at the pre- 
 sent day are deficient of interest to a re- 
 fined ear, yet they are calculated to awaken 
 
 * Gascoigne and Aninu, being at tliis timP under 
 the dominion of tlie English sovereigns, were not 
 'egarded as part or France. 
 
 tender feelings. For instance, ono of 
 
 them represents the virgin coutemplatit.g 
 the birth of the infant, and saying, 
 
 " He neither shall be clothed 
 
 in purple nor in pall. 
 But all in fair linen, 
 
 as were babies all : 
 He neither shall he rock'd 
 
 in silver nor in gold. 
 But in a wooden cradle, 
 
 that rocks on the mould.* 
 
 Not to multiply instances at present, 
 let it suffice that in a MS. at the British 
 Museum* there is " A song on the holly 
 and the ivy,'' beginning, 
 " Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys. 
 Let holy hafe the maystiy, as the nianer ys : 
 
 " Holy stond in the hall, fayre to behold, 
 Ivy stond without the dore, she ys ful sore 
 acold. " Nay my nay," &c, 
 
 "Holy, & hys mery men, they dawnsyn and 
 
 they syng. 
 Ivy and hur maydyns, they wepyn & they 
 
 wryng. " Nay my nay," &c. 
 
 The popularity of carol-singing occa- 
 sioned the publication of a duodecimo 
 volume in 1642, intituled. " Psalmes or 
 Songs of Sion, turned into the language, 
 and set to the tunes of a strange land. 
 By W(illiam) S(latyer), intended for 
 Christmas carols, and fitted to divers of 
 the most noted and common but solemne 
 tunes, every where in this land familiarly 
 used and knowne." L^pon the copy of 
 this book in the British Museum, a former 
 possessor has written the names of some 
 of the tunes to which the author designed 
 them to be sung : for instance, Psalm 6, 
 to the tune of Jane Shore ; Psalm 19, tc 
 Bar. Forster's Dreame ; Psalm 43, to 
 Crimson Velvet ; Psalm 47, to Garden 
 Greene ; Psalm 84, to The fairest Nymph 
 of the Valleys ; kc. 
 
 In a carol, still sung, called " Dives 
 andLazarus,"there is this amusing account*. 
 " As it fell it out, upon a day. 
 
 Rich Dives sickcn'd and died. 
 There came two serpents out of hell. 
 
 His soul therein to guide. 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, brother Dives, 
 
 And come along with me, 
 For you've a place provided in hell. 
 
 To sit upon a serpent's knee." 
 
 However whimsical this may appear to 
 the reader, he can scarcely conceive its 
 ludicrous effect, when the " serpent's 
 
 * Harl.Coli.53«. 
 
 799 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 24 
 
 knee" is solemnly drawn out to its utmost 
 length by a Warwickshire chanter, and as 
 solemnly listened to by the well-disposed 
 crowd, who seem, without dimculty, to 
 believe that Dives sits on a serpent's knee. 
 The idea of sitting on this knee was, per- 
 haps, conveyed to the poet's mind by old 
 wood-cut representations of Lazarus seated 
 in Abraham's lap. More anciently, Abra- 
 ham was frequently drawn holding him 
 up by the sides, to be seen by Dives in 
 hell. In an old book now before me, 
 they are so represented, with the addition 
 of a devil blowing the fire under Dives 
 ■with a pair of bellows. 
 
 Carols begin to be spoken of as not 
 belonging to this century, and few, per- 
 haps, are aware of the number of these 
 compositions now printed. The editor of 
 the Evert/Day Book has upwards of 
 ninety, all at this time, published annually .- 
 
 This collection he has had little oppor- 
 tunity of increasing, except when in the 
 country he has heard an old woman sing- 
 ing an old carol, and brought back the 
 carol in his pocket with Ifss chance of its 
 escape, than the tune in his head. 
 
 Mr. Southey, describing the tight " upon 
 the plain of Patay," tells of one who fell, 
 as having 
 
 "la his lord's castle dwelt, for many a year, 
 A well-beloved servant : he could sing 
 Carols for Shrove-tide, or for Candlemas, 
 Songs for the wassel,and when the boar's head 
 Crown'd with gay garlands, and with rose- 
 mary, 
 Smuak'd on the Christmas board." 
 
 Joa7i of Arc, b. x. 1. 466. 
 
 These ditties, which now exclusively 
 enliven the industrious servant-maid, and 
 the humble labourer, gladdened the fes- 
 tivity of royalty in ancient times. Henry 
 VII., in the third year of his reign, kept 
 hisChristmas at Greenwich : on the twelfth 
 night, after high mass, the king went to 
 the hall, and kept his estate at the table ; 
 in the middle sat the dean, and those of 
 the king's chapel, who, immediately after 
 the king's first course, " sang a curall."* — 
 Granger innocently observes, that " they 
 that fill the highest and the lowest classes 
 of human life, seem in many respects to 
 be more nearly allied than even themselves 
 imagine. A skilful anatomist would find 
 little or no difference in dissecting the 
 body of a king, and that of the meanest 
 of his subjects ; and a judicious philo- 
 
 * Ltland. Collect, vol. iv.p. 23r. 
 
 sopher would discover a surprising con- 
 formity in discussing the nature and qua 
 lities of their minds."* 
 
 The earliest collection of Christmas 
 carols supposed to have been published, 
 is only known from the last leaf of f 
 volume printed by Wynkn de Worde, in 
 the year 1521. This precious scrap was 
 picked up by Tom Hearne ; Dr. Rawlin- 
 son purchased it at his decease in a vo- 
 lume of tracts, and bequeathed it to the 
 Bodleian library. There are two carols 
 upon it : one, " a caroll of huntynge," is 
 reprinted in the last edition of Juliana 
 Berners' " Boke of St.Alban's ;" the other, 
 " a caroll, bringing in the bore's head," is 
 in Mr.Dibdin's "Ames," with a copy of it 
 as it is now sung in Queen's-coUege, Ox- 
 ford, every Christmas-day. Dr. Bliss, of 
 Oxford, also printed on a sheet for private 
 distribution, a few copies of this and Ant. 
 a Wood's version of it, with notices con- 
 cerning the custom, from the hand-writ- 
 ings of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the 
 Bodleian library. Ritson, in his ill-tem- 
 pered *' Observations on Warton's History 
 of English Poetry," (1782, 4to. p. 37,) has 
 a Christmas carol upon bringing up the 
 boar's head, from an ancient MS. in his 
 possession, wholly , -different from Dr. 
 Bliss's. The " Bibliographical Miscella- 
 nies," (Oxford, 1813, 4to ) contains seven 
 carols from a collection in one volume in 
 the possession of Dr Cotton, of Christ- 
 church-college, Oxford, " imprynted at 
 London, in the Powitry, by Richard Kele, 
 dwellyng at the longe shop vnder saynt 
 Myldrede's Chyrche,'' probably " between 
 1 546 and 1552 :" I had an opportunity of 
 perusing this exceedingly curious volume, 
 which is supposed to be unique, and has 
 since passed into the hands of Mr. Free- 
 ling. There are carols among the Godly 
 and Spiritual Songs and Balates, in 
 " ScottishPoems of the sixteenth century," 
 (1801, 8vo.); and one by Dunbar, from 
 the Bannatyne MS. in " Ancient Scottish 
 Poems." Others are in Mr. Ellis's edition 
 ot Brand's " Popular Antiquities," with 
 several useful notices. Warton's " History 
 of English Poetry" contains much concern- 
 ing old carols. Mr. Douce, in his" Illus- 
 trations of Shakspeare," gives a specimet 
 of the carol sung by the shepherds, on the 
 birtii of Christ, in one of the Coventry 
 ]ilays. There is a sheet of carols headed 
 thus : " Chkisti's Natus Est: Christ ia 
 burn ;" with a wood-cut 10 inches high, 
 
 • Bios Hut. Engl. ed. 1B04, vol. iv. p. 3M 
 
 800 
 
THE EVERY-BAY BOOR.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 by Ri inches wide, representing the stable 
 at Bethlehem ; Christ in the cnb, watched 
 by the virgin and Joseph ; shepherds 
 kneeling; angels attending ; a man play- 
 ing on the bagpipes ; a woman with a 
 basket of fruit on her head ; a sheep 
 blea ing, and an ox lowing on the ground ; 
 a raven croaking, and a crow cawing on 
 the hay-rack ; a cock crowing above them ; 
 and angels singing in the sky. The ani- 
 mals have labels from their mouths, bear- 
 ing Latin inscriptions. Down the side of 
 the wood-cut is the following account and 
 explanation : " A religious man, inventing 
 the conceits of both birds and beasts, 
 drawn in the picture of our Saviour's 
 birth, doth thus express them : the cock 
 croweth, Christus natns est, Christ is 
 born. The raven asked, Quando ? When ? 
 The crow replied, Hac nocte. This night. 
 The nx cryeth out, Ubi ? Ubi? Where.' 
 where? The sheep bleated out, Bethle- 
 hem, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven 
 sounded, Gloria in Excehis, Glory be on 
 high — London : printed and sold by J. 
 Bradford, in Little Britain, the corner 
 house over against the Purnp, 1 701 . Price 
 One Penny." This carol is in the posses- 
 sion of Mr. Upcott. 
 
 The custom of singing carols at Christ- 
 inas prevails in Ireland to the present 
 
 time. In Scotland, where no church feasts 
 have been kept since the days of John 
 Knox, the custom is unknown. In Wales 
 it is still preserved to a greater extent, 
 perhaps, than in England; at a former 
 period, the Welsh had carols adapted to 
 most of the ecclesiastical festivals, and the 
 four seasons of the yeai, but in our times 
 they are limited to that of Christmas. 
 After the turn of midnight at Christmas- 
 eve, service is performed in the churches, 
 followed by the singing of carols to the 
 harp. Whilst the Christmas holidays 
 continue, they are sung in like manner in 
 the houses, and there ace carols especially 
 adapted to be sung at the doors of the 
 houses by visiters before they enter. 
 Lfftjr Carolan, or the book of carols, con- 
 tains sixty-six for Christmas, and five 
 summer carols ; Blodcugerdd Cymrii, or 
 the " Anthology of Wales," contains forty- 
 eight Christmas carols, nine summer 
 carols, three May carols, one winter carol, 
 one nightingale carol, and a carol to Cupid. 
 The following verse of a carol for Christ- 
 mas is literally translated from the first 
 mentioned volume. The poem was writ- 
 ten by Hugh Morris, a celebrated song- 
 wrirer during the commonwealth, and 
 until the early part of the reign of Wil- 
 liam III :— 
 
 " To a saint let us not pray, to a pope let us not kneel ; 
 On Jesu let us depend, and let us discreetly watch 
 To preserve our souls from Satan with his snares; 
 Let us not in morning invoke any one else." 
 
 With the succeeding translation of a Welsh, the lines of each couplet, repeatti 
 Welsh wassail song, the observer of inversely, still keep the same sense, 
 manners will, perhaps, be pleased. In 
 
 A Carol for the Eve of St. Mary's Day. 
 
 This is the season when, agreeably to custom, 
 
 That it was an honour to send wassatl 
 
 By the old people who were happy 
 
 In their time, and loved pleasure ; 
 
 And we are now purposing 
 
 To be like them, every o.r'S merry : 
 
 JMerry and foolish, youths are wont to be, 
 
 Being reproached for squandering abroad. 
 
 I know that every mirth will end 
 
 Too soon of itself; 
 
 Before it is ended, here comes 
 
 'J'lie wassail of IVIary, for the sake of the time : 
 
 N * place the maid immediately 
 
 In the chair before us ; 
 
 * Here the master or miEtresi of the house was calU d on bjr 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 801 
 
 3 F 
 
THE EVERY-DAY ROOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 And let every body in the house lie content that we 
 
 May drink waxsail to virginity, 
 
 To remember the time, in faithfulness. 
 
 When fair Mary was at the sacrifice. 
 
 After the birth to her of a son, 
 
 Who delivered every one, tlirough his good will 
 
 From their sins, without doubt. 
 
 Should there be an inquiry who made the carol. 
 He is a man whose trust is fully on God, 
 That he shall go to heaven to the effulgent Maiy, 
 Towards filling the orders where she also is. 
 
 TuOMikS EVAVS. 
 
 Jn the rage for " collecting" almost 
 every thing, it is surprising that " collec- 
 tors" have almost overlooked carols as a 
 class of popular poetry. To ine they have 
 been objects of interest from circumstan- 
 ces which occasionally determine the 
 direction of pursuit. The wood-cuts 
 round the annual sheets, and the melody 
 of " God rest yon merry gentlemen," de- 
 lighted my childhood ; and I still listen 
 with pleasure to the shivering carolisl's 
 evening chant towards the clean kitchen 
 window decked with holly, the Haring 
 fire showing the whitened hearth, and re- 
 riecting gleams of light from the surfaces 
 of the dresser utensils. 
 
 Davies Gilbert, Esq. F.R.S. F.A.S. 
 fee. has published " Ancient Christ- 
 inis carols, with the tunes to which they 
 were formerly sung in the west of Eng- 
 land." Mr. Gilbert says, that " on 
 Christmas-day these carols took the place 
 of psalms in all the churches, especially 
 at afternoon service, the whole congre- 
 gation joining : and at the end it was 
 usual for the parish clerk, to declare in a 
 loud voice, his wishes for a merry Christ- 
 mas and a happy new year." 
 
 In " Poor Robin's Almanac," for 169.'), 
 there is a Christmas carol, which is there 
 called, " A Christmas Song," beginning 
 thus : — 
 
 Now thrice welcome, Christmas, 
 
 Which brings us good cheer, 
 Minced-pies and plumb-porridge, 
 
 Good ale and strong beer ; 
 With pig, goose, and capon, 
 
 The best that may be, 
 So well doth the weather 
 
 And our stomachs agree. 
 
 Observe how the chimneys 
 
 Do smoak all about, 
 The cooks are providing 
 
 For dinner, no doubt ; 
 But those on whose tables 
 
 No victuals appear, 
 O, may tiiey keep Lent 
 
 /ill the rest of the year 
 
 With holly and ivy 
 
 So green and so gay ; 
 We deck up our houses 
 
 As fresh as the day. 
 With bays and rosemary 
 
 And laurel compleat, 
 And every one now 
 
 Is a king in conceit. 
 
 So much only concerning carols for the 
 present. But more shall be said hereon 
 in the year 182G, if the editor of the 
 Everxj-Day Book live, and retain his facul- 
 ties to that time. He now, howeviT, ear- 
 nestly requests of every one of its readers 
 in every part of England, to collect every 
 carol that may Y^ sinyng at Christmas 
 time in the yeai J8'25, and convey these 
 carols to him at th ,ir earliest convenience, 
 with accounts of manners and customs 
 peculiar to their neighbourhood, which 
 are not already noticed in this work. He 
 urges and solicits this most earnestly and 
 anxiously, and prays his readers not to 
 forget that he is a serious and needy 
 suitor. They see the nature of the work, 
 and he hopes that any thing and every 
 thing that they think pleasant or re- 
 markable, they will find some means of 
 communicating to him without delay. 
 The most agreeable presents he can re- 
 ceive at any season, will be contributions 
 and hints that may enable him to blend 
 useful information with easy and cheerful 
 amusement. 
 
 CUSTOMS ON 
 
 Mr. Coleridge writing his " Friend," 
 from Ratzeburg, in the north of Ger- 
 many, mentions a practice on Christmas- 
 eve very similar to some on December 
 the 6th, St. Nicholas'-day. Mr. Coleridge 
 says, " There is a Christmas custom here 
 which pleased and interested me. The 
 children make little presents to their 
 parents, and to each other, and the pa- 
 rents to their children. For three or four 
 
 802 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 24. 
 
 months before Christmas the girls are ail 
 busy, and the boys save up their pocket- 
 money to buy these presents. What the 
 present is to be is cautiously kept secret ; 
 and the girls have a world of contrivances 
 to conceal it — such as working when they 
 are out on visits, and the others are not, 
 with them — getting up in the morning 
 before day-light, 8cc. Then, on the even- 
 ing before Christmas-day, one of the par- 
 lours is lighted up by the children, into 
 which the parents must not go; a great 
 yew bough is fastened on the table at a 
 little distance from the wall, a multitude 
 of little tapers are fixed in the bough, but 
 not so as to burn it till they are nearly 
 consumed, and coloured paper, See haiigs 
 and flutters from the twigs. Under this 
 bough the children lay out in great order 
 the presents thej mean for their parents, 
 still concealing in their pockets what they 
 intend for eacli other. Tiien the parents 
 are introduced, and each presents his little 
 gift; they then bring out the remainder 
 one by one, from their pockets, and pre- 
 sent them with kisses and embraces. 
 Where I witnessed this scene, there were 
 eight or nine children, and the eldest 
 daughter and the mother wept aloud for joy 
 and tenderness; and the tears ran down 
 the face of the father, and he clasped all 
 his children so ti'^ht to his breast, it 
 seemed as if he did it to stifle the sob that 
 was rising within it. I was very much 
 affected. The shadow of the bough and its 
 appendages on the wall, and arching over 
 on the ceiling, made a pretty picture ; and 
 then the raptures of the venj little ones, 
 when at last the twigs and their needles 
 bej in to take fire and snap — U it was a 
 deligiit to them ! — On the next day, 
 {Christmas-day) in the great parlour, the 
 parents lay out on the table the presents 
 for the children ; a scene of more sober 
 joy succeeds ; as on this day, after an old 
 custom, the mother says privately to each 
 of her daughters, and the father to his 
 sons, that which he has observed most 
 praiseworthy and that which was most 
 faulty in their conduct. Formerly, and 
 still in all the smaller towns and villages 
 throughout North Germany, these presents 
 were sent by all the parents to some one 
 fellow, who, in high buskins, a white robe, 
 a mask, and an enormous flax wig, per- 
 sonates Knecht Rupert, i. e. the servant 
 Rupert. On Christmas-night he goes 
 round to every house, and says, that Jesus 
 Ciirist, his master, sent him thither. The 
 parents and elder children receive him 
 
 with great pomp and reverence, wh'we tne 
 little ones are most terribly frightened. 
 He then inquires for the children, and, 
 according to the character which he hears 
 from the parents, he gives them the in- 
 tended present, as if they came out of 
 heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they 
 should have been bad children, he gives 
 the parents a rod, and, in the name of his 
 master, recommeiids them to use it fre- 
 quently. About seven or eight years old 
 the children are let into the secret, and it 
 is curious how faithfully they keep it." 
 
 A correspondent to the " Gentlemuri's 
 Magazine," says, that when he was a 
 school-boy^ it was a practice on Christmas- 
 eve to roast apples on a string till they 
 dropt into a large bowl of spiced ale, 
 which is the whole composition of lamb's 
 wool. Brand thinks, that this popular 
 beverage obtained its name from the soft- 
 ness of the composition, and he quotes 
 from Shakspeare's " Midsummer-Night's 
 Dream," 
 
 " Sometimes lurk I in a gossi 
 
 ps 
 
 bowl, 
 
 la very likeness of a roasted cr;ib ; 
 And, when she drinks, aj^ainst her lips T bob, 
 And on her witlier'd dew-lap pour the ale." 
 
 It was formerly a custom in England 
 on Christmas-eve to ivassail, or wish 
 health to the apple-tree. Herrick enjoins 
 to — 
 
 " Wassaile the trees, that they may beare 
 You many a plum, and many a peare ; 
 For more or lesse fiuits they will bring, 
 And you do give them wassailing." 
 
 In 1 790, it was related to Mr. Brand, 
 by sir Thomas Acland, at Werington, 
 that in his neighbourhood on Christmas- 
 eve it was then customary for the country 
 people to sing a wassail or drinking-song, 
 and throw the toast from the wassail-bowl 
 to the apple-trees in order to have a fiuit- 
 ful year. 
 
 " Pray remember," says T. N. of Cam- 
 bridge, to the editor of the Every-Day 
 Book, " that it is a Christmas custom 
 from time immemorial to send and receive 
 presents and congratulations from one 
 friend to another; and, could the number 
 of baskets that enter London at this season 
 be ascertained, it would be astonishing ; 
 exclusive of those for sale, the number and 
 weight of turkeys only, would surpass 
 belief. I"rom a historical account ol 
 Norwich it appears, that between Satur- 
 
 803 
 
THE EVEIIY-DAY BOOK—DECEMBER 24. 
 
 day morning and the night of Sunday, 
 December 22, 1793, one thousand seven 
 hundred turkeys, weighing 9 tons, 2 cwt. 
 2 lbs. value 680/. were sent from Norwich 
 to Lonaon ; and two days after half as 
 many more." 
 
 " Now," says Stevenson, in his Twelve 
 Mouths, 1661, " capons and hens, besides 
 turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mut- 
 ton, must all die; for in twelve days a 
 multitude of people will not be fed with 
 a little. Now plums and spice, sugar 
 and honey, square it among pies and 
 broth. Now a journeyman cares not a 
 rush for his master, thoug. le begs his 
 plum-porridge all the twelve days. Now 
 or never must the music be in tune, for 
 llie youth must dance and sing to get 
 them a heat, while the aged sit by the 
 fire. The country-maid leaves half her 
 market, and must be sent again if she 
 forgets a pack of cards on Christmas-eve. 
 Great is the contention of holly and ivy, 
 whether master or dame wears the 
 breeches ; and if the cook do not lack wit, 
 he will sweetly lick his fingers." 
 
 Mr. Leigh Hunt's Indicator presents 
 this Christmas picture to our contempla- 
 tion — full of life and beauty : — 
 
 Holiday Children. 
 
 One of the most pleasing sights at this 
 festive season is the group of boys and 
 girls returned from school. Go where 
 you will, a cluster of their joyous chubby 
 faces present themselves to our notice. 
 In the streets, at the panorama, or play- 
 house, our elbows are constantly assailed 
 by some eager urchin whose eyes just 
 peep beneath to get a nearer view. 
 
 I am more delighted in watching the 
 vivacious workings of their ingenuous 
 countenances at these Christmas shows, 
 than at the sights themselves. 
 
 From the tirst joyous huzzas, and loud 
 blown horns which announce their arrival, 
 to the faint attempts at similar mirth on 
 their return, I am interested in these 
 youngsters. 
 
 Observe the line of chaises with their 
 iwarm-like loads hurrying to tender and 
 exulting parents, the sickly to be cherish- 
 ed, the strong to be amused ; in a few 
 mornings you shall see them, new clothes, 
 warm gloves, gathering around their 
 mother at every toy-shop, claiming the 
 promised bat, hoop, top, or marbles ; 
 
 mark her kind smile at their ecstacies , 
 her prudent shake of the head at their 
 multitudinous demands; her gradual 
 yielding as they coaxing'.y drag her in • 
 her patience with their whims and cla- 
 mour while they turn and toss over the 
 play-things, as now a sword, and now a 
 hoop is their choice, and like their elders 
 the possession of nne bauble does but 
 make them s<gh for another. 
 
 View the fond father, his pet little girl 
 by the hand, his boys walking before on 
 whom his proud eye rests, while ambiti- 
 ous views float o'er his mind for them, 
 and make him but half attentive to their 
 repeated inquiries; while at the Museum 
 or Picture-gallery, his explanations are 
 interrupted by the rapture of discovering 
 that his children are already well ac- 
 quainted with the different subjects ex- 
 hibited. 
 
 Stretching half over the boxes at the 
 theatre, adoi-ned by maternal love, see 
 their enrap'ured faces now turned to the 
 galleries wondering at their height and at 
 the number of regular placed heads con- 
 tained in them, now directed towards the 
 green cloud which is so lingeringly kept 
 between them and their promised bliss. 
 The half-peeled orange laid aside when the 
 play begins; their anxiety for that which 
 they unders-tand; their honest laughter 
 which runs thr&ugh the house like a 
 merry peal of sweet bells ; the fear of the 
 little girl lest they should discover the 
 person hid behind the screen ; the exul- 
 tation of the boy v.hen the hero conquers. 
 
 But, oh, the i^apture when the panto- 
 mime commences! Ready to leap out of 
 the box, they joy in the mischief of the 
 clown, laugh at the thwacks he gets for 
 his meddling, and feel no small portion 
 of contempt for his ignorance in not 
 knowing that hot water will «cald and 
 gunpowder explode; while with ht^d 
 aside to give fresh energy to the strokes, 
 they ring their little palms against each 
 other in testimony of exuberant delight. 
 
 Who can behold them without reflect- 
 ing on the many passions that now lie 
 dormant in their bosoms, to be in a few 
 years agitating themselves and the world. 
 Here the coquet begins to appear in the 
 attention paid to a lace frock or kid 
 gloves for the first time displayed, or the 
 domestic tyrant in the selfish boy, wha 
 snatches the largest cake, or thrusts his 
 younger brother and sister from the besf 
 place. 
 
 At no season of the year are their holi- 
 
 80^ 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —DEC EMBER 94. 
 
 da>< so rejileie with pleasures; the ex- 
 ])ecied Christmas-box from grand-papa 
 and grand-ir.amma; plum-pudding and 
 s.aap-dragon, with blind man's-buff and 
 forfeits ; perhaps to witness a juvenile 
 play rehearsed and ranted ; galanlee-show 
 and drawing for twelfth-cake ; besides 
 Christmas gambols in abundance, new 
 aud old. 
 
 Even the poor charity-boy at this sea- 
 
 son feels a transient glow of cheerfulness, 
 as with pale blue face, frost-nipped hands 
 and ungreatcoated, from door to door, he 
 timidly displays the unblotted scutcheon 
 of his graphic talents, and feels that the 
 pence bestowed are his own, and that for 
 once in his life he may taste the often 
 desired tart, or spin a top which no one 
 can snatch from him in capricious 
 tyranny. 
 
 ANCIENT REPRESENTATION OF THE NATIVITY. 
 
 THE OX AND THE ASS at night OH Christmas-eve, the oxen in 
 
 According to Mr. Brand, " a super- their stalls are always found on their 
 
 stitious notion prevails in the western knees, as in an attitude of devotion ; and 
 
 pa vts of Devonshire, that at twelve o'clock that (which is sti" more singular) since 
 
 805 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOKED ECEMBER 25. 
 
 the alteration of the style, they continue 
 to do this only on the eve of old Christ- 
 mas-day. An honest countryman, living 
 on the edge of St. Stephen's Down, near 
 Launceston, Cornwall, informed me, 
 October 28, 1790, that he once, with 
 some others, made a trial of the truth of 
 the above, and watching several oxen in 
 their stalls at the above time, at twelve 
 o'clock at night, they observed the two 
 oldest oxen only fall upon their knees, 
 and, as he expressed it in the idiom of 
 the country, make * a cruel moan like 
 christian creatures.' I could not but with 
 great dilTiculty keep my countenance : he 
 saw, and seemed angry that I gave so 
 little credit to his tale, and, walking off in 
 a pettish humour, seemed to ' marvel at 
 my unbelief.' There is an old print of 
 the Nativity, in which the oxen in the 
 stable, near the virgin and the child, are 
 represented upon their knees, as m a sup- 
 pliant posture. This graphic representa- 
 tion has probably given rise to the above 
 superstitious notion on this head." Mr. 
 Brand refers to " an old print," as if he 
 had only observed one witli this repre- 
 sentation ; whereas, they abound, and to 
 the present day the ox and the ass are iu 
 the wood-cuts of the nativity on our com- 
 mon Christmas carols. Sannazarius, a 
 Latin poet of the fifteenth century, in his 
 poem De Partu Virghus, which he was 
 several years in composing, and twenty 
 years in revising, and which chiefly con- 
 ributed to the celebrity of his name 
 among the Italians, represents that the 
 virgin wrapped up the new-born infant, 
 and put him into her bosom ; that the 
 cattle cherished him with their breath, an 
 ox fell on his knees, and an ass did the 
 same. He declares them both happy, 
 promises they shall be honoured at all the 
 altars in Rome, and apostrophizes the 
 virgin on occasion of the respect the ox 
 and ass have shown her. To a quarto 
 edition of this Latin poem, with an Italian 
 translation by Gori, printed at Florence 
 in 1740, there is a print inscribed "Sacrum 
 monumentum in antique vitro Romae in 
 Museo Victorio," from whence the pre- 
 ceding engraving is presented, as a curious 
 illustration of the obviously ancient mode 
 of delineating the subject. 
 
 In the edition just mentioned of San- 
 nazarius's exceedingly curious poem,which 
 is described in the editor's often cited 
 volume on " Ancient Mysteries," there 
 are other engravings of the nativity with 
 the ox and the ass, from sculptures on 
 
 aiifient Larcophagi at Rome. This intro- 
 duction of the ox and the ass warming the 
 infant in the crib with their breath, is a 
 fanciful construction by catholic writers 
 on Isaiah i. 3 ; " The ox knoweth his 
 owner, and the ass his master's crib." 
 
 Sannazarius was a distinguished states- 
 man in the kingdom of Naples. His 
 superb tomb in the church of St. Mark is 
 decorated with two figures originally exe- 
 cuted for and meant to represent Apollo 
 and Minerva ; but as it appeared inde- 
 corous to admit heathen divinities into a 
 christian church, and the figures were 
 thought too excellent to be removed, the 
 person who shows the church is instructed 
 to call them David and Judith : " You 
 mistake," said a sly rogue who was one 
 of a party surveying the curiosities, "the 
 figures are St. George, and the queen ot 
 Egypt's daughter." The demonstrator 
 made a low bow, and thanked him.* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Frankincense. Piiius Tccda. 
 Dedicated to Sts. Thrasilla and Emiliana. 
 
 Mmmhtv 25. 
 
 The Nativity of Christ, or Christmas-day. 
 St. Anasias'ia, a d. 304. Another St. 
 Anastasia. St. Eugenia, a. d. 257. 
 
 Cf)ri5tma£i''tray. 
 
 The festival of the nativity was anciently 
 kept by different churches in April, May, 
 and in this month. It is now kept on this 
 day by every established church of christian 
 denomination ; and is a holiday all over 
 England, observed by the suspension of 
 all public and private business, and the 
 congregating of friends and relations for 
 " comfort and joy." 
 
 Our countryman, Barnaby Googe, from 
 the Latin of Naogeorgus, gives us soma 
 lines descriptive of the old festival : — 
 
 Then comes the day wherein theLorde 
 
 did bring his birth to passe ; 
 Whereas nt midnight up they rise, 
 
 and every man to Masse. 
 This time so holy counted is, 
 
 that divers earnestly 
 Do thinke the waters all to wine 
 
 are chaunged sodainly ; 
 
 * Lounger's Com. Piace Book. 
 
 806 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER J5. 
 
 In that same hoiire that Christ himselfe 
 
 was borne, and came to light, 
 And unto water streiglit againe 
 
 transformde and altred quight. 
 There are beside that mindfully 
 
 the money still do watch, 
 That first to aultar commes, which then 
 
 they privily do snatch. 
 The priestes, least oilier should it have, 
 
 takes oft the same away. 
 Whereby they thinke throughout the ycaro 
 
 to have good iucke in play, 
 And not to lose : then straight at gaaie 
 
 till day-light do they strive, 
 To make some present proofe how well 
 
 their hallowde pence wil thrive. 
 Three Masses every priest doth sing, 
 
 upon that solemne day. 
 With offrings unto every one, 
 
 that so the more may play. 
 This done, a woodden child in clowtes 
 
 is on the anltar set, 
 About the which both boyes and gyrlcs 
 
 do daunce and trymlyjet, 
 •Vnd Carrols sing in prayse of Christ, 
 
 and, for to helpe them heare, 
 The organs aunswere every verse 
 
 with sweete and soiemne cheare. 
 The priestes doe rore aloude ; and round 
 
 about the parentes stande 
 To see the sport, and with tlieir voyce 
 
 do helpe them and their hande. 
 
 The commemorations in our own times 
 vary from the account in these versify- 
 ings. An accurate observer, with a hand 
 powerful to seize, and a hand skilled in 
 preserving manners, offers us a beautiful 
 sketch of Christmas-tide in the " New 
 Monthly Ma^^azine," of December 1, 
 1825. Foremost in his picture is the 
 most estimable, because the most useful 
 and ornamental character in society, — a 
 good parish priest. 
 
 " Our pastor was told one day, in argu- 
 ment, that the interests of Christianity 
 were opposed to universal enlightenment. 
 I shall not easily forget his answer. ' The 
 interests of Christianity,' said he, ' are 
 the same as the interests of society. It 
 has no other meaning. Christianity is 
 that very enlightenment you speak of. 
 Let any man find out that thing, whatever 
 it be, which is to perform the very great- 
 est good to society, even to its own appa- 
 rent detriment, and I say that is Christi- 
 anity, or I know not the spirit of its 
 founder. What?' continued he, ' shall 
 we take Christianity for an arithmetical 
 puzzle, or a contradiction in terms, or the 
 bitterness of a bad argument, or the 
 interests, real or supposed, of any parti- 
 
 cular set of men ? God forbid. I wish 
 to speak with reverence (this conclusion 
 struck me very much) — I wish to speak 
 with reverence of whatever has taken 
 place in tlie order of Providence. I wish 
 to think the best of the very evils that 
 have happened ; that a good has been got 
 out of them ; perhaps that they were even 
 necessary to the good. But when once 
 we have attained better means, and the 
 others are dreaded by the benevolent, and 
 scorned by the wise, then is the time 
 come for throwing open the doors to all 
 kindliness and to all knowledge, and the 
 end of Christianity is attained in the reign 
 of beneficence.' 
 
 " In this spirit our pastor preaches to 
 us always, but most particularly on 
 Christmas -day ; when he takes occasion 
 to enlarge on the character and views of 
 the divine person who is supposed then 
 to have been born, and sends us home 
 more than usually rejoicing. On the 
 north side of the church at M. are a great 
 many holly-trees. It is from these that 
 our dining and bed-rooms are furnished 
 with boughs. Families take it by turns 
 to entertain their friends. They meet 
 early ; the beef and pudding are noble ; 
 the mince-pies — peculiar; the nuts half 
 play-things and half-eatables ; the oranges 
 as cold and acid as they ought to be, fur- 
 nishing us with a superfluity which we 
 can afford to laugh at ; the cakes inde- 
 structible ; the wassail bowls generous, 
 old English, huge, demanding ladles, 
 threatening overflow as they come in, 
 solid with roasted apples when set down. 
 Towards bed-time you hear of elder-wine, 
 and not seldom of punch. At the manor- 
 house it is pretty much tlie same as else- 
 where. Girls, although they be ladies, 
 are kissed under the misletoe. If any 
 family among us happen to have hit upon 
 an exquisite brewing, they send some of 
 it round about, the squire's house includ-, 
 ed ; and he does the same by the rest. 
 Riddles, hot-cockles, forfeits, music, 
 dances sudden and not to be suppressed, 
 prevail among great and small ; and from 
 two o'clock in the day to midnight, M. 
 looks like a deserted place out of door^ 
 but is full of life and merriment within 
 Playing at knights and ladies last year, 
 jade of a charming creature must need* 
 send me out for a piece of ice to put in 
 her wine. It was evening and a hard 
 frost. I shall never forget the cold, cut- 
 ting, dreaiy, dead look of every thing 
 out of doors, with a wind through the 
 
 807 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 2A. 
 
 \viry trees, and the snow on the ground, 
 contrasted with the sudden return to 
 warmth, light, and joviality. 
 
 " I remember we had a discussion that 
 time, as to what was the great point and 
 crowning glory of Christmas. Many were 
 for mince-pie ; some for the beef and 
 plum-pudding ; more for the wassail- 
 bowl ; a maiden lady timidly said, the 
 misletoe; but we agreed at last, that al- 
 though all these were prodigious, and 
 some of them exclusively belonging to 
 the season, the ^re was the great indis- 
 pensable. Upon which we all turned our 
 faces towards it, and began warming our 
 already scorched hands. A great blazing 
 fire, too big, is the visible heart and soul 
 of Christmas. You may do without beef 
 and plum-pudding; even the absence of 
 mince-pie may be tolerated; there must 
 be a bowl, poetically speaking, but it 
 need not be absolutely wassail. The 
 bowl may give place to the bottle. But 
 a huge, heaped-up, over heaped-up, all- 
 attracting fire, with a semicircle of faces 
 about it, is not to be denied us. It is the 
 Jar and genius of the meeting; the proof 
 positive of the season ; the representative 
 of all our warm emotions and bright 
 thoughts ; the glorious eye of the room ; 
 the inciter to mirth, yet the retainer of 
 order; the amaigamater of the age and 
 sex; the universal relish. Tastes may 
 differ even on a mince-pie; but who 
 gainsays a fire? The absence of other 
 'uxuries still leaves you in possession of 
 that; but 
 
 • Who can hold a fire in Iiis hand 
 With tliinking on the frostiest twelfth- 
 cake?' 
 
 " Let me have a dinner of some sort, no 
 matter what, and then give me my fire, 
 and my friends, the humblest glass of 
 wine, and a few penn'orths cf chesnuts, 
 and I will still make out my Christ- 
 mas. What! Have we not Burgundy in 
 our blood? Have we not joke, laughter, 
 repartee, bright eyes, comedies of other 
 people, and comedies of our own ; songs, 
 memories, hopes? [An organ strikes up 
 in the street at this word, as if to answer 
 me in the affirmative. Right, thou old 
 spirit of harmony, wandering about in 
 that ark of thine, and touching the public 
 ear with sweetness and an abstraction ! 
 Let the multitude bustle on, but not un- 
 arrested by thee and by others, and not 
 unreminded of the happmess of renewing 
 a wise chUdhood.l As to our old friends 
 
 the chesnuts, if any body wants an excuse 
 to his dignity for roasting them, let him 
 take the authority of Milton. ' W'ho 
 now,' says he, lamenting the loss of his 
 friend Deodati, — ' who now will help to 
 soothe my cares for me, and make the 
 long night seem short with his conversa- 
 tion ; while the roasting pear hisses ten- 
 derly on the fire, and the nuts burst away 
 witii a noise, — 
 
 ' And out of doors a washing storm o'er- 
 
 w helms 
 Nature pitch-dark, and rides the thunder- 
 ing elms?' " 
 
 Christmas in France. 
 
 From a newspaper of 1823, (the name 
 unfortunately no^ noted at the time, and 
 not immediately ascertainable), it appears 
 that Christmas in France is another thing 
 from Christmas in England. 
 
 " The habits and customs of the Pa- 
 risians vary much from those of our own 
 metropolis at all times, but at no time 
 more than at this festive season. An 
 Englishman in Paris, who had been for 
 some time without referring to his al- 
 manac, would not know Christmas-day 
 from anotlier by the appearance of the 
 capital. It is, indeed, set down as ajowr 
 de fete in the calendar, but all the ordi- 
 nary business of life is transacted ; the 
 streets are, as usual, crowded with wag- 
 gons and coaches; the shops, with few 
 exceptions, are open, although on other 
 fete days the order for closing them is 
 rigorously enforced, and if not attended 
 to, a fine levied ; and at the churches 
 nothing extraordinary is going forward. 
 All this is surprising in a catholic country, 
 which professes to pay such attention to 
 the outward rites of religion, 
 
 " Un Christmas-eve indeed, there is 
 some bustle for a midnight mass, to which 
 immense numbers flock, as the priests, on 
 this occasion, get up a showy spectacle 
 whicli rivals the theatres. The altars are 
 dressed with flowers, and the churches 
 decorated profusely ; but there is little in 
 all this to please men who have been ac- 
 customed to the John Bull mode of spend- 
 ing the evening. The good English habit 
 of meeting together to forgive offences and 
 injuries, and to cement reconciliations, is 
 here unknown. The French listen to the 
 church music, and to the singing of their 
 choirs, which is generally excellent, but 
 they know nothing of the origin of the day 
 
 808 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 and of the duties which it imposes. The 
 English residents in Paris, however, do 
 not forget our mode of celebrating this 
 day. Acts of charity from the rich to the 
 needy, religious attendance at church, 
 and a full observance of hospitable rites, 
 are there witnessed. Paris furnishes all 
 the requisites for a good pudding, and the 
 turkeys are excellent, though the beef is 
 not to be displayed as prize production. 
 
 "On Christmas-duy all the English cooks 
 in Paris are in full business. The queen 
 of cooks, however, is Harriet Dunn, of 
 the Boulevard. — As sir Astley Cooper 
 among the cutters of limbs, and d'Egville 
 among the cutters of capers, so is Harriet 
 Dunn among the professors of one of the 
 most necessary, and in its results, most 
 gratifying professions of existence ; her 
 services are secured beforehand by special 
 retainers ; and happy is the peer who can 
 point to his pudding, and declare that it 
 is of the true " Dunn" composition. Her 
 fame has even extended to the provinces. 
 For some time previous to Christmas-day, 
 she forwards puddings in cases to all parts 
 of the country, ready cooked and fit for 
 the table, after the necessary warming. 
 All this is, of course, for the English. No 
 prejudice can be stronger than that of the 
 French against plum-pudding — a French- 
 man will dress like an Englishman, swear 
 like an Englishman, and get drunk like 
 an Englishman ; but if you would offend 
 him for ever, compel him to eat plum- 
 pudding. A few of the leading restaura- 
 teurs, wishing to appear extraordinary, 
 have plomb-pooding upon their cartes, but 
 in no instance is it ever ordered by a 
 Frenchman. Every body has heard the 
 story of St. Louis — Henri Quatre, or who- 
 ever else it might be, who, wishing to re- 
 gale the English ambassador on Christmas- 
 day with a plumb-pudding, procured an 
 excellent recipe for making one, which he 
 gave to his cook, with strict injunctions 
 that it should be prepared with due atten- 
 tion to all the particulars. The weight of 
 the ingredients, the size of the copper, 
 the quantity of water, the duration of 
 time, every thing was attended to except 
 one trifle— the king forgot the cloth, and 
 the pudding was served up like so much 
 soup, in immense tureens, to the surprise 
 of the ambassador, who was, however, 
 too well bred to express his astonishment. 
 Louis XV'IIL, either to snow his contempt 
 of the prejudices of his countrymen, or to 
 keep up a custom which suits his palate, 
 Las always an enormous pudding on 
 
 Christmas-day, the remains of which, 
 when it leaves the table, he requires to be 
 eaten by the servants, bon gri, manvaix gre; 
 but in this instance even the commands 
 of sovereignly are disregarded, except by 
 the numerous English in his service, con- 
 sisting of several valets, grooms, coach- 
 men, &c., besides a great number of la- 
 dies' maids, in the service of the duchesses 
 of Angouleme and Berri, who very fre- 
 quently partake of the dainties of tlie 
 king's table." 
 
 The following verses from the original 
 in old Norman French, are said to be the 
 first drinking song composed in England. 
 They seem to be an abridged version of 
 the Christmas carol in Anglo-Norman 
 French, translated by Mr Douce : — 
 
 LorJlings, from a distant home. 
 To seek old Christmas are we come, 
 
 Who loves our minstrelsy — 
 And here, unless report mis-say. 
 The greybeard dwells ; and on this day 
 Keeps yearly wassel, ever gay 
 
 VVilh festive mirth and glee. 
 
 Lordlings, list, for we tell vou true , 
 Christmas loves the jolly crevr , 
 
 That cloudy care defy: 
 His liberal board is deftly spread, 
 With manchet loaves and wastel bread , 
 His guests with fish and flesh are led. 
 
 Nor lack the stately pye. 
 
 Lordlings, it is our host's command, 
 And Christmas joins him hand in hand 
 
 To drain the brimming bowl ; 
 And I'll biVoremost fo obey — 
 Then plec?^ me, sirs, and drink away 
 For Chiistmas revels here to-day 
 
 And sways without controul. 
 Now wfl.Mp/toyou all! and merry may \ou be, 
 And foul that wight befall, who driukt not 
 health to me. 
 
 There were anciently great doings in 
 the halls of the inns of court at Christmas 
 time. At the Inner-Temple early in the 
 morning, the gentlemen of the inn went 
 to church, and after the service they did 
 then " presently repair into the hall to 
 breakfast with brawn, mustard, and 
 malmsey.'' At the first course at dinner, 
 was "served in, a fair and largeSore'j^ecd 
 upon a silver platter with minstralsye."* 
 
 * Diigdalc's Orig. Jurid. 
 
 8uy 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 The Boars Haad. 
 
 With our forefathers a soused boar's 
 bead was borne to the principal table in 
 the hall with great state and solenanity, 
 as the first dish on Christmas-day. 
 
 In the book of " Christmasse Carolles" 
 printed by VVynkyn de Worde in 1521, 
 are the words sung at this " chefe servyce," 
 or on bringing in this the boar's head, 
 with great ceremony, as the first dish : it 
 is 'Q the next column. 
 
 A Carol hryngyng in the Boa/t Head 
 
 Caput ^pri defero 
 Reddens laudes Domino, 
 
 Tlie bore's head in hande bring I, 
 W'ltli garlandes gay and rosemary, 
 I pray you all synge merely, 
 Qui estis in convivio. 
 
 The bore's head, 1 understande. 
 Is the chefe servyce in this lande 
 Loke wherever it be fande 
 Servile cum Cantico. 
 
 Be gladde, lords, both more and lasse, 
 For this hath ordayned our stewarde 
 
 To chore you all this Christmasse, 
 The bore's head with mustarde. 
 
 THE BOAR'S HEAD AT CHRISTMAS. 
 
 " With garlandes gay and rosemary.' 
 
 Warton says, " This carol, yet with 
 many innovations, is retained at Queen's- 
 college, in Oxford." It is still sung in 
 that college, somewhat altered, " to the 
 common chant of the prose version of 
 the psalms in cathedrals ;" so, however, 
 the rev. Mr. Dibdin says, as mentioned 
 Defore. 
 
 Mr. Brand thinks it probable that 
 
 Chaucer alluded to the custom of bearing 
 the boar's head, in the following passage 
 of the " Franklein's Tale :"— 
 
 " Janus sitteth by the fire with double bcrd. 
 And he drinketh of his bugle-horne the 
 
 wine, 
 Before him standeth the brawne of the 
 
 tusked swine." ' 
 
 810 
 
TIIE EVERY-DAY BOOK.-DECEMBER 25. 
 
 In " The Wonderful Yeare, 1603," 
 Dekker speaks of persons apprehensive 
 of catching the plague, and says, " they 
 went (most bitterly) miching and muffled 
 up and down, with rue and wormwood 
 stuft into their eares and nosthrils, look- 
 ing like so many bores heads stuck with 
 branches of rosemary, to be served in for 
 brawne at Christmas." 
 
 Holinshed says, that in 1170, upon the 
 young prince's coronation, king Henry If, 
 " served his son at the table as sewer, 
 bringing up the bores head, with trum- 
 pets before it, according to the manner."* 
 
 An engraving from a clever drawing by 
 Rowlandson, in the possession of the 
 editor of the Every-Datj Book, may grace> 
 fully close this article. 
 
 A BOOR'S HEAD. 
 •' Civil as an orange." 
 
 Shaksfiears 
 
 There are some just observations on the 
 old mode of passing this season, in " The 
 World " a periodical paper of literary 
 pleasantries. " Our ancestors considered 
 Christmas in the double light of a holy 
 commemoration, and a cheerful festival, 
 and accordmgly distinguished it by devo- 
 tion, by vacation from business, by mer- 
 riment, and hospitality. They seemed 
 eageily bent to make themsejevs, and 
 every one about them happy with what 
 punctual zeal did they wish one anotlier a 
 merry Christmas ! and what an omission 
 would it have been thought, to have con- 
 cluded a letter without the compliments 
 of the season ! The great hall resounded 
 with the tumultuous joys of servants and 
 tenants, and the gambols they played 
 served as amusement to the lord of the 
 manor, and his family, who. by encourag- 
 ing every art conducive to mirth and en- 
 tertainment, endeavoured to soften the 
 rigour of the season, and mitigate the 
 influence of winter." 
 
 The country squmo of ihiee hundred a 
 
 year, an independent gentleman in the 
 reign of queen Anne, is described ao 
 having " never played at cards but at 
 Christmas, when the family pack was pro- 
 duced from the mantle-piece." " His chief 
 drink the year round was generally ale, 
 except at this season, the 5th of Novem- 
 ber, or some other gala days, when he 
 would make a bowl of strong brandy 
 punch, garnished with a toast and nut- 
 meg. In the corner of his hall, by the 
 hre-side, stood a large wooden two-armed 
 chair, with a cushion, and within the 
 chimney corner were a couple of sea's. 
 Here, at Christmas, he entertained his 
 tenants, assembled round a glowing fire, 
 made of the roots of trees, and other 
 great logs, and told and heard the tradi- 
 tionary tales of the village, respecting 
 ghosts and witches, till fear made them 
 afraid to move. In the meantime tha 
 jorum of ale was in continual circular 
 tion."* 
 
 * Grote.' 
 
 811 
 
niE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 9.5. 
 
 It is remnrked, in the " Literary Pocket 
 Book," that now, Christmas-day only, or at 
 most a day or two, are kept by people in ge- 
 neral ; the rest are school holidays. " But, 
 formerly, there was nothing but a run of 
 merry days from Christmas-eve to Can- 
 dlemas, and the first twelve in parti- 
 cular were full of triumph and hospitality. 
 We have seen but too well ihe cause of 
 this degeneracy. What has saddened our 
 summer-time has saddened our winter. 
 What has taken us from our fields and 
 May-flowers, and suffered them to smile 
 and die alone, as if they were made for 
 nothing else, has contradicted our flowing 
 cups at Christmas. The middle classes 
 make it a sorry business of a pudding or 
 so extra, and a game at cards. The rich 
 invite their friends to their country houses, 
 but do little there but gossip and gamble ; 
 and the poor are either left out entirely, 
 or presented with a few clothes and eat- 
 ables that make up a wretched sub- 
 autute for the long and hospitable inter- 
 course of old. All this is so much the 
 worse inasmuch as Christianity had a 
 special eye to those feelings which should 
 remind us of the equal rights of all ; and 
 the greatest beauty in it is not merely its 
 charity, which we contrive to swallow up 
 in faith, but its being alive to the sentiment 
 of charity, which is still more opposed to 
 these proud distances and formal dolings 
 out. — The same spirit that vindicated the 
 pouring of rich ointment on his feet, (be- 
 cause it was a homage paid to sentiment 
 in his person,) knew how to bless the 
 gift of a cup of water. Every face which 
 you contribute to set sparkling at Christ- 
 mas is a reflection of that goodness cf 
 nature which generosity helps to uncloud, 
 as the windows reflect the lustre of the 
 sunny heavens. Every holly bough and 
 lump of berries with which you adorn 
 your houses is a piece of natural piety as 
 well as beauty, and will enable you to 
 relish the green world of which you show 
 yourselves not forgetful. Every wassail 
 bowl which you set flowing without 
 drunkenness, every harmless pleasure, 
 every innocent mirth however mirthful, 
 every forgetfulness even of serious things, 
 when they are only swallowed up in the 
 kindness and joy with which it is the end 
 of wisdom to produce, is 
 
 Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best ;' 
 and Milton's Eve, who suggested those 
 epithets to her husband, would have 
 thought so too, if we are to judge by the 
 poet's account of her hospitality." 
 
 ANCIENT CHUISTMAS. 
 
 And well our christian sires of old 
 Loved, when the year its course h.ad loV/'i 
 And brought blithe Christinas back again, 
 With all its hospitable train. 
 Domestic and religious rite 
 Gave honour to ttie holy night : 
 On Christmas-eve the bells were rung ; 
 On Cliristmas-eve the mass was sung ; 
 That only night, in all the year, 
 Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. 
 The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen ; 
 The hall was dress'd with holly green ; 
 Forth to the wood did merry men go, 
 To gather in the niisletoe. 
 Then open wide the baron's hall. 
 To vassal, tenant, serf, aud all ; 
 Power laid his rcid of rule aside, 
 And ceremony doflfd his pride. 
 The heir, with roses in his shoes, 
 That night might village partner choose • 
 The lord, underogating, share 
 The vulgar game of " post and pair." 
 All hailed, with uncontrouled deli;lit, 
 And general voice, the happy night. 
 That to the cott:ige, as the crown, 
 Brought tidings of salvation down. 
 
 The fire, with well-dried logs snpply'd, 
 Went, roaring, up the chimney wide ; 
 The huge hall table's oaken face, 
 Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, 
 Bore then upon its massive board 
 No mark to part the squire and lord. 
 Then was brought in the lusty brawn. 
 By old blue-coated serving man ; 
 Then the grim boar's-head frown'd on high. 
 Crested with bays and rosemary. 
 Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 
 How, when, and where the monster fell , 
 What dogs before his death he tore, 
 And all the baiting of the boar ; 
 While round the merry wassel bowl, 
 (larnich'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl. 
 There the huge siiloin reek'd ; hard by 
 rium-porridge stood, and Christmas pie^ 
 Nor lail'd old Scotland to produce. 
 At such high tide her savoury goose. 
 Then came the merry maskers in, 
 And carols roar'd with blithsomc din ; 
 If unmelodious was the song. 
 It was a hearty note and strong 
 Who lists may in their mumming see 
 Traces of ancient mystery ; 
 White shirts supply the masquerade, 
 And smutted cheeks the visor madi' ; 
 But, oh ! what masquers, richly dight. 
 Can boast of bosoms half so light i 
 England was merry England when 
 Old Christmas brought his sports again. 
 "Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale; 
 'T>vas Christinas told the merriest tale ; 
 A Christmas gam])ol oft would cheer 
 A poor man's heart though half the year. 
 Sir vruUer Scott. 
 
 8i: 
 
THE E^TLRY-DAY BOOK — UKCEMBF-R 25. 
 
 The musicians who play by night in the 
 streets at Christmas are caUed waits. It 
 has been presumed, that ivaits in very 
 ancient times meant watchmen ; they 
 were minstrels at first attached to the 
 king's conn, who sounded the watch 
 every night, and paraded the streets during 
 winter to prevent depredations. 
 
 In London, the *i-aits are remains of llie 
 musicians aUaclied to the corporation ot 
 the cily under that denomination. They 
 cheer the hours of the long nights before 
 Christmas with instrumental music. To 
 denote that they were " the lord mayor's 
 music," they anciently wore a coi^iihance, 
 or badge on the arm, similar to that repre- 
 sented in the engraving below, from a 
 picture by A. Bioemart. 
 
 THE PIPER. 
 
 He blows his bairpipe soft or strong, 
 Or high or low, to hymn or song, 
 Or shrill lament, or solemn groan, 
 Or dance, or reel, or sad o-hone! 
 Or ballad gay, or well-a-day — • 
 To all he gives due melody 
 
 813 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK —DECEMBER 25. 
 
 Preparrilory to Christmas, the bellman 
 of every parisa in London rings his bell 
 at dead midnight, that his " worthy mas- 
 ters and mistresses " may listen, and be 
 assured by his vocal intonation that he is 
 reciting " a copy of verses " in praise of 
 their several virtues, especially their liber- 
 ality ; and, when the festival is over, he 
 
 calls with his bell, and hopes he shall he 
 " remembered." 
 
 At the good town of Bungay, in Suffolk, 
 the " watch" of the year 1823 circulated 
 tlie following, headed by a representation 
 of a moiety of their dual body : — 
 
 A COPY OF CHRISTMAS VERSES, 
 
 PRESEMTED 
 
 INHABITANTS 
 
 BY THEIR HUMBLE 
 
 OF BUNGAY 
 
 THE LATE - 
 
 3of)tt ^)3e anlj 
 
 YOUR pardon, Gentles, while we thus implore, 
 In strains not less awakening than of yore. 
 Those smiles we deem our best reward to catch, 
 And for the which we've long been on the fyutch ,• 
 Well pleas'd if we that recompence obtain. 
 Which we have ta'en so many steps to gain. 
 Think of the perils in our calling past, 
 The chilling coldness of the midnight blast, 
 The beating rain, the swiftly driving snow, 
 The various ills that we must undergo. 
 Who roam, the glow-worms of the human rac" 
 The living Jack-a-lanthorns of the place. 
 
 'Tis said by some, perchance, to mock our toil, 
 That we are prone to " waste the midnight oil !" 
 And that, a task thus idle to pursue. 
 Would be an idle waste of money too ! 
 How hard, that we the dark designs should rue 
 Of those who 'd fain make light of all we do ! 
 But such the fate which oft doth merit greet. 
 And which now drives us fairly off our beat! 
 Thus it appears from this our dismal plight, 
 That some love darkness, rather than the light. 
 
 Henceforth let riot and disorder reign. 
 With all the ills that follow in their train ; 
 Let Toms and Jerrys unmolested brawl, 
 (No Charlies have they now to foor withal,) 
 And "rogues and vagabonds" infest the Town, 
 For cheaper 'tis to save than crack a croivn ! 
 
 To brighter scenes we now direct our view— 
 And first, fair Ladies, let us turn to you. 
 
 814 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 May each Ntw Year new joys, new pleasures brhio 
 And Life for you be one delightful spring ! 
 No summer's sun annoy with fev'rish rays, 
 No winter chill the evening of your days ! 
 
 To you, kind Sirs, we next our tribute pay : 
 May smiles and sunshine greet you on your way ! 
 If married, calm and peaceful be your lives ; 
 If single, may you forthwith get you wives! 
 
 Thus, whether Male or Female, Old or Young, 
 Or Wed or Single, be this burden sung: 
 Long may you live to hear, and we to call, 
 A Happy Christmas and Neiv Year to all I 
 
 i. and R. Cbildi, Printers, Bungaf. 
 
 Previous to Christmas 1825, a trio of 
 foreign minstrels appeared in London, 
 ushering the season with melody from 
 instruments seldom performed on in the 
 streets. These were Genoese with their 
 guitars. Musicians of this order are com- 
 mon in Naples and all over Italy ; at the 
 carnival time they are fully employed, 
 and at other periods are hired to assist 
 in those serenades whereof English ladies 
 hear nothing, unless they Uavel, save by 
 
 the reports of those who publish accounts 
 of their adventures. The three now spoken 
 of took up their abode in London, at the 
 King's-head public-house, in Leather-lane, 
 from whence ever and anon, to wit, daily 
 they sallied forth to " discourse most ex 
 cellent music." They are represented in 
 the engraving below, from a sketch hastily 
 taken by a gentleman who was of a dinner 
 party, by whom they were called into the 
 house of a street in the suburbs 
 
 ITALIAN MINSTRELS IN LONDON, 
 
 AT CHRISTMAS, 1825. 
 
 Ranged in a row, with guitars slung 
 Before them thus, they played and sung ; 
 Their instruments and choral voice 
 Hid each glad guest still more rejoice ; 
 And each guest wish'd agiin to hear 
 Tlieir wild guitars and voices clear 
 
 815 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 Tliere was much of character in the 
 men themselves. One was tall, and had 
 that kind of face which distinguishes the 
 Italian character ; his coinplexioii a clear 
 pale cream colour, with dark eyes, black 
 hair, and a manner pec\iliarly solemn : the 
 second was likewise tali, and of more 
 cheerful feature ; but the third was a short 
 thick-set man, with an Oxberry counte- 
 nance of rich wagsjery, heightened by 
 large whiskers : this was the humorist. 
 With a bit of cherry-tree held between 
 the finger and thumb, they rapidly twirled 
 the wires in accompaniment of various 
 airs, which they sung with unusual feeling 
 and skill. They were acquainted with 
 every foreign tune that was called for. That 
 Italian minstrelsof this class should venture 
 here for the purpose of perambulating our 
 streets, is evidence that the refinement in 
 our popular manners is known in the 
 " land of song," and they will bear testi- 
 mony to it from the fact that their per- 
 formances are chiefly in the public-houses 
 of the metropolis, from whence thirty 
 years ago such aspirants to entertain John 
 Bull would have been expelled with ex- 
 pressions of abhorrence. 
 
 To the accounts of Christmas keeping 
 in old times, old George Wither adds 
 amusing particulars in rhime. 
 
 Christmas. 
 So now IS come our joyfulst feast ; 
 
 Let every man be jolly ; 
 Each room with ivy leaves is drest, 
 
 And every post with holly. 
 Though some churls nt our mirth repine. 
 Round your foreheads j^arlands twine ; 
 Drown sorrow in a cup of wine. 
 
 And let us all be merry. 
 
 Now all our neighbours' chimnies smoke, 
 And Christmas blocks are burning; 
 
 Their ovens they with baked meat choke, 
 And all their Epits are turning. 
 
 Without the door let sorrow lye ; 
 
 And if for cold it hap to die. 
 
 We'll bury't in a Christmas pie. 
 And evermore be merry. 
 
 Now every lad is wond'rous trim. 
 And no man minds his labour ; 
 
 Our lasses have provided them 
 A bagpipe and a tabor ; 
 
 Young men and maids, and girls and boys. 
 
 Give life to one another's joys ; 
 
 And y^u anon shall by their noise 
 Perceive that they are merry. 
 
 Rank misers now do sparing shun ; 
 Their hall of music soundeth , 
 
 And dotrs thence with whole shoulders run, 
 
 So all things there aboundeth. 
 The country folks, thenisehes advance, 
 With crowdy-mnttons out of France ; 
 And Jack shall pipe and Jyll shall dance. 
 
 And all the town be merry. 
 
 Ned Squash hath fetcht liis bands from pawn, 
 
 And all his best apparel ; 
 Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn 
 
 With dropping of the barrel. 
 And those that hardly all the year 
 Had bread to eat, or rags to wcfir. 
 Will have both clothes and dainty fare, 
 
 And all the day be merry. 
 
 Now poor men to the justices 
 
 With capons make their errants ; 
 And if they hap to fail of these. 
 
 They plague them with their warrants 
 Rut now they feed them with good cheer. 
 And what they want, they take in beer. 
 For Christmas comes but once a year, 
 And then they shall be merry. 
 
 Good farmers in the country nurse 
 The poor, that else were undone ; 
 
 Some landlords spend their money worse 
 On lust and pride at London. 
 
 There the roystcrs they do play, 
 
 Drab and dice the'r lands away, 
 
 WTiich may be ours another day. 
 And therefore let's be merry 
 
 The client now his suit forbears, 
 
 The prisoner's heart is eased ; 
 The det)tor drinks away his cares, 
 
 And for the time is pleased. 
 Though others' purses be more fat. 
 Why should we pine, or grieve at that? 
 Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat, 
 
 And therefore let's be merry. 
 
 Hark ! now the wags abroad do call. 
 
 Each other forth to rambling; 
 Anon you'll see them in the hall. 
 
 For nuts and apples scrambling. 
 Hark ! how the roofs with laughter sound, 
 Anon they'll think the house goes round, 
 For they the cellar's depth have found. 
 And there they will be merry. 
 
 The wenches with their wassel bowls 
 
 About the streets are singing ; 
 The boys are come to catch the owls. 
 
 The wild mare in it bringing. 
 Our kitchen boy hath broke his box. 
 And to the dealing of the ox. 
 Our honest neighbours come by flocks. 
 
 And here they will be merry. 
 
 Now kings and queenspoor shcepcoies hart 
 
 And mute with every body ; 
 1'bc honest now may play the knav«i 
 
 And wise men piav the noddy. 
 
 81(3 
 
TtlE EVERV-DAY BOOK— DECEMBER v'5. 
 
 Some youths will now a mnniming ^o, 
 Some others play at Rowland-bo, 
 And twenty other game boys mo, 
 Because they will be merry. 
 
 Then, wherefore, in these merry daies, 
 Should we, I pray, be duller? 
 
 No, let us sing some roundelayes, 
 To make our mirth the fuller. 
 
 And, while we thus inspired sing, 
 
 Let all the streets with echoes ring; 
 
 Woods and hills, and every thing, 
 Bear witness we are merry. 
 
 From Mr. Grant's " Popular Supersti- 
 tions of the Highlands," we gather the 
 following account : — • 
 
 Highland Christmas. 
 
 As soon as the brightening glow of the 
 eastern sky warns the anxious housemaid 
 of the approach of Christmas-day, she 
 rises full of anxiety at the prospect of her 
 moining labours. The meal, which was 
 steeped in the sowans-bowie a fortnight 
 ago, to make the Prechdachdan sour, or 
 sour scones, is the first object of her 
 attention. The gridiron is put on the 
 fire, and the sour scones are soon follow- 
 ed by hard cakes, soft cakes, buttered 
 cakes, brandered bannocks, and pannich 
 perm. The baking being once over, the 
 sovvans pot succeeds the gridiron, full oi 
 new sowans, which are to be given to the 
 family, agreeably to custom, this day in 
 their beds. The sowans are boiled into 
 the consistence of molasses, when the 
 Lagun-le-vrich, or yeast-bread, to distin- 
 guish it from boiled sowans, is ready. It 
 is then poured into as many bickers as 
 there are individuals to partake of it, and 
 presently served to the whole, old and 
 young. It would suit well the pen of a 
 Burns, or the pencil of a Hogarth, to 
 paint the scene which follows. The am- 
 brosial food is despatched in aspiring 
 draughts by the family, who soon give 
 evident proofs of the enlivening effects of 
 the Lagan-le-vrich. As soon as each 
 despatches his bicker, he jumps out of 
 bed — the elder branches to examine the 
 ominous signs of the day,* and the 
 younger to enter on its amusements. 
 Flocking to the swing, a favourite amuse- 
 ment on this occasion, the youngest of 
 ths family get the first " shouder,'' and 
 
 * " A black Christmas makes a fat kirV-yarri." A 
 irindy Cliristmas and a calm Candlemas are signs of 
 » good year 
 
 the next oldest to him in regular succes- 
 sion. In order to add the more to the 
 spirit of the exercise, it is a common prac 
 tice with the person in the swing, and 
 the person appointed to swing him, to 
 enter into a very warm and humorous 
 altercation. As the swinged person ap- 
 proaches the swir.ger, he exclaims, Ei mi 
 tu chal, " I'll eat your kail." To this the 
 swinger replies, with a violent shove, CAa 
 711 tt nm chal, " You shan't eat my kail." 
 These threats and repulses are sometimes 
 carried to such a height, as to break down 
 or capsize the threatener, which generally 
 puts an end to the quarrel. 
 
 As the day advances, those minor 
 amusements are terminated at the report 
 of the gun, or the rattle of the ball-clubs 
 — the gun inviting the marksman to the 
 '* Kiavamnchd," or prize-shooting, and 
 the latter to " Luclid-vouil," or the ball 
 combatants — both the principal sports of 
 the day. Tired at length of the active 
 amusements of the field, they exchange 
 them for the substantial entertainments 
 of the table. Groaning under the " sonsy 
 haggis,"* and many other savoury dain- 
 ties, unseen for twelve months before, 
 the relish communicated to the company, 
 by the appearance of the festive board, is 
 more easily conceived than described. 
 The dinner once despatched, the flowing 
 bowl succeeds, and the sparkling glass 
 flies to and fro like a weaver's shuttle. 
 As it continues its rounds, the spirits of 
 the company become the more jovial and 
 happy. Animated by its cheering influ- 
 ence, even old decrepitude no longer feels 
 his habitual pains — the fire of youth is in 
 his eye, as he details to the company the 
 exploits which distinguished him in the 
 days of " o((W lungsyne ;" while the 
 youn<i-, with hearts inflamed with " love 
 and glory," long to mingle in the more 
 lively scenes of mirth, to liisplay their 
 prowess and agility. Leaving the patri- 
 archs to fini'-h those professions of friend- 
 ship for each other, in which they are so 
 devoutly engaged, the younger part of the 
 company will shape their course to the 
 ball-room, or the card-table, as their in- 
 dividual inclinations suggest ; and the 
 remainder of the evening is spen! with 
 the greatest pleasure of which human 
 nature is susceptible. 
 
 •The " savoury liaggis" (from hag to chop) is » 
 dish f-o.nnionly made in a sheep's maw, of its lungs, 
 h»art, ami livtr, mixed witli suet, onions, salt and 
 pepper; or of natineal mixed with the latter, withuii 
 any animal food. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 817 
 
 3 G 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 Evergreens at Christmas. 
 When Rosemary and Bays, the poet's crown, 
 Are bavvl'd in frequent cries through all the town ; 
 Then judge the festival of Christmass near, 
 Christmass, the joyous period of the year ! 
 Now with bright Holly all the temples strow. 
 With Lawrel green, and sacred Mhletoe. 
 
 From ev'ry hedge is pluck'd by eager hands 
 The Holly branch with prickly leaves replete, 
 And fraught with berries of a crimson hue ; 
 Which, torn asunder from its parent trunk, 
 Is straightway taken to the neighb'ring towns, 
 Where windows, mantels, candlesticks, and shelves. 
 Quarts, pints, decanters, pipkins, basins, jugs, 
 And other articles of household ware, 
 The verdant garb confess. 
 
 R. J. Thorn. 
 
 Polydore Vergil says that, " Trimmyng 
 of the Temples, with hanoynges, floures, 
 boughes, and garlondes, was taken of the 
 heathen people, whiche decked their idols 
 and houses with suche array." In old 
 church calendars Christmas-eve is 
 marked " Templa exornantur." Churches 
 are decked. 
 
 The holly and the ivy still maintain some 
 mastery at this season. At the two 
 universities, the windows of the college 
 chapels are decked with laurel. The old 
 Christmas carol in MS at the British 
 Museum, quoted at p. 1.598, continues in 
 the following words ; — 
 
 The old and pleasant custom of decking 
 our houses and churches at Christmas 
 with evergreens is derived from ancient 
 heathen practices. Councils of the church 
 forbad christians to deck their houses 
 with bay leaves and green boughs at the 
 same time with the pagans; but this was 
 after the church had permitted such doings 
 in order to accommodate its ceremonies 
 to those of the old mythology. Where 
 druidism had existed, " the houses were 
 decked with evergreens in December, 
 that the sylvan spirits might repair to 
 them, and remain unnipped with frost 
 and cold winds, until a milder season 
 had renewed the foliage of their darling 
 abodes."* 
 
 Ivy hath <i lybe ; she laghtit with the cold, 
 
 So mot they all hafe that wyth Ivy hold. 
 
 Nay, Ivy ! Nay, hyt, &e. 
 
 Holy hat berys as red as any Rose, 
 
 The foster the hunters, kepe hem from the doo. 
 
 Nay, Ivy ! Nay, hyt, &c. 
 
 Ivy hath berys as black as any slo ; 
 
 Ther com the oule and ete hym as she goo. 
 
 Nay, Ivy ! Nay, hyt, &c. 
 
 Holy hath byrdys, aful fayre flok, 
 
 The Nyghtyngale, the Poppyngy, the gayntyl Lavyrok. 
 Nay, Ivy ! Nay, hyt, &c. 
 
 Good Ivy ! what byrdys ast thou ! 
 
 Noa but the howlet that kreye ' How ! How !' 
 
 Nay, Ivy ! Nay, hyt shall not, &c 
 
 Mr. Brand infers from this, " that holly 
 was used only to deck the inside of houses 
 at Christmas : while ivy was used not only 
 as a vintner's sign, but also among the 
 evergreens at funerals." He also cites 
 from the old tract, " Round about our 
 Coal-fire, or Christmas Entertainments," 
 that formerly " the rooms were em- 
 bowered with holly, ivy, cyprus, bays. 
 
 laurel, and misletoe, and a burning 
 Christmas log in the chimney ;" but he 
 remarks, that " in this account the Cyprus 
 is quite a new article. Indeed I should 
 as soon have expected to have seen the 
 yew as the cypress used on this joyful 
 occasion." 
 
 Mr. Brand is of opinion that " although 
 Gay mentions the misletoe among those 
 evergreens that were put up in churches, 
 it never entered those sacred edifices but 
 
 818 
 
I HE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 oy mistake, or ignorance of the sextons ; 
 Sir it was tlie heathenish and profane 
 plant, as having been of such distinction 
 in the pagan rites of druidism, and it 
 therefore had its place assigned it in 
 kitchens, where it was liung up in great 
 state with its white berries, and whatever 
 female chanced to stand under it, the 
 young man present either Irad a right or 
 claimed one of saluting her, and of pluck- 
 ing off a berry at each kiss." He adds 
 " I have made many diligent inquiries 
 after the truth of this. I learnt at Bath 
 that it never came into churches there. 
 An old sexton at Teddingion, in Middle- 
 sex, informed me that some misletoe was 
 once put up in the church there, but was 
 by the clergyman immediately ordered 
 to be taken away." He quotes from tiie 
 " Medallic History of Carausius," by 
 Stukeley, who speaking of the winter 
 solstice, our Christmas, says : " This was 
 the most respectable festival of our druids 
 called yule-tide ; when misletoe, which 
 they called all-heal, was carried in their 
 hands and laid on their altars, as an emblem 
 of the salutiferous advent of Messiah. 
 The misletoe they cut off the trees with 
 their upright hatchets of brass, called 
 celts, put upon the ends of their stafl's, 
 which they carried in their hands. In- 
 numerable are th-ese instruments found 
 all over the British Isles. The custom is 
 still preserved in the north, and was lately 
 at York. On the eve of Christmas-day 
 they carry tnisletoe to the high altar of 
 the cathedral and proclaim a public and 
 universal liberty, pardon, and freedom to 
 all sorts of inferior and even wicked peo- 
 ple at the gates of the city toicards the 
 four (quarters of heaven." This is only 
 a century ago. 
 
 In an " Inquiry into the anciont Greek 
 Game, supposed to have been invented by 
 Palamedes," Mr. Christie speaks of the 
 respect the northern nations entertained 
 for the mistletoe, and of the Celts and 
 Goths being distinct in the instance of 
 their equally venerating the misletoe 
 about the time of the year when the sun 
 approached the winter solstice. He adds, 
 " we find by the allusion of Virgil, who 
 tompared the golden bough in infernis, 
 to the misletoe, that the use of this plant 
 vas not unknoivn in the religious cere- 
 monies of the ancients, particularly the 
 Greeks, of whose poets be was the ac- 
 knowledged imitator." 
 
 The cutting of the misletoe was a ce- 
 remony of great solemnity with our an- 
 
 cient ancestors. The people went in 
 procession. The bards walked first sing- 
 ing canticles and hymns, a herald preced- 
 ed three druids with implements for the 
 purpose. Then followed the prince of 
 the druids accompanied by all the people. 
 He mounted the oak, and cutting the 
 misletoe with a golden sickle, presented 
 it to the other druids, who received it 
 with great respect, and on the first day of 
 the year distributed it among the people 
 as a sacred and holy plant, crying, " The 
 misletoe for the new year." Mr. Arch- 
 deacon Nares mentions, " the custom 
 longest preserved was the hanging up of 
 a bush of misletoe in the kitchen or ser- 
 vant's hall, with the charm attached to it, 
 that the maid, who was not kissed under 
 it at Christmas, would not be married in 
 that year." This natural superstition still 
 prevails. 
 
 Christmas Doughs, Pies, and Porridge. 
 The season offers its 
 
 customary treat. 
 
 A mixture strange of suet, currants, meat. 
 Where various tastes combine. 
 
 Oxford Sausage. 
 
 Yule-dough, or dow, a kind of baby, or 
 little image of paste, was formerly baked 
 at Christmas, and presented by bakers to 
 their customers, " in the same manner as 
 the chandlers gave Christmas candles." 
 They are called yule cakes in the county 
 of Durham. Anciently, *' at Rome, on 
 the vigil of the nativity, siveetmeats were 
 presented to the' fathers in the Vatican, and 
 all kinds of little images (no doubt of 
 paste) were to be foand at the confec- 
 tioners' shops." Mr. Brand, who men- 
 tions these usages, thinks, " there is the 
 greatest probability that we have had 
 from hence both our yule-doughs, plum- 
 porridge, and mince-pies, the latter of 
 which are still in common use at this sea- 
 son. The yule-dough has perhaps been 
 intended for an image of the child Jesus, 
 with the Virgin Mary .'' he adds, " it is 
 now, if I mistake not, pretty generally 
 laid aside, or at most retained only by 
 children." 
 
 It is inquired by a writer in the " Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine," 1783, " may not the 
 minced pye, a compound of the choicest 
 productions of the east, have in view the 
 offerings made by the wise men, who 
 came from afar to worship, bringing spi- 
 ces," &c. These -weir, also railed shrid- 
 pies. 
 
 819 
 
THE EVERY-DAY DOOK.— DECEMBER 25. 
 
 Cluittmasse Day. 
 No matter for plomb-porridge, or «AWrf-pie 
 Or a whole oxe oftered in sacrifice 
 To Comus, not to Christ, &c. 
 
 Shrppard's Epigrar.is, 1651. 
 
 Mr. Brand, from a tract in his library 
 printed about the time of queen Elizabeth 
 or James I. observes, that they were like- 
 wise called " »?2?JicAerf pies. 
 
 According to Selden's " Table Talk," 
 the coffin shape of our Christmas pies, is 
 in imitation of the cratch, or manger 
 wherein the infant Jesus was laid. The 
 ingredients and shape of the Christmas 
 pie is mentioned in a satire of 1656, 
 against the puritans : — 
 
 Christ-mass] give me my beads: the word 
 
 implies 
 A plot, by its ingredients, beef and pyes. 
 The cloyster'd steaks with salt and pepper lye 
 Like Nunnes with patches in a monastric 
 Prophaneness in a conclave ? Nay, much 
 
 more, 
 Idolatrie in crust ! 
 
 ■ and bak'd by hanches, then 
 
 Serv'd up in coffins to unholy men ; 
 Defil'd, with superstition, like the Gentiles 
 Of old, that worship'd onions, roots, and 
 lentdes ' 
 
 R. Fletcher. 
 
 There is a further account in Misson's 
 " Travels in England." He says, " Every 
 ^mily against Christmass makes a famous 
 pye, which they call Christmas pye. It 
 IS a great nostrum ; the composition of this 
 pasty is a most learned mixture of neat's- 
 tongues, chicken, eggs, sugar, raisins, 
 lemon and orange peel, various kinds of 
 spicery," &c. The most notably familiar 
 poet of our seasonable customs interests 
 himself for its safety : — 
 
 Come guard this night the Christmas-pie 
 That the thiefe, though ne'r so slie, 
 With his flesh hooks don't come nie 
 
 To catch it ; 
 
 From him, who all alone sits there, 
 Having his eyes still in his eare, 
 A.nd a deale of nightly feare 
 
 To watch it. 
 Herrick, 
 
 Mr. Brand observes, of his own know- 
 ledge, that " in the north of England, a 
 goose is always the chief ingredient in the 
 composition of a Christmas pye ;" and to 
 illustrate the usage, " further north," he 
 quotes, that the Scottish poet Allan Ram- 
 say, in his " Elegy on lucky Wood," tells 
 us, that among other baits by which the 
 ^ood ale-wife drew customers: to her 
 
 house, she never failed to tempt them at 
 Yule (Christmas,) with 
 
 " ^ bra' Goose Pife." 
 
 Further, from " Round about our Coal- 
 fire," we likewise find that " An English 
 gentleman at the opening of the great 
 day, i. e. on Christmass day in the morn- 
 ing, had all his tenants and neighbours 
 enter his hall by day-bre'ak. The 
 strong beer was broached, and the black 
 jacks went plentifully about with toast, 
 sugar, nutmegg, and good Cheshire cheese. 
 The hackin (the great sausage) must be 
 boiled by day-break, or else two young 
 men must take the maiden (j. e.) the 
 cook, by the arms and run her round the 
 market-place till she is ashamed of her 
 laziness. 
 
 " In Christmas holidays, the tables 
 were all spread from the first to the last ; 
 the sirloins of beef, the minced pies, the 
 plumb porridge, the capons, turkeys, geese, 
 and plum-puddings, were all brought 
 upon the board : every one eat heartily, 
 and was welcome, which gave rise to the 
 proverb, ' merry in the hall when beards 
 wag all.'" 
 
 M'isson adds of our predecessors in Ins 
 time, that besides the " famous pye'' at 
 Christmas, " they also make a sort of 
 soup with plums which is not at all infe- 
 rior to the pye, which is in their language 
 called plum-porridge." 
 
 Lastly, Mr. Brand makes this important 
 note from personal regard. " Memoran- 
 dum. I dined at the chaplain's table at St. 
 James's on Christmas-day, 1801, and par- 
 took of the first thing served and eaten on 
 that festival at that table, i. e. a tureen 
 full of rich luscious plum-porridge. I do 
 not know that the custom is any where 
 else retained." 
 
 Thus has been brought together so 
 much as, for the present, seems sufficient 
 to describe the ancient and present esti- 
 mation and mode of keeping Christmas. 
 
 FLORAL UIRECTORY. 
 
 Holly. Ilex baccijlora. 
 Dedicated to the Nativity of Jesus Christ 
 
 It ought not, however, to be forgotten, 
 that a scene of awful grandeur, hitherto 
 misrepresented on the stage by the meanest 
 of " his majesty's servants," opens the 
 tragedy of Hamlet, wherein our everlast- 
 lasting bard refers to ancient and still 
 existing tradition, that at liie time of 
 
 820 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 26. 
 
 cock-crowing, the midnight spirits forsake 
 these lower regions, and go to tlieir proper 
 places ; and that the cocks crow through- 
 out the live-long nights of Christmas — 
 a circumstance observable at no other 
 time of the year. Horatio, the friend of 
 Hamlet, discourses at midnight with 
 Francisco, a sentry on the platfoim before 
 the Danish palace, and Bernardo and 
 MarcUus, two officers of the guard, re- 
 specting the ghost of the deceased monarch 
 of Denmark, which had appeared to the 
 military on watch. 
 
 Mar, Horatio says, 'tis but our fan- 
 tasy, 
 And will not let belief take hold of liim, 
 Toiichinj? this dreaded sight, twice seen 
 
 of us ; 
 Therefore I have entreated him, along 
 With us, to watch the minutes of this night; 
 That, if again this apparition come. 
 He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. 
 
 Hor, Tu»h ! tush ! 'twill not appear. 
 
 Ber. Sit down awhile ; 
 And let us once again assail your ears. 
 That are so fortified against our story, 
 What we two nights have seen. 
 
 Last night of all. 
 
 When yon same star, that's westward fiom 
 
 the pole. 
 Had made his course to illume that part of 
 
 heaven 
 Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself. 
 The bell then beating one, • 
 
 Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where 
 it comes again . 
 
 The ghost enters. Horatio is harrowed 
 with fear and wonder. His companions 
 urge him to address it; and somewhat 
 recovered from astonishment, he urges 
 " the majesty of bury'd Denmark" to 
 SDcak. It is ofl'ended, and stalks away. 
 
 Mar. Thus, twice before, and just at tJiia 
 dead hour, 
 Witli martial stalk he hath gone by our 
 watch. 
 
 Horatio discourses with his companions 
 on the disturbed state of the kingdom, and 
 tlie appearance they have just witnessed ; 
 whereof he says, " a mote it is, to trouble 
 the mind's eye." He is interrupted by its 
 re-entry, and invokes it, but the apparition 
 remains speechless ; the " cock crotvs," 
 and the ghost is about to disappear, when 
 Horatio says, 
 
 Stay, and speak. — Stop it, Marcellus. 
 
 Mar. Shall 1 strike at it with my par- 
 tizan ? 
 
 Hor. Do, if it will not stand. 
 
 Her. 'Tis here ! 
 
 Ilor, 'Tis here ! 
 
 xMar. 'Tis gone ! [E.rit Ghost. 
 
 We do it wrong, being so majestical. 
 To offer it the show of violence ; 
 For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
 And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
 
 Ber. It was about to speak, when the 
 cock crew. 
 
 Hor. And then it started, like a guilty 
 thing 
 Upon a fearful summons. I have heard. 
 The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn. 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding 
 
 throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at this warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 To his confine : and of the truth herein 
 This present object makes probation 
 
 Marcellus answers, " It faded on the 
 crowing of the cock," and concludes ci: 
 the vigilance of this bird, previous to the 
 solemn festival, in a strain of superlative 
 beauty : — 
 
 Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
 
 Wherein our Saviour's biith is celebrated, 
 
 This bird of davvning singeth all night long : 
 
 And then, they say, no spirit stirs abroad ; 
 
 The nights are wholesome; then no planet strikes; 
 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
 
 So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. 
 
 i3f crmljfr 26. 
 
 St. Stephen, the first IVIartyr. St. Diony- 
 sius, Pope, A.D. 269. St.Jarlath, 1st 
 Bp. of Tuam, 6th Cent 
 
 Tlie church of England observes this 
 festival, and the name of the apostle is lu 
 the almanacs accordingly. The circum- 
 stances that led to his death, and the 
 
 821 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 2fi. 
 
 particulars of it liy stoning,-, are related in 
 the seventh chapter of the Acts of the 
 Apostles. lie is deemed the first martyr 
 for the christian faith. 
 
 The notice of this festival by Nao- 
 georgus is thus translated by Barnaby 
 Goofre : — 
 
 Then followeth Saint Stephens day> 
 
 whereon doth every man 
 His horses jaunt and course abrode, 
 
 as swiftly as he can, 
 Until they doe extreemely sweate, 
 
 and than they let them blood, 
 For this being done upon this day, 
 
 they say doth do them good, 
 And keepes them from all maladies 
 
 and sicknesse through the yeare, 
 As if that Steven any time 
 
 took charge of horses heare. 
 
 Horses. 
 
 Whether Stephen was the patron of 
 horses does not appear ; but our ances- 
 tors used his festival for calling in the 
 horse-leech. Tusser, in his " Five Hun- 
 dred Points of Husbandry," says, 
 
 Yer Christmas be passed, 
 
 let Horsse be lett blood. 
 For many a purpose 
 
 it doth him much good . 
 The day of St. Steven, 
 
 old fathers did use, 
 If that do mislike thee, 
 
 some other day chuse. 
 
 An annotator on Tusser subjoins, 
 ** About Christmas is a very proper time 
 to bleed horses in, for then they are com- 
 monly at house, then spring comes on. 
 
 the sun being novir coming back 'from tne 
 winter solstice, and there are three or 
 four days of rest, and if it be upon St. Ste- 
 phen's day it is not the worse, seeing there 
 are with it three days of rest, or at least 
 two." In the " Receipts and Disburse- 
 ments of the Canons of St. Mary in Hunt- 
 ingdon,'' is the following entry : " Item, 
 for letting our horses blede in Chryst- 
 masse weke iiijrf."* According to one of 
 Mr.Douce's manuscript notes, he thinks the 
 practice of bleeding horses on this day is 
 extremely ancient, and that it was brought 
 into this country by the Danes. It is 
 noticed in " Wits Fits and Fancies," an 
 old and rare book, that on " S. Stevens- 
 day it is the custome for all horses to be 
 let bloud and drench'd. A gentleman 
 being (that morning) demaunded whether 
 it pleased him to have his horse let 
 bloud and drencht, according to the 
 fashion? He answered, no, sirra, my horse 
 is not diseas'd of the fashions." Mr. 
 Ellis in a note on Mr. Brand quotes, that 
 Aubrey says, " On St. Stephen's-day the 
 farrier came constantly and blouded all 
 our cart-horses."f 
 
 The Finns upon St. Stephen's-day, throw 
 a piece of money, or a bit of silver, into the 
 trough out of which the horses drink, 
 under the notion that it prospers those 
 who do it.:J 
 
 Heit ! Heck ! IFhoohe ! and Geho ! 
 
 The well-known interjection used by 
 country people to their horses, when yoked 
 to a cart, &c. Heit ! or Heck ! is noticed by 
 Mr. Brand to have been used in the days 
 of Chaucer : — 
 
 " Tliey savif a cart, that charged was with hay, 
 The which a carter drove forth on his way : 
 Depe was the way, for which the carte stode ; 
 The carter smote and cryde as he were wode, 
 Heit Scot ! Heit Brok ! what spare ye for the stones ? 
 The Fend quoth he, you fetch, body and bones."§ 
 
 Brok is still in frequent use amongst 
 farmer's draught oxen.* 
 
 JFhooke ! a well-known exclamation to 
 stop a team of horses, is derived by a 
 writer in the " Gentleman's Magazine," 
 1799, from the Latin. " The exclamation 
 used by our waggoners when they wish 
 for any purpose to stop their team (an 
 exclamation which it is less difficult to 
 speak than to write, although neither is a 
 task of great facility,) is probably a legacy 
 bequeathed us by our Roman ancestors : 
 precisely a translation of the ancient 
 
 Ohe ! an interjection strictly' confined to 
 bespeaking a pause — rendered by our 
 lexicographers, Eqough ! Oh, Enough ! 
 
 " Ohe, jam satis est — Ohe, Libelle." 
 
 A learned friend of Mr. Brand's says, 
 " The exclamation ' Geho, Geho,' which 
 carmen use to their horses is probably of 
 great antiquity. It is not peculiar to this 
 country, as I have heard it used in France. 
 In the story of the milkmaid who kicked 
 
 * Mr. Nichols's Illustration of Anr. Timcf. 
 t In Lansdowne MS. 226. British Museum, 
 t Tooke's Russia. 
 S Frere'sT.ed. Tyrwh. Chaucer. 
 
 822 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 26. 
 
 Jown her pail, and with it all her hopes 
 of getting rich, as rehited in a very 
 dncietit ' Collection of Apologues,' entitled 
 ' Dialogus Creaturarum,' printed at 
 Gouda. in 1480, is the following passage : 
 ' Et cum sic gloriaretur, et cogitaret cum 
 quanta gloria duceretur ad ilium virum 
 super equum dicendo gio gio, cepit pede 
 percutere terram quasi pungeret equum 
 calcaribus.' " 
 
 It appears from a memoir on the man- 
 ner in which the inhabitants of the north 
 riding of Yorkshire celebrate Christmas, 
 m the "Gentleman's Magazine," 1811, 
 that " On the feast of St. Stephen large 
 goose pies are made, all of which they 
 distribute among their needy neighbours, 
 except one which is carefully laid up, and 
 not tasted till the purification of the virgin, 
 called Candlemas." 
 
 Bcvinci: Bap. 
 
 On the day after Christmas, trades- 
 people are visited by persons in the em- 
 ployment of their customers for a " Christ- 
 nxis-boJ^," and every man and boy who 
 thinks he is qualified to ask, solicits from 
 those on whom he calculates as likely to 
 bestow. A writer, in 1731, describes 
 Boxing-day at that time from his own 
 experience. " By that time I was up, my 
 servants could do nothing but run to the 
 door. Inquiring the meaning, I was 
 answered, the people were come for their 
 Christmas-box : this was logic to me ; 
 but I found at last, that, because I had 
 laid out a great deal of ready-money with 
 my brewer, baker, and other tradesmen, 
 they kindly thought it my duty to present 
 their servants with some money for the 
 favour of having their goods. This pro- 
 voked me a little ; but being told it was 
 • the custom,' I complied. These were 
 followed by the watch, beadles, dustmen, 
 and an innumerable tribe ; but what 
 vexed me the most was the clerk, who has 
 an extraordinary place, and makes as 
 good an appearance as most tradesmen in 
 the parish; to see him come a boxing, 
 alias begging, I thought was intolerable: 
 howevei, I found it was 'the custom' too, 
 so I gave him half-a-crown ; as I was 
 likewise obliged to do to the bellman, for 
 creaking my rest for many nights toge- 
 ther 
 
 " Having talked this matter over with 
 a friend, he promised to carry me where 
 
 I might see the good effects of this giving 
 box-money. In the evorinv;, away we 
 went to a neighbouring alehouse, where 
 abundance of these gentry were assembled 
 round a stately piece of roast beef, and as 
 large a plum-pudding. When the drink 
 and brandy began to work, they fell to 
 reckoning of their several gains that day ; 
 one was called a stingy dog for giving 
 but sixpence; another called an extra- 
 vagant fool for giving half-a-crown, which 
 perhaps he might want before the year 
 was out ; so I found these good people 
 were never to be pleased. Some of them 
 were got to cards by themselves, which 
 soon produced a quarrel and broken 
 heads, In the interim came in some of 
 their wives, who roundly abused the 
 jieople for having give« them money ; 
 adding, that instead of doing good, 
 it ruined their families, and set them in 
 a road of drinking and gaming, which 
 never ceased till not only their gifts, but 
 their wages, were gone. One good woman 
 said, if people had a mind to give charity, 
 they should send it home to their fami- 
 lies : I was very much of her opinion ; 
 but, being tired with the noise, we left 
 them to agree as they could. 
 
 " My friend next carried me to the 
 upper end of Piccadilly, where, one pair 
 of stairs over a stable, we found near a 
 hundred people of both sexes, «om^ mask- 
 ed, others not, a great pait of which were 
 dancing to the music of two sorry fiddles. 
 It is impossible to describe this medley 
 of mortals fully ; however, I will do it as 
 well as I can. There were footmen, ser- 
 vant-maids, butchers, apprentices, oyster 
 and orange-women, and sharpers, which 
 appeared to be the best of the company. 
 This horrid place seemed to be a com- 
 plete nursery for the gallows. My friend 
 informed me, it was called a ' three- 
 penny hop ;' and while we were talking, 
 to my great satisfaction, by order of the 
 Westminster justices, to their immortal 
 honour, entered the constables and their 
 assistants, who carried off all the company 
 that was left; and, had not ray friend 
 been known to them, we might have 
 paid dear for our curiosity."* 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Purple Heath. Erica purpurea. 
 Dedicated to St. Stephen. 
 
 * Cited in Malcolm's I^ndon, IQdi Cent. 
 
 823 
 
THE EVERYDAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 27,28. 
 
 ,^t. John the Apostlf and Evanejelist. St. 
 TheodornsGrupt, a. d. 822. 
 
 This festival of St. John is observed by 
 the church of Ensrland, and consequently 
 l)is name is in the church calendar and 
 the almanacs. The church of Rome, from 
 whence the celebration is derived, also 
 keeps another festival to St. John on the 
 6th of May, concerning which, and the 
 evangelist, there are particulars at p. 617. 
 Mr. Audlev says of him, " Tradition 
 reports, that when he was a very old man, 
 he used to be carried into tlie church at 
 Ephesus, and say, ' little children, love 
 one another.' lie returned from his ba- 
 nishment, and lived till the third or fourth 
 year of Trajan ; so that he must have 
 been nearly a hundred years of age 
 when he died. The appellation of divine 
 given to St. John is not canonical ; but 
 was first applied to him by Eusebius, on 
 account of those mysterious and sublime 
 points of divinity, with the knowledge cf 
 which he seems to have been favourc<t 
 above his fellow apostles. Perhaps this 
 may explain the etymology of the word 
 divine, as applied to christian ministers." 
 
 Bcremljfr 28. 
 
 T/ie Holy Innocents. St. 'I'k'JouoruSf 
 Abbot of Tabenna, a. d. 367. 
 
 This is another Romish celebration 
 preserved in the church of England ca- 
 lendar and the almanacs. It has another 
 name — 
 
 Tliis is conjectured to have been de- 
 rived from the mas.ses said for the souls 
 of the Innocents who suffered from He- 
 rod's cruelty. It is to commemorate their 
 slaughter that Innocents or Childertnas- 
 day is appropriated, and hence the name 
 it bears. 
 
 Barnaby Goocre, from the Latin of 
 Naogeorgus, thus introduces the day : — 
 
 Nexte John the sonne of Zebedee 
 
 hath his appoyntcd day. 
 Who once by cruell tyraunts will, 
 
 constrayned was they say 
 Strontf poyson up to drinke, therefore 
 
 the papistes doe belceve 
 That whoso puts their trust in him, 
 
 no poyson them can greeve. 
 The wine beside that halowed is 
 
 in worship of his name, 
 The priestes doe give the people 
 
 that bring money for the same. 
 And after with the selfe same wine 
 
 are little manchets made, 
 Agavnst the boystrous winter stornics, 
 
 and sundrie such like trade. 
 The men upon this solcmne day, 
 
 do take this holy wine 
 To make them strong, so do the maydes 
 
 to make them faire and fine. 
 
 It was formerly a custom to whip up 
 the children on Innocent's day morning, 
 in order " that the memorial of Herod's 
 murder of the Innocents might stick the 
 closer, and so, in a moderate proportioi; 'o 
 act over the crueltie again in kind* .' * 
 The day itself was deemed of especial 
 ill omen, and hence the superstitious 
 never married on Childermas-day. Nei- 
 ther upon this day was it " lucky " to 
 put on new clothes, or pare the nails, or 
 begin any thing of moment. In the play 
 of " Sir John Oldcastle " the prevalence 
 of this belief is instanced by an objection 
 urged to an expedition proposed on a 
 Friday, — " Friday, quolh'a, a dismal 
 day ; Candlemas-day this year was Fri- 
 day." This vulgar superstition reached 
 the throne ; the coronation of king Ed- 
 ward IV. was put off till the Monday, 
 because the preceding Sunday was Chil- 
 dermas-day.f Lastly, a mother in the 
 " Spectator" is made to say, at that time, 
 " No, child, if it please God, you shall 
 not go into join-hand on Childermas- 
 day." 
 
 FLOUAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Flame Heath. Erica famm'u 
 Dedicated to St. John. 
 
 Yet this was a day of disport among 
 the sages of the law. In 1517, king 
 Henry VIII., by an order, enjoined, 
 " that the king of cockneys, on Childer- 
 mas-day, should sit and have due service; 
 and that he and all his officers should use 
 honest manner and good order, without 
 any waste or destruction making in wine, 
 brawn, chely, or other vitails : and alsa 
 
 « GreE;nry on thf Hoy Bishop, 
 t Ff nh's Leiitrs, i. 
 
 824 
 
THE FAERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 28. 
 
 tiiat hf,, and his maislnl, butler, and con- 
 stablfi marshal, should have their lawful 
 and honest commandments by delivery of 
 the officers of Christmas, and that the 
 said king of cockneys, ne none of his 
 officers medyl neither in the buttery, nor 
 in the Stuard of Christmass his office, 
 upon pain of iOs. for every such medlin j : 
 
 and lastly, that Jack Straw, and all h>3 
 adherents, should be thenceforth utterly 
 banisht and no more to be used in this 
 house, upon pam to forfeit, for every 
 time, five pounds, to be levied on every 
 fellow hapning to offend against thia 
 rule."* 
 
 * Dugdalc'sO.ig. Jurid. 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE HOLY FAMILY. 
 
 From Herod's cruel order they. 
 By angel's order, fled away, 
 And painters add, an angel, too, 
 Attended them the journey through. 
 
 The old artists often painted the flight 
 of the holy family from Herod's cruel 
 purpose : — " Behold the angel of the lord 
 appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying. 
 Arise, and take the young child and his 
 mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou 
 there until I bring thee word : for Herod 
 will seek the young child to destroy Lin. 
 When he arose he took the young child 
 and his mother by night, and departed 
 into Egypt, and was there until the death 
 of Herod."* In some pictures an angel 
 is painted accompanying them on the 
 way, although on no scriptural authority. 
 In a painting by " Lucca Giordano *' 
 
 •Acu ii. 13— \5. 
 
 they are represented in a boat with the 
 ass, whereon the virgin had rode, held by 
 an angel, who is thus degraded to tlie 
 condition of a stable boy; while cherul)s 
 company them in the sky : the picture 
 being curious, an engraving from it is 
 placed in this article. 
 
 Lucca Giordano. 
 The artist of the picture mentioned was 
 born at Naples, about 1629: he studied 
 under Spagnoletto, and afterwards undet 
 Pietra da Cortona. He is likewise called 
 Luca fa Presto, from a phrase used bv 
 his father. Thougli his son painted with 
 amazing facility, frc.i.i designs of the greal 
 masters, while he pursued his studies, aoj 
 
 825 
 
THE EVEEY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 29, 30. 
 
 ttie old man sold them for high prices, yet 
 be was accustomed to hurry his son at 
 his meals as well as his work, and say, 
 " Luca fa presto .''' Luca, make haste : 
 hence, Luca's companions nicknamed him 
 Fa Presto. His knowledge of the style 
 :>f artists belonging to different Schools 
 was amazing, and though his attainments 
 in judgment and execution were of high 
 order, he seems to have preferred the 
 copying of other compositions to painting 
 designs by himself. Hence, there are 
 more pictures by Luca fa Presto than 
 some connoisseurs would willingly ac- 
 knowledge. They pervade every collec- 
 tion under the reputation of being by 
 Titian, Guido, Tintorette, and other paint- 
 ers of greater celebiity than Giordano, 
 He etched his own thoughts freely and 
 gracefully, and died loaded with honours 
 from crowned heads, and immensely rich, 
 in 1704. 
 
 FLORAL DIEECTOnY. 
 
 TJloody Heath. Erica amenta. 
 Dedicated to the Holy LtnocenUi. 
 
 Mtttxnbtv 29. 
 
 l>t Thomas, Abp. of Canterbury, a.d. 
 1170. St. Marcellus, Abbot of the 
 Acaemetes, a. d. 485. St. Evroul, 
 Abbot, A. D. 596. 
 
 Sculpture. 
 
 Much has been remarked in the course 
 of these sheets respecting painting, which, 
 if our artists will labour, they may elevate 
 to a height that will honour their country, 
 and amjily reward themselv-es. It is a 
 mistake to suppose tliat real talent is not 
 appreciated. Precocity is not talent till 
 it has ripened ; it usually withers and falls 
 beneath the only test of greatness, la- 
 bour: patrons experience this, and sicken. 
 Whenever genius labours, it finds patrons. 
 
 Sculpture in the Engl sh school seems 
 of late to have advanced further than 
 painting, in their simultaneous effoits, and 
 in this department of art, Ireland is 
 likely to compete with England. 
 
 At the distribution of medals by sir 
 Thomas Lawrence to students, at the 
 Royal Academy, in the month of De- 
 cember, 1825, Mr. John Gallagher and 
 Mr. Constantine Panormo, natives of the 
 sister country, received the two medals 
 for sculpture. It is a happy augury for 
 the Royal Dublin Society that these young 
 men were the first individuals sent hither 
 
 by that institution for the purpose of im- 
 provement ; and it must be highly grati- 
 fying to Mr. Behnes, with whom the 
 Royal Dublin Society placed them as 
 pupils, that his tuition so qualified these 
 youths, that they excelled their numerous 
 rivals, and carried both the prizes. So ex- 
 traordinary an instance is creditable to 
 their native country, whose national esta- 
 blishment fostered them, and whose pro- 
 tection they have distinguished by their 
 peiseverance. 
 
 FLORAL DIRFX'TORY. 
 
 Senista Heath. Erica genistopha 
 Dedicated to St. Thomas. 
 
 Mmmhtx 30. 
 
 St. Sabinus, Bp, of Assisium, and his 
 Companions, a. d. 304. 5^ Amjsia, 
 A. D. 304. iS^. Muximus, a. d. 662. 
 
 The Season. 
 The earth, as it appears in England 
 at this period, is well represented in 
 the " Mirror of the Months," the plea- 
 sant reflex of the year referred to in 
 November. " The meadows are still 
 green — almost as green as in the spring 
 — with the late-sprouted grass that the 
 last rains have called up since it has been 
 fed off, and the cattle called home to en- 
 joy their winter fodder. The corn-fields, 
 too, are bright with their delicate sprink- 
 ling of young autumn-sown wheat ; the 
 ground about the hedge-rows, and in the 
 ■young copses, is still pleasant to look 
 upon, from the sobered green of the hardy 
 primrose and violet, whuse clumps of 
 unfading leaves brave the utmost rigour 
 of the season ; and every here and there 
 a bush of holly darts up its pyramid of 
 shining leaves and brilliant berries, from 
 amidst the I ite wild and wandering, but 
 now faded and forlorn company of wood- 
 bines and eglantines, which have all the 
 rest of the year been exulting over and 
 almost hiding it with their quick-growing 
 branches, and flaunting flowers. The 
 evergreens, too, that assist in forming the 
 home enclosures, have altogether lost that 
 sombre hue which they have until lately 
 worn — sombre in comparison with th(i 
 bright freshness of spring, and the splendid 
 variety of autumn ; and now, that not a 
 leaf is left around them, they look as gay 
 by the contrast as they lately looked 
 grave." 
 
 1 
 
 826 
 
THE EVERY-DAY BOOK.— DECEMBER 31. 
 
 FLORAL DIRECTORY. 
 
 Pontieva. Ponthieva glandalum. 
 Dedicated to St. Anysia. 
 
 ©erember 31. 
 
 St. Sylvester, Pope, a. d. 335. St. Co- 
 liimha, A. D. 258. St. Melania, die 
 ^-ounger, a. d. 439. 
 
 St. Sylvester. 
 
 This saint, whose name is in the church 
 of England calendar and the almanacs, 
 was pope Sylvester I. " He is said to 
 have been the author of several rites and 
 ceremonies of the Romish church, as asy- 
 lums, unctions, palls, corporals, &c. He 
 died in 334.'' * 
 
 To end the old year merrily, and 
 begin the new one well, and in friend- 
 ship, were popular objects in the cele- 
 bration of this festival. It was spent 
 among our labouring ancestors in lesti- 
 vity and frolic by the men ; and the 
 young women of the village carried from 
 door to door, a bowl of spiced ale, the 
 wassail bowl, which they offered to the 
 inhabitants of every house they stopped 
 at, singing rude congratulatory verses, 
 and hoping for small presents. Young 
 men and women also exchanged clothes, 
 which was termed Mumming, or Dis- 
 guising ; and when thus dressed in each 
 other's garments, they went from one 
 neighbour's cottagre to another, singing, 
 dancing, and partaking of good cheer f 
 
 Tlie anticipated pleasure of the coming 
 year, accompanied by regret at parting 
 with the present old year, is naturally ex- 
 pressed by a writer already cited. " After 
 Christmas-day comes the last day of the 
 year ; and I confess I wish the bells would 
 not ring so merrily on the next. I have 
 not become used enough to the loss of the 
 old year to like so triumphant a welcome 
 to the new. I am certain of the pleasures 
 I have had during the twelvemonth : I 
 have become used to the pains. In a few 
 days, especially by the help of Twelfth- 
 night, I shall become reconciled to the 
 writing 6 instead of 5 in the date of the 
 year. Then welcome new hopes and new 
 endeavours. But at the moment — al the 
 
 * Mr. Auriley's Companion to Almanac. 
 
 ♦ Or. Diake's SliaKsptare and his Tunes. 
 
 turn — I hate to bid adieu to my old ac- 
 quaintance."* 
 
 Eli A, in a delightful paper on the "Eve 
 of New Year's-day, 1821, among the other 
 delightful essays of his volume, entifled 
 "Eli a" — a little book, whereof to say that 
 it is of more gracious feeling and truer 
 beauty than any of our century, is poor 
 praise — Elia says, "while that turncoat 
 bell, that just now mournfully chanted the 
 obsequies of the year departed, with 
 changed notes lustily rings in a successor, 
 let us attune to its peal the song made 
 on a like occasion, by hearty, cheerful 
 Mr. Cotton." Turn, gentle reader, to the 
 first page of the first sheet, which this 
 hand presented to you, and you will find 
 the first two and twenty lines of Elia's 
 " song." They tell us, that, of the two 
 faces of Janus, 
 
 that which this way looks is clear, 
 
 And smiles upon the New-born year. 
 
 These are the remaining verses. 
 
 He + looks too from a place so high. 
 
 The year lies open to his eye i 
 
 Ana ail the moments open are 
 
 To the exact discoverer ; 
 
 Yet more and more he smiles upon 
 
 The happy revolution. 
 
 Why should we then suspect or fear 
 
 The influences of a year, 
 
 So smiles upon us the first morn. 
 
 And speaks us good so soon as born? 
 
 Plague on't ! the last was ill enough. 
 
 This cannot but make better proof; 
 
 Or, at the worst, as we brusli'd through 
 
 The last, why so we may this too ; 
 
 And then the next in reason shou'd 
 
 Be superexcellently good ; 
 
 For the worst ills (we daily see) 
 
 Have no more perpetuity. 
 
 Than the best fortunes that do fall; 
 
 Which also bring us wherewithal 
 
 Longer their being to support, 
 
 Than those do of the other sort ; 
 
 And who has one good year in three. 
 
 And yet repines at destiny. 
 
 Appears ungrateful in the case. 
 
 And merits not the good he has. 
 
 Then let us welcome the new guest 
 
 With lusty brimmers of the best; 
 
 Mirth always should good fortune meet, 
 
 And render e'en disaster sweet : 
 
 And though the princess turn her back 
 
 Let us but line ourselves with sack. 
 
 We better shall by far hold out, 
 
 Till the next year she face about. 
 
 Elia, having trolled this song to the 
 
 « New Monthly Magazine, Dec 18. 
 t Janus. 
 
 827 
 
THE En'ERY-DAY book.— DECEMBER 31. 
 
 sound of '* the merry, merry bells,'' breaks 
 out : — 
 
 " How say you reader — do not these 
 verses smack of the rough magnanimity of 
 the old English vein ? Do they not fortify 
 like a cordial; enlarging the heart, and 
 productive of sweet blood, and generous 
 spirits in the concoction ? — Another cup 
 of the generous ! and a merry New Year, 
 and many of them, to you all, my mas- 
 ters !" 
 
 The same to you, Em a, — and " to 
 you all my masters!" — Ladies! think 
 not yourselves neglected, who are chief 
 among " my masters" — you are the kind- 
 est, and therefoie the most masterful, and 
 most worshipful of " my masters !" 
 
 Under the female form the ancients 
 worshipped the Earth. They called her 
 " Bona Dm," or the " Good Goddess," by 
 way of excellency, arid that, for the best 
 reason in the world, because " there is no 
 beingthat does men more good." In respect 
 tc her cliastity, all men were forbidden to 
 1>€ present at her worship ; the high priest 
 himself, in whose house it was performed, 
 aud who v.as the chief minister in all 
 others, not excepted. Cicero imputed to 
 Clodius as a crime that he had entered 
 the sacred fane in disguise, and by his 
 presence polluted the mysteries of the 
 Good Goddess. The Roman ladies offer- 
 ed sacrifices to her through the wife of 
 the high priest, and virgins consecrated 
 to the purpose. 
 
 The Earth, Bona Dea, or the "Good 
 Goddess," was represented under the form 
 of a matron with her right hand opened, 
 as if tendering assistance to the helpless, 
 and holding a loaf in her left hand. She 
 was also venerated under the name of 
 Ops, and other denominations, but with 
 the highest attributes ; and when so de- 
 signated, she was worshipped by men 
 and boys, as well as women and virgins ; 
 and priests ministered to her in dances 
 with brazen cymbals. These motions 
 signified that the Earth only imparted 
 blessings upon being constantly moved ; 
 and as brass was discovered before iron, 
 the cymbals were composed of that metal 
 to indicate her antiquity. The worship- 
 pers seated themselves on the ground, 
 and the posture of devotion was bending 
 forward, and touch' ng the ground with the 
 right hand. On the head of the goddess 
 
 was placed a crown of towers, denoting 
 strength, and that they were to be worn 
 by those who persevered. 
 
 To all " of the earth" not wholly 
 " earthy," the Earth seemed a fit subject 
 to picture under its ancient symbol ; and, 
 in a robe of arable and foliage, set in a 
 goodly frame of the celestial signs, with 
 the seasons '• as they roll," it will be offered 
 as a frontispiece to the present volume, 
 and accompany the title-page with the 
 indexes in the next sheet. 
 
 It n-just have been obvious to every 
 reader of the Evcry-Day Book, as it has 
 been to me, of which there have been se- 
 veral indications for some time past, that 
 the plan of the work could not be execu- 
 ted within the year ; and I am glad to 
 find fiom numerous quarters that its con- 
 tinuance is approved and even required. 
 So far as it has proceeded I have done my 
 utmost to render it useful. My endea- 
 vours to render it agreeable may occasion 
 *' close" readers to object, that it was 
 more discursive than they expected. I am 
 afraid I can only answer that I cannot 
 unmake my making-up; and plead guilty 
 to the fact, that, knowing the wants of 
 many, through my own deficiencies, I 
 have tried to aid them m the way that 
 appeared most likely to effect the object, 
 with the greater number of those for whom 
 the work was designed. Nor do I hesi- 
 tate also to acknowledge, that in gathering 
 for others, I have in no small degree been 
 teaching myself. For it is of the nature 
 of such an undertaking to constrain him 
 •who executes it, to tasks of thought, and 
 exercises of judgment, unseen by those 
 who are satisfied when they enjoy what is 
 before them, and care not by what ven- 
 tures it was obtained. My chief anxiety 
 has been to provide a wholesome suffi- 
 ciency for all, and not to offer any thing 
 that should be hurtful or objectionable. 
 I hope I have succeeded. 
 
 I respectfully desire to express my 
 grateful sense of the extensive favour 
 wherein the conduct of the publication is 
 held. And I part from my readers on 
 New Year's-eve, with kind regards till we 
 meet in the new volume of the Every- 
 Day Book on New Year's day — to-mor- 
 row. 
 45, Ludgate-hili, \825 W. Hone. 
 
 END or VOL. I 
 
 828 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 SUBJECTS CONTAINED OR NOTICED IN THIS VOLUME, 
 
 Festivals and other Ilohjdays of observance, in the Chnrch of England Calendar, 
 are printed in Capitals. 
 
 Abbeville, sporting letter from, 7c 8 
 
 Abduction, case of, 384 
 
 Abelard, P., died, 247 
 
 Abercromby, sir R , died, 199 
 
 Aboo, or Aber, Irish war-cry, 251 
 
 Abraham's bosom, in old wood-cuts, 800 
 
 Absalom, in a sign, 631 
 
 Accomplishments without principle, 144 
 
 Actor, an itinerant, his duties, 6.2 
 
 Actsofthe Apostles, a mystery at Paris, 375 
 
 Adam, 11. and J., account of, 163 
 
 Adams, Jack, his parish, 741 
 
 Addison, at Button's, 504 
 
 Adelphi, the, 163 
 
 Advent, meaning of the term, 766 ; cus- 
 toms of the season, 776, 79S, 8-1 
 
 j^rial, the account of, 728 
 
 ^tni, its eruptions diverted by a 1 dy"s 
 veil, 107 
 
 Africa, tr:ivels in, 790 
 
 After Vula, 2 
 
 Agatha, Febrnarij 5; miracles by her, 107 
 
 Agi "court, hattle o'f, 699 
 
 Agnes, January 21; her legend, 7l; cus- 
 toms on St. Agnes' eve, 68 
 
 Aguesseau, chanc. D', his use of time, 
 155 
 
 Air, spiritually peopled, 634 
 
 Aits, ishinds on tlie Thames, 302 
 
 Alban, June 17 ; account of this saint, 
 402 
 
 Albin's, St , Herts, formerly Holmhurst, 
 402 
 
 Albert and Isabella, archdeacon and 
 duchess kiss St. VValburg's jawbone, 
 152 
 
 Aldegraver, his engraving of the guillo- 
 tine, 74 
 
 Ale; name derived, 574, 811, 772; ale- 
 drinkers in Holinshed's time, 5G3 
 
 , Whitsun, 343, whence derived, 343 
 
 Alexander the Great, notice of, 247 
 
 , S*., Newski, order of, 769 
 
 All Fools' day, 205 
 
 hallowe'en, 704 
 
 heal, the mistletoe, 819 
 
 All Saints, Novemb-r 1; customs on, 711 
 
 Souls, No^'ember 2; customs on, 712 
 
 Allan, D., his etching of Italian street 
 music, 798 
 
 Alleluia, buried in the Romish church, 100 
 
 Almanacs, chronological error in, 715; 
 
 made of wood, 736 
 Alphabet, in a bill of costs, 119 
 Alphege, April 19; customs on his fes- 
 tival, 243 
 Am lia, princess, original letter from, 5."i6 
 American war commenced, 243; poetry, 
 
 785 
 Amherst, lord, his portrait, 302 
 Amhurst, Nicolas, author, account of, 
 
 264 
 Amiens, pear'e of, signed, 196 
 Amulet, the, its literary character, 7 G 
 Ancient Britons, their anniversary, 161 
 Andrew, St., November 30; account of the 
 
 saint aad his festival, 769; order of, ij. 
 
 's Holborn, boy bishop, 781 
 
 • Undershaft, maypole, 278 
 
 Anirelo, Michael ; see Buonarroti 
 
 Angel, guardian, :il5 
 
 Angels, archangels, and angels guardian, 
 
 Giy^•, their orders and habits, 675; fur 
 
 their visits, &c. to saints, see Index 11. 
 Angling, 349 
 Anglo Norman carol, 798 
 Animals, on cruelty to, 400, 6j4 
 Ann, St., Juhf 25; memoirs of her and 
 
 St. Jo ichim, 504 
 Annunciation, B. V. M., or L\dy Dat, 
 
 March 2); customs on the festival, 193 
 Anselm, St., archbishop of Canterbury, 
 
 notice of, 247 
 Anson, commodore, lord, died, 384 
 Antiquaries, society of, their anniversary, 
 
 252 
 Antony, St., picture of, 59; his hospital, 
 
 London, its seal, school, his pig, 60 
 Apis, the Egyptian deity, 246 
 Apocrypha, authority for reading it, 672 
 Apollmarius, the elder and younger, play 
 
 writers, 372 
 ApoUo and Minerva, shown at Naples, for 
 
 David and Jud'th, 806 
 
 , an, of Cambridge, 632 
 
 Apistle spoons, described, 88 
 
 Apothecaries, proposal for their canoni- 
 zation, 152 
 
 Apparition of an arm chair, 747 
 
 Apparitions, &c., see Romish saints in 
 Index 11. 
 
 Apple, sp rts, 704, 711 ; diving, 70S 
 
 829 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Apples, the finest, where grown, 454; 
 blest, 4b9 
 
 Apple-tree, charm, 21; wassail, 803 
 
 Apprentices, city, their former import- 
 ance, and present condition, 129 
 
 Aprilius, John hanged for three da} s and 
 kept alive, 23 
 
 Apron, the barbers', 627 
 
 Archee, his new-year's gift, 5 
 
 Archers, decay of, 618; their service at 
 Agincourt, 699 
 
 Architecture of the new churchps, 473 
 
 Arius, indebted to St. ncian, 31 
 
 Armitage, the racket-player, 434 
 
 Arnmonat, 5o0 
 
 Arsedine, yellow arsenic, 6(l7 
 
 Art, eminence in it, how attained, 137 
 
 Arundel Castle, a sweep in the state bed, 
 294 
 
 Ascension-Dat, 326 ; its customs, 690 
 
 Ascham, Roger, account of, 15 
 
 Ascot races, fraud at 384 
 
 Ash, rev. J., philologist, died, 265 
 
 Ash Wednesday, moveable; customs, 131 
 
 Ass, the, citations respecting, 655 ; his 
 nobleness and voice, 679; how ntn- 
 tioned by Leo Africanus, 790; remaiks 
 on, 805 ; drawn in procession, 197 
 
 A-suMPTiON, B. V. M. Auguit 15; customs 
 on the day, 559 
 
 Astley's troop at Bartholomew fair, 623 
 
 Atkins, his menagerie, 588 
 
 Attanasy, father, his Easter sermon, 223 
 
 Attorney, an, not to be com|)ared to a 
 bull, nor to a goose, but comparable, 
 perhaps, to the man in the moon, 120 
 
 Attornies of the lord mayor's court, 667 
 
 Audrey's, St., lace, 692 
 
 August, the Twelfth of, petition from, 
 550 ; answer to, 551 
 
 Augustine, archbishop of Canterbury, 
 May 26 ; his monast ry at Canterbury, 
 151 ; notices and legendary anecdotes 
 of him, 352 
 
 , St., August 28; an early father, 
 
 Lardner's character of him, 572 
 
 Aunty's garden, a pastime, 54 
 
 Aurochos, an African animal, 588 
 
 Autograph of St. li^natius, 628 
 
 Autumn quarter, 642 
 
 Baal, Bal, Beal, Bel-tein, fires, 297, 424, 
 706, 711 
 
 Bacchus, his festival, 736 
 
 Bachelors, in the lord mayor's show, 727 
 
 Bacon, lord, died, 226 ; cause of his death, 
 435 ; proof of his favouritism, 436 
 
 Bag pipers, of Italy, 798 ; a German one 
 with a cognizance, 813 
 
 Bailey, rev. R. R., his sermon at St. 
 Katharine's, 703 
 
 Baker, Mrs., her company at Bartholo- 
 mew fair, 623 
 
 iJales, Peter, a wr'ting-raaster, account o'", 
 
 543 
 Ball-play custom^ 122, 130, 215, 777. 
 
 8L7; at Copenha^-^en-houso, 433 
 Ball's itinerant theatre, 588 
 Ballad-singers, formerly licensed, 622 
 Ballard's menagerie, 596 
 Balloon-, 221 
 Banks, sir Jos., his wine-cellar, 11 ; died, 
 
 406 
 Bannockburn, battle of, 428 
 Bannocks, cakes, "sauty" and charmed 
 
 ones, 130; of St. Michael, 670 
 Rajitism of infan>, 722 
 Bara, a Sicilian festival, 559 
 Barbers, account of, 627 
 Baretti, Jos , died, 308 
 Barley, beerlegh, berlrgh, berleg, 574 
 Barley-corn, tir John, his trial, 37; 
 
 Burns's ballad, 696 
 Barme, beerheym, berham, 574 
 Barnabas St, June 11; notice respecting 
 
 him, 386 
 Barnes and Finley's booth at Bartholo- 
 mew fair, 621 
 Barnet, battle of, 232 
 Barnmoneth, 530 
 Baron, lord chief, to say he cannot hear 
 
 of one ear actionable, 120 
 Barr, Ben, the seer of Helpstone, 263 
 Barrister's first brief, 80 
 Barrow, Dr. Isaac, notice of, 307 
 Barrow-woman of London, described, 452 
 Barthelemy, J. J., notice of, 307 
 BARTHOLOMiiw, St. August 24 ; notice of 
 
 him, 563 ; custom at Croydon on his 
 
 festival, 56(1 
 
 , massacre at Paris, 566 
 
 's church-yard anciently 
 
 contested in for school prizes, 60 
 
 fair, i s ancient and present 
 
 state, 583, 626 ; form of the proclama- 
 tion read, 618 
 
 hospital, origin of, 616 
 
 pig, 601 
 
 -, Mr., of St. John's, Clerk- 
 
 enwell, 740, 741 
 Bassingborne, Camb., mystery at, 378 
 Bastile, account of its de.-truction, 468 
 Bath, anecdotes, 787, 792 ; season of 
 
 visiting, 792 
 Bathing, 447, 485 
 Batman, Stephen, his notice of printing, 
 
 567 
 Bat rich, Thomas, an ancient barber, 622 
 Battersea, steeple and windmill, 302, 405 
 Battle, Sarah, at whist, 46 
 Bauer, astists Koenig in the steam press, 
 
 769 
 Baynes, John, account of, 80 
 Beacon, or standing lamp, 417 
 Bean-king, and queen, on twelfth-night, 
 
 22, 28, 29, 30 
 
 880 
 
GENEltAL INDEX, 
 
 Bears, moJe of taking in Russia, 90 ; 
 carried in a cart with queen Elizabeth, 
 223 ; tight with lions, 5U0 ; washed in 
 the Thames, 503 
 
 Beards, comely ones, 11 ; various, de- 
 scribed, 6'29 ; St, Anthony's beard at 
 Cologne, 59 
 
 Beasts preached to, and blessed, 59 
 
 Beaton, Cardinal, notice of, 354 
 
 Beaus, comb their wi^s in public, 632 
 
 Beauclerc, Topham, a collector of mys- 
 teries, 373 
 
 Becket, the bookseller, and Garrick, 164 
 
 Beckwith, Mr., his account of twelfth-eve 
 at Leeds, 22 
 
 Bed, love of it, 11 ; sleeping out of one's 
 own, 796 ; beds at Stourbridge fair, 654 
 
 Bede, VtNEKABLE, Mu / 27; noticc of 
 him, 353 
 
 Bees, swarming, 321, 341 ; on a man's 
 head, 482 
 
 Beggars, their patron, 575 
 
 Behnes, Mr. W., sculptor, his bust of 
 West, 173; of Mrs. Gent, 319; he calls 
 a man "no conjuror," 7'-9; his pupils 
 gain the Royal Academy prize 826 
 
 Bell, death, its knell, why different, 362 
 
 , pancake, 121, 123 
 
 the great, of Lincoln's Inn, 406 
 
 Bells, on new-year's day, 3, 8 ; on All 
 Soul's day, 708, 713; on Admiral Ver- 
 non's birth-day, 737 ; on new-year's 
 eve, 827 ; rung by puppet angels, 624; 
 Whittington's, 636 
 
 Bell-flower, 451 
 
 Bellows, blown under Dives, BOO 
 
 Beltein, see Baal 
 
 Belzoni, death of, 771 
 
 Bbnedict, March 21 ; m'raculous anec- 
 dotes of him, 190; founder of the order 
 of St, Benedict, 191 
 
 Benedictine nunnery, Clerkenwel!, its site, 
 
 Bent, Independent, 302 
 
 Berkshire customs, 218 
 
 Berlin, royal marriage dance, 776 
 
 Berners, lord, his Froissart, &c., 431 
 
 Berri, duchess de, her new-year's gift to 
 
 Louis, XVIIl., 7 
 Berwick, duke of, killed, 387 
 Bessy, on Plough Monday, 36 
 Beyntesh, Berks, hue and cry, 438 
 Bible, withheld from the laity, 876, 377 ; 
 
 written to be comprised in a walnut 
 
 shell, 543 
 Bickham, George, writing-master, died, 307 
 Big Sam, notice of, 310 
 
 , man, 783 
 
 Bill of costs, whimsical, 118 
 
 Billington, Mrs., noticed, 382 
 
 Bingley, Mrs., dress-maker to princess 
 
 Amelia, 537 
 Birch, Dr. Thomas, notice of, 40, 488 
 
 Bird, W., and his school in Fetter-lane 
 described, 483 
 
 Birds, in winter, 12; their resistance to 
 cold, 35 ; arrival, 233, 307 ; singing, 
 364; migration, 6^5; fraudulently 
 painted, 6-7 
 
 Birdseller's shop, described, 377 
 
 Birkbeck, Dr. George, founder of the 
 London Mechanics' Institution, 5 75 
 
 Bishop Valentine, 110 
 
 Blackbird, in a cage at Greenwich, 346 
 
 Blackheath hill, 344, 345 
 
 Blacksmiths, their patron, 749 
 
 Blackstone. Sir W., how he relieved his 
 studies, 82; account of, 116 
 
 Blandl'ord Forum, custom, 707 
 
 Bi.ASE, February 3; miracles attributed 
 to this saint, 104; customs on his fes- 
 tival, 105 
 
 Bleeding image of Paris, 448 ; stone 
 cross, 79 > 
 
 Blessing of apples, 4^9; ashos, 131; 
 b asts, 59; candles, 100; wax, 101; a 
 market, 379 
 
 Blight, in spring, 310 
 
 Bliss, Dr., his boar's head carol, 800 
 
 Bloemart, Abraham, his piper, 813 
 
 Bloomfield, Robert, poet, account of, 563 
 
 Blossoms, in spring, 310 
 
 Blotmonath, 710 
 
 Ho ! to a goose, 544 
 
 Boadicea, site of her battle, 431 
 
 Boar's head, and carol, at Christmas, 8 9 
 
 Bo-bo and his father Ho-ti, 6u9 
 
 Bochart, Samuel, orientalist, died, 310 
 
 Bodies, why they float after death, 65 
 
 Boetius, behd., and carries his head, 353 
 
 Bolton, Jenny, 621 
 
 , prior of St. Bartholomew's, 617 
 
 Bombs, first used in war, 193 
 
 Bona Dea, the good goddess of the Ro- 
 mans, 828 
 
 Bonaparte, Louis, anecdote of, 48 
 
 Bonasoni, his portrait of M, Angelo, 135 
 
 Bon-Bons, French, 7 
 
 Bonfires, on St. John's eve, 412, 423 ; on 
 6th of November, 7 1 7 
 
 Boniface June 5 ; account of him, 383 
 
 , pope, VIII., throws blessed 
 
 ashes in the eyes of an archbishop, 131 
 , archbishop of Canterbury, 
 
 anecdote of, 616 
 Bonnets, 719 
 Boot of St. Ignatius, 525 
 Boots and Shoes, receipt for water proof, 
 
 752 
 Boring, for water, 521 
 Botanizers of London, 436 
 Botolph, St., Aldersgate, Register Book, 
 
 217 
 Bottle-devil, 14 
 
 Bourgeiiis Ga lery, Dulwich, 606 
 Bow Church, corporation sermon, 223 
 
 831 
 
GENKRAL INPEX. 
 
 Bowings, marvellous number per day by 
 
 a saint, 19 
 Bowling alleys, 618 
 
 Bowring, John, tendency of his poetry, 714 
 Baws and silver arrows, prizes, 619 
 Bowyer, Robert, keeper of the lions, 5 3 
 Boxing day, described, 823 
 Boxley rood, 646 
 Boy bishop, account of, 779 
 Boyer, Jem, C. L's schoolmaster, G81 
 Boyne, the battle of, 447 
 Braddock, Fanny, singular memoir of, 639 
 Bradford, Yorksh., clothing festival, 1(J5 
 Braeckmonath, 369 
 Bramanti, his disputes with M. Angelo, 
 
 134 
 Brandy punch, 811 
 Breakfast, in cold weather, 144 
 BreitkopF, J. G. I., account of, 93 
 Breughel, his concert of cats, 5oi 
 Brewer, the, and his trade, 784 
 Brewster, Dr., invents the kaleidoscope, 
 
 237 
 Bride's, St., church, Fleet-street, 43; 
 
 spital sermon, 223; well, 163 
 Brindley, the editor of his classics hanged, 
 
 144 
 BiiiTius Bricb, November 13, notice of 
 
 him, 737 
 Broom girls, Buy a broom ? 4 "'5 
 Brougham, Mr. Robert, his good humour 
 
 on a humorous portrait of him, 40(3 
 Brown's troop of jugglers, dancers, &c., 
 
 695 
 Bruce, James, traveller, died, 264 
 Briid, his bed, 103 
 Bruno, bishop, eaten by rats, 6^1 
 Bubbles, anecdotes of. 83. ft6, 177, 700 
 Buccleugh, banner of, 777 
 Buchanan, George, his new-year's gift to 
 
 JVlary queen of Scots, 5. 
 Buckler of St. Michael, ()R5 
 Buckley, Samuel, bookseller, account of, 
 
 141 
 Bud'^ell, Eustace, his suicide, 307 
 Buds, their structure, 92 
 Building improvements, 319, 321, 436, 439 
 Bull running at Stamford, 741 
 Bull, a, — the dead returns liianks, 186 
 Bullock, Mr., forms a museum at Mexico, 
 
 7e6 
 Bumping, 670, 687 
 Bungay, Suffolk, storm at, 533 ; watchmen 
 
 there, their Christmas verses, 814 
 Buns, Good Friday, 2ul 
 Buonarroti, Michael Angelo, account of, 
 
 132; design by him for a fountain, 523 
 Burial of persons ahve, 783 
 Burleigh, lord, at Bernard Gilpins, 166 
 Burmese state carriage, describe •, 760 
 Burney, Dr. C, a collector of mysteries, 
 
 3:3; his death, 231 
 Burning the uld witch, 29 
 
 Burton, Devon, festival at, 371 
 Bushy, Middlesex, ball-play, 123 
 Butchers, French, their pageant, 649; of 
 
 Clare-market, their bonfire, 717 
 Bute, John, earl of, died, 173 
 Butler, rev. Alban, his "Lives of the 
 
 Saints " used in this work, 2 
 
 -, archdeacon, his opinion on carl- 
 
 playing, 45; funeral sermon, on Dr. 
 
 Parr, 221 
 
 , Jacob, antiquary, account of, 651 
 
 Button's coffee-house, 5U3 
 Byron, Lord, died, 243 
 
 C's bull, an attorney not to be compared 
 
 to, 120 
 Cages of squirrels, 693 
 Cairo, the Pacha refuses a diploma, 42 
 Cakes, 35; tossed from an ox's horn, 22 
 Calabrian Minstrels in Rome, at Chrict- 
 
 mas, 798 
 Calf, superstitiously burnt, 427 ; walks up 
 
 to a lion, 503 
 Camberwell, church monuments, 191; 
 
 fair, 562; Grove scenery, 507 
 Cambray, boy bishop, 779 
 Cambridjje, names and professions, 35'^, 
 oak, 530 ; squib, on dog muzzling, 449 ; 
 university examination, 231 ; ApoUos, 
 and wigs, 632 
 Camden, earl, account of, 240 
 Camel, how taught to dance, 791 
 Candle, an everlasting one, 14; piece of 
 a celestial one, 102; sport, 704; su- 
 perstition, 7u8 
 Candles, blest, lOf) ; annually given a', 
 Lyme Regis, lO.*? ; for the tooth-ache, 
 lu4; hghted by miracle, 14,39, 5w ; by 
 the devil, 58 : see also the saints in 
 Index II 
 Candlemas, February 2; customs of the 
 festi>al, 100; derived from the aucieut 
 Romans, li'l ; bull, 6; bond, 6. 
 Candler, his Fantoccini, 5)7 
 Cannom. Cath., marries two husbands, 5^2 
 Canonbury toAver, Islington, describid, 
 
 317; when built, 616 
 Canterbuiy, St Augustine's monastery, 
 
 151 
 Caraccioli, prince, executed, 64; rises 
 
 irom the sea, 65 
 Cards, 45, 804, 81 1 ; origin of cards, 93 
 Care, Carle, or Carling Sunday, 189, 535 
 Carlos, colonel, and Charles II., account 
 
 of, ^59 
 Carols, at Christmas, 79S, 809 
 Carraccioli, on the English climate, 155 
 Carte, Thomas, projects the English edi- 
 tion of Thuanus, 142 
 Carter, Sir John, account of, 331 
 Carterhaugh, N. Britain, sport, 777 
 Casimir lU., fights after his death, 105 
 Castor and Pollux, 269 
 
 832 
 
GENERAI, INDEX. 
 
 Cat- worship by the Romish clergy, 379 ; 
 
 anecdotes of cats, 552 
 ratalani, madame, noticed, 382. 
 ("atchpole, a barber, 635 
 Catharine, November 25 ; account of her, 
 752; customs on her festival, 754; see 
 Katharine. 
 Cathedrals, ill adapted to p'Otestant wor- 
 ship, 322 
 Cato, performed in Fe ter-lane, 484 
 Cattle, supersliliously treated, 6 ; drink- 
 ing in winter, 99 
 Cavanagh, the fives-player, account of, 433 
 Cave, Edward, printer, account of, 741 
 Cave of the three kings of ( ologne, 41 
 Caxton, William, his life of St. Roche, 561 
 Cecilia, November 22 ; notice of her, 748 
 Celts, for cutting the mistletoe, 818 
 Censing, at Whitsuntide, 343 
 Centaur, a, seen by a saint, 52 
 Ceres, the planet, discovered, 11 
 Cervantes, his death, 252 
 Chad, March 2; St. Chad's Wells, Bat- 
 
 tlebridge, 161 
 Chafiuif dish, on twelfth night, 23 
 Chair, the barber's, 635 
 Chantry, Mr., a designation by, 729 
 Chiipel- royal. Maundy, 201, printers" 
 
 chapel, 568 
 Chaplains, Romish, play-wri'ers, 378 
 Chappell and Pike's tumblers, &c., 699 
 Chare Thursday, 201 
 Charity schools, of London, instituted, 
 
 195 ; children at church, 704 
 CsARLES I. K. Martyrdom, January Z0\ 
 his execution, 91; pasquinade on his 
 statue at Chariug-cross, 449 
 
 II. K, Restoration, May 29 ; cus- 
 toms of the Restoration-day, 356 ; his 
 escape from Worcester, 360; statue in 
 the Royal Exchange, 360 ; verses ad- 
 mired by him, 360 ; restores maypoles, 
 279 ; prohibits wigs at Cambridge, 632 ; 
 his weakness in childhood, 8 
 ■ V. emiJeror and cobbler, 701. 
 
 ■ VI. of France, licenses the English 
 
 mysterie?, 374 
 
 Charlton, village and fair described, 693 : 
 
 Charms, apple-trees, 21; witchcraft, 19; 
 mistletoe, 119; various, 70 > 
 
 Chatham, the great earl, died, 326 
 
 Chatsworth, Derbyshire, sonnet at, 678 
 
 Checketts, T., his seven-legged mare, 659 
 
 Cherry season, 452 
 
 Cheshire customs, 215 
 
 Chester, maypole, 275 ; mysteries, 375, 
 379; pageants, 418 
 
 Chesterfield, lord, and his servants, 3t5 
 
 Cheyne, Sir John, his answer to the arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, 376 
 
 Child desertion, 560 
 
 ('hildebert, his key, a reliquary, 531 
 
 Childermas-day, 824 
 
 Children, flogged, 15; whipped on Inno- 
 cent's morning. 82 1; how nursed for- 
 merly, 462 ; pickled and come to life, 
 778 
 Childs, Mr. Robert, of B ngay, 677 
 Chimney corner, in old timi s, 811 
 
 sweepers' ^'ay garland, 29?; 
 
 their festivities, 293, 296 
 Chinese characters, in moveable types. 93 
 Chiist's hospital, boy's bathing, 487 ; ser- 
 mon on St. Matthew's day, 65" 
 
 Passion, a mystery, by Gregory 
 
 Nazianzen, 372 ; performed at Ely 
 house, 378 
 Christchurch. cloisters, 608, 620 
 Christern, king of Denmark, at a Lon Ion 
 
 pageant, 415 
 Christianity, in England before Augus- 
 tine, 151 
 Chiustmas-dav, Derpmber 25; its celebra- 
 tion, 806 ; eve, 797 ; carols, 798 ; ever- 
 greens, order of their succession in 
 decking, 103 ; kings, in a pageant at 
 Norwich, 128 ; log, 102 ; pie, 820 
 Church, ball-play in it, 215, 432 
 
 , building, in saints' times, 13, 749 
 
 , a racket-player, 434 
 
 Churches, decked with greens, 818; not 
 with mistletoe, 818; modern architecture 
 of, 460, 473 
 Cider drinking, 21, 22 
 CihCUMCisiON, January 1 ; when insti- 
 tuted, 2 
 City, laureate, or poet, 727 
 Civil wars, how commenced in England, 14 
 C. L's sister, 483, 485 
 Clare-market, butcher's bonfire, 717 
 Clarges, sir Walter, his origin, 291 
 Clark, I homas, miser of Dundee, 794 
 Clark's horse-riding and tumbling, f 93 
 
 , posture master, 624 
 
 J., licenser of ballad singers, 622 
 
 Classes, high and low assimilate, 800 
 Clay, Mr., printseller, 496 
 Clayen cup, in Devonshire, 21 
 Cle^horn, Mr. John, artist, sketching at 
 
 the Pied Bull, 318 ; noticed again, 487 
 Clement, St., November, 23 ; notice of 
 
 him, 749 ; customs on his festival, ib. 
 Clergy, Romish, call themselves the cocks 
 
 of the Almighty, 128 
 ClerkenweU, parish, Clerks'well, its site, 
 
 377; ducking pond, 486 ; St. John's 
 
 church and parish, 737 
 Clias, captain, his gymnastics, 10 
 Clitf, Kent, rectorial custom at, 489 
 Clipping the church, 215 
 Clock, dialogue, 410 
 Clogs, wooden almanacs, 736 
 Cloth fair, lord Rich's residence in, 617 
 Clothiers, how they travelled aucieiitly, 
 
 438 ; at Bartholomew fair, 616 
 Clouds, their gorgeous imagery, 444 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 833 
 
 3 H 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Clouwet, his engraving of Rubens's St. 
 Antony, 60 
 
 Coach wheel, driven for a wager, 658 
 
 Coalheavers going to Greenwich fair, 219 
 
 Cobbler and his stall, 429 ; cobblers take 
 precedence of shoemakers, 701 
 
 Cock in pot, and cock to dunghill, 33 
 
 and lion, disputants, 50 
 
 fighting, and customs, 126, 12S; 
 
 leaden ones, 127 
 
 crowing during the nights of Ad- 
 vent, 821 
 
 Cockneys, king of, his court on Childer- 
 mas day, 824 
 
 Cockpit-royal, Whitehall, 128 
 
 Coke, sir Edward, his reproof of Anne 
 Turner, 719 
 
 Colchester oysters, at Stourbridge, 634 
 
 Cold, at the North Pole, 233 
 
 Colet, dean, his order for the boy bishop's 
 sermon, 780 
 
 Collar days, at cnurt, SO 
 
 Colley, Thomas, convicted of murder, 523 
 
 Collop Monday customs, 121 
 
 Colnaghi and Son, printsellers, 606 
 
 Cologne, the three kings of, 23 
 
 Colpoys, admiral, his life saved, 332 
 
 Common council, prayed for, 223 
 
 crier's office, 667 
 
 Hunt's office, 666 
 
 Conant, Mr. and the ^rial, 731 
 
 Conduits, destroyed, 521 
 
 Confectioners of Paris, 7 
 
 Congresbury custom, 419 
 
 Constantine, his church establishment, 372 
 
 Contented man, described, 734 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul, January^ 21 ; 
 superstitions concerning the day, 88 
 
 Cook, disgraced if idle at Christmas, 820 
 
 Cooke, Mr., theatrical singer, 483 
 
 Copenhagen-housf, account of, 429 
 
 Copy-writing, at school, 484 
 
 Corning, on St. Thomas's day, 794 
 
 Cornwall, Palm Sunday customs, 198; 
 other customs and superstitions, 281, 
 424, 425, 427, 806; gnary miracle 
 plays, or mysteries, 379 
 
 Corpse, terrifically rises from the sea, 66 
 
 Corpus Ciiristi, moveable; makes Trinity 
 term commence a day later, £0 ; cus- 
 toms on the festival, 371 
 
 Cosin, John, Bishop of Durham, lights his 
 Cathedral on Candlemas-day, 103 
 
 Costermonger, described, 607, 654 
 
 Costume of the 13th century, 169 
 
 Cottager, a, and his family, 437 
 
 Coventry mysteries, 375, 378 ; parliament 
 there, 377 ; sports, 239 
 
 Councils, forbid decking with greens, 818 
 
 Country, the, and a country life, 246, 233, 
 304, 330 ; country lasses, their finery 
 formerly, 4 ; squire of Queen Anne's 
 time, 811 
 
 Cowper, William, poet, account of, 260 
 Cox, captain, the collector, 239 
 Cranmer, archbishop, burnt, 191 ; his 
 
 widow, ib. 
 Cratch, the, in raince-pies, 820 
 Crawley's booth, Bartholomew fair; 624 
 Creation of the world, a mystery, 377 ; 
 
 represented by puppets at Bartholomew 
 
 fair, 620,624; at Bath 6i4 
 Creeping to the cross, 216 
 Cressets, account of, 416 
 Cressy, father S., his" Church History" 
 
 used in this work, 2 
 Crickets on the winter hearth, 49 
 Cripplegate, and the cripples' patron, 575 
 Crisp, Samuel, account of, 65 
 Crispin, October 25; account of the saint 
 
 and his festival, 697 
 Crittel, Mr., landlord at West Wickham, 
 
 754 
 Croaker, Mrs., her new-year's gift to the 
 
 lord chancellor, 5 
 Croft, rev. Mr., col'ector of mysteries, 37.3 
 Cromwell, O., personated in a sport, 359 ; 
 
 his supposed burial phce, 430 
 Cross found by Helena, 306 ; seen in the 
 
 sky by Constantine, 646 ; bleeding one 
 
 of stone, 793 
 
 of the south, described. .306 
 
 Cross-bill, a bird, described, 467 
 
 week, 321 
 
 Crowdie, 130 
 
 Crowle, J.C., master of the revels, &c., 622 
 
 Crown and Anchor booth, at fairs, 347, 
 362, 694 
 
 Croyland abbey custom, 566 
 
 Crucifixion, wounds, &c., in the passion 
 flower, 385 
 
 Cruikshank, Mr. George, the artist no- 
 ticed, 454, 557, 660, 715 
 
 Cuckold's point, 694 
 
 Cuckoo, the, 19 5, 206; cuckoo-day, 233; 
 song, 370 
 
 Cumberland customs, 27, 212; funerals, 
 539 
 
 gardens, Vauxhall, 302 
 
 Cuper's gardens, 302 
 
 Curfew bell, its origin, &c, 121 
 
 Curl papers, 634 
 
 Curses of the church, 131 
 
 Cuthbert, St., converted at ball-play, 432 
 
 Cut-purses, caveat against, 603 
 
 Cyprian, St., September 26 ; notice of,662 
 
 Cyprus, a decking for rooms, 818 
 
 Daffa-down-dilly, a lawyer may not be 
 
 called one, 120 
 Dagon, a symbol of the sun in Pisces, 14 
 Dance, by moonlight, 6 ; of torches, 776 
 Danes, massacre of, commemorated, 238 ; 
 
 their honour to rural d ities, 21 
 Daniel O'Rourke, his story, 311 
 Darwin, Dr. Erasmus, death of, 241 
 
 83J: 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Davics, Jonn, a raclcpt player,434 
 
 Tom, bookseller, notice of, SOS 
 
 Datid, St., March 1 ; account of the 
 saint, 157 ; customs of his festival, 159 
 
 H., artist, engraving from, 693 
 
 Day family, the, 550 
 
 , 15th ?^eptember, usually fine, GM 
 
 after lord-mayor's day, 735 
 
 Mr., his exhibition of painting and 
 
 sculpture, 132, 766 
 
 Mr. Thomas, a dwarf, 597 
 
 Dead Sunday, 170 
 Death, contemplated, 516 
 
 of Good Living, 129 
 
 of the Virgin, by old engravers,5G0 
 
 Deeping the Jews, 149 
 Deer, and a lion, 501 
 Denham, sir J., poet, died, 187 
 Dent's St., October 9. Account of his 
 martyrdom, and walking two miles 
 afterwards with his head between his 
 hands, attended by angels, and other 
 miracles, 6S6 
 Deptford fair, on Trinity Monday, 3f52 
 Descent into Hell, a mystery, 376, 378 
 Devil in a dish, 56 ; very tall, 57, 58 ; his 
 smell, ib.; blessed by mistake, 63 ; 
 visits Bun^^ay church, 533 ; represented 
 in a pageant, 745; for other adventures 
 attributed to him, see accounts of the 
 Romish saints, Index H. 
 Devonshire customs and superstitions, 
 
 21, 859, 805 
 Dictionary of musicians, characterised, 385 
 Diocles'an, the emperor, in his garden, 66 
 Discontented pendulum, 410 
 Dissent, origin and progress of, 376 
 Distaff's St., day, superstitions, 31 
 Dives and Lazarus, a carol, 803 
 Divinations, various, 709; in advent, 780 
 Docivray, Thomas, prior of St. John's 
 
 Clerkenwell, 740 
 Dog and Goose. 671 
 
 Dog Days begin July 3 ; influence of the 
 season on dogs, 453; no cure for the 
 bite of a mad one, 454; a dog's com- 
 plaint, 476 
 
 . EN» August 11 
 
 fights on Sunday, 435 
 
 killer, an ancient office, 451 
 
 star, its alleged power, 449 
 
 Dogs bait lions, 489, 503 ; a horse, ib 
 
 Dogget's booth at Bartholomew's fair, QIQ 
 
 Dorset, countess of, 8 
 
 Dorsetshire custom, 707 
 
 Dort, milk-maids save the city, 303 
 
 Dotterel catching, in Cambridgeshire, 
 
 323 
 Doubts, burnt out, 373 
 Douce, Mr., his ancient Christmas carols, 
 
 79^ 800 
 Dragon, a symbol, 2"0; of St. Michael, 
 663 : with a stake in his eye, 19 
 
 Drama, ancient Greek, suppressed, 370; 
 
 origin of the modern drama, 372 
 Drinking custom, 187 
 , by miracle, 13; at both ends 
 
 of the barrel, 'A'll ; before execution, 
 
 566, excessive, 784 
 Druids, customs, ceremonies, &c., 3, 2'*, 
 
 427, 707, 819 
 Drury-lane maypole, 291 
 Dublin royal society's pupils, under Mr. 
 
 Behnes, gain the London royal academy 
 
 prizes, 826 
 Duck-hunting at May-fair, 21-7 
 Duddingston, N. Britain, custom, 770 
 Duel, R. B. Sheridan and Matthews, 456 
 Duelling characterised, 226 
 Dulwich, visit to, 506 
 Dunn, Harriet, English plum-pudding 
 
 maker at Paris, 809 
 DuNSTAN, May 19 ; adventures of the 
 
 saint with the devil, 336 
 — , sir Jeffrey, 623 
 
 Durham cathedral, on Candlemas-day, 
 
 103 ; customs, 216 
 Dwarfs at Bartholomew fair, 595 
 Dyer, Mr. George, his " Privileges of the 
 University of Cambridge," and " His- 
 tory," 653 
 
 Earth, the, how worshipped, 828 
 Earthquakes, England, 75, 171 ; Lisbon, 
 
 4S8 ; predicted by cats, 565 
 Easling, Kent, custom, 770 
 East winds, unwholesome, 67 
 Easter, Eastre, Eastpr-monath, 204 
 Easter-dat, moveable; origin, and how to 
 find, 2u8, 2o9, customs, 211,432; offer- 
 ings, origin of, 180 
 Eckert, C. A. F., a musical prodigy, 519 
 Eclipse the first recorded, 187 
 Eddystone lighthouse destroyed, 758 
 Edinburgh, coronation pageant, 324 ; car- 
 dinal Beaton's house, 356 ; new Ex- 
 change founded, 656 
 Edmund, K. and Martyr, November, 2); 
 
 account of him, 747 
 Edulf, a strorg Anglo-Saxon, 15 
 Edward, St., K. W. S. March 13; mur- 
 dered, D6 
 
 's Translation, June 20 ; remov- 
 
 al of his remains, 407 
 
 the confessor, his death, 310; 
 
 translation, 68 S 
 
 II., sees a mystery at Paris, 373 
 
 III., his gift to a boy bishop, 780 
 
 Eel-pie house, near Hornsey, 349 
 Eggs, at Easter, 213 
 Egypt, conquered by the Turks, 231 
 Eldest son of the church, origin of the 
 
 title, 675 
 Elephant, of Henry III., 507; Atkins's, 
 
 589, 590 
 Elia, and Bridget Elia, 46 
 
 835 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Ella, and Jem White, their treat to the 
 sweeps, 293 
 
 Ehzabeth, qupcn, new year's gifts to, 4 ; 
 studies with Roger Ascham, 15 ; sees 
 fives' play, 43 J; goes to St. Mary Spita', 
 223 ; her accession celebrated, 744 
 
 Elm Leaves, used for fodder, 702 
 
 Elmo, St., extraordinary circumstances 
 relative to the capitulation of the fort, 63 
 
 Ely, Isle of, convent and church, 691 ; 
 willows, 640 
 
 house, mystery performed there, 378 
 
 Ember Weeks, moveable; seasons of mor- 
 tification, 786 
 
 Enoch, the book of, 663 
 
 tNURcnus, September 7 ; his history of no 
 authority, 627 
 
 Epiphany, January 6 ; customs of the fes- 
 tival, 23, 30 ; name explained, 29 
 
 Epitaphs, on a chimney board, 230 ; on 
 captain Grose, 3-9, on a garret, 393 ; 
 at St. John's, Clerkenwell, 740 
 
 Equinox, vernal, l*-8 
 
 Erskine, lord, his dressing of his barber, 
 633 
 
 Erysipelas, why called St. Antony's fire, 60 
 
 Escurial, palace and monastery, 543 
 
 Eskdale custom, 6^-0 
 
 EtHuLReda, October 17; account of her, 
 691 
 
 Eton-school customs, on Collop Monday, 
 121 ; Shrove Tuesday, 130 ; bonfires, 
 425 ; nutting, 647 
 
 Ettrick forest, sport, 777 
 
 Etymology of the seasons, 7 ' 9 
 
 Evelyn, John, with judge JefiTeries at an 
 entertainment, 239 ; his account of the 
 fire of London, 576 
 
 Evergreens at Christmas, 818 
 
 Every day dialogue, 7*^7; work, 521 
 
 Evesham, John, keeper of the lions, 503 
 
 Evil eye, on May eve, 297 
 
 May-day, 278, 289 
 
 Ewias, inscription for St. David at, 153 
 
 Exaltation of the cross, 6 15 
 
 Excise laws, originated, 180 
 
 Exercise, indispensable, 658 
 
 Exeter city gates broken by a strong man, 
 15 ; mail coach horse, and lions, 596 
 
 Eyes, the, receipt for, 177 
 
 Fabian, January 20; notice of him, 68 
 
 Fagot-sticks, divination, 776 
 
 Fairies on May eve, 297 
 
 Faith, October 6; the existence of this 
 
 saint doubted, 6'^1 
 Falconer, John, barber of Glasgow, 636 
 Falling sickness, in rooks, 2 18 
 Fan handle, decorated, 4 
 Fantoccini, a street show described, 557 
 Fardel, explained, 60S 
 Fashion-monger's head, 631 
 Fasten's eve, 130 
 
 Favourite of Lord Bacon's mentioned, 435 
 Faulkner, rev. W. E. L., 7-iO 
 Fawkes, the conjuror, 613 
 
 Guy, his day, London, 715 
 
 Ferrers, earl, executed, BOS 
 
 P'errule, schoolmasters' described, 481 
 
 Festival of kings, 22 
 
 Fete de Sans-Culottes, 29 
 
 Fiddler, a, in Greenwich park, 316 
 
 Fdthie worm, a Romish monument, lost, 
 
 147 
 Finger-snapping by barbers, 614 
 Finland custom on St. Stephen's day, 8-2 
 Finsbury- fields, ball-play, 129 
 Fires, in London, 195, 5 t9, 575 
 
 , good ones, essential to Christmas, 
 
 808 
 
 , on twe'fth-day eve, 2?, 29 ; see Baal 
 
 Fireworks, in London, prohibited, 718 
 Fish, how preserved in ponds during fro't, 
 
 -tl ; preached to, 59 ; pond for cod, 41 
 Fishmongers' almshouses, fiddler at, 346 
 Fives' balU| lay, 432 ; see Ba 1-play 
 
 court, St. Martin's-street, 434 
 
 Fleet prison, ball- play, 435 
 Flamsteed, John, astronomer, his original 
 memoirs of himself, and his dispute with 
 sir Isaac Newton, 546 
 Fleming, rev. Abraham, account of, 533 
 Flight into Egypt, how represented by 
 
 artists, 825 
 Flint, William, printer, of the old St. John 
 
 of Jerusalem tavern, 7*1 
 Flocton, his puppet show at Bartholomew 
 
 fair, 6 23 
 Flogging of children, 15, 824 ; of relic<, 
 
 to recover their virtues, 408 
 Floral directory, commenced and expl lin- 
 ed, 66 
 Flowers, origin of their names, and when 
 
 they blow, 52, 152, 232, H34, 370, 482 
 Flying, by patent wings, 731 
 Fog of London, in November, 751 
 Fools on Plough Monday, 36 ; hatching, in 
 
 a pageant, 128 
 Foot-ball, in Scotland, 777 ; see Ball-play 
 Foote, captain, signs the treaty of St. 
 
 Elmo, 6 1 
 Fornacalia, Fornav, the origin of pan- 
 cakes, 125 
 Foscue, a farmer general, his self-burial 
 
 alive, 51 
 Fountain, a public-house. City-road, 488 
 Fountains, 503, 521 
 
 France, twelfth-day in, 29 ; Death of 
 
 Good Living there, 129 ; all fools' day, 
 
 207, bleeding image of Paris, 448 ; 
 
 Christmas, 808 
 
 Francis 1. throw's verses on Laura's tomb, 
 
 226; licenses mysteries, 375 
 Franking of news[)apers, discontinued, 42S 
 Frederick, emperor, his present (o Co- 
 logne, 23 
 
 83(3 
 
GENERA 
 
 Frederick, p^-ince of Wales, at Bartholo- 
 mew fair 621 ; his deatn, 187 
 
 Freeling, Mr., possessor of Kele's carols, 
 8U0 
 
 Freez'ng shower, its effects on trees ai.d 
 animals, t7 
 
 Frenchmen, all sportsmen, 789 
 
 Frontispiece to this volume, explained, 
 »28 
 
 Fruit stalls, 45 1 
 
 Funerals in Cumberland, 533 ; a rustic 
 one, 7o7 
 
 Fuseli, his compositions as an artist, 175 
 
 Fussell, Mr. Jostph, artist, noticed, 43(3 
 
 Gabriel, the archangel, 663 
 
 Gahagan, Usher, a scholar, hanged, 144 
 
 Gallasher, Mr. John, gains a prize for 
 
 sculpture, 826 
 Gime d struyers' notice to Iloui^e of 
 
 Commoiis, 175 
 Gang-week, 321 
 Gang ng, 687 
 Ganging-day, 670 
 
 Ganymede, changed to Aquarius, 71 
 Garden, its beautie-, 67 
 Gardeners, perambulating, 308 
 Gardening, in old age, a renewal of on- 
 
 childhood, 57 
 Garlands, on Trinity Sunday, 362; 
 
 mourning, 540 ; see May- day 
 Garret, or Garrard, a grocer's epitaph, 395 
 Garrick, David, his letter to Messrs. 
 
 Adam, 164; poes to Bartholomew lair 
 
 with Mrs. Garrick, G22 
 Garter of the princiss ol Bavaria, at her 
 
 wedding, 776 
 Gaudy days, at the universities, 50 
 Gaunt, Mrs., burnt, 240 
 Geek, gowk, gull, 2o6 
 Ge-oh ! to horses, its antiquity, 823 
 Genealogv, precedence disputed, 3jy 
 Genius, vhit it is, 171) 
 Gent, Mrs. Thomas, her bust by Behnes, 
 
 319 
 Gentleman's ^Magazine title-pige, 7*1 
 Geoffry abbott of St. Alban's, first plays 
 
 mysteries in England, 376 
 George-a-Green, and George Dyer, 550, 
 
 552 
 
 , III., king, notice of, 383 
 
 ., IV, birth-day of, 5£0 
 
 George, St., April 23 ; account of him, 
 
 248 ; legend of his adveutu; es with the 
 
 dragon, 219, P51 
 
 ' , St., fields, lactarium, 52 
 
 Germany, twelfth-day in, 29 ; celebra- 
 tions of Spring, 170 ; breeds the best 
 
 cocks, 120; German dipIomarejected,42 
 Gers'-monat, 574 
 Giants, at Bartholomew fair, 5S6, &c. ; 
 
 represented in pageants at Chester, 
 
 418, in Guildhall, 727 
 
 Gibb n, E Iward, whf^re he conceived h's 
 
 history, 134 
 Gilbert, Mr. l^avies, his Christmas carols, 
 
 802 
 Giles, September 1 ; miracles attributed 
 
 to him, 575 
 Giltspur street, whence so called, 683 
 Gilpin, rev. Bernard, account of, 165, 17s 
 
 , rev. William, t urist, died, 211 
 
 Giordano, Lucca, painter, notice of, 826 
 
 Gadinan, John, pageant by him, 128 
 
 G' ass-cutter's procession at Newcas*lc, 
 
 643 
 G'.asfonbury monastery, 158 ; miracu- 
 
 lovs walnut tree, 386 
 Gleeman, Atiglo-saxon, 594 
 Glenfinnyn, vale of, monument ihere to 
 
 the pre;endrr, 16 
 Gloves, new-yeir's gifts, 5; hung in th- 
 air by miracle, 13,:^, kissing for, 755 ; 
 glove of defence in a church, 173 ; 
 t;] JVC money whence derived, 6 
 Glouc stershire customs, 29,426 
 Glowworm, 572 
 Gnat killed by a sai'it, 11 
 Go-to bed-at-noon, flowers, *334 
 God of Death, druidical, 29 
 God rest you, merry GcniLmen ! Chri t- 
 
 mas carol, 802 
 G. dfrey, sir Edmundbury, in a pageant, 
 
 744 
 Golden Legend, W. de Worde's edition 
 ust-d in this work, 2; formerly read in- 
 stead of the New Testament, lv'6 
 Goldsmith, O., resided at Canonbury, S19 
 Gondomar, on the English weather, 154 
 Good Friuay, moveable ; celebrations aud 
 
 customs (.f the day, 20 L 
 Goodi g, oa St. Thomas's day, 793 
 Goose at. Michaelmas, 669 ; anecdote of 
 one, 671 ; whether lawful in Lent, 738; 
 in Christmas pie, 82 •; goose pies on 
 St. S'ephen'a day, 8;i3 
 Gooseberry fair, 219 
 Gordon, Jemmy, of Cambridge, 349; his 
 
 death, 647 
 Gothic church depraved, 737 
 Gout, miraculously cured, 236 
 Grammar school disputatious in Smith- 
 field, 618 
 Grand days, in the law courts, 51 
 Granger, rev.J., punning note coGrose,329 
 Grapes, grow on a saint s bramble, 51 
 Grasshopper, its song, 4i> 
 Grass-week, 321 
 
 Great, the, when they se'l themselves to 
 the court and the devil, 7 10 
 
 seal, new, 1 1 
 
 Greatness of character, exemplified, 102, 
 
 140 
 Greeks, the, used the mistletoe, 819 
 Greens, on St. John's day, 419 ; in chur- 
 ches, 818 ; see Evergreens 
 
 837 
 
GENERAL 
 
 Greenwich church, deflication, 243 ; holi- 
 days, and fairs at Easter, 218; Whit- 
 suntide, 344 ; obsrvacory founded, 545 
 see Fiamsteed 
 
 Gregory, (called the Great), Marchl2; 
 account of this saint and his alleged 
 miracles, 178 
 
 ■ Naz'auzen, suppres'^es the Greek 
 
 drama, and writes rel'gious plays in- 
 stead, 372 
 
 Grey, lady Jane, severity of her parents, 
 16 ; inscription on her portrait, 16 
 
 Friars, mystery performed at the, 378 
 
 Gridirons honoured, 5i3 
 
 Griffin, rev. Thomas, his storm sermon, 7' 9 
 
 Groom porter at St. James's, played for 
 by the royal family, 30 
 
 Grose, Francis, antiquary, notice of, 328 
 
 Guil-erra, and guil, 772 
 
 Guil.otine, in France, 73 ; in England, 4c , 
 long before, 74 ; contemplated for lord 
 Lovat, 75 ; an heraldic bearing, ib. 
 
 "Sule, of August, t 31 
 
 Ganpowder, invented, 199 
 
 Plot day, 715 
 
 Guthltc St., his whips, SG*? 
 
 Gymnas'.ic-., account of, lu ; 658 
 
 Hackin, the, ? sausage, 820 
 Hackney coachea,. at Stourbridg-e, 651 
 Hagbush-lane, Islington, account of, 435; 
 
 derivation of name, ?88 
 Haggis, how made, 817 
 Hail-stoi m saint, 163 
 Hair dress, 630 
 
 . shirts ; see saints, in Index IT. 
 
 Halifax gibbet, and gibbet law, 73 
 
 Hall, with his preserved birds aid beasts 
 
 at Bartholomew fair, 623 
 Halley, Edmund, astronomer, 553 
 Hallow e'en, 704 
 Halter, in a repartee, 565 
 Hamilton, lady, at Caraccioli's execution, 
 
 65 
 Hamf ton-wick, Middlesex ball-play, 123 
 Hand ball, hand tennis, 432 ; see Ball-play 
 Handsel Monday, 12 
 Hanging month, 710 
 Harding Jem, a racket-player 43 1 
 Hardwick forest, custom, 73 
 Hardwicke, lord, resigns the seals to read 
 
 Thuanus, 142 
 Hardy, captain, R.N., serves against the 
 
 Burmese, 705 
 Hare and tabor, 605 ; hare and tortoise, 
 
 689 ; hares, domesticated, 692 
 Hartman, his opini n of Leo Africanus, 791 
 Harvest month, 530; end of harvest, 574 
 Hastings, Warren, account of, 564 ; She- 
 ridan's conduct in his impeachment, 457 
 Hats, 719 
 
 Hawkwood, Sir John, in a pageant, 725 
 Haydon, Mr, artist, an opinion by, 729 
 
 Haymarket theatre, disputes with the 
 
 master of the revels, 622 
 Hazard, played by the royal family, 30 
 Hazlitt, Mr., on Cavanagh's fives-play, 
 
 433 
 Head-ache, cured by a saint, 12 
 Health, in summer, to p.eserve, 461 
 
 drinking on Plough Monday, 667 
 
 Heard, s r Isaac, herald, died, 265 
 Hearne, Thomas, antiquary, discovers an 
 
 old leaf, 800 ; at Earth 1 .mew fair, 
 
 614; died, 386 
 Hearts, in valentineSjllO; 114 
 Hea' ley's booth at Bartholomew fair, 619 
 Heaven, represented in a pageant, 559 ; 
 
 heaven and hell, distance between, 771 ; 
 
 see saints in Index If. 
 Heaving, at Easter, 211 
 Heemskerk, his barber, 633 
 Heit ! used to horses, its antiquity, 822 
 Helena, empress, translates the three 
 
 kings, 23 
 Heligh-monat, 772 
 Hell, its Romish arrangement, 11 ; see 
 
 saints in Index II. 
 Hell-mouth, in a mystery, 374 ; 379 
 Heloise and Abe!ard, notice of, 247 
 Hemp^eed, ch Tm, 705 ; 708 
 Hen, hey, hay-monath, 446 
 Henrietta Maria, queen, notice of, 387 
 street, Covent Garden, duel there, 
 
 4)6 
 Henry II., acts as sewer to his son, 811 
 
 Henry IV., holds a parliament at 
 
 Coventry, 376 
 H»nry V., at Agincourt, 699 
 VI., at a mystery at Winche tir, 
 
 378 ; at another at Coventry, 379 
 
 -VII., keeps Christmas at Green- 
 
 wich, 80 ) 
 
 VIII., Charles I, buried beside 
 
 him, 95 ; a cock-fighter, 128 ; goes a- 
 maying to Greenwich, 275; disguises 
 himse f to see the London watch, 415 
 IX., king of England, 17 
 
 Hens, Customs concerning, 123; one that 
 
 spoke, 125 
 Herald, personated by the devil, 11 
 Herefordshire, custom on twelfth-night, 
 
 22; winter fodder, 702 
 Heretics, St. Anthony's hatred to, 56 
 Hermit, the first, 52 
 
 Hertfordshire custom", 283, 688 ; witch- 
 craft, 623 
 Heton, near Newcastle, boy bishop, 763 
 Higgins, a posture master, 624 
 Highgate, lord Bacon died there, 435 
 Highway woman, at Uumford, 752 
 Hilary, January 13 ; account of him, 50 
 Hindoo festival, Hull, 206 
 Hipson, M ss, a gigantic girl, 587 
 H tchin, Herts, May-day, 283 
 Illafmas, 532 
 
 888 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Hoire, Mr. S., his admonitory letier to 
 
 Wombwell, 494 
 Hoax, iu Frauce, 480 
 Hoby, sir Philip, his papers, 433 
 Hook, Hoke, or Hox-day, 238 
 Hockley in the hole, its site, 377 
 Hoddesdon, Herts, Shrove Tuesday cus- 
 toms, 121 
 Hodge's distillery, Lambeth, ^02 
 Hogarth, painted scenes for Bartholomew 
 
 fair, 623 
 Holbetch, bishop of London, declares the 
 gift of St. Bartholomew's to the city at 
 Paul's cross, 617 
 Holborti-h II, "in my time," 454 
 Holla id's, lady, mob, 615 
 Hollar, Wenc, engraver, account of, Ihd 
 Jlolmhurst, St. Albau's, 402 
 Holly, the, and the ivy. 56; a carol, 799, 
 818; an in-door decking, 818; holly- 
 boy and ivy-girl, 113, 129 
 Holy Cross, September 14; derivation and 
 usage of the day, 646 
 
 ■ Thdrsday, moveable; rogations and 
 
 customs of the day, 326, 322 
 
 • gate, opened at Rome, 154 
 
 water, 13 
 
 Holyday, at Dulwich, by S. R., 506 ; ra- 
 tional holyday making, 219 
 
 , children, at Christmas, 804. 
 
 Home, a sailor's, 345 
 Hop, a threepenny, 823 
 Hopfer, D., engraving by, 561 
 Horn fair, described, 693 
 Home, bishop, anecdote of, 41 8 
 Hornsey Wood house, notice of, 380 
 Horoscope of Greenwich observatory, 545 
 Horses, overloaded one, 219 ; baited by 
 dogs, 50 I ; bled on St. Stephen's day, 8.^2 
 Ho»ts miraculous, 176, 2()7 
 Hot letter from I. Fry to capt. Lyon, 475 
 
 weather, 521 ; effects of, 556 
 
 Hour-glass, inscription, 713 
 Howe, lord, his naval victory, 371 
 Huddy, Mr., his whimsical equipage, 39 
 Hunting, in the twelfth century, 690 
 
 . , rule for knowing when the 
 
 scent lies, ( 89 
 Husbandmen, should be meteorologists, 
 
 440 
 H vde park, sale of the toll gate, 678 
 Hydrophobia, incurable, 45'J 
 
 Icicles, poetically described, 92, 99 
 Iliad, in a nut-shell, 543 
 111, May-day ; see Evil May day 
 Illumination in London, in 1814, 230 ; of 
 
 St. Peter's at Rome, 443 
 Image, divided by miracle, 50 
 Indulgence of Leo. XII , 153 
 Innocents, December 28; derivation and 
 
 customs of the day, 824 
 Jnciuests of London, 79 1 
 
 Insects in summer, 550 
 
 Invention of the Cross May 3, miracu- 
 lous origin of the festival, 306 
 
 Inverness, ball play, 130 
 
 lol, or ol, 772 
 
 Ireland, its verdure and plants, 54 ; cus- 
 toms, 211, 296, 343, 424, 754 ; advanc- 
 ing in sculpture, 826 
 
 Irving, Mr. Washington, his love of Eng- 
 land, 318 
 
 Lsle of Man customs, 30 
 
 Islington ; see Canonbury, Copenhagen- 
 house, Hagbush-lane, Pied Bull, &c. 
 
 Italian Minstrels, in London, 815 
 
 Ivy, an outside decking, 818; see Holly. 
 
 Jack in the green, 293 
 
 Snacker of Wytney, 623 
 
 Jacob's Well, Barbican, 486 
 
 Jahn's gymnastics, 659 
 
 James's St., palace, plum porric'ge there 
 
 at Christmas, 820 
 James I., new-year's gifts to, 5 ; a cock- 
 fighter, 128; goes to St. Mary Spital, 
 223 ; attends his queen's coronation at 
 Edinburgh, 324 ; his adventure with a 
 clergyman who caught dotterels, 323 
 
 II., lands in Ii-eland, 177 
 
 January, the first day, how pictured, 2 
 Janus, how pictured, 1, 3 
 Jetfrries, Judge, account of, 239 
 Jennings, miser, account of him, 151 
 Jenyns, Soame, on cruelty to animals, 400 
 Jeisome, September ZO ; authority for O. T. 
 Apocrypha, 672 ; his legend of the first 
 hermit, 52 
 Jerusalem, golden gate of, 504 
 Jessup, Samuel, the pill-taker, 331 
 Jesuit, the, a periodical work, 457 
 Jewellery of the Burmese carriage, 760 
 Jews' new year's day, 8 
 
 , their treatment and present state 
 
 in England, 148, 193; Jewish stage 
 play, 3,2 
 Joachim, St., and S . Anne, account of, 504 
 Joan of Arc, account of, 363 
 John, king of France, died, 226 
 John Port Latin, May 6 ; notice of him, 
 309 
 
 , St., baptist, customs on his festival 
 
 418, 423 
 
 's eve, Celebration, 412, 418 
 
 John, St., apostle, December 27, accoisnt 
 of him, and customs on his festival, 821 
 
 's lane, Clerkenwell, raised, 741 
 
 wort, a charm, 427 
 
 Johnson, David, writing-master, account 
 of, 543 
 
 , Mr. J., his " Typographia," 568 
 
 , Dr. famuel, and BosweU's liking 
 
 to town, 323 
 Joint-stock companies, see Bubbles ; a 
 new oue proposed, 730 
 
 8;J9 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Jolip, no, nice a tru-^ Jnko, 253 
 Jones,rev.W. of Nayland, anecdote of, 418 
 
 , sir W., died, 264 
 
 Jonson, Ben, liis description of Barthulo- 
 
 mew fair, 6i)l 
 Joseph, St., Roman carpenter's respect 
 
 for h'm, 798 
 Judas, the, 218 
 Judges' breakfa.<:t on first of term, 30 1 ; 
 
 sermon before them on Trinity Sun- 
 day, 361 
 Judith and Holofernes, at Bartholomew 
 
 fair, 614 
 Juggler, with balls, knives, &c., 594 
 Julian, emperor, reviver of beards, 11 ; 
 
 notice of him, 444 
 luliet Capulet, and Petrarch, 532 
 Fulius II., pope, prefers the sword to 
 
 books, 133 
 Junkets, 281 
 
 Justifying bail, humourously described, 79 
 Justs and tournaments on London -bridge, 
 
 Smithfield, &c , 40 ', 584, 617 
 
 Lace of St. Audrey, 692 
 
 Lackington, Mr. Geoi'ge, purchases the 
 
 Egyptian hall, 766. 
 Lady- day, 193 
 
 , old, 225. 
 
 Kale, whence derived, 9S 
 
 Kaleidoscope invented, 237 
 
 Katharine, queen, goes amaying, 275 
 
 's, bt., church, by the tower, 
 
 last service there, 703 ; see Catharine 
 
 Keate, George, author, notice of, 440 
 
 Kele-wurt, 98 
 
 Kemp, W , of Peerless pool, 486 
 
 Kenilworth, sports, 239 
 
 Kensington, lord his interest in Bartholo- 
 mew fair, 617 
 
 Kent road fountain, 522 
 
 Kentish custom on Valentine's day, 113; 
 not on that day, 129 
 
 Kiavamuchd, 817 
 
 Kidder, bishop, and his lady, killed, 757 
 
 ^Kidderminster Customs, 669, 672 
 
 Silda, St., Isle of, custom, 670 
 
 iilligrew, Chas., master of the revels, 622 
 
 Xing, George IV., his birth day kept, 000 
 
 's bench ball play, 435 
 
 Kingston, Surrey, customs, 123, 480 
 Kiss in the ring, 340 
 Klopstock, Frederic, died, ISl 
 Knacking of the hands, 0;'>4 
 Knight, the, and the Virgin Mary, a 
 mystery, 374 
 
 , R. P., his dissertation, 602 
 
 Knight-riders-street, whence so called, 
 
 683. 
 Knights and ladies, a winter pastime, 807 
 Knowledge, advantages of, 775 
 Koenig, Mr., inventor of the steam-press, 
 
 769. 
 Kyrle, John, dealh of, 719 
 
 Labour, inevitable in all ranks, 658 ; es 
 
 sential to success in art, 820 
 Labre, Benedict Joseph, account of, 234 
 
 . of the May, 275 
 
 Ladies, wore friars" girdles, 131 
 
 Lagan le-vrich, 817 
 
 Lalande. astronomer, died, 22t) 
 
 Lamb of St. Agnes, 71, 7'; lamb-playing 
 
 at Easter, 211 ; lamb and lion, 503 
 , Mr, Charles, quatrains from him 
 
 to the editor, 404; quatorzians from 
 
 the editor to him, 405 
 Lamb's wool, 22, 27, 803, its derivation, 70^ 
 Lambert, September 17 ; account of the 
 
 saint, 043 
 Lammas, August 1 ; its df-rivation 532; 
 
 weather in Scotland, 171 
 Lamps, of old times, 416 
 Lanark, Palm Sunday custom, 198 
 Lane, a legerdemain player, 624 
 Larks in spring, 267 ; Dunstaple, 476 
 Last Judgment of M. Angelo, 134 
 Latimer's, bishop, new year's gift to 
 
 Henry VIIL, 4 
 Laura, Petrarch's died, 22 > 
 Lawrence, August 10 ; account of this 
 
 saint, 543 
 
 , St , Jewry church, 543 
 
 , sir Thomas, a question by, 729 
 
 Law suit, its forms and progress of, 117 
 
 terms, 50 ; vacations, ib. 
 
 Laymen's parliament, 376 
 L"adenhall-strect maypole, 278 
 Leaf, a withered, 55o ; fall of the leaf, 719 
 Learned pig's performance, 5 J7 
 Leather-lane, King's-head public-house, 
 
 815 
 Lee and Harper's show, 014 
 Leeds, twelfth-eve custom, 22 
 Leek, on St. David's day, 1- 9 
 Leeminj^, Joseph, account of, 728; his 
 
 letter to the editor, 734 
 Lesuwardeu custom, 783 
 Leg, a, adventures of, 730, 734 
 Legal glee — a catch, 82 
 
 recreations, 120 
 
 Leicester, sir John, his gallery possesses 
 
 Mr. Behnes' bust of Mr. West, 173 
 Leisure, retired, 334 
 Lenct-monat, 15t) 
 Lent celebrations, 97 ; in a pageant, 123, 
 
 129; Lenten cross, 198 
 Leo, zodiacal sign, symbolized, 503 
 Afrieanus, on the ass, 655; an.l 
 
 camel, 790; his travels, 791 
 
 , pope, calls St. Hilary a cock, 50 
 
 XII., his indulgence, 153 
 
 Leonold, prince, of Brunswick, drowned, 
 
 264 
 Letter to March 25, 19 1 
 foundery of Breitkopf, 03 
 
 8-40 
 
Leyden, exploeion of o^nnpowder there, 47 
 
 Libra, zodiacal sign, 674 
 
 Lida aftera, 446 ; erra, 369 
 
 Lifting at Easter, 211 
 
 Lincola's-inn hall, breakfast on first of 
 term, 78, 718 ; fountain, 522 
 
 Lincolnshire customs, &c., 741 
 
 Lindsey, dame, of Bath, 640 
 
 Lions, anecdotes of, 52, 48i), to 501, 592, 
 688, 589, 59 'i 
 
 head at JJutton's, 503 
 
 Lisbon, earthquake at, affects Peerless- 
 pool, 488 
 
 Liston, Mr , sees the living skeleton, 515 
 
 Literary services, ungrateful reward of, 
 264; piracy, 670 
 
 Literature, societies for encouraging, 177 
 
 Little Britain, Spectator published there, 
 142 
 
 Littleton, lexicographer, his inscription 
 for the monument, iS'.i 
 
 Liverpool, earl of, master of the Trinity, 
 ceremony of swearing, 3S2 
 
 Living skeleton, the, visit to, [ 09 ; an- 
 other, f6> 
 
 Livy, and his books, 12 
 
 Loaf mass, 5S2 
 
 Lobscouse, 27 
 
 Logan, salt water fish-pond, 41 
 
 London, new-year's day, 8 ; Palm Sun- 
 day, 198 ; customs, 218 ; lord mayor and 
 citizens going a-maying, 276 ; pageant, 
 336 ; lord mayor, &c. at a mystery, 378 ; 
 ancient watch, 413 ; sh' ritfs proveditors 
 for beasts, 503 ; corporation costume on 
 St. Bartholomew's day, eve, &c , 618; 
 customs at Michaelmas, 665 ; lord 
 mayor's establishment, 666 ; notice for 
 6th Nov., 718 ; lord mayor's day, 720 ; 
 election of vrard officers, 794; waits, 813; 
 ceremony of founding the new London 
 bridge, 388 ; account of the old one, 
 400 ; city wall repaired from ruins of 
 Jews' houses, 1 18 
 
 London Burnt,166o, September 2, accounts 
 of the great fire, 675 
 
 Magazine " Lion's Head," f I- 
 
 Longest dav, June 21 ; a suitable apologue 
 410; See Barnabas, June 11. 
 
 T/ongevity of Petrarch, a Russian, 20 
 
 Dennis Hampson, Irish Bard, 20 
 
 Lord Mayor's day, November 9 ; account 
 of lord mayor's show, 336, 720, 727 
 
 Lord of the tap, at Stourbridge fair, 744 
 
 Lothbury, Jews' synagogue plundered, 148 
 
 how watered formerly, 486 
 
 Lovat, lord, executed, 226 
 
 Love account keeping, 108 ; advertise- 
 ment, 635 ; see Spring 
 
 Loveday, Mr , his daughters b- come Ca- 
 tholics, 267 
 
 Loudon, J. C, his " Encyclopaiuia of 
 Gardening," 622, note. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Louis XV L, beheaded, 73 
 
 XVIII., new year's gifts to him, 7 ; 
 
 patron of plum -pudding, 809 
 Low Sunday moveable ; its derivation, 227 
 Luchd vouil, 817 
 LuciAN, January 8 ; account of this saint, 
 
 39 
 Lucy, December 13 ; account of this saint, 
 
 785 
 Luke, October 18; horn fair on his festival, 
 
 693 ; how he is painted, 694 
 liuUe, Raym , alchemist, account of, 199 
 Lulli, J B., composer, died, 192 
 Lute, the barber's, 634 
 livme Regis, custom on Candlemas dav, 
 'l03 
 
 MTreery, Mr John, his "Press " a poem, 
 56 ■> ; lines on his daughter's hourglass, 
 713 
 
 Macdonald, Alexander, his monument to 
 the Pretender, 17 
 
 ., sergeant, Samuel, notice of, 310 
 
 M'Dowal, colonel, his salt fish store, 41 
 
 M iCHUTDS, November 15 ; who he was, 743 
 
 Mackerel fishing, 481 
 
 Macnamara, captain, duellist, 226 
 
 Mad do,'S, danger from, 450 
 
 Moll, and her husband, at Hitchin, 
 
 283 
 
 Magdalen-college quadrangle, dressed 
 with greens, 418 
 
 Magna Charta signed, 406 
 
 Ma'.;nus, St., church, custom at, 675 
 
 Maia, a deity, 269 
 
 Maid Marian, 275, &c. 
 
 Mail Coach, annual procession, 2.2 
 
 Malabar Christians, 793 
 
 ]\Ialt's defence, 38 
 
 Man of Ross, Pope's, 719 
 
 smuggling, illegal, 718 
 
 Mansfield, earl, C. J , di.d, 1^7 
 
 Manures and dressings, fanciful, 332 
 
 Mara, madam, notice of, 381 
 
 Marco, a Tower lion, 503 
 
 Mare with seven legs, 591 
 
 Margot, a French girl, a ball-player, 428 
 
 Mark, St., April 25; notice of him, 2.6 ; 
 celebrations of his eve and festival, 261 
 
 Marlborough, duke of, notice of, 399 
 
 Marriage of a priest, whereby he re- 
 mained a bachelor, 71 ; ill luck to 
 marry on Childermas-day, 824 
 
 Marseilles' fete, 649 
 
 Martin, St., November 11 ; account of 
 him, 735 
 
 's church, near Canterbury, 15 1 
 
 , Mr. of Galway, noticed, 490 
 
 Martineau, Mrs., lines on her deaih, 398 
 
 Martinmas, 735 
 
 Mary, the ladv, a rop9 dines r, her tra- 
 gical fate, 621 
 
 , queen, sung to by a boy bishop, 780 
 
 841 
 
Mary, queen of Scots, new year's gift to, 6 
 
 , St., at Hill, boy bisliop, 7sO 
 
 's eve carol, 801 
 
 Overy, boy bishop, 780 
 
 , Spital, London, 223 
 
 Mason, Rev. W., poet, died, 211 
 Maskers, at a common hop, !?23 
 Masking on twelftli night, 27 
 Massacre of St Bartholomew, 566 
 Master of the revels, his office and seal, G22 
 Matilda, queen of Denmark, dies in prison, 
 
 265 
 Matthew, St., September 21; account of 
 
 him, 67 
 Maughan, Nicholas, a showman, 687 
 Maundat Thursday, moveable; maund, 
 
 maunday, &c., customs, 200 
 Maxentius II., emperor, his crue'ty, 752 
 May-day, maypoles, maygames and gar- 
 lands, 271, 299, 353; maypole in a 
 screen, 3S1 
 Mayers' song, 2S4 
 May-fair, Piccadilly account of, 2S6 
 
 hill, dangerous to inval.ds, 326 
 
 ■ month, 299 
 
 morning, 322 
 
 Mechanics' Institution recommended, 750 
 
 , London, founded, 775 
 
 Mechelen, Israel van, engraving by, 560 
 Medal of Henry IX. King of England, 17 ; 
 of Napoleon on his marriage, 205; a 
 French one on Martinmas, 736 
 Mademonath, 369 
 Melmoth, Courtney, died, 181 
 Melodies of evening, 303 
 Memory Corner Thompson, account of, 41 
 Men, twelve, suspended in the air, 13 
 Mercery, its signification, 669 
 Merchant Tailors' song, 726 
 Meredith, a fives player, 434 
 Merriment within compass, 31 
 Merry-andrew, a superior one, 623 
 Merry in the hall, when beards wag all! 820 
 Meteor, a, in Britain, 187 
 Michael, St., September 29 ; account of 
 
 him, 315 ; his dragon, 250, 663 
 Michaelmas-day custom, 663 
 , old, 687 
 
 term, 718 
 
 Michell, Simon, barrister, 740, 741 
 Middleton's, Dr. Conyers, coach-horses 
 
 blessed, 69 
 Mid-Lent Sunday, 193 
 Midnight and the Moon, 482 
 Midsummer-DAT, June 24, celebrations,419 
 eve, bonfires, watchsetting, 
 
 &c., 412, to 418 ; divinations, 425 
 men, 425 
 
 Midsumormonath, 369 
 Midwinter, 30 
 
 monath, 772 
 
 Milan, its great loss, 23 
 
 Mildred's, St., church in the Poultry, 143 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mile, and half-mile stones, projected, 62 
 Miles, lieutenant-colonel, services against 
 
 the Burmese, 764 
 Milkmaids' garlands, 285 
 Miller's booth, Ba'-thnlomew fair, 619 
 Mince pies, symbolical, 819 
 Minch pies, f-20 
 
 Minster, Isle of Thanet, first abbess of, 143 
 Minstrels, their ancient vocation, 616 
 Miracles, &c., of Romish saints ; see Index 
 
 II. 
 Mirror of the Months, a book, 746 
 Missel-thrush, 268 
 Mistletoe cut by the Druids, 3 ; kissed 
 
 under, 807, 8U8 ; proscribed in churches, 
 
 818. 
 Mitford, J., his account of Lord Byron's 
 
 residence at Mitylene, 244 
 Monk, a, drowned, and afterwards relates 
 
 his adventures, 669 
 
 ., duke of Albemarle, his wife, 291 
 
 Monmouth, countess of, 9 
 Montgomery, colonel, killed, 226 
 Months, the, in a Norwich pageant, 12^; 
 
 in a versified memorandum, 165 
 Montmartre, its derivation, 6S6 
 -Monument, the, on Fish st, hill, 575, 583 
 Moon, the, poetically addressed, J 46; at 
 midnight, 4S2 ; its influence on the 
 weather, 608 ; symbolized, 655 : new- 
 moon customs, 755 
 Moor, sir Jonas, astronomer, died, 547 
 Moore's travels in Africa, . 91 
 
 , Mr. Thomas, Lord Byron's last 
 
 lines to, 245 
 Moorgate, annual procession from, 744 
 More, sir Thomas, lord chancellor, de- 
 clines a new-year's gift of money, 5; 
 reproves his lady, 131 ; his head on 
 London bridge, 400 
 Morrice dance, in the Strand, 280 
 Morton, Regent, his guillotine, 75 
 Moscow rebuilt, from Grays-inn-lane 
 
 dust-heap, 162 
 Most Christian king, origin of the title, 675 
 Mother, suckling her child, 453 
 Mothering Sunday, 179 
 Mother's milk, an epigram, 636 
 Motions, puppet shows, 623 
 Moveable fasts and feasts, 95 ; vigil or 
 eve, morrow, octave or utas of, &c. 96 ; 
 corrected, 208 
 Mummers and mumming, 296, 827 
 Mushroom, an enormous one, 10 
 Music of cats 553, 55.5; music in every 
 thing, 571 ; at Bartholomew fair, 624 ; 
 in the ass, 680; musical ear of squir- 
 rels, 683; musical prodigies, 519 
 Mutton-pie, and loaf, annual gift, 489 
 Myddleton, sir Hugh, when he did not 
 
 die, 172 
 Mysteries, and Romish church pageants, 
 371, 375, &c. 
 
 842 
 
GENERAL 
 
 Nailing on twelfth-night, 25 
 
 Name of Jesus, August 7; why in the 
 almanacs, 536 
 
 Napoleon's marriage and medal, 205 ; 
 king of Rome, born, 187 ; Napoleon 
 died, ?,08 
 
 Naseby, battle of, 387 
 
 Nash, Beau, notice of, 793 
 
 Nativity of John, baptist, Jtm« 24 ; cus- 
 toms on the day and eve, 417, 423 
 
 , B. V. M., S^'ptember 8 ; when 
 
 instituted as a festival, &c., 637 
 
 Navigations, miraculous, 2, 13, 97 
 
 Negro woman's pity of a climbing boy, 
 
 Nelson, Lord, anecdotes of him, 63 
 Neptune of the Egyptians, 71 
 Nero, account of, 227 
 
 and Wallace lions, 489 
 
 Nettle whipping, on May eve, 297 
 New River nuisances, 476. 521 
 year's day, celebrations of, 2 ; Night- 
 ingale on, 261 
 eve, celebration and winds, 
 
 5, 6, 827 
 
 — gifts, 3, 15 
 
 Newcastle customs, 215; Corpus Christi 
 play, 378 ; procession of glass-cutters, 
 643; and shoemakers, 701 
 
 house bonfire, 717 
 
 Newman, Sarah, epitaph on, 740 
 
 Newnton, Wilts, Trinity Sunday custom, 
 362 
 
 Newspaper advertisement, to subscribers, 
 412 
 
 office, letter-boxes, 53 
 
 Newton, sir Isaac, obtains the Strand 
 maypole, 330; dispute between him 
 and Flamsteed, 546; died, 187 
 
 Nice, council of, 779 
 
 Nicnoi-As, December 6 ; account of St. 
 Nicholas and customs on his festival, 
 778 ; in Holland, 7.'^3 
 
 , lady Penelope, killed, 757 
 
 Nicknackitarian law-suit, 642 
 
 NicoMEDE, June 1 ; a martyr, 371 
 
 Niger, the, its course, 791 
 
 Nightingales on new-year's day, 261 ; in 
 April, 270; in May, 303; at Black- 
 heath, 344 ; their jug-jug, 364 
 
 Nightless days, 386 
 
 Noah's flood represented at Bartholomew 
 fair, 624 
 
 Norfolk, duke of, foiled at a sale, 504 
 
 North-east wind fiend, 68 ; its effects, 
 311 
 
 North road to London, account of the 
 most ancient, AZ > to 439 
 
 Walsham, Norfolk, throwing at 
 
 an owl there, 1 26 
 
 Northumberland customs. 425 
 
 household book, records, 
 
 mysteries, 378 
 
 Norwich Turkeys, sent to London at 
 
 Christmas, 803 
 Notice to quit, 671 
 
 Nottingham park, foliage destroyed, 556 
 Now— a hot day, 440 
 
 Nut-burning and cracking, 704, 708, 711 
 Nutting on Holy Rood day, 647 
 
 Oath, remarkably observed, 827 
 
 Octavja. empress, account of' 227 
 
 Ode on Smithery, 7;"0 
 
 O'Donoghue, legend of, 297 
 
 Offerings at the chapel-royal, on twelfth- 
 day, 30 ; at Easter, 180 
 
 Olave's St.. church in the Old Jewry 
 formerly a synagogue, 148 ; boy bishop, 
 781 
 
 Silver St., mystery performed at, 
 
 378 
 Old Clem at Woolwich, 771 
 
 Fogeys, 7i;7 
 
 Holy ^oon, September 2.'^ ; noticed, 
 
 632 
 
 May-day, 342 
 
 Michaelmas Day, October \\; cus- 
 toms, 688 
 Onagra, the, 589 
 Onions, divination, 776 
 0. P. row, 302 
 Opie, John, artist, d ed, 227 
 Optical illusion, 61 
 Oram, Edward, and Hogarth, 6G3 
 Orange, stuck with cloves, 4 
 Oratorio, its origin, 352 
 Oratory, fathers of the, 351 
 Organ, of St. Catharine's church, 704 ; in 
 
 the street at Christmas, 808 
 Orleans, duchess, d', her new year's gift 
 
 to Louis XVIIL, 7 
 O Sapientia, December 16, why in the 
 
 almanacs, 786 
 Oster monath, 204 
 Ovens, origin of, 1 30 
 Overbury, sir Thomas, murder of, 719 
 Ovid, character of, 12 
 Our lady of Bolton's image, 216 
 Owling and purling on Valentine's day, 
 
 &c., 114, 126 
 Ox and Ass, why represented in prints 
 
 of the nativity, t05 
 Oxen pledged in cider, &c., 22 
 Oxford, curfew at Carfax, 121 
 Oyster-tub used for a carriage, 3) 
 Oysters on St. James's-day, -l8y 
 
 Packhorse travelling, 438 
 Packington's pound, a tune, 607 
 Pageants in London, 3;i6, 722, 737, 7ri4 ; 
 at Edinburgh, 324 ; on St. John's eve, 
 4l3; of the seasons, fasts, and feasts, 
 125 
 Palace-yard porter shops, 302 
 Pallas, theplauet, discovered, 199 
 
 843 
 
Palm Svf!T>A\,mo>^eable ; celebrations and 
 customs of the day, 198; palm, 641 
 
 play, with a ball, 432 
 
 Palmer, Garrick's bill sticker, G22 
 Pamela, imagined at cards, 47 
 Pancake- da V, 123 
 -month, 99 
 
 Panchand, M., defrauded, 385 
 
 Panormo, Mr. C., gains a prize for sculp- 
 ture, 826 
 
 Paper folding man, the, 346 
 
 windows at Bartholomew tide, 567 
 
 Paques, pascha, paschal, pace, paste, iiOS 
 
 Paradise, a Jesuit's account of, 675 
 
 Paris, new-year's day, 7 ; blessing of a 
 market there, 379 
 
 Parish clerks of London, the, mysteries 
 of, 377 
 
 • priest, a good, 807 
 
 Parr, Dr. Samuel, h's Spital sermon, and 
 character, 2 2; and death, 170 
 
 Pascal, the, li^7, 218, 48(J 
 
 Passion, the, symbolized, 203 
 
 flower, 385 
 
 — Sunday, 196 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Peter Czar, visits Greenwich. 548 
 Petrarch, crowned in public, 226 ; his 
 
 birth- day, the same as Juliet Capulet's 
 
 532 
 Phials, with devil's drink, 1 1 
 Philip and Jaues, Sts., Mai/ 1 ; noticed, 
 
 271 
 the fair, entertains Edward II., 
 
 Pastry-cook's shops on twelfth-night, 24 
 Paternoster backwards, a charm, 708 
 Patrick, St. March l7; legend of the 
 
 saint's miracles, 18i; customs on his 
 
 festival, 185; his chair, 413 
 Paul, St., the apostle, notice of, 445 ; his 
 
 and Seneca's epistles, 227 
 ■ 's day, superstitions, 88 ; his chain, 
 
 301 
 's cathedral, London, 151 ; its pigeon, 
 
 623 
 cross, sermon against maypoleS;, 
 
 377; rood, 6j6 
 
 school, boys play mysteries, 377 
 
 Pea-queen on twelfth-night, 28 
 Peckhara fair, 563 
 Pedlar, described, 608 
 Peerless-pool, described, 485 
 Pendrill, Will., in the royal oak, 339 
 Penn, William, his account of Mrs 
 
 Gaunt 's death, 240 
 Penny, in twelfth-cake, 28 
 Pens, his ena;raving of a guillotine, 74 
 Pentecost, 343 
 
 Pentonville, deficient of water, 521 
 Penzance, May custom, 281 
 Perambulation of parishes, 326 
 Perceval, Robert, Idlled in the Strand, 231 
 Perpetca, March!; noticed, 170 
 Perriwigs, 630 
 Peru, a fives-player, 434 
 Perukes, 725 ; for four angels, 218 
 Peter, St., June 29 ; celebration of his 
 
 festival at Rome, -143 
 
 's chains, 531 
 
 chair at Rome, 61 
 
 church, occasioned the Reforma- 
 tion, 132 
 
 373 
 
 Phillips, W., a Welch dwarf, 594 
 
 Philosopher's stone, a patent for it, 120 
 
 Piazzi's discovery of the planet Ceres, 9 
 
 Picture of St. Ignatius, miraculous, 523 
 
 Pictures at Dulwich, 506 
 
 Pidcock and Polito's menagerie, 623 
 
 P e-powder-eourt, 6iJ7 
 
 Pipd Bull, Islington, 317 
 
 Pifferari of Calabria, 798 
 
 Pigeons of Pauls, 6l>, 623 
 
 Pigs, 6l); annually consumed in London, 
 
 6U9 
 Pdlow made of a dead man, 11 
 Pills, one pill not a do-e, 3;-il 
 Pinning on twelfth-night, 24 
 Pin-sticking customs, 6S 
 Pins and Pin-money, 5 
 Pio, Albert, pi-ince of Carpi, buried 265 
 Pipe of the Roman eucharist, 93 
 Piran's St., day, 167 
 Ptt, rev. Charles, p ^et, died, 231 
 Plzarro, notice of, 429 
 Plague, the, notice of, 182; in London, 
 
 ly2 
 Plough-light money, 37 
 Plough Monday, moveable; processions 
 
 and other customs, 36 
 and Sundiy, London 
 
 festivals, 667 
 Plum-jiorridge at Christmas, 820 
 pudding, an eccentric vendor of it, 
 
 625, made in France, 809 
 Plutarch, read to Louis XIV.. 6.6 
 Plymouth, mild winter at, 782 
 Poaching notice, 175 
 Poetry, English, its first cultivator, 351 
 Pole, the barber's 635 
 Pompeii, panorama of, 798 
 Pompey's complaint in the dog-days, 473 
 Ponsondie, 27 
 Pope, the, and cardinals' jubilee for the 
 
 massacre on St. Bartholomew's day, 
 
 566 
 
 , annual burning of, "44 
 
 Joan, card party, -46 
 
 Pope's willow tree, 541 
 Popery, No, 717 
 Porter and his knot, 608 
 Porto-Bello, rejoicings on taking, 737 
 Post-office business increased, 108 
 PowDtR Plot, November &\ celebrations 
 
 714 
 Powell's Mr pedigree, 399 
 Powell on the fives cuurt, 434 
 
 814 
 
GBNERAL IVPEX, 
 
 Praver, directory for, 101 ; M. Angelo's, 
 
 140 
 Praying for the dead, 712 
 Prechdachdan sour, 817 
 Pressing of seamen, when commenced, 187 
 Pretender, monument to him, 17 
 Price, Dr. Richard, died, 243 
 Pricliing in the belt, 219 
 Printer's customs, and printing terms, 
 
 667 
 
 devil. 510 
 
 Printing, 93 ; improvement in, 768 ; a 
 
 simile, 15 
 Vrisca, Janumy 18; noticed, 11 
 Prisoners on trial, why uncovered, 719 
 Pritehard, rev. George, his storm sermon, 
 
 7o9 
 Procession week, 321 
 Proc^lamation ot Bartholomew fair, form 
 
 of, 583, 758; for a fast in the storm 
 
 year, 758 
 Proger's, Mr., pedigree, 399 
 Pulpits, 419; stone pulpit at Oxford, 419 
 Pumps, 521 
 Puppet sliows, 62^ ; in Ben Jonson's 
 
 time, <,01 ; at May-fair, 287 ; at l?en- 
 
 tonville, 657 
 Purgatory eased, in 1825, 154; see Ro- 
 mish saints. Index II. 
 Purification, February 2; see Candlemas 
 Puxton custom, 419 
 Pye-corncr, Smithfield, 609, 6 1 9 
 , John, watchman of Bungay, 814 
 
 Quadragesima, 97 
 
 Q.arter-day, situations and feelings on, 
 
 421 
 Quarto-die-post, explained, 50 
 Queen's college, Oxford, Boar's head 
 
 carol, 810 
 
 R. G. V. H., an inscription, 733 
 Racine, rea'ls to Louis XIV., 616 
 Rackets, origin of, 432 
 Radclitfe, Ralph, mystery writer, 377 
 Rahere, first prior of St. Bartholomew's, 
 
 616 
 Raikes, Robert, philanthropist, died, 211 
 Rain, why it did not fall for three years, 
 
 58; on Swithin's day, 477, 479 ; aver- 
 age fall in winter, 732 
 Rainbow in winter, 54 
 Hanson's, Mr. J. T., etching of Starkey, 
 
 461, 464, 484 
 Raphael, the archangel, 663 
 . , painter, died, 226 ; his picture of 
 
 the Nativity, with a bag piper, 798 
 Rath, the, or Burmese state carriage, 760 
 Rats eat a bishop, 681 
 Ratzburgh customs on Christmas- eve, 
 
 802 
 Raven feeds a saint and fetches his cloak, 
 
 62 
 
 Recollections, effect offender, 703 
 Redcross-street bur'al ground, fur Jews, 
 
 148 
 Red Lion square, obelisk in, 430 
 Reformation, the, its immediate cause, 
 
 132 
 Refreshment Sunday, 179 
 Relics, curious list of, 407 
 Remigius, October 1 ; noticed. 675 
 Resurrection, the, a Romish church drama, 
 
 216 
 Rhed-monath, 157 
 Rheumaiism cured by ale, 12 
 Ribadeneirii's Lives of the Saints, used in 
 
 this work, 2 
 Rich, Richard, lord, grant to him of St. 
 
 Bartholomew's priory, 616 
 RiCHiRD DE WicuE, April 3; account of 
 
 him, 210 
 
 II., and his court at the parish 
 
 clerk's play, 377 
 
 III. attends the Coventry plays, 
 
 379 
 
 Richards, rev. Mr., buried alive, 783 
 Richardson, Mr. buys Button's lion's 
 
 head, 504 
 
 ■'s, itinerant theatre, 591, 69 i 
 
 Richmond, visit to, 301 ; hunt on Holy- 
 rood day, 647 
 
 Riding stang described, 6 
 
 Ridlington, Rob , his bequest to Stam- 
 ford, 742 
 
 Ring, a, occasions a repartee, 265 ; wed- 
 ding ring of Joachim and Anne, 505 
 
 Rippon church, Yorkshire, lighted up 
 before Candlemas, 103 
 
 Rising early, its effects, 40 
 
 Ritson, Jos., publishes a Christmas carol, 
 800 
 
 Roast beef, 789 
 
 pig, by Elia, 609 
 
 Robbery at Copenhagen-house, 431 
 
 Robin in winter, 52 ; and the wren, 324 
 Hood, 275 ; and his bower, 343 
 
 Roche, St. or St. Roche's day, 660 
 Rochester cathedral, 161 
 
 -, lord, outwit ed, 307; banters 
 
 Charles II., 361 
 Rock- day, 31 
 
 Rodd, Mr. Thomas, bookseller, 4, 5.13 
 Rodney, adm., defeats Comte de Grasse, 
 
 230 
 Roebuck Inn, Richmond, 600 
 Rogation ^vs'Dx'i, moveable ; customs in 
 
 Rogation week, 321 
 Rogers, organist of Bristol, noticed, 520 
 Roman pottery, a new-year's gift, 3 ; 
 
 wigs of Roman ladies, 632 
 Rome, ancient, new - year's day, 7 ; 
 
 founded, 247 
 Romish church established, 372 ; Romish 
 
 and protestant churches uad worship 
 
 compared, 420, 460 
 
 845 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Ronaldshay, NortTi, custom, 5 
 Rood, the, described, 64o 
 Rooks, in Doctor's Commons, 247 
 Rose Sunday, 179 
 
 gathering on Midsummer-eve, 4-!0 
 
 , the last, of summer, 695 
 
 Koseberry, earl of, singular narrative of 
 
 his son and a clergyman's wife, 661 
 Rosemary-branch, fives-play, 434 
 Roundabouts and up-and-downs, 625 
 Rout, city, discontinued, 668 
 Row, T., Dr. Pegge, and curfew, 122 
 Rowlandson's Boor's-head, 811 
 Royal-oak-day, 356 
 Rubens's death of St. Antony, 60 
 Ruffian's hall, Smithfield, 617 
 Runic calendar, 702 
 Rural musings, 53 
 Rush-strewing at Deptford, in 1825, 363 
 
 Sackville, secretary, account of his school- 
 master, 15 
 
 Sadler, J., his engraving of St. Cecilia, 
 748 
 
 Sadler's Wells, anglers, 172 ; play-bill, 
 600 
 
 Saffron -flower and cakes, 574 
 
 Sailors, their patrons in storms, 259 ; 
 staid ashore in bad weather, 710; mis- 
 take of one, 796 ; a sailor and his wife 
 at Greenwich, 345 
 
 Saints, Romish, authorities mostly re- 
 ferred to for their legends, 2; in sweet- 
 meat, 58 ; peculiarity of their bodies, 
 ib. ; tender-nosed, 373; carry their 
 heads under their arms after death, 
 686 ; a dirty one, 234. For further 
 particulars, see Index II. 
 
 Sali^burv, boy Bishop, 779 ; Edward the 
 Confessor, translated to Salisbury, 407 
 
 Sallows described, .39 
 
 Salters' company, custom, 675 
 
 Salvator's temptation of St. Antony, 58 
 
 Samam, vigil of, 708 
 
 Samwell's company of tumblers, 593 
 
 Sannazariuss poem, De Pariu Virgin's, 
 806 
 
 Saturnalian days, 29 
 
 Satyr, seen by a saint, 52 
 
 Saunderson, Dr. Nicholas, mathematician, 
 died, 243 
 
 Sausages, feast of, 736 
 
 Scent irt"hunting, 689 
 
 Schoen, Martin, engraving by, 560 
 
 Schoolmasters, formerly, 15; presided on 
 throwing at cocks, 126 
 
 School-time, in [■pring, 337 
 
 Scone, ball play, 130 
 
 Scotland, candlemas-day, 103; Shrove- 
 Tuesday, 130; mists, 125; first of 
 April, 206 ; has no carols at Christmas, 
 801; Highland Christmas, 817; super- 
 stitions, 704 
 
 Scott, Bartholomew, married Cranraer's 
 
 widow, 191 
 Screen, at Hornsey Wood house, 380 
 Sculpture and painting, their relative 
 
 merits, 129; the two Royal Academy 
 
 prizes for 1825 awarded to two Irish 
 
 pupils, 826 
 Scythe carried by the Devil, 11 
 Sea-water, a company to bring it to 
 
 Copenhagen-fields, 435 
 Seal of Button's Lion's head, 501 
 Seasons, their names derived, 759 
 Seduction, 538 
 Self-multiplication of saints' bodies and 
 
 relics, 168, 306, 407 
 Selira, sidtan, takes Cairo, 231 
 Seneca, his death and character, 227 
 Septuagesima Sunday, moveable; why so 
 
 called, 96, 97 
 Sepulchre, Romish church drama, 216 
 Serjeant's coif, 79 
 Sermon for Easter diversion, 223 
 
 s prohibited to be read, 632 
 
 Serpent, a little one in a woman, 19; a 
 
 taper, ib.; serpents dance on ropes, 643; 
 
 a seat on a serpent's knee, 800 
 Servants, their new-year's gifts to masters, 
 
 5 ; cautioned against leaving Christmas 
 
 leaves, 102 
 
 maid, a character, 241 
 
 Settle, Elkanah, the last city poet, 727 
 Seurat, Ambrose, account of, 5ii9 
 Seward, Anna, author, died, 195 
 Sexagesima, moveable; why so called, 96, 
 
 97 
 Shaftesbury, lord, plays in a pageant, 745 
 Shakspeare, died, 252 ; his jest book, ib. 
 tavern sale, 504 
 
 Shamrock, the Irish cognizance, 186 
 Sharp, Mr. T., his work on pageants, 239 
 ■, W , en<i;raver, 302 
 
 Shaving in winter, 9; anciently, 634 
 
 Sheep-blessing by the Romish church, 72; 
 shearing, 370 
 
 Sheep's head, singed, 790 
 
 Sheer, used at e.xecution of^Charles I., 94 
 
 Shepherd and ShepherdeiS tavern. City- 
 road, 221, 488 
 
 Shere Thursday, 200 
 
 Sheridan, R. B , notice and character of, 
 455 
 
 Ship, in a pageant, 725 
 
 Shirt, a miraculous iron one, 143; stitches 
 in a shirt, 688 
 
 Shoemaker-row, 619 
 
 s, their patron and holyd ly, 698; 
 
 shoe-stealer blinded, 13 
 Shoes, sandals, and slippers, 257 
 Shony, a western isle sea-god, 707 
 Shooting, at Bartholomew tide, 618 ; in 
 
 North Britain at Christmas, 817 
 Showman's family described, 595 
 Shrewsbury, Easter hfting, 211 
 
 846 
 
GENEUAI 
 
 , INDEX. 
 
 Shrid-pies, 819 
 
 Spectator, by whom published, 1 12 
 
 Shrive shrove, 123 
 
 Spectral appearances to the editor, 62 ; 
 
 Shrove Toesdat. moveable; customs, 121 
 
 why they were illusions, 63 
 
 Siddons, Mrs., 453 
 
 Spencer, sir John, account of, 320 
 
 Side-bar, in Wostmiuster-hall, 78 
 
 Spice-bread massacre, 27 
 
 Sidney, Algernon, 2i0 
 
 Spiced-bowl, 5, 21 \ 
 
 Sign, Absalom, 631 ; a tinman's, 693 
 
 Spiders, 192; barometers, 466; fly in 
 
 Silenus, 225 
 
 summer, 642; save a saint, 51 
 
 Silvester, December 31 ; notice of him, 
 
 Spines, Jack, a racket-player, 434 
 
 827 
 
 Spinsters, their patroness, 7 j4 
 
 Simon, St., and St. Jode, October 2 ^ ; 
 
 Spirits, watching them in the church 
 
 superstitions of the day, 702 
 
 porch, 262 
 
 Sirius, the dog-srar, 4-19, 450 
 
 Spital sermon, 222 ; an inflammatory one. 
 
 Sixtine chapel, M. Angelo's scaffold for 
 
 2^9 
 
 it, 134 
 
 Sportsman, account of one, by himself. 
 
 Skeleton huntsmen's song, 648 
 
 145 
 
 Skewers, used for pins, 5 
 
 Spring quarter, and festival, 16^, 187; 
 
 Skinners' company, their pageant. 726 
 
 dress, 169; complete, 26 S; mornings, 
 
 well, mystery played at, 377 
 
 265, 337 
 
 Slatyer, W., his Psalms to song tunes. 
 
 Sprout-kele, 98 
 
 799 
 
 Spry, Dr., preaches on Trinity Monday 
 
 Sleep, how avoided by a saint, 141 
 
 363 
 
 SleejLiers, legend of the Seven, 518 
 
 Squires of the Lord Mayor, 666 
 
 Slingsby, sir H., his account of the train- 
 
 Squirrels, habits and instinct, 6S3, 692 
 
 ing in 1639, 14 
 
 squirrel hunting, 770 
 
 Sluicehouse, near Hornsey Wood, 3 8 
 
 Stafford, its patron saint, 639 
 
 Smith, Gentleman, account of, 6i4 
 Smithery, ode in praise of, 7oO 
 
 r^u:..» „.--i.^«^« 01 O 
 
 Stage, the old, described, 379 
 
 Smithfield, entertainment on May day, 
 
 Staines, sir W., anecdotes of, 486 
 
 295; at Bartholomew fair time, 5b3; 
 
 Stamford bull running described, 711 
 
 whence so called, 616 ; paved, 617 
 
 Standish, Dr., his inflammatory sermon, 
 
 Smoking, 334 
 
 289 
 
 Smuchdan, 6 
 
 Stang, a cowl-staff, 6 
 
 Smugging tops, dumps, &c., 127 ; a Guy, 
 
 Starkey, capt, Ben., memoirs of, 461, 4S3 
 
 716 ; a man, 713 
 
 755 
 
 Snipes, 695 
 
 Star, fea^t of the, 23 
 
 Snow-ball, sport, 129; snow-balls, medi- 
 
 Stars in winter, 11, 791 ; observed by 
 
 cinal, 207 
 
 Flamsteed, 54(1 ; fall to discover a 
 
 drop described, 39 
 
 buried image, 97 
 
 Snuff-taking, how to leave off, 76 ; wit at 
 
 Steara'ooat visit to Richmond, 301 
 
 a pinch, 116 
 
 Stebbings, Isaac, swam for a wizard, 171 
 
 Soissons, church branch at seven tapers, 
 
 Steel boots, worn by Charles II., 9 
 
 23 
 
 Steeple climbing, 388 
 
 Solace, a printer's penalty, F68 
 
 Stevens, George, account of, 76 
 
 Soldier pensioned, for killing two men, 
 
 Stephen, St., September 26 ; customs ou 
 
 and capturing their lion, 503 
 
 his festival, 82 i 
 
 Somers, lord, died, 263 
 
 Stepney Wood, a maying place, 276 
 
 town miracle, 236 
 
 Stilts, 128 
 
 Somerset-house, old, what stones built 
 
 Stock, Eliza, a giantess, 59 ' 
 
 with, 740 
 
 Stocks, the earl Camden put into, 241 
 
 Somersetshire, sports and customs, 218; 
 
 Stockwell ghost, narrative, 31; solution, 
 
 customs; 419, 433 
 
 34 
 
 Somnambulism, 796 
 
 Stone, old, at North Ilonaldshaw, 5 
 
 Song, a, sung by itself, 648 
 
 Stoning Jews, a Lent custom, 143 
 
 Sophia, princpss, of Gloucester, walk in 
 
 Stool ball, 215 ; see Ball-|day 
 
 her gardens at Blackheath, 345 
 
 Storm, the great, 1703; described, 7 6 
 
 Sops, joy-sops, with twelfth-cake, 28 
 
 cock, 26 S 
 
 Sot's hole, ;s45 
 
 Stourbridge fair, account of, 6'0, 741 
 
 Sound as a roach, E61 
 
 S ow, John, antiquary, died, 211 
 
 South-sea bubble, 83 
 
 Strand, maypole, 278 
 
 So wans, 817 
 
 Strathdown, new-year's celebration, 6 
 
 Sowing, rewarded by cakes and cider, 21 
 
 Straw in the shoe, the perjurer's sign, 79 
 
 Sparrows, their use, 248 
 
 Strong woman, 287 
 
 1 
 
 8i7 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Stroorl, Kent, entailment of ils natives, 
 352 
 
 Struensee and Brandt executed, 265 
 
 Stuart holydays, 94 
 
 line, ils termination, 17 
 
 Sudley, entertainment to queen Eliza- 
 beth, 28 
 
 Suett, the comedian, his legs, 515 
 
 Suffocation, receipt for, 104 
 
 Suffolk customs, 426 ; witchcraft, 471 
 
 , countess of, her hair, 632 
 
 , lady, her present to Pope, 541 
 
 Suicides, how buried, 226 
 
 Summer, dress, 410 ; evening, 467 ; mid- 
 night, 406 ; morning and evening, 40S ; 
 morning, 481; solstice, 412; zephyr, 
 460; last rose, 696 ; holydays, 506 
 
 Sun, the, dancing, 211 ; symbolized, 246; 
 sunset, 678 ; sunsbining on St. Vin- 
 cent's-day, 76 
 
 Sunday schools founded, 211 
 
 s, five in February, 155 
 
 Superstitions, vulgar, 258, 262 
 
 Swallow-day, 233; account of swallows, 
 their migration, &c., 263, 322, 324, 549 
 
 Swash-bucklers and swashers, 617 
 
 Sweetheart customs, and superstitions, 
 68, 130 
 
 S WITHIN, July 15 ; account of him, 477 ; 
 establishes tithes in England, ib. ; su 
 perstitions on his festival, 477 
 
 Swordbearer, and swords of the city, 663 
 
 Sword and buckler, how carried, 617 
 
 Sylvester, St. ; see Silvester 
 
 Symes, Mr., of Canonbury tower, 319 
 
 Systrum, of the Egyptians, 555 
 
 Tail-sticking, on St. Sebastian's day, 68 ; 
 
 at Stroud, 352 
 Tailors, why they should require a refer- 
 ence, 60 
 Tansy pudding, 215 
 Tantony pig, 60 
 Tasks for a saint, 171 
 Tasso, died, 260 
 
 Tavistock monastery founded, 15 
 Tawdry, its derivation, 692 
 Taylor, Jeremy, on card-playing, 45 
 , Joseph, bookseller, his endow- 
 ment for an annual sermon on the 
 great storm, 769 
 Teddington church, Middlesex, mistletoe 
 
 proscribed, 819 
 Tee, the, described, 762, 764 
 Tell, William, arms his countrymen, 8 
 Temperature of winter, 782 
 Temple, the, fountain, 522 
 
 gate, the pope burnt at, 744 
 
 , Inner, customs at Christmas, 809 
 
 Temptations of St. Anthony, 65 
 Tenebrse, a Romifh church service, 203 
 Term, fii'st day of, customs, &c., 60, 78, 
 718 
 
 T^erminus, the god of boundaries, f 
 
 Tewkesbury, the battle of, 307 
 
 Thames, the, the king's bear washed in 
 
 it, 503 ; its nuisances, 521 
 Theatres at fair time, 221 
 Theatrical notice, 648 
 Thimble and pea, 384 
 Thomas, St., December 21 ; customs on 
 
 the day, 793 
 Thompson, Memory Corner, 41 
 Thornton, Dr., exhibition to, 730 
 Thread-my-needle, 346 
 Three Dons, the, a mystery, 374 
 
 Kings of Cologne, 23 
 
 knocks on a saint's head, 1 43 
 
 Threshing the hen, 123 
 
 Throne, Burmese, described, 76.3 
 
 Thuanus's history, English edition, 1 i7 
 
 Tid, mid, misera, 190 
 
 Tiddy Doll and his song, 2'9 
 
 Tigress and her whelps, by a lion, 688, 
 
 590 
 Tillotson, abp., the first prelate that wore 
 
 a wig, 631 
 Time, what it is, and its use, 155 ; time 
 
 enough, 689; measured, 713; flies, ib. 
 Times, The, first newspaper printed 
 
 by steam, 768 
 Tinder-boxes, when not in use, 60 
 Tinners, their patron saint, 167 
 Toasf thrown to fruit trees, 21, 22 
 Tobacco, prohibited at Cambridge, 632 ; 
 
 a pipe in the morning, 689 
 Tom, a cod fish, 42 
 Tombuctoo, &c., described by Leo Afri- 
 
 canus, 791 
 Top, whipped in the Romish church, 100 
 Torches, at a royal wedding, 776 
 Tottenham High-Cross fountain, 621 
 Tower, the, lions, 502 
 
 , Great Bell, of St. John's church 
 
 Clerkenwell, described, 740 
 Town, out of, 24i3 
 
 V. Country, 323 
 
 Townsend, police officer, his wig, 632 
 
 Towton, battle of, 199 
 
 Trades, the complaint against sir John 
 
 Barleycorn, 37 
 Translation, Edwarp, K W. S., June 
 
 20; origin of translations of saints' 
 
 bodies, 407 
 Travelling, old mode of, 438 
 Tree, a wicked one destroyed, 13 
 
 of common law, 117 
 
 Tresham, sir T., prior of St. John's, 
 
 Clerkenwell, 740 
 Trial of a title to land in India, 220 
 Trimilki, 269 
 
 Tring, Herts, superstition, 523 
 Trinity, symbolized, 186 
 
 house brethren, 362 
 
 Sunday customs, 361 
 
 Monday customs, 3d1 
 
 848 
 
GEKERAI. TyTTF.T. 
 
 Trnimplis of T.onilon, 723 
 Triiin,.et-lili)wei-s licensed, 022 
 Tulips, and tulippMiiiaiiia, 304 
 Tunstall, bishop, befriends B. Gilpin, 
 
 Turkej's, Christmas, 803 
 
 Turnei, Anne, on her trial for murder, 
 719 
 
 , Mr., piimp-raaker, 521 
 
 Turnspits, anecdotes of, 187 
 
 Tusser, Thomas, his epitaph and burial 
 place, 143 
 
 Twelfth-cake, how to draw, 26; how 
 marie anciently, 28 
 
 day eve, 21 ; twelfth day cus- 
 toms, 24 ; characters, 26 ; derived from 
 the Greeks, 29 ; and the Druids, 29 ; 
 observed at court, 30 
 
 Twickenham ball-play, 123 
 
 Tye, John, watchman of Bungay, 812 
 
 Tyson's, rev. Michael, portrait of Butler, 
 65 i 
 
 Tythes, penance a''ter death for nonpay- 
 ment, 352 ; established in England, 477 
 
 Vad r-land, anglicised by Lord Byron, 
 
 405 
 Valbntine, February 14 ; derivation and 
 
 customs of the day, 108 
 Vauxhall accident, 535 ; adventures at, 
 
 729 
 Venerable Bbhe, May 27 ; see Bede 
 Yerard, Ant , his vellum edition of the 
 
 Mystery of the Passion, 374 
 Vernon, adm., celebration of his birth- 
 day, 737 
 VivcENT, January 22 ; notice of him, 76 
 ■ , T., his account of the fire of 
 
 London, 576 
 Viper, the, and her young, 557 
 Virgil, Polydore, on church ceremonies, 
 
 101 
 Virgin, the street music to her in Advent, 
 
 798 
 Virgo, zodiacal sign, 530 
 Visions, see Saints, Index IL 
 Voelker's gymnastics, 61 8 
 Vos, Martin de, engraving from, 748 
 Votive offerings at Isernia, 662 
 
 Union with Ireland, 9 
 
 Upcott, Mr. William, 528, 8">0, 580 
 
 Uptide Cross, 198 
 
 Urbine, servant to M. Angelo, 139 
 
 Uriel, archangel, 663 
 
 Utrecht, peace of, concluded, 227 
 
 Waggon-driving, at shrove-tide, 129 
 
 Waggoner in love, 1 14 
 
 Waits of London, 415 ; their ancient ser- 
 vices, 813 
 
 Wales, St. Patrick of, 186 ; superstitious 
 customs, 262, 281, 425, 707 ; adventure 
 in, 399 ; see Welsh 
 
 W.lks, pleasant, disappearing. 430 
 Wallis, Mr, a>tron()m.<arh'ctures, 30 
 VVahmt tree, miraculous, .S86 
 Walpole, l.ydia. a dwarf, 587 
 Wanyford, Henry, lar.e man, died, 783 
 Wan^tead, Strand maypole carried to. 28 ) 
 Want, Hannah, a long liver, account of, 
 
 676 
 War, peaceful triumj h in, 371 
 
 cry, ancient English, 251 ; Irish, ib. 
 
 Warburton, bp., what he said to the lord 
 
 mayor, 22o ; his character of the month 
 
 of November, 710 ; notice of him 
 
 384 
 Ward, Ned, his visit to Bartholomew 
 
 fair, 619 
 
 Samuel, his sermons cited, 416 
 
 Wareham, translation of King Edward's 
 body, 407 
 
 Warwickshire customs, 212, 216; lion 
 and dog bait at Warwick, 489 ; War- 
 wickshire carol-singer, 8(0 
 
 Wassail-bowl customs, 21, 22, 27, 28 
 
 Watch, setting the, anciently in London, 
 413 ; Nottingham, 417 ; Chester, ib. 
 
 Watchmen's verses, 8 14 
 
 Water of the dead and living ford, 6 
 boring for, 521 
 
 -, bailiff's office, 667 
 
 Waterloo, battle of, 402 
 Waters, Billy, in a puppet show, 5i8 
 Watts, Joseph, of Peerless-pool, 487 
 Wax, blessed, 101 
 
 work at Bartholomew fair, i 94 
 
 ^^3,y-goose, a printers' feast, 567 
 Weasel, died, for mealing on a saint's 
 
 robe, 22 
 Weather prognosticated, by bats, bees, 
 beetles, birds, 268, 774 ; blackbirds, 
 51 ; bulls, 253 ; buzzards, 268 ; ca«sia 
 339 ; cerea, 340 ; chairs and tables, 51 ; 
 chickweed, 339 ; church clocks, 774 ; 
 clouds, 51 ; convolvulus, 339; corns, 51 ; 
 cows, 253, 268; crickets, 51 ; cuckoo, 
 335 ; dandelion, 34i) ; dew, 268 ; dogs, 
 51, 26-.; dog-rose, 339; ducks, 61, 
 267; evening primrose, 839; fever- 
 few, 339; fieldfares, 268; fish, 51; 
 flies, 51, 268 ; four o'clock flower. 339 ; 
 frogs, 51, 268 ; geese, 267 ; glow- 
 worms, 61 ; goatsbeard, 339 ; g'^ssamer, 
 268; hedge fruits, 268 ; hens, 267, 335; 
 honeydew, 268 ; horses, 51 ; lettuce, 
 339; limbs, 51 ; marigold, 339 ; moles, 
 268; moon, 51, 08, 673; moun- 
 tain ebony, 339: nipplewort, ib ; pea- 
 cocks, 268; peterel, 26i; pigeons, ib.; 
 pigs, 267, 26s ; pimpernel,' 51, 339; 
 princesses' leaf, 339 ; rainbow, 51, 335; 
 ravens, 267 ; rooks, 51, 267, 335 ; sea 
 fowl, 51 ; sea gulls, 268 ; serpentine 
 aloe, 339 ; sheep, 268 ; sky, 51 ; sloe- 
 tree, 3J5 ; smoke, 51; snipes, 268; 
 
 Vol 1. 
 
 849 
 
 31 
 
ge%t:ral index. 
 
 STin-u', 335 ; soof, 51 ; sounds, 774 ; 
 sowthistle, 339 ; spiders, 268, 466 ; sun, 
 51; swallows, 51, 253, 267; swans, 
 253 ; swine pipes, 208 ; tamarind, 339 ; 
 thermometer, 61 ; missel thrush, 2()8 ; 
 toads, 51 ; trefoil, 339 ; voices, 774 ; 
 water fowl, 267 ; water lily, 339; white 
 thorns, 339 ; whitlow grass, 339 ; wild- 
 goose, 26-< ; wind, 51, 253, 335; wood- 
 cocks, 268 ; woodsare, 26:J ; wood- 
 sorrel, 339 
 Weathercock of St. Clement's church. 
 
 Strand, 749 
 Welsh charitv-sehool anniversary, lol ; 
 • valuation of oats, 555; triplets, 711; 
 
 rarols for the seasons, 801 
 Welshman, sir T. Overbury's 161 
 Well-rope winds into a saint's body, 19 
 Wenceslaus of Olmutz, engraving by, 560 
 Werington, Christmas-eve custom, 803 
 Wesley, Charles, senior and junior, musi- 
 cians, account of, 519 
 
 , Samuel, musician, notice of, 520 
 
 West, Benjamin, painter, account of 173 
 Western customs on Valentine's day, 114 
 
 Literary Institution, 7u2 
 
 Westmeath twelfth-night, 29 
 Westminster-hall, with shops in it, 77 
 school. Shrove Tuesday cus- 
 tom, 130 
 Weston, sir W , prior of St. John's, 
 
 Clerkenwell, 740 
 Weyd monat, 3'i9 
 Whifflers, 722, 744 
 Whist-playing, 46 
 
 Whit Sunday, momnhU ; Whitsuntide, 
 343; holydays in 1825 at Greenwich 
 fair, 344 ; censer at St. Paul's, 623 
 Whitby, Daniel, divine, died, 193 
 White, Mr. H., engraver on v.-ood, 
 noticed 454, 457, 660 
 
 ■ , Jem, his doings and charactt r, 
 
 295 
 
 — negress, 595 
 
 Whitehead, W. W., gigantic boy, 597 
 Whoo-he, to horses, its antiquity, 822 
 Wickham, East, Kent, 694 
 West, Kent, painted glass win- 
 dow of St. Catherine in the church, 
 753 ; delightful site of the vilage, 75 1 
 Wife of two husbands, 5b"l ; husband's 
 
 address to his wife, 727 
 Wigs, 626 
 Wild fowl shooting in France, 788 
 
 street chapel, annual sermon, 756 
 
 Wilkie, the pubUsher, anecdote of, 4.';7 
 William, King, Landed, November 4 ; 
 
 error of the almanacs, 714 
 Williams, Mr. Samuel, artist, noticed, 
 
 446, 530, 595, 673 
 Willow tree, 540 
 
 ^Vilson, Richard, painter, notice of him, 
 326 
 
 Wilson, sir Thomas and ladv, of Carlton* 
 
 694 
 Wiltshire, customs, 362 
 Winchester, mystery performed there, 
 
 378 
 Wind, superstitions, 6 ; effects of ea.-t 
 
 and north-east winds, 310, 401 
 Winstanley killed in the Eddy stone, 758 
 Wint-monat, 710 
 
 Winter, 55, 67, 99 ; its approach do- 
 scribed, 731 ; the quarter, 781 ; tiie 
 
 season described, 826 
 Winter-fuUeth, 673 
 
 monat, 772 
 
 , Death of, a sport, 1 80 
 
 rainbow in Ireland, 54 
 
 , Dr. Robert, his storm- sermon, 
 
 759 
 Wishart, Geo., burned at St. Andrew's, 
 
 355 
 Witchcraft," charm against, 28 
 
 and cat-craft, 553 
 
 •, in Herefordshire, 523 
 
 -, in Suffolk, 471 
 
 Witney, Oxfordshire, old church, show 
 
 at, 623 
 Wives' feast-day, 103 
 Woed-monath, 369, 530 
 Wolf monat, 1 
 Wolves' club, 302 
 Woman, whv one wept at her husband's 
 
 burial, 252 
 Wombwell, the showman's lion figh^, 
 
 499; his menagerie, 699; and himstlf 
 
 ib. 
 Women formerly, 452 ; women barbers, 
 
 636 ; angelical women, 676 
 's work, 688 
 
 's blacks, 931; fate of a dealer in, 
 
 454 
 
 Wood, Lucky, an ale wife, 820 
 
 Woodcocks, t)95 
 
 Woodward, a fives-player, 434 
 
 Wool-trade feasts, 105 
 
 Woolwich dock-yard, St. Clement's day 
 at, 751 
 
 arsenal, its St. Catharine, 75 1 
 
 Worcester, marquis of, his curious foun- 
 tain, 522 
 
 Worde, Wynkyn de, his carols, 800, 810 
 
 Worms, their utility, 35 
 
 Wroathock, an attorney transported, 79 
 
 Wren, sir Christopher, on the size of 
 churches, 460 
 
 Wrestling at Bartholomew-tide, 618 
 
 Wright, Mr., bees swarm on, 482 
 
 Writing-ma'^ters' trial of skill, 543 
 
 Wycliffe, John, 376 
 
 Wynne's "Eunomus" recommended, 110 
 
 Wyn-monath, 673 
 
 Yates and Shuter's booth at Bartholomew 
 fair, 623 
 
 850 
 
GEXERAI, INDEX. 
 
 Yeasty ale, its virtue, 12 
 York, cardinal, account of, 17 
 
 Corpus Christi play, 377 
 
 Yorkshire custom, 690 
 
 Yorlcshire, goose pies, 823 
 
 Young, Dr. Edward, poet, died, 2;!0 
 
 Yule derived, 772 
 
 dough and cakes, whence derivod, 
 
 819 
 
 Zinzendorff, count, notice of, 386 
 
 INDEX TO THE ENGRAYINGS. 
 
 10. 
 
 11. 
 
 12. 
 13. 
 14. 
 15. 
 16. 
 17. 
 IS. 
 19. 
 20. 
 21. 
 22. 
 23. 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 30. 
 31. 
 32. 
 33. 
 
 iErial, the, 728 
 
 Amelia, princess, her autograph, 538 
 
 Apostle spoons, 89 
 
 April, 204 
 
 Fool, 205 
 
 Aquarius, 71 
 Aries, 188 
 August, 529 
 Autumn, 041 
 
 Barber, 627 
 
 ancient, 633 
 
 's basin, 628 
 
 candlestick, 628 
 
 chafer, 628 
 
 chafing-dish, 629 
 
 crisping-irons, 6.59 
 
 Barrow-woman, 452 
 Bartholomew fair, 612 
 
 61 3 
 
 Bastile destroyed, 408 
 Bear taking in Russia, 91 
 Beard, cathedral, 629 
 
 Pick-a-devant, 62 i 
 
 Beaton's cardinal, house, Edinburgh, 
 
 356 
 Boar's heai at Christmas, 810 
 Bona Dea, Frontispiece, 828 
 Boor's head, 8 1 1 
 Boy bishop, 780 
 Bungay Watchman, 814 
 Burmese state carriage, 761 
 
 Tee, 764 
 
 Butler, Jacob, 652 
 Buy a broom, 401 
 
 34. Calabrian minstrels, 797 
 
 35. Canonbury tower, 317 
 
 36. Card-playing, by children, 45 
 
 37. Cats' concert, 553 
 
 38. Chad's well, inscription, 162 
 
 39. Church of St. John, Clerkenv\ell, 738 
 
 40. Copenhagen-house, 429 
 
 41. Cowper's summer-house, 261 
 
 42. Cressets, four, 416 
 
 43. Curfew, 122 
 
 44. December, 772 
 
 45. Fantoccini, 557 
 
 46. February, 98 
 
 47. Flamsteed's horoscope, .'545 
 48. autograph, 551 
 
 49. Flight of the Holy Family, 825 
 
 50. Flowers with symbols, 53 
 
 51. Fountain at Tottenham, 521 
 
 Garrick's autograph, 164 
 
 signature, 
 
 Gordon, Jemmy, 349 
 Grose, Francis, sleeping, 328 
 
 . standing, 328 
 
 Guy Fawkes day, 716 
 58. Gymnastics for youth, 10 
 59. , Voelker's, 661 
 
 165 
 
 60. Hagbush-lane cottage, 437 
 
 61. Hair-dress, ladies', 631 
 
 62. bull-head, 631 
 
 63. curls on wires, 631 
 
 64. Halifax gibbet, 74 
 
 65. Hare and tahor, 605 
 
 66. Heading-block and maul, 75 
 
 67. Heart breaker, 109 
 
 68. Hen threshing, 124 
 
 69. S[)eaking, 125 
 
 70. Henry IX., K. of England, 17 
 
 71, reverseof his medal, 17 
 
 72. Hipson, Miss, a dwarf, and a Malay, 
 
 587 
 
 73. Hornsey Wood house, 380 
 
 74. lake, 381 
 
 75. Huxter, 607 
 
 76. Hyde Park gate, sale, 679 
 
 77. Italian minstrels in London, 815 
 
 78. January, 1 
 
 79. Joan of Arc's fountain, 365 
 
 80. John, St., at Patmos, 309 
 
 81. July, 445 
 
 82. June, 369 
 
 83. King's arms, a showman's wood-cut, 
 
 588 
 
 84. Labre, B. J., 236 
 
 85. Lamp, old, 417 
 
 851 
 
GENERAL 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 86. Lifting at Fator, 212 
 
 125. St Crispin and St. Crispinian, 693 
 
 87. Lion bait at Warwick, 493 
 
 126. St Denvs, (uS5 
 
 88. Little man. .=^9 > 
 
 127. St. Dunstan and the Devil, 336 
 
 h9. Living skeleton, front, 509 
 
 12S. St. George, 249 
 
 90. , profile, 517 
 
 129. St. k'natiiis, Loyola, 525 
 
 91. , back, 517 
 
 130 St. Michael and other archangels, 664 
 
 92. London insignia, 721 
 
 131. St. Nicholas, 778 
 
 
 1H2. St. Roche, 560 
 
 93. March, 156 
 
 133. Sandal, ancient, 257 
 
 94. May, 269 
 
 134. September, 573 
 
 95. May-day at Hitchin, 284 
 
 1:S5. Sh,.e, ladies, 257 
 
 96. chimney sweepers, 292 
 
 l:'6. Silenus, 225 
 
 97. milkmaid's garlaml, 2S5 
 
 137. Simeon, St., Stylites, 18 
 
 98. Mermaid, a showman's wood-cut, 597 
 
 138. Sirius, 449 
 
 99. Michael Angelo Buonarroti, 136 
 
 13!J. Sluich-h.nise, Hornsey, 348 
 
 100. Mid-Lent sport, 179 
 
 140. Somers' Town miracle, 237 
 
 101. Midsummer eve, bonfire, 412 
 
 141. Spring, 168 
 
 
 142. dress, 14th cent., 169 
 
 102. Nativity, the, 805 
 
 143. Squirrel, musical notes, two, 683 
 
 103. Nero and his senate, 229 
 
 144. Starkey, capt , 461 
 
 104. New London Bridge, 388 
 
 145. Stoning Jews in Lent, 148 
 
 105. November, 709 
 
 146. Summer, 409 
 
 
 147. Summer dress, 14th cent., 410 
 
 106. Octavia's triumph, 228 
 
 148. Sun and Earth at Midsummer, 189 
 
 107. October, 673 
 
 149. at Midwinter, 30 
 
 
 150. Swallow, hirundo rusiica, 253 
 
 IDS. Palm Sunday procession, 106 
 
 
 109. Passion flower, 3S5 
 
 151. Temptation of St. Antony, 57 
 
 110. Peerless-pool, 485 
 
 152. TiddyDoll, 288 
 
 111. fishpond, 4SS 
 
 153. 's musical notes, 289 
 
 112 Piper, the, 813 
 
 154. Tree of Common Law, 117 
 
 113. Pisces, 141 
 
 155. Twelfth-day in London, 21 
 
 114. Plough Monday sports, 36 
 
 
 115. Porier, 608 
 
 156. Valentine, postman, 108 
 
 116. 's part, 608 
 
 157. Virgin, Mater Dei, 637 
 
 117. Printing office, 567 
 
 
 118. Pulpit, 420 
 
 158. Want, Hannah, QIQ 
 
 
 1.''9. Westminster-hall with its shops, 77 
 
 119. Richmond, Surrey, 301 
 
 160. Whitehead, a giant boy, 598 
 
 
 161. Wigs, traveUing, 630 
 
 120. Sadler's Wells' angling, 172 
 
 162. long perriwig, 630 
 
 121. St. Anne and St. Joachim, 505 
 
 163. peruke, 630 
 
 122. St. Bride's Church, Fleet-street, 44 
 
 164, Wild-fowl shooting in France, 788 
 
 123. S*. Catharine, 753 
 
 165. shooter's hut, 789 
 
 124. St. Cecilia, 748 
 
 166. Winter, 781 
 
 END 0] 
 
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