The Every-day Book and Table Book, v. 1 (of 3) or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac (part 7 of 7)

The Every-day Book and Table Book, v. 1 (of 3) or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac (part 7 of 7)

“The day of St. Simon and St. Jude, the mayor enters into his state and office. The next day he goes by water to Westminster 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, and targets of the proper arms of the said mayor, of his company, and of the merchants’ adventurers, or of the staple, or of the company of the new trades; next before him goeth the barge of the livery of his own company, decked with their own proper arms; then the bachelors’ barge; and so all the companies in London, in order, every one having their own proper barge, with the arms of their company. And so passing along the Thames, he 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 standards, one having the arms of the city, and the other the arms of the mayor’s company: next them two drums and a flute, then an ensign of the city, and then about lxx or lxxx poore men marching two and two, in blue gowns, with red sleeves and caps, every one bearing a pike and a target, whereon is 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 the king’s arms, the other of the mayor’s own proper arms. Then a set of hautboys playing, and after them certain wyfflers,[382] in velvet coats and chains of gold, with white staves in their hands; then the Pageant of Triumph richly decked, whereupon by certain figures and writings, some matter touching justice and the office of a magistrate is represented. Then sixteen trumpeters, eight and eight, having banners of the mayor’s company. Then certain wyfflers 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 banners 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 shoulder, half-black and half-red, the number of them according to the greatness of the company whereof they are. After them follow sheriff’s-officers, and then the mayor’s officers, with other officers of the city, as the common serjeant, and the chamberlain; next before the mayor goeth the sword-bearer, having on his head the cap of honour, and the sword of the city in his right hand, in a rich scabbard, 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 scarlet, and on his left shoulder a hood of black velvet, and a rich collar of gold or SS. about his neck, and with him rideth the 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 others have black velvet tippets. The two sheriffs 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_l._, whereof the mayor payeth 200_l._ and each of the sheriffs 100_l._ 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.”[383] In more ancient times, the procession to and from Westminster 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, Norman.” The twelve companies emulating their chief have, from that period, graced the Thames on lord mayor’s day.

The first account of this annual exhibition known to have been published, was written by George Peele, for the inauguration of sir Wolstone Dixie, knight, on the 29th of October, 1585. On that occasion, 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 with a moor on the back of a lynx. On sir Thomas Middleton’s mayoralty, in 1613, the solemnity is described as unparalleled for the cost, art, and magnificence of the shows, pageants, chariots, morning, noon, and night triumphs. In 1655, the city pageants, after a discontinuance of about fourteen years, were revived. Edmund Gayton, the author of the description for that year, says, that “our metropolis for these planetary pageants, was as famous and renowned in foreign nations, as for their 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 king again “graced the triumphs.” The king, queen, duke and duchess of York, prince Rupert, the duke of Monmouth, foreign ambassadors, the chief nobility, and secretary 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, with pieces spoken on each pageant.”

The printed description of these processions are usually entitled “Triumphs,” though they are more commonly called “The 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 procession. 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 business of the day, assembled at merchant-tailors’ hall, to meet the masters, wardens, and assistants, in their gowns, faced with foyns, (the skin 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 gentlemen-ushers, in velvet coats and chains of gold, bearing white staves. Thirty more in plush and buff, bearing colours and banners. Thirty-six of the king’s trumpeters, with silver trumpets, headed by the serjeant-trumpeter, he wearing two scarfs, one the lord mayor’s, and the other 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 buff, with black breeches and waste scarfs. Two city marshals on horseback, with attendants. The foot-marshal, with a rich broad shoulder-scarf, to put them in rank and file, attended by six others. The fence-master, with attendants, bearing bright broadswords drawn. Poor pensioners, with gowns 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 contains the ensigns of the company, followed by the poor company of pensioners. Four drums and one fife. Pensioners in coats as before described. Persons of worth, each bearing a standard or banner. Four trumpets. Two merchant-tailors’ ensigns, bearing their supporters and crest. Six gentlemen-ushers. The budge-bachelors, marching in measured order. Second division. Six trumpets. Two gentlemen, bearing the coats of arms of the city, and the merchant-tailors’ company. Eight gentlemen, wearing gold chains. The foyns-bachelors. Third division. Two gentlemen in velvet coats with banners. Ten gentlemen-ushers in coats and chains of gold, as before described. A large body of the livery in their gowns and livery-hoods, followed by “all lord mayors in the potential 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 assistants. Four drums. Six trumpets. Three gallants, bearing the banners of the diadem. 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 attired with the gown, fur hood, and scarf, and guarded by knights, esquires, and gentlemen, they all march through King-street down to Three-Crane-wharf, where the lord mayor and aldermen, discharging some of the attendants, take barge at the west-end of the wharf; the court of assistants’ livery, and the best of the gentlemen-ushers taking barge at the east-end. The rest of the ushers, with the foyns and the budge-bachelors, remain ashore, with others, to await the return of his lordship, who proceeds with several city companies by water, and is rowed all along by the Strand to Westminster, a pleasure boat with 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 oath and go through the usual ceremonies. These being completed, he makes a liberal donation to the poor of Westminster, reembarks with all his retinue, and being rowed back to Blackfriars Stairs, he lands there under beat of drum and a salute of three volleys from the artillery company in their martial ornaments, some in buff, 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 banners 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 pageant, consisting of a large stage with the coat armour of the merchant-tailors’ company, eminently erected, consisting of a large tent royal, gules, 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 company’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, representing Traffic, in his right hand. On one of the camel stages four figures sit on pedestals, one at each corner, representing Diligence, Industry, Ingenuity, and Success; on the other camel-stage, in like manner, Mediocrity, Amity, Verity, Variety, all richly habited in silk or sarcenet, bear splendid emblems and banners. The royal tent, or imperial pavilion, between these two stages, is supported on one side by a minister of state representing Royalty, and on the other side by another representing Loyalty; each in rich 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 the other one of the city’s banners. On a high and eminent seat of throne-like ascension is seated Sovereignty, in royal posture and alone, with black curled hair, wearing an imperial 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 a seat beneath, are Principality, Nobility, and Honour, all richly habited. On the next seat, 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. Commonalty, as a knight of the shire in parliamentary 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 richly gilt, crimson and velvet scarf fringed with gold, a quiver of arrows in a gold belt on one side, a sword at the other, buskins laced with silver and gold, a silver helmet with red and white plume, in one hand a large long bow, and a spear in the other. This personage, representing sir John Hawkwood, a merchant-tailor of martial renown under Edward III., when he conquered France, as soon as he perceives the lord mayor prepared, with attention riseth up, and with a martial 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, he is intercepted by the second pageant, which is a chariot 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 other hand St. George’s banner, representing 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 angelical staff, charged with a red cross, representing Clemency. In the chariot sitteth 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 coloured silk and silver mantle, and sitting majestically alone in front, upon the approach 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 characters are her attributes, recommends unity, because division is the policy of the pope and the jesuits, expresses her belief that if the lion and the lamb fall out, she should run to ruin, descants upon magistrate-like virtues, and in the end tells his lordship,--

You have done all things fair, no action foul; Your sherevalry gave relish of good rule, Nor need they doubt your mayoralty, therefore, Begging your pardon, I shall say no more.

This speech being concluded, his lordship exhibiting a gracious aspect of favourable acceptation, advanceth further towards Guildhall, but is civilly obstructed by another scene, and in regard, his lordship is a merchant, and his company merchant-tailors, the Third Triumphal 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,--

What cheer, my lord? I am return’d from sea, To amplifie your day of Jubilee, In this tried vessel, &c.

His 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 of Pleasure, which is a triumphal ionic arch of excellent structure, where, in distinct and perspicuous situations, sitteth nine beautiful and pleasant ladies, whose names, natures, and ornaments are consentaneous, 1. Jollity, 2. Delight, 3. Fancy, 4. Felicity, 5. Wit, 6. Invention, 7. Tumult, 8. Slaughter, 9. Gladness; all of them properly enrobed and adorned; and to augment their delight, there are several persons properly habited, playing on sundry loud instruments of music, one of which, with a voice as loud and as tunable as a treble hautboy, chanteth out a Ditty in commendation of the Merchant-tailors’ Trade, commencing 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 were hurl’d, They were at that time king and queen of the world: Yet this royal couple were forced to play The Taylers, 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, Who scoff and deride men that be Merchant-Taylers.

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 pensioners 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 gentlemen ushers, to Guildhall, where his lordship is again saluted by the artillerymen with three volleys more, which concludes 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 likewise conveyed into Blackwell-hall; and the officers aforesaid, and the children that sit in the pageants, there refresh themselves 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 artful fingers. Their ears 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 ’l agree, 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 skinners’ company, a pageant in honour of their occupation, consisted of “a spacious wilderness, haunted and inhabited with all manner of wild beasts and birds of various shapes and colours, even to beasts of prey, as 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 harmony 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, the 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 pamphlet 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 exhibition. The last lord mayor who rode on horseback at his mayoralty was sir Gilbert Heathcote in the reign of queen Anne.

It will be remarked after this perusal, that the modern exhibitions have no pretension to vie with the grandeur of the old “London triumphs.” In 1760, the court of common council recommended pageants to be exhibited for the entertainment 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 present procession, without further expenditure 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, but without javelins. So many of these head the show, as there are years in the lord mayor’s age. Their obsolete costume and hobbling walk are sport for the unsedate, who, from imperfect tradition, year after year, are accustomed to call them “old bachelors”--tongues less polite call them “old fogeys.” The numerous 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 throwing of 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 information in the civic authorities, that figures of giants anciently belonged to Guildhall, and that their corporate station was at the Guildhall door. In their present 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 instructive undertaking.

I remain,

Your constant reader,

H.

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, When 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.

Of French and crabbed Latin too I laid in little store, Yet both are pleasing to my view, Now I am forty-four.

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 which I am forty-four.

Tho’ 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 task At ten times forty-four.

“The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And this is of them.”

This personage has obtained himself to be sketched and lithographed. It is a true portraiture of his dress and form, but not of his face. By way of denoting his pretension to “deathless notoriety,” it has these few expressive words beneath it; namely,--“Without equal in nature or art, this or in any other age or globe.” Afterwards follows this intimation, “Published as the act directs, by Mr. Leeming, London, October, 1825.” 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 “the Ærial 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 impenetrable to his “assurance,” and therefore before and after, and on Guy Fawkes’ day, a man was employed to walk the streets with a board bearing a couple of the impressions pasted thereon, the said man bearing also unpasted ones, “to all who choose to buy them” at one shilling each.

The first public intimation of this “phenomenon,” is in the Times of Saturday, July 2, 1825:--“An individual in a splendid dress of Spanish costume has excited much attention at Vauxhall gardens. 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 the audience in the front of the orchestra, and distributed a number of cards, on each of which was written, ‘The Ærial challenges the whole world to find a man that can in any way compete with him as such.’ After having served about three or four hundred of these challenges, he darted off like lightning, taking the whole circuit of the gardens 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 off.”

Postponing a few particulars of this visitation of Vauxhall by “The Ærial” for a 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 the common stage coach, and that assuming the disguise of common dress, like Apollo in “Midas” after expulsion from the celestials, he arrived in London on the day of June. Dull as he found this metropolis to personal merit, yet, to his “Agreeable Surprise,” there were some who said in the language of Lingo:--

“Such beauties in view I Can never praise too high.”

Sculptors and painters of eminence to whom he proffered disclosure of his elegant 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 considered the essential principle of man?” the Ærial 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 Ærial, that mental beauty results from personal beauty. Mr. Haydon was not quite so shocking; he admitted to, and to the cost of the Ærial, as will hereafter appear, that he had “a beautiful leg.” His oral developement of his sylph-like perfections to Mr. Chantry, induced that gentleman to decline prolongation of the interview, and to say he should at once call himself Ærial, and from that moment he did. Mr. Behnes told him that he was “no conjuror,” and that every body laughed at him. The Ærial was not to be so subdued, nor by such means humbled. He deemed them to be the sayings of envy. His organ of self-esteem attained a new swell, and in harmonious strength he rose like Antæus from the dust, a giant refreshed.

He conceives that he is the most beautiful person in the world, and hence besides calling himself “the Ærial,” the “New Discovery,” and “the Great Unknown,” he adds “the Paragon of Perfection,” “the Phœnix,” “the God of Beauty,” and “the Grand Arcana of Nature.” Some one intimated that arcan_um_ would be correct; he said, he did not choose to hum, and he was “not to be hummed.” It was hinted that he might assume the name of Apollo; he turned from the speaker with contempt--“Apollo is nothing compared with me; there is no figure to compete with me in any respect, except the Achilles in the park, which may be somewhat like me in the under part of the foot upon the ground, but upon that it is impossible to determine with accuracy, unless the figure flew from the pedestal.”

He relates, that he visited Dr. Thornton, who lectures at the Marlborough rooms, in Great Marlborough-street, on “craniology, botany, chemistry, astronomy, vision, hearing, the circulation of the blood, digestion, and the beneficial effects produced by the different gases in the 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?” The doctor inquired what the “something” was; the Ærial answered by inquiring which of all the exhibitions was 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 exhibition will produce.” “It is impossible to say--perhaps 20,000_l._ a year; but what is yours?”--“You shall see--but not now--to-morrow.” On the morrow the Ærial 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 astonishing 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 household were on tiptoe expectation till the long-looked-at door opened, when the Ærial 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 Ærial conceived the idea of a new joint stock company, “capital one million;” for which “good and valuable consideration,” he proposed to put himself at the disposition of the company “so soon as the subscription was filled up.” To certain observations of the chancellor against the “new companies,” the Ærial attributed a general indifference 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 summum bonum might have been obtained. If only one monied man would have advanced with capital, the Ærial would have advanced in person. 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.” He 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 Ærial corrected the inaccuracy with severity. “A quarter, sir,” he said; “five feet one and a quarter, sir; mine is the perfect height; a quarter of an inch more would be higher, a quarter of an inch less would be lower than the standard of perfection!”

Acquiring experience from disappointment, and deeming that the wonder of his person might be as insupportable as “excess of light,” the Ærial purposed to let himself in upon the public by degrees. At his chambers in Thavies-inn, he procured 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 beautiful 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 Ærial 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 coachman, 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 Ærial 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 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 off to his 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. 125, (near Leather-lane,) Holborn, upon a promise that it should be exhibited in the shop window without note or comment: “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 who 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 dispose of the mould without disgrace to it, or to himself. Sudden and quick in purpose, 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 effect:--“A young man, smart and flippant withal, was introduced to Mr. Conant, the presiding magistrate. Whether the individual 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;--whether 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 nature--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 anywhere,--perhaps he thinks with Virgil, 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?’--‘My business?’ retorted Joseph Leeming, ‘business, indeed!’--‘Well, sir,’ replied the magistrate, making due acknowledgment for having imagined that Joseph Leeming could have any business, ‘what was your pleasure?’ but our hero was not to be catechised 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 artist 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 museum 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 distend 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 magpies. 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 cliffs 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. Leeming had lately examined the cliffs of Dover, and whether, as he surveyed the shores of France from chalky England, he thought a trip to the ‘land of the Gaul’ was too venturous for a goose we know not; but the feat was relinquished, and the good people of Dover and Calais were denied the pleasure of beholding an ærial 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 subject, 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 office as soon as you please, after you have paid five shillings for 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 Mr. 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 consequence, but a person at Dover who meditated and perhaps achieved the experiment, deemed it inexpedient to be considered the Ærial of Marlborough-street, and by public announcement, disclaimed the identity. His appearance at that police office was after his return from Calais. He 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 in modo, 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 perceive I am a great man with a mere look,” said the Ærial, “I shall 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 made due preparation. His dress was a close jacket of blue and silver; theatrical “trunks,” or short 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 ruff, edged with lace round the neck; and wristbands trimmed with lace. His entrance into the gardens without a hat, surprised and astonished the waiters, who ran across to each other inquiring “who is he?” They imagined him a distinguished foreigner, but as he walked the gardens unrecognised their curiosity ceased. During the performances he was little noticed, for being uncovered, the company presumed he was some performer awaiting his turn to exhibit; but when the amusements had ceased, one or two visiters begged to know whom they had the honour of addressing. He answered, “you’ll find out by and bye.” Inquiries becoming troublesome, and a crowd of gazers pressing on, he suddenly broke through, and sustained the character of Ærial, 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 inscribed, “THE NEW DISCOVERY challenges the whole World, and artists individually, to find a man, or even design, that can in any way, in form or shape, be compared to him.” The 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 most dignified deportment he could assume, while the company followed huzzaing. A gentleman required a ring for him; it was instantly complied with, and the Ærial put himself into various positions, with the intent of displaying his transcendant form in the attitudes of ancient statues; that which seemed to give the most lively satisfaction to himself and his increasing audience was the gladiator, wherein he is represented by the engraving to this article. He maintained it with painful perseverance and patient endurance, while the perspiration poured down his face, and the spectators shrieked with laughter and amazement. This achievement was the height of his ambition; at its conclusion he withdrew to a couch, whereon he duly reclined in a studied attitude, to the admiration of thousands, who, tempted by the “Wonderful Discovery,” flocked in from the supper rooms to gaze. Loud cries and shouts of “encore,” roused him from temporary repose; but it was not to indulge the anxious desire, for he walked apparently undisturbed by the distinction he had obtained, and entering a box called for “wine, mighty wine.” Draughts of this were succeeded by potations of rack-punch, while loud calls upon him were unanswered; allegations derogatory to his dignity were noticed by looks of indignation and contempt; “he spoke not, he moved not,” till increased throng and uproar raised his indignation, when a person withdrew him from the gardens, put on his cloak, and the Ærial retired delighted with his reception.

Perusing the papers on the morrow, and not finding accounts respecting his Vauxhall adventure, he found an advertisement of a song dedicated to the duke of York, printed in blue and white. “They are my colours,” said the Ærial, “they are the colours of an ærial,--the duke is an ærial.” Elated by this conception, he bought another new pair of silk stockings, and accomplished another visit to Vauxhall the same evening, where being immediately recognised by some who had seen him the evening before, he was soon surrounded. On this occasion he adventured a challenge, with an offer of 500_l._ to any one who would match himself against him for beauty. Being pushed and pursued he sprung on the supper-table of a company, to the loss or great damage of his second pair of silks, and went home on foot by daylight, amidst the grins of unappreciating people passing to their labour.

On the night of the juvenile fete, as the duke of Cambridge was to be present with his son, the Ærial once more visited Vauxhall. Unhappily, the duke and the young prince were the attracting objects.

Deserted in his utmost need, By those his former fancies fed,

the Ærial retired to a box, and, through the medium of the waiters, consoled himself from their beaufets so effectually, that before supper 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 his superhuman structure, and dreading assassination from the 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 devotion to the rosy deity, he was deposited in one of the cloak rooms, and left to repose: on awaking and sallying forth into the gardens he was astonished to find the place deserted; and, for lamp-light, the glare of the sun. His cloak and purse were not to be found; remonstrance and entreaty were alike 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 rudiment, and therefore he philosophically submitted to be assisted by the waiters into a moth-eaten, mouldy, ragged watchman’s scarlet frieze cloak, with “R. G. V. H.,” denoting “Royal Gardens, Vauxhall,” worked in large worsted letters on the back; and 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 Vauxhall for his cloak and purse, and both were returned 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 vouchsafed towards the gardens, and conceiving that the proprietors ought not to sustain the injury his absence would inflict on them, he laid out another pound in a fourth pair of hose, and again, “in silk attire,” covered by a cloak, presented himself at the door, but he had scarcely advanced from paying his entrance-money when constables hurried him out, and he was not allowed to re-enter. This was the last appearance of the Ærial at Vauxhall.

Conceiving that the managers of the theatres would gladly avail themselves of his attractive powers, he habited himself as before described, and announced himself at their doors as “The Ærial;” but they were “not at home,” nor were they “at home” to his subsequent calls. Such gross inattention to their interests was inconceivable; for it seems he coveted no other remuneration than “to walk across the stage and back again, and receive the plaudits of the audience.” He affirms that he appeared on the boards of the Manchester theatre, and that the people hooted because he would not deign to remain long enough for the gratification of their extreme curiosity. Though convinced that no one ever appeared to such advantage as he does, in the dress wherein he has already appeared in public, yet he walks en deshabille on ordinary occasions, lest he should suffer violence from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of the British ladies, who, according to his own affirmation, are ready to throw themselves at his feet upon the least encouragement. He 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 delighting 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 at the last extremity I can marry any lady I please with thirty thousand pounds.” If he should find himself mistaken in his conceptions before matters have proceeded 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 feverish excitement is over, his talents merely require diligent cultivation 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 elevated one and live happy in it.

* * * * *

Letter from the Ærial.

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 Every-Day 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 indiscretions. 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, four 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 I 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 notwithstanding 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 may, The cat will mew, the dog will have his day.”

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient servant,

JOSEPH LEEMING.

No. 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 phenomena of the times, Mr. Leeming, as “the Ærial,” was included, but not until he had been previously in print from the character he assumed. His present letter 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 winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern’dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night, study and ease Together mix’d; sweet recreation! And innocence which most does please With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

Pope.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Glaucus Aletris. Veltheimia glauca. Dedicated to St. John Lateran.

[382] Whiffler, Mr. Douce says, in his “Illustrations of Shakspeare,” is a term undoubtedly borrowed from whiffle, another name for a fife or small flute; for whifflers were originally those who preceded armies or processions, as fifers or pipers: in process of time the term whiffler, which had been always used in the sense of a fifer, came to signify any person who went before in a procession. He observes, that Minshew defines him to be a club or staff-bearer, and that it appears, whifflers carried white staves, as in the annual feast of the 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 flourishing their swords.

A friend informs me, that 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 companies on the lord Mayor’s day, sometimes with flags, were called whifflers, or bachelor whifflers, not because they cleared the way, but because they went first as whifflers did; and he quotes a character in the old play of the City Match, saying, “I look’d the next lord mayor’s day to see you o’ the livery, or one of the bachelor whifflers.”

Hone on Mysteries.

[383] Dr. Drake’s Shakspeare and his Times, vol. ii.

~November 10.~

St. Andrew Avellino, A. D. 1608. Sts. Trypho and Respicius, A. D. 250. St. Nympha, 5th Cent. St. Justus, Abp. 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 10th of November.

Thin attendance on ’Change to-day--dull eyes--languid countenance--a little nervous this morning--fresh demand for soda-water and ginger-beer--much breakfasting 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.[384]--

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Scotch Fir. Pinus Silvestris. Dedicated to St. Nympha.

[384] Morning Advertiser, Nov. 15, 1824.

~November 11.~

St. Martin, Bp. A. D. 397. St. Mennas, A. D. 304.

~St. Martin.~

He is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. By Romish writers 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 half to the beggar, and wrapped himself up in the other; whereupon Christ appeared to him the next 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 to 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 unprivileged person. After this, one of his disciples fell ill of a fever, and died suddenly without baptism; “whereupon,” says Alban Butler, “feeling in himself a divine impulse 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 manner, 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, however, one day with some of his clergy, and prayed for information, whereupon on his left hand, “he saw near him a pale ghost of a fierce aspect, whom he commanded to speak; the ghost told his name, and it appeared that 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 difficulty, 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’s life of him.

~Martinmas.~

A custom anciently prevailed, though 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 had.

When Easter comes, who knows not than That veale and bacon is the man? And Martilmass Beefe doth beare good tacke, When countrey folke do dainties lacke.

Tusser.

Martlemas beef was beef dried in the chimney, as bacon, and is so called, because it was usual to kill the beef for this provision about the feast of St. Martin.[385] There is mention of

--dried flitches of some smoked beeve, Hang’d on a writhen wythe since Martin’s Eve.

Hall.

Mr. Brand relates, that rustic families in Northumberland clubbed at Martinmas 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, consisting of blood, suet, groats, &c. which being formed into little sausage links, were boiled and sent about as presents. 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 derived 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. Stukeley, in his “Itinerary” concerning Martinsal-hill, thus: “I take the name of this hill to come from the merriments among the northern people, called Martinalia, or drinking healths to the memory of St. Martin, practised by our Saxon and Danish ancestors. I doubt not but upon St. Martin’s day, or Martinmass, all the young people in the neighbourhood assembled here, as they do now upon the adjacent St. Ann’s-hill, upon St. Ann’s day.” He adds, that “St. Martin’s day, in the Norway clogs, (or wooden almanacs) is marked with a goose: for on that day they always feasted with a roasted goose: they say, St. Martin, being elected to a bishoprick, hid himself, (noluit episcopari) but was discovered by that animal. We have transferred the ceremony to Michaelmas.”[386]

Dr. Forster, so often cited, observes, 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 the petit carême, when fowls can no longer be presented on the tables of a religious age. A German monk, Martin Schoock, has made it a case of conscience whether, even on the eve of the little Lent, it be allowable to eat goose: ‘An liceat Martinalibus anserem comedere?’ After having dived into the weedy pool of the casuist’s arguments, the delighted devotee emerges with the permission to roast his goose; and thus the goose came to be a standing dish on Martinmas as well as Michaelmas day.”

In some of the old church calendars 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.”[387]

“Time’s Telescope,” for 1814, cites some extracts from a little ballad, entitled “Martilmasse Day:”--

It is the day of Martilmasse, Cuppes of ale should freelie passe; What though Wynter has begunne 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 shows and merriment Do weare the vaporish eveninge out With interlude and revellinge rout; Such as did pleasure Englande’s queene When here her Royal Grace was seen Yet will they not this day let passe, The merrie day of Martilmasse.

When the dailie sportes be done, Round the market crosse they runne, Prentis laddes and gallant blades Dancing with their gamesome maids, Till the Beadel, stout and sowre, Shakes his bell, and calls the houre; Then farewell ladde and farewell lasse To the merry night of Martilmasse.

Martilmasse shall come againe, Spite of 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. Pinus Strobus. Dedicated to St. Martin.

[385] Tusser Redivivus.

[386] Brand.

[387] Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.

~November 12.~

St. Martin, Pope, A. D. 655. St. Nilus, A. D. 390. St. Livin, A. D. 633. St. Lebwin, Patron of Daventer, 8th Cent.

Birth-day of Admiral Vernon.

The anniversary of this famous old admiral’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 dinners in many places, &c. In the evening there were the greatest rejoicings, bonfires, 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 Porto Bello, &c.; over the admiral was wrote, “Venit, vidit, vicit;” and under him, “Vernon semper viret.”[388]

* * * * *

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Grape Aloe. Velthennia Uvaria. Dedicated to St. Nilus.

[388] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~November 13.~

St. Homobonus, A. D. 1197. St. Didacus, A. D. 1463. St. Stanislas Kostka, A. D. 1568. St. Mitrius. St. Brice, A. D. 444. St. Constant, of Logherne, A. D. 777. St. Chillen, or Killian, of Ireland.

~St. Brice.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs, for what reason is unknown. He was born at Tours, became a monk under St. Martin, and succeeded him in the see of that city.

ST. JOHN’S, CLERKENWELL.

The church of St. John, Clerkenwell, having been closed for reparation since the first Sunday in July, was opened for divine service on the 13th of November, 1825, by the Rev. W. E. L. Faulkner, M. A. rector of the parish. The exterior of the present edifice is altogether unseemly. 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 mistaken for a theatre; but the interior is in every 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 inhabitants who have now so judiciously fitted it up, that it will not require more than usual cleaning for many years. Still it is to be regretted, that a structure, essentially gothic, should have been accommodated to modern architecture. The deviation seems to have taken place on its appropriation to the use of the parish of St. John, about a century preceding the reparation it has now undergone.

St. John’s parish is distinct from the parish of St. James, although, as regards their poor, they are under one management; and the parish of St. James has, in other respects, an ascendancy, which formerly was the cause of open dissention. 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. The building with two windows between three buttresses, surmounted by pinnacles, was anciently the library.

ENTRY IN THE VESTRY BOOK.

The History of the Parish of St. John, Clerkenwell.

On friday the twenty seventh Day of December in the year of our Lord Christ one thousand seven hundred twenty and three, and in the tenth Year of the Reign of George by the Grace of God, king of Great Britain, &c. being St. John’s Day, this Church was consecrated and dedicated to the 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 Hospitallers, or the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem in England, which Order began at Jerusalem about the Year of our Lord Christ 1099, taking its rise and name from an Hospital built for the reception of Christian Strangers and Pilgrims, who came to perform their Devotion 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 recommended themselves to the Inhabitants by the many rare and pretious commodities they brought thither, that the Calif of Egypt gave them a part of Jerusalem to live in, where they built a Cloister and transplanted thither from Italy an Abbot with some Benedictine Monks, who entertained all Christian Pilgrims and travellers: soon after a Cloister was erected for Women, and these being too small, the Hospital or Alms-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 Joannitæ, 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 of Lorrain besieged Jerusalem, 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 overthrow 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 Jerusalem 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 Honorius the second, and by the then Patriarch of Jerusalem. The members of it were called indifferently 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 services they did to Christian Princes procured 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 Christendom.

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 Institution 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 Rebels, but were afterwards rebuilt and continued in the possession of the Knights Hospitallers till the 32nd Year 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 discharged, 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 mentioned, not as a part of, or within the Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, but as situate and being near to the City of London, in the County of Middlesex, and so the same are mentioned in the grant from the Crown and subsequent writings.

The 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 granted to them this Church, House, and many Lands; but the Order being again dissolved by Queen Elizabeth, the Church and Priory remained in the Crown till the 9th day of May, in the 5th 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 passed in marriage in the 5th Year of King Charles the 1st to Thomas, Lord Bruce, afterwards Earl of Elgin, whose son Robert was created Earl of Ailesbury, in which Family this Church or Chapel, (from thence called Ailesbury Chapel,) continued till the Year 1706, and being then sold by them, was afterwards, viz. in the Year 1721, purchased by Mr. Simon Michell, with intent to accommodate 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 enlarged 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 dwelling-house,) and also the South Isle, (the upper part of which had been converted into a Library, and the lower part separated by a wall from what was left to the Chapel,) and having likewise entirely new built the west front, and new roofed the whole, and furnished the Chapel with convenient Galleries and pews; he proposed it thus rebuilt and beautified to the Commissioners appointed in pursuance of Acts of Parliament for building 50 New Churches in and about London, as proper to be by them converted into a Parochial Church for such an adjoining District, as they should think fit to appoint for a Parish to the same.

This proposal being accepted and an agreement made by the Commissioners with Mr. Simon Michell, he and Mr. Hutton (his trustee) by bargain and sale enrolled in Chancery, bearing date the 29th day of August 1723, conveyed the Chapel, and the ground extending from the East end thereof 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 bearing 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 appoint 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 by the same Deed the said Commissioners did pursuant to the said Acts of Parliament set out and appoint a Parish for the said Church, and ascertained the Bonds and Limits of such new 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 the gate-house, mentioned by Stow as remaining in his time, and which still remains. 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, the body and side isles with the great bell tower 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 Thomas 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_l._ 19_s._ 8_d._ yearly; sir William Weston being 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_l._ “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 exhumation 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 parish of St. John, is in possession of a portion of prior Weston’s cere-cloth.

* * * * *

The only vestiges of the antiquity and extent 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 constructed 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 remain, 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 remarkable stone in the churchyard is a memoritur of the late “Mrs. Sarah Newman of No. 63, Cow-cross-street, St. Sepulchre,” who died a few years ago, and is rendered “remarkable” by an amplification of the ever-recurring epitaph, “Affliction sore” &c. She is made to say--

Pain was my portion, Physic was my food, Groans was my devotion, Drugs did me no good; Christ was my physician, Knew what way was best, To ease me of my pain, He took my soul to rest.

* * * * *

A mural inscription in the church, represents “Simon Michell Esq. a member of the Middle Temple and Lincoln’s Inn, 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 him, 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 authentically 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 “Gentleman’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 ordinary stature: from this, the height to which the ground has been raised above the old level may be imagined. The gateway 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 crown of the arch, and the remaining ornaments, some of which had been hidden in the watchhouse. An ancient door in the watchhouse bricked up, and boarded over by the wainscotting, retains an old carved oak-facing at the top; through Mr. Bartholomew’s persistance it was not destroyed, 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 the year 1782, was 12,658_l._ In 1825, it amounted to 21,724_l._, not so much from additional building, as from increase in the value of property.

St. John’s-gate will be always remembered in connection with the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” which was first printed there by Edmund Cave.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Bay. Laurus poetica. Dedicated to St. Homobonus.

~November 14.~

St. Lawrence, Abp. of Dublin, A. D. 1180. St. Dubricius, A. D. 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 postponed 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 acceptable. It is conducted with a most determined 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 mischief. 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 proclamation made, and the gates all shut up, the bull is turned out of the alderman’s house, 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 bones.’

“And (which is the greater shame) I have seen both Senatores majorum gentium et matrone 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 with 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 slaughter, 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 majesty’s dominions, nor I believe in the dominions of any other potentate on the globe: no, it stands without a rival.” “If,” says Lowe, “the doctrine of transmigration be true, nothing can be more certain than that the soul of earl Warren animated the body of Mr. Robert Ridlington, once a tanner, alderman, and mayor, of this corporation, who to perpetuate this gallant diversion as much as in him lay, left half-a-crown to be paid annually 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 therefore hold it incumbent on me to record this spirited bequest, and to let this par nobile fratrum go hand in hand to posterity, for which legacy every bullard 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 acknowledged to be an instance of great forbearance!”

So much for the accounts of Butcher and Lowe. I shall now proceed to state the manner in which the sport is conducted 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 behind one sit in conscious security,

“grinning with a ghastly smile”

at those who less fortunate than themselves 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 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 with, 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 unstopped, when, all agog, men, boys, and bull, tumble one over the other 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 consists 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 throng, Arms locked in arms, and man drives man along,”

Regardless of the danger to which the van is exposed, they press closer and closer; at length, in spite of his amazing powers he yields to the combined 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 invariably 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 submissive, prostrate attitude, he embraces his mother earth.

The sport is attended regularly by a patroness,--

“A bold virago stout and tall, Like Joan of France, or English Mall,”

clad in blue, with a rare display of ribbons, and other insignia of her high office, who by close of day generally imbibes so much of the inspiring spirit of sir John Barleycorn, as to make her fully verify the words of Hamlet, viz.--

“Frailty, thy name is woman.”

Thus the amusement continues, until night puts a stop to the proceedings; the baited animal is then slaughtered, and his carcass sold at a reduced price to the lower classes, who to “top the day,” regale 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; fatigue is the greatest pain the bull is subjected 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, &c.

JOSEPH JIBB.

Sleaford,

October 17, 1825.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Portugal Laurel. Cerasus Lusitanica. Dedicated to St. Lawrence.

~November 15.~

St. Gertrude, Abbess, A. D. 1292. St. Leopold, Marquis of Austria, A. D. 1136. St. Eugenius, A. D. 275. St. Malo, or Maclou, A. D. 565.

~St. Machutus.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. He is the “St. Malo, or Maclou,” of Alban Butler; according 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 became 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. Tussilago fragrans. Dedicated to St. Gertrude.

~November 16.~

St. Edmund, Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 1242. St. Eucherius, Bp. of Lyons, A. D. 460.

Stourbridge Fair.

A correspondent in the subjoined note mentions a singular character, which should be taken into the particulars concerning this fair related at page 1300.

(For the Every-Day Book.)

Mr. Editor,

In addition to your account of Stourbridge fair I send you the following, related 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 the 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 miscellany, no notice is taken of this personage, and it may therefore be presumed the office had been discontinued.

J. N.

November 16, 1825.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

African Hemp. Sansciviera Guineam. Dedicated to St. Edmund.

~November 17.~

St. Gregory Thaumaturgus, Bp. A. D. 270. St. Dionysius, Abp. of Alexandria, A. D. 265. St. Gregory, Bp. of Tours, A. D. 596. St. Hugh, Bp. of Lincoln, A. D. 1200. St. Anian, or Agnan, Bp. A. D. 453.

Queen Elizabeth’s Accession.

This 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 of 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 the ensuing order, viz.

“1. Six whifflers, 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, skeletons, sculls, and the like, giving pardons very plentifully to all those that should murder protestants, and proclaiming it meritorious.

“5. A priest in black, alone, with a great silver cross.

“6. Four carmelites, in white 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 pontificalibus, with surplices and rich embroidered 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 slate, and two boys in surplices, with white silk banners, and bloody crucifixes and daggers, with an incense pot before them, censing 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 crown of gold, and a glorious collar of gold and precious stones, St. Peter’s keys, a number of beads, agnus deis, and other catholic trumpery. At his back, his holiness’s privy councillor, (the degraded seraphim, anglice, the devil,) frequently caressing, hugging, and whispering him, and ofttimes instructing him aloud, ‘to destroy his majesty, to forge a protestant plot, and to fire the city again;’ to which purpose he held an infernal torch in his hand.

“The 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 multitudes of people, all expressing their abhorrence 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,--‘The Protestant Religion and Magna Charta,’ and flambeauxs 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, (Howard,) 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 Smithfield fire

People.

“Cease, cease, thou Norfolk cardinal, See yonder stands queen Bess, Who sav’d our souls from popish thrall, O! queen Bess, queen Bess, queen Bess.

“Your popish plot and Smithfield threat We do not fear at all; For lo! beneath queen Bess’s feet You fall, you fall, you fall!

“’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 ingenious fireworks, a vast bonfire being prepared just over against the Inner Temple Gate, his holiness, after some compliments 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 ignominious end as subtle jesuits do at the ruin of bigotted lay-catholics whom themselves have drawn in; or as credulous 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 dreadful 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 arborea. Dedicated to St. Gregory.

~November 18.~

The Dedication of the Churches of Sts. Peter, and Paul, at Rome. Sts. Alphæus, and Zachæus; 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 autumn of 1825, and devoted to the service of the year, points to the appearance of nature at this time:--“The last storm of autumn, or the first of winter, (call it which you will) has strewed the bosom of the all-receiving 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 a study by the pencil of your only successful 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 consequence of the coming on of winter (sad in most of its mere visible effects,) is not entirely without redeeming accompaniments; 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 association 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 favourite 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 beyond 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 windows 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 of 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 accompanied by another which is too often overlooked. Though most of the leaves fall in 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 holly 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 whatever is permitted to afford it support, (the ivy) we now too every where perceive the beautifully picturesque effects: though there is one effect of it also perceived 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 top, 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 contrast, but a contradiction. But let us not dwell on any thing in disfavour of ivy, which is one of the prime boasts of the village scenery of our island, and which even at this season of the year offers pictures to the eye that cannot be paralleled elsewhere. Perhaps as a single object of sight, there is nothing which gives so much innocent pleasure to so many persons as an English village church, when the ivy has held undisputed possession of it for many years, and has hung its fantastic 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. Passiflora serrata. Dedicated to the Churches of Sts. Peter and Paul.

~November 19.~

St. Elizabeth, of Hungary, A. D. 1231. St. Pontian, Pope, A. D. 230. St. Barlaam.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Apple-fruited Passion-flower. Passiflora maliformis. Dedicated to St. Elizabeth.

~November 20.~

St. Edmund, King and Martyr, A. D. 870. St. Humbert, Bp. of the East Angles, A. D. 855. St. Felix, of Valois, A. D. 1212. St. Bernward, Bp., A. D. 1021. St. Masentia, 7th Cent.

~St. Edmund,~ King and Martyr.

This English king and saint is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. St. Edmund was king of East Anglia, which took its name from a people called the Angles, who landed on the eastern coast of Britain, under twelve chiefs, the survivor of whom, Uffa, assumed the title of king of the East Angles. This kingdom contained Norfolk and Suffolk, with part of Cambridgeshire. The chief towns were Norwich, Thetford, Ely, and Cambridge. In 867, the Danes landed in East Anglia, and after ravaging different parts of the island, and continuing some time in Northumberland, returned into East Anglia, committing, in their route, the most horrid barbarities. Edmund the king opposed them; but 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, or mark, and then shot him to death with arrows. The 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.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Red Stapelia. Stapelia rufa. Dedicated to St. Edmund, King.

~November 21.~

The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. St. Columban, Abbot, A. D. 615. St. Gelasius, Pope, A. D. 496.

Ghost of an Arm Chair.

A lady assured the editor of the “Perennial 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 looking by the light of the night-lamp at the 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 remarkable 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. Astonished, 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 associated with the rest of the furniture; and this anticipation of an image of perception was the basis of a corresponding image of spectral illusion.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Largeflowered Wood Sorrel. Oxalis grandiflora. Dedicated to the Presentation of the V. Mary.

------ Divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds, 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 the skies, She drew an angel down.

Dryden.

~November 22.~

St. Cecily, A. D. 230. St. Theodorus, 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 Butler 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 brother 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 Vos, engraved by J. Sadler. Her husband is represented, allured by the harmony, entering a room, wherein she sits. According to catholic story, he found a young man playing on the organ, Cecilia described him to Valerian as an angel, and from that time she received “angels’ visits.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Trumpet-flowered Wood Sorrel. Oxalis ubiflora. Dedicated to St. Cecilia.

~November 23.~

St. Clement, Pope, A. D. 100. St. Amphilochius, Bp. of Iconium, A. D. 394. St. Tron, A. D. 693. St. Daniel, Bp. A. D. 545.

~St. Clement.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs.

Clement was a follower and coadjutor of the apostle Paul, who, writing to the Philippians, (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 pontiffs of their hierarchy, they fail in establishing as indisputable whether he was the first, second, or third pope; the name itself was not devised until 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 he was thrown into the sea with an anchor about his neck. It is further alleged that two of his disciples desirous of recovering his remains, 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 the sea. This miracle did not happen only that year in which the holy pope died, 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.”[389] Though “travellers see strange sights,” no modern tourist has related this annual miracle, which is still performed by the sea in the neighbourhood of Rome, on the days 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 “turns 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 denotes 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 state 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.[390]

St. Clement is the patron of blacksmiths. His quality in this respect is not noticed by Brand, or other observers of our ancient customs, nor do they mention any observances by that trade in commemoration of his festival. But the following communications will show the estimation wherein he is held among the “cunning workmen in iron.”

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Chancery-lane, Nov. 19, 1825.

Sir,

As secretary of the “Benevolent Institution of Smiths,” I take the liberty of jogging your memory. I hope you will not forget our St. Clement, (Nov. 23,) in your interesting Every-Day Book. When I was a child, an old man went about in the trade, reciting the following ode on smithery, which, I believe, is very old. If you think it worthy a place in your work, it will much oblige me and our trade; for it is now quite forgot, with many good customs of hospitality of the olden days which are no more. I hope you will cull your flowers of antiquity, and collect all you can for our trade; there is a story of St. Dunstan, the smith, with his tongs, pinching the devil by the nose, &c.

An Ode on Smithery, 1610.

“By reading of old authors we do find The smiths 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 he 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 dwells; Toss up your caps ye sons of Vulcan then, For there are none of all the sons of men, That can with the brave working smiths compare, 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 they have done, Have spread their fame beyond the rising sun So if we have offended rich or poor, We will be good boys, and do so no more.”

I hope you will 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, &c.

J. JOHNSON.

7, Hill-street,

Southwark.

* * * * *

The 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 suggestion to “polish up” has been declined. The homeliness of those who preceded him 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 acquainted with the principles of their varied manufacture, by becoming members of the Mechanics’ Institution. Many blacksmiths have already joined that society. A diligent and good hand who knows more than his fellows, will be the best workman, and get the most money; and frugality abroad, and economy at home, will secure his independence. Attendance at the Mechanics’ Institution will teach these things: and St. Clement cannot be better honoured than by observing them.

ST. CLEMENT, at Woolwich.

R. R. obligingly communicates with his name, the following account of an annual ceremony on the evening of St. Clement’s day, by the blacksmiths’ apprentices of the dockyard there.

(For the Every-Day Book.)

One of the senior apprentices being chosen to serve as old Clem, (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 himself in a large wooden 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 transparencies, representing “the blacksmiths’ arms,” “anchor smiths at work,” “Britannia with her anchor,” and “Mount Etna.” He has before him a wooden anvil, and in his hands 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 nearly 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 have recited their speeches, which commence 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 have been to Mount Etna, where the god Vulcan first built his forge, and forged the armour and thunderbolts for the god Jupiter. I have been through the deserts of Arabia; through Asia, Africa, and America; through the city of Pongrove; through the town of Tipmingo; and all the northern parts of Scotland. I arrived in London on the twenty-third of November, and came down to his majesty’s dockyard, at Woolwich, to see how all the gentlemen Vulcans came on there. I found them all hard at work, and wish to leave them well on the twenty-fourth.”

The mate then subjoins:--

“Come all you Vulcans stout and strong, Unto St. Clem we do belong, I 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. Come all you Vulcans, strong and stout, Unto St. Clem I pray turn out; For now St. Clem’s going round 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.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Convex Wood Sorrel. Oxalis convexula. Dedicated to St. Clement.

[389] Ribadeneira.

[390] Plot’s Staffordshire.

~November 24.~

St. John of the Cross, A. D. 1591. St. Chrysogonus. Sts. Flora and Mary, A. D. 851. St. Cianan, or Kenan, Bp. of Duleek, in Ireland, 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 sojourned in “that overgrown place” will immediately recognize to be “quite correct.”

“Now the atmosphere of London begins to thicken over head, and assume its natural appearance, preparatory to its becoming, about Christmas time, that ‘palpable obscure,’ which is one of its proudest boasts; and which, among its other 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 November, is a thing for which I have a sort of natural affection--to say nothing of an acquired one--the result of a hackney-coach adventure, in which the fair part of the fare threw herself into my arms for protection, amidst the pleasing horrors of an overthrow.

“As an affair of mere breath, there is something tangible in a London fog. In the evanescent air of Italy, a man might as well not breathe at all, for any thing he knows of the matter. But in a well-mixed metropolitan fog, there is something substantial and satisfying. You can feel what you breathe, and see it too. It is like breathing water,--as we may suppose the fishes to do. And then the taste of it, when dashed with a due seasoning of seacoal smoke, is far from insipid. It is also meat and drink at the same time: something between egg-flip and omelétte soufflée, 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 for persons of a good robust 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 penetrated. No--I maintain that a real London fog is a thing not to be sneezed at--if 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 particular,’--as manufactured by Thames, Coalgas, Smoke, Steam, & Co. No others are genuine.”

Water-proof Boots and Shoes.

Take one pound of drying (boiled linseed) 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 become dry, until they are fully saturated; the leather then is impervious to wet, the shoes and boots last much longer, acquire softness and pliability, and thus prepared, are the most effectual preservatives against cold.

A Notable Woman.

On the 24th of November, 1735, a butcher near Rumford, in Essex, was rode up to by a woman well mounted on a side saddle, who, to his astonishment, presented a pistol, and demanded his money. In amazement he asked her what she meant, and received his answer from a genteel looking man, who coming to him on horseback, said he was a brute to deny the lady’s request, and enforced this conviction by telling him that if he did not gratify her desire immediately he would shoot him through the head. The butcher could not resist an invitation to be gallant, when supported by such arguments, and he placed six guineas and his watch in her hands.[391]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Starry Stapelia. Stapelia radiata. Dedicated to St. John of the Cross.

[391] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~November 25.~

St. Catharine, 3d Cent. St. Erasmus, or Elme.

~St. Catharine.~

This saint is in the church of England calendar, and the almanacs. It is doubtful whether she ever existed; yet in mass-books and breviaries, we find her prayed to and honoured by hymns, with stories of her miracles so wonderfully apocryphal that even cardinal Baronius blushes for the threadbare legends. In Alban Butler’s memoirs of this saint, it may be discovered by a scrutinizing eye, that while her popularity seems to force him to relate particulars concerning her, he leaves himself room to disavow them; but this is hardly fair, for the great body of readers of his “Lives of the Saints,” are too confiding to criticise hidden meanings. “From this martyr’s uncommon erudition,” 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 beheaded under the emperor Maxentius, or Maximinus II. He adds, “She is said first to have been put upon an engine made of four wheels joined together, and stuck with sharp pointed spikes, that when the wheels were moved her body might be torn to pieces.” The acts add, that at the first stirring of the terrible engine, the cords with which the martyr was tied, were broke asunder by the invisible power of an angel, and, the engine falling to pieces by the wheels being separated from one another, she was delivered 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 fireworks, testify this saint’s notoriety in England. Besides pictures and engravings representing her pretended marriage 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 mutilated, painting of her, on the glass window in the chancel of the church of West Wickham, a village delightfully situated in Kent, between Bromley and Croydon. The editor of the Every-Day Book went thither, and took a tracing from the window itself, and now presents an engraving from that tracing, under the expectation that, as an ornament, it may be acceptable 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 there 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 Wickham, 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 short 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. Catharine’s Day.

Old Barnaby Googe, from Naogeorgus, says--

“What should I tell what sophisters on Cathrins day devise? Or else the superstitious toyes that maisters exercise.”

Anciently women and girls in Ireland kept a fast every Wednesday and Saturday 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.[392]

* * * * *

St. Catharine was esteemed the saint and patroness of spinsters, and her holiday observed by young women meeting on this day, and making merry together, which they call “Cathar’ning.”[393] Something of this still remains in remote parts of England.

* * * * *

Our correspondent R. R. (in November, 1825,) says, “On the 25th of November, St. Catharine’s day, a man dressed in woman’s clothes, with a large wheel by his side, to represent St. Catharine, 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 carried by men round the town, with attendants, &c. similar to St. Clement’s. They stopped at different houses, where they used to recite a speech; but this ceremony 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. Catharine’s, near the Tower. Its destruction has commenced, is proceeding, and will be completed in a short time. The surrender of this edifice will, in the end, become a precedent for a spoliation imagined by very few on the day when he utters this foreboding.

25th of November, 1825.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sweet Butter-bur. Tussilago fragrans. Dedicated to St. Catharine.

[392] Camden Brit.

[393] La Motte on Poetry and Painting, 1790, 12mo.

~November 26.~

St. Peter, Martyr, Bp. of Alexandria, A. D. 311. St. Nicon, surnamed Metanoite, A. D. 998. St. Sylvester Gozzolini, A. D. 1267. St. Conrad, Bp. of Constance, A. D. 976.

A NEW MOON CUSTOM, and “more last words” respecting CAPTAIN STARKEY.

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 nature and endearing in its tendency--promotes in its practice goodwill and good humour--and, not unfrequently, with those who view the “future i’ th’ instant,” love itself. Among the many new moon customs, such as looking through a new silk handkerchief to ascertain 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 first gets a glimpse of the new moon, immediately kisses some member of the company, and pronounces with a triumphant chuckle, “Aha! Jane, (or as the name may be,) there’s a pair of gloves for me!” By this means a pleasant interruption is often given to a tedious 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 affections of some estranged brother: and even where love and sisterly feelings are out of the question, viewed as an interchange of common (common!) friendship, between the sexes, how felicitous is it in effect and operation! Should you, Mr. Editor, be of opinion with me, respecting this no longer “tyrant custom,” you may, possibly, by printing this letter be productive of much good humour, and a pair of new gloves.

I am,

Your constant and approving reader,

W. G. T.

Newcastle-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 immortalized by yourself, and the inimitable being who wrote so affectingly of “Rosamund Gray,” and 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 terminated his humble career, and gave another name to the neglected and unpitied 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 bluds,” which he bestowed with uncommon celerity on the defenceless heads of his young and unthinking sources of annoyance, as they assailed him from the corners which he was accustomed to pass. But the captain was a humble man, and these “moods of the mind” were seldom indulged in, save when he was returning, brim-full of brief and intemperate importance, from the Black Horse, in Pilgrim-street, the tap-room of which was the scene of many a learned disputation with the “unwashed artificers” of the evening, and in which the captain was always proportionably brilliant to the number of gills he had drank. On these occasions, in his efforts 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 celebrious biographer, may not think unworthy of recording. On one evening, when he was returning from a carousal, furnished by the generosity of friends, or his own indiscretion--for the captain despised to-morrow as much as 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 Freemen’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 in 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 scrambled 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 most 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 gratulatory occasion, to the hall of one of the members for the town, and the butler who was well aware of the object of his guests, treated them handsomely in his 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! The “expedition of” the captain’s “violent love outran the pauser, reason:” 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 innovations, and the travellers thought it fitting to depart. The captain’s habitual politeness was an overmatch for his cunning: whilst he was yet at the door, casting his “last lingering looks behind,” he must needs take off his hat to give more effect 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 butler was convulsed with the most “side-splitting” laughter. The captain, like other great men, has not fallen “unsung.” Hearken to Gilchrist, one of the “bards of the Tyne,” who thus sings in his apotheosis of Benjamin Starkey:--

“His game is up, his pipe is out, an’ fairly laid his craw, His fame ’ill blaw about just like coal dust at Shiney-Raw. He surely was a joker rare--what times there’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. Oxalis linearis. Dedicated to St. Conrad.

~November 27.~

St. Maximus, 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. Secundin, or Seachnal, Bp. of Dunsaghlin, in Meath, A. D. 447.

ANNIVERSARY OF ~The Great Storm~ IN ENGLAND.

In Little Wild-street chapel, Lincoln’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 the 24th, when it blew furiously, occasioned much alarm, and some damage was sustained. On the 25th, and through the night following, it continued with unusual violence. On the morning of Friday, the 26th, it raged so fearfully that only few people had courage to venture abroad. Towards evening it rose still higher; the night setting in with excessive darkness added general horror to the scene, and prevented any from seeking security abroad from their homes, had that been possible. The 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 common acceptation of the term; for the clouds, that flew with such violence through the air, were not to my observation 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 former, 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. Those who perished in the waters, in the floods of the Severn and the Thames, on the coast of Holland, and in ships blown away and never heard of afterwards, are computed to have amounted to eight thousand.

All ranks and degrees were affected by this amazing tempest, for every family that had any thing 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 before 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 prodigious increase in the price of tiles, which rose from twenty-one shillings to six pounds the thousand. About two thousand stacks of chimnies were blown down in and about London. When the day broke the houses were mostly stripped, 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 preserved 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, 1666, which was estimated 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 seamen perished. Few merchantmen were lost; for most of those that were driven to sea were safe. Rear-admiral Beaumont with a squadron then lying in the Downs, perished with his own and several other ships on the Goodwin Sands.

The ships lost by the storm were estimated at three hundred. In the river Thames, only four ships remained between London-bridge and Limehouse, the rest being driven below, and lying there miserably beating against one another. Five hundred wherries, three hundred ship-boats, and one hundred lighters and barges were entirely lost; and a much greater number received considerable damage. The wind blew from the western seas, which preventing many ships from putting to sea, and driving others into harbour, occasioned great numbers to escape destruction.

The Eddystone lighthouse near Plymouth was precipitated in the surrounding ocean, and with it Mr. Winstanley, the ingenious architect, by whom it was contrived, and the people who were with him.--“Having 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 desire 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.”[394]

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, was 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 sermon preached at Little Wylde-street, on the 27th of November, 1734, says that “in a country town, a large stable was at once removed off its foundation and instantly 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 remained for a considerable time to the admiration of every beholder.” Dr. Gifford in the same sermon, gives an account of “several remarkable deliverances.” One of the most remarkable instances of this kind occurred at a house in the Strand, in which were no less 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 unhurt: of these, three were 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 drawing 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 confusion without the least hurt.

So awful a visitation produced serious impressions on the government, and a day of fasting and humiliation was appointed 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 Almighty God to afflict the greatest part of this our Kingdom, on Friday and Saturday, 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 scattered abroad, to the great damage and impoverishment of many others, especially 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 Calamity of this sort so dreadful and astonishing, 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: therefore 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 command, that a General Public Fast be observed,” &c.

This public fast was accordingly observed, throughout England, on the nineteenth of January following, with great seriousness and devotion by all orders and denominations. The protestant dissenters, notwithstanding 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 bewailing the general calamity, rendered the supplication universal, by opening their places of worship, and every church and meeting-house was crowded.

ADVERTISEMENT.

“It may not be generally known, that a Mr. JOSEPH TAYLOR, having experienced 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, a small sum to be thus annually expended.”

The above announcement is prefixed to a sermon preached in the before-mentioned chapel, in the year 1821, by the rev. George Pritchard. The annual sermon at that place has been regularly preached, but Mr. Pritchard’s is the last printed one. It has an appendix of “remarkable facts, which could not so conveniently be introduced into the discourse.” The rev. Robert Winter, A. M. (now D.D.) preached the sermon of 1798, which was the last published one preceding Mr. Pritchard’s.

Mr. Joseph Taylor was a bookseller in Paternoster-row. He left 40_l._ for the purpose mentioned, to which the church added 5_l._, and purchased 50_l._ three per cent. consols, which is now standing in the name of three trustees, who pay the minister.

£. s. d. For the sermon 1 0 0 Distributing of Notices 0 2 6 Clerk 0 2 6 Two Pew-openers 2_s._ 6_d._ each 0 5 0 ------------ £1 10 0 ------------

The following is a copy of the notice, printed and distributed in the year 1825.

“GREAT STORM.

On Sunday Evening, November 27, 1825,

THE

~Annual Sermon~

In commemoration of the Great Storm in 1703,

WILL BE PREACHED

=In Little Wild Street Chapel,=

LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS,

By the REV. THOMAS GRIFFIN,

Of Prescot Street

“A collection will be made after the service for the support of the Evening Lecture, which was commenced at the beginning of the present year, and will be continued every Sunday 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 myself, I was disappointed in finding none for the present season of the year, autumn; and as many of our names of 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 persons in Langbourn ward know any meaning to the two words by which the ward is called; but to any child in Scotland 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 according to the order and appointment of the great Lawgiver, they are brought to perfection, and gathered in?

Then comes the present season, autumn, 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 France, Aa.

November 16, 1825.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Lupinleaved Wood Sorrel. Oxalis lupinifolia. Dedicated to St. Virgil.

[394] Belsham’s Hist. of G. Britain.

~November 28.~

St. Stephen the Younger, A. D. 764. St. James of La Marea, of Ancona, A. D. 476.

[Michaelmas Term ends.]

BURMESE STATE CARRIAGE. Exhibited in November, 1825.

An invitation to a private view of the “Rath,” 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 of November, previous to its public exhibition; and having been accompanied by an artist, for whom he obtained permission to make a drawing of the splendid vehicle, he is enabled to present the accompanying engraving.

The Times, in 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 differs 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 monarch’ vouchsafes to show himself to his subjects, who with true legitimate loyalty worship him as an emanation from the deity, he orders his throne to be removed into it, and sits thereon, the sole 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 interest. 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 immense portion of the vast tract of country lying between China and our Indian possessions, and constituting the eastern peninsula of India, was designated by the name of the Burmah empire. 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 we 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 different from any they had before experienced in that part of the world, and with a people who, to the impetuous bravery of 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 imperial carriage, affords 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 step 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 effect when seen from below, but ascending the gallery of the hall, the spectator observes them, relieved by the yellow ground of the gilding, and sparkling beneath him like dew-drops in a field of cowslips. Their presence 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.”[395] The apex of the roof is a pinnacle, called the tee, elevated on a pedestal. The tee is an emblem of 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, of crystal.

The length of the carriage itself is thirteen 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 peculiar mode by which the spokes are secured, and measure only four feet two inches: the spokes richly silvered, are of a very hard wood, called in the east, iron wood: the felloes are cased in brass, and the caps to the naves elegantly designed of bell metal. The pole, also of 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 peculiarly 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 rhinoceros 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 purposes 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, but the 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 gilt, 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 this carriage in the possession of the British, the governor-general of India, having heard that his Burmese majesty was rather curious in his carriages, one was sent to him some few years since, by our governor-general, but it failed in exciting his admiration--he said it was not so handsome as his own. Its having lamps rather pleased him, but he ridiculed other parts of it, particularly, that a portion so exposed to being soiled as the steps, should be folded and put 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 extended space in order to bring it completely round.

On a gilt bar before the front of the body, with their heads towards the carriage, stand two Japanese peacocks, a bird which is held sacred by this superstitious 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 behind. On the fore part of the frame of the carriage, mounted on a silvered pedestal, in a kneeling position, is the 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 front laced with jargoon diamonds, with a triple belt round the body, of blue sapphires, emeralds, and jargoon diamonds; his leggings are also embroidered with sapphires. In the front of his cap is a rich cluster of white sapphires encircled with 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 most beautiful, and is, in short, the only imposing ornament of the carriage. The gilding 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 Burman 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 journey. It is a low seat of cane-work, richly gilt, folding in the centre, and covered by a velvet cushion. The front is studded with almost every variety of precious 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, hyacinths, emeralds, tourmalines, carbuncles, jargoon diamonds, and rubies; the eyes are of a tri-coloured sapphire. Six small 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 cornelian, and their hair the light feather of the peacock.

The chattah, or umbrella, which overshadows the throne, is an emblem or representation of regal authority and power.

It is not to be doubted, that the caparisons of the elephants would equal in splendour the richness of the carriage, but 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 cortêge combined all the great officers of state, priests, and attendants, male and female, besides the imperial body-guard mounted on eighty white elephants.

Among his innumerable titles, the emperor 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 metampsychosis eighty thousand times, his soul having passed into that number of brutes; that the last was in a white elephant, and that after these changes he was received into the company of the gods, and is now a pagod.

* * * * *

This carriage was taken with the workmen 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 accounts 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 hundred pounds.

* * * * *

It was in August, 1824, that the expedition was placed under the command of lieutenant-colonel Miles, C. B., a distinguished officer in his majesty’s service. It comprised his majesty’s 89th regiment, 7th Madras infantry, some artillery, and other native troops, amounting in the whole to about one thousand men. The naval force, under the command of captain Hardy, consisted of the Teignmouth, Mercury, Thetis, Panang cruiser Jesse, with three gun boats, three Malay prows, and two row boats. The expedition sailed from Rangoon on the 26th of August, and proceeded up the Tavoy river, which is full of shoals and natural difficulties. On the 9th of September, Tavoy, a place of considerable strength, with ten thousand 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 subsequent 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 that it would prove an attractive object of curiosity in Europe, forwarded it to London, 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 remarkable object for a contemplative eye.

* * * * *

Unlike Asiatics in general, the Burmese are a powerful, athletic, and intelligent men. They inhabit a fine country, rich in rivers and harbours. It unites the British possessions in India with the immense Chinese empire. By incessant encroachments on surrounding petty states, they have swallowed them up in one vast empire. Their jealousy, at the preponderance of our eastern power, has been manifested on many occasions. They aided the Mahratta confederacy; and if the promptness of the marquis of Hastings had not deprived them of their allies before 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 considered, by many, the Golden Chersonesus of the ancients. From their heights and native fastnesses, this people have successively fixed their yoke upon the entire peninsula of Aracan, and after seizing successively the separate states and kingdoms of Ava, Pegue, &c., have condensed their conquests into one powerful state, called the Burmah empire, from their own original name. This great Hindoo-Chinese country, has gone on extending itself on every possible occasion. They subdued Assam, a fertile province of such extent, as to include an area of sixty thousand square miles, inhabited by a warlike people who had stood many powerful contests with neighbouring states. On one occasion, Mohammed Shar, emperor of Hindostan, attempted to conquer 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 mountainous 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 grandeur. Towards the east, immense deserts divide its boundaries from China; on the south, it has extended itself to the ocean; on the north, it rests upon the high mountains of Tartary, dividing it from Tibet; on the west, a great and almost impassable 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 boundary and skirting of Assam is the district of Chittagong, the point whence originated 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 characterises the Hindoos, and of that revengeful malignity which is a leading trait in the Malay character. Some are even powerful logicians, and take delight in investigating new subjects, be they ever so abstruse. Their learning is confined to the male sex, and the boys are taught by the priests. Females are denied education, except in the higher classes. Their books are numerous, and written in a flowing and elegant style, and much ingenuity is manifested in the construction of their stories.

The monarch is arbitrary. He is the sole lord and proprietor of life and property in his dominions; his word is absolute law. Every male above a certain age is a soldier, the property of the sovereign, 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 landed, I have met with security and abundance, 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 obtained at the rooms in Piccadilly. These were formerly occupied by “Bullock’s Museum.” Mr. Bullock, however, retired 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 exhibition, or as rooms for the display and sale of works in the fine arts, and other articles of refinement. Mr. Day’s “Exhibition of the Moses of the Vatican,” and other casts from Michael Angelo, with numerous subjects in sculpture and painting, of eminent talent, remains under the same roof with the Burmese carriage, to charm every eye that can be delighted by magnificent objects.

~Advent.~

This term denotes the coming of the Saviour. In ecclesiastical language it is the denomination of the four weeks preceding the celebration of his birthday. In the Romish church this season of preparation 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.[396]

In the church of England it commences 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.

~New Annual Literature.~

THE AMULET.

The literary character and high embellishment 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 amusement. Messrs. W. L. Bowles, Milman, Bowring, Montgomery, Bernard Barton, Conder, Clare, T. C. Croker, Dr. Anster, Mrs. Hofland, &c.; and, indeed, individuals of various denominations, are contributors of sixty original essays and poems to this elegant volume, which is embellished by highly finished engravings from designs by Martin, Westall, Brooke, and other painters of talent. Mr. Martin’s two subjects are engraved by himself in his own peculiarly effective manner. Hence, while the Amulet aims to inculcate the fitness of Christian precepts, and the beauty of the Christian character, it is a specimen of the progress of elegant literature and fine art.

* * * * *

The Amulet contains a descriptive poem, wherein the meaning of the word advent is exemplified; it commences on the next page.

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 their 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 theme, The high, the glorious theme of man’s redemption, As I pass’d onward through the village lane, My eye was greeted, and my mind was struck, 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 the rich man goeth to the dust; And I have seen the pauper’s coffin borne With quick and hurried step, without a friend To follow--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 down And to the hinder fetlocks of the beast Depended, not unseemly: from his hat A long crape streamer did the old man wear, Which ever and anon play’d with the wind: The 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 eyelet-holes 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 grief 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 marshall’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; 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 Wordsworth! This at least I 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.[397]

Sheffield Park.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Variegated Stapelia. Stapelia variegata. Dedicated to St. Stephen, the younger.

[395] The British Press.

[396] Butler on the Fasts.

[397] The Amulet.

~November 29.~

St. Saturninus, Bp. A. D. 257. St. Radbod, Bp. A. D. 918.

CHRONOLOGY.

Invention of Printing by Steam.

The Times journal of Tuesday, November the 29th, 1814, was the first newspaper printed by steam. To the editor of the Every-Day Book the application of machinery, through this power, to the production of a newspaper seemed so pregnant 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 described the mode by which its fitness for publication was on that day effected.

The Times introduces the subject, through its “leading article,” thus:--

“LONDON, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 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 thousand impressions of The Times newspaper, which were taken off last night by a mechanical apparatus. A system of machinery 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 magnitude of the invention may be justly appreciated by its effects, we shall inform the public, that after the letters are 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 operations. The machine is then merely supplied 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 distributes, to meet the ensuing sheet now advancing for impression; and the whole of these 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 obstructions 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 disappointments and deep anxiety to which we have for a long course of time been subjected.

“Of the person who made this discovery 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 capable of offering to the inventor of the Printing Machine, comprised in the preceding description, which we have feebly sketched, of the powers and utility of his invention. It must suffice to say farther, that he is a Saxon by birth; that his name is KŒNIG; and that the invention has been executed under the direction of his friend and countryman 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 presswork, and says, “This journal is undoubtedly the first work ever printed by a mechanical apparatus: we attempted on its introduction to do justice to the claims of the inventor Mr. Kœnig, who some years afterwards returned to his native country, Germany, not benefited, we fear, up to the full extent of his merits, by his wonderful invention and his exertions in England.” In refuting some pretensions which infringed on Mr. Kœnig’s claim to consideration as the author of the invention, The Times states, that “before Mr. Kœnig 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. Kœnig 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. Kœnig, 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 consequence has been, sincere friendship and high regard for him ever since.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sphenogyne. Sphenogyne piliflora. Dedicated to St. Saturninus.

~November 30.~

St. Andrew, Apostle. St. Narses, Bp. and Companions. _Sts. Sapor_ and Isaac. Bps. Mahanes, Abraham, and Simeon, A. D. 339.

~St. Andrew.~ PATRON SAINT OF SCOTLAND.

This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. He was one of the apostles. It is affirmed that he was put to death in the year 69, at Patræ, in Achaia, by having been scourged, and then fastened with cords to a cross, in which position he remained “teaching and instructing the people all the time,” until 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 obliquely 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 cross, or the cross of Burgundy. The Scots honour St. Andrew as principal patron of their country, and their historians tell us, that a certain abbot 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 foreign 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 principal 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 Newski, was instituted by his widow and successor to the throne, the empress Catherine.[398]

* * * * *

Naogeorgus, in the words of his translator Barnaby Googe, says,

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. Andrew’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, assembling together, form a lawless rabble, and being accoutred with guns, poles, clubs, and other such weapons, spend the greatest part of the 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.”[399]

* * * * *

At Dudingston, distant from Edinburgh a little more than a mile, many opulent citizens resort in the summer months to solace themselves over 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 practice of slaughtering the sheep fed on the neighbouring hill for the market, removing the carcases to town, and leaving the head, &c. to be consumed in the place.[400] Brand adds, that “singed sheep’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 honour 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 desired in that “fourme” to confess, as women do. When the bishop was informed of the message, he answered that she should go and confess herself to his “penytauncer,” who had power from him to hear confessions. Thereupon she sent the bishop word, that she would not reveal the secrets of her confession to any but himself; therefore the bishop commanded her to be brought to him. Whereupon, 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 having 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 secretly away to the bishop, of whose holy life she had heard, and with whom she now prayed to live in secret contemplation, “and eschewe the evyll perylles of this present lyfe.” Then the bishop marvelled greatly, as well for the nobility of her descent, as for the beauty of her person, and said choose thee an house, “and I wyll that thou dyne with me this daye;” and she answered that evil suspicion might come thereof, and the splendour 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 lady, to whom therefore the bishop paid so much attention, that the devil perceived his advantage, and began to increase 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 surpassed them all. Then she required that it should be demanded of the pilgrim, which is the greatest marvel in the smallest 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 beginning of the world there are not two men whose faces “were lyke, and semblanle in all thynges:” and the company declared that this was a very good answer to the question. Then she said, that to prove the further knowledge of the pilgrim, he ought to be asked what thing of the earth is higher than all the heaven; and the pilgrim answered, the body of 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 wisdom. Then she desired that a third question 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 bottomless pit unto the imperial heaven?” and the pilgrim answered, “Go to him that sent thee to me, and ask the question of him, for he can better answer it, because he measured this distance when he fell from heaven into the bottomless pit, and I never measured it:” and when the messenger 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 required them to pray that it might be revealed who this pilgrim was, that had delivered him from so great peril: and the same night it was revealed to the bishop, that it was St. Andrew who had put himself into the habit of a pilgrim for the bishop’s deliverance. “Than began the bisshop more and more to have devocyon and remembraunce of saynt Andrewe than he hadde tofore.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Three-coloured Wood Sorrel. Oxalis tricolor. Dedicated to St. Sapor.

~Belzoni.~

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 elevated, by introducing into England many splendid remains of ancient grandeur. The journals of another year will record whether these representations were sufficient to rouse national feeling to a sense of national honour, and the necessity of relieving a lady whose husband perished in an enterprise to enrich her country, by making it the deposit of his further discoveries. Belzoni had penetrated and examined distant regions, and after disclosing the results of his investigations, 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 manufacturers and merchants. It is from these classes especially that his fate claims commiseration; and from them, and the public in general, Mrs. Belzoni should derive 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 perseverance, and is somewhat qualified, perhaps, 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 regard 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.; Hammersley 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.

[398] Butler.

[399] Hasted’s Kent.

[400] Sir J. Sinclair’s Statist. Acc. of Scotland.

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 Dan Jove in tender years, They say was nourisht by the Idæan mayd; And in his hand a broad deepe bowle he beares, Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peers.

Spenser.

This is the twelfth 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-cometh; but after the Saxons received Christianity, they then, of devotion to the birth-time of Christ, termed it by the name of heligh-monat, that is to say, holy-cometh.”[401] They also called it midwinter-monath and guil erra, which means the former or first giul. The feast of Thor, which was celebrated at the winter solstice, was called giul from iol, or ol, which signified ale, and is now corrupted into yule. This festival appears to have been continued through part of January.[402]

Our pleasant guide to “The Months,” Mr. Leigh Hunt, says of December thus:--

It is now complete winter. The vapourish 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 or 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, such 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 hellebore, 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 efflorescence into a miracle.

The evergreens and winter 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 summer weather, flourish from May to December inclusive; and during the winter months will live and prosper in apartments. 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 observations on winter-time in our remarks at 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 continuance 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 ran Christmas-day, new-year’s-day, and twelfth-night, all into one, but kept the wassail-bowl floating 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 pastimes; the 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 summer, and make the world what heaven has enabled it to be; but as people in general manage it, they might as well turn summer 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 sunshine 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.

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 carpet 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 placidity 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 gaining? 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.

[401] Verstegan.

[402] Dr. F. Sayers

~December 1.~

St. Eligius, or Eloy, Bp. of Noyon. A. D. 659.

THE SEASON.

It is observed by Dr. Forster 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 of 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 distant 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 column, or inclines so little with the breath of air as to indicate sometimes one wind and sometimes another. At this time the crowing 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 singing, and the strokes of the church clocks and chimes are heard for miles, as if carried along under the apparent sounding board of the clouds above. Even the voices of persons are heard at a vast distance, all being hushed around.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Dark Stapelia. Stapelia pulla. Dedicated to St. Eligius.

~December 2.~

St. Bibiania, A. D. 363.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 2d of December, 1823, the London Mechanics’ Institution was formed, 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’ Magazine,” which contained an account of the first meeting of the members--a vellum roll, on which was inscribed the names of the officers 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 officers of the institution:--

This Stone, the first of the Lecture Room,

was laid on the 2d of December, 1824,

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 the Institution,

Vice-Presidents, Trustees, Auditors,

John Martineau, Esq.,

Professor Millington,

John Borthwick Gilchrist, LL. D.

Robert M‘William, Esq.

After the stone was laid, Dr. Birkbeck addressed the meeting in nearly the following words:--“Now have we founded our edifice for the diffusion and advancement 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 over the universe of matter. In this spot, hereafter, 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 (nothing short, indeed, of the moral and intellectual 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 understanding; 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 Providence, 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 established that knowledge is wealth--is comfort--is security--is enjoyment--is happiness. It has been found so completely 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, unquestionably one of its brightest influences, it becomes at once an avenue and a guide to that ‘temple which is not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.’”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Lemon Geodorum. Geodorum citrinum. Dedicated to St. Bibiania.

~December 3.~

St. Francis Xavier, A. D. 1552. St. Birinus, first Bp. of Dorchester, A. D. 650. St. Sola, A. D. 790. St. Lucius, King, A. D. 182.

Royal Dance of Torches.

Berlin, December 3, 1821.--Of all the entertainments which took place in this capital, on the occasion of the marriage of the prince royal with the princess of Bavaria, none appeared so extraordinary to foreigners, as the dance of torches, (Fakeltanz.) It was executed after the grand marriage feast, in the following 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 of order. After him followed two and two, according to seniority of rank, the privy councillors and the ministers of state, bearing wax 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 reverence, 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 all 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 Tirucalli. Dedicated to St. Francis Xavier.

~December 4.~

St. Peter Chrysologus, A. D. 450. St. Barbara, A. D. 306. _St. Anno_, Abp. of Cologne, A. D. 1075. St. Osmund, Bp. A. D. 1099 _St. Maruthas_, Bp. 5th Cent. St. Siran, or Sigirannus, A. D. 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 chimney-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 wherein the young ones went about and levied contributions

Three weekes before the day whereon was borne the Lorde of Grace, And on the Thursday 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, and 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 dreadfull devils blacke and grim, that then have chiefest might. In these same dayes yong wanton gyrles 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 they set, and that same onyon than, That first doth sproute, doth surely beare the name of their good man. Their husbandes nature eke they seeke to know, and all his guise, When as the sunne hath hid himselfe, and left the starrie skies, Unto some woodstacke do they go, and while they there do stande Eche one drawes out a faggot sticke, the next that commes to hande, 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 papistes beare, and suffer willingly, Because they neyther do the ende, nor fruites of faith espie: And rather had the people should obey their foolish lust, Than truely God to know; and in him here alone to trust.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Barbados Gooseberry. Cactus Pereskia. Dedicated to St. Peter Chrysologus.

~December 5.~

St. Sabas, Abbot, A. D. 532. St. Crispina, A. D. 304. St. Nicetius, Bp. of Triers, A. D. 566.

Foot Ball in Scotland.

On Tuesday the 5th of December, 1815, a great foot-ball match took place at Carterhaugh, Ettrick Forest (a spot classical in minstrelsy), betwixt the Ettrick men and the men of Yarrow; the one party backed by the earl of Home, and the other by sir Walter Scott, sheriff of the forest, who wrote two songs for the occasion, one whereof follows:--

Lifting the Banner of the House of Buccleugh, at the great Foot-ball match, on Carterhaugh.

From the brown crest of Newark its summons extending, Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame; And each forester blithe from his mountain descending, Bounds light o’er the heather to join in the game.

Chorus.

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, &c.

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, &c.

Then 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! 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.

QUOTH THE SHERIFF OF THE FOREST

Abbotsford, Dec. 1, 1815.

Something has been said concerning ball-play, at p. 863, and more remains to be observed, with which foot-ball will be mentioned hereafter. At present the year hastens the volume to a close, and we must put by many things to make ready for the “great festival:”--

Christmas is a coming, We’ll have flowing bowls, Laughing, piping, drumming, We’ll be jovial souls.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Longstalked Hibiscus. Hibiscus pedunculatus. Dedicated to St. Crispina.

~December 6.~

St. Nicholas, Abp. of Myra, A. D. 342. Sts. Dionysia, Dativa, Æmilianus, Boniface, Leontia, Tertius, and Majoricus, Martyrs. St. Peter Paschal, A. D. 1300. St. Theophilus, Bp. of Antioch, A. D. 190.

~St. Nicholas.~

He is in the almanacs, and church of England calendar. He is patron or titular saint of virgins, boys, sailors, and the worshipful company of parish clerks of the city of London. Mr. Audley briefly observes of him, that he was remarkable in his infancy 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.”[403]

According to catholic story, St. Nicholas was a saint of great virtue, and disposed so early in life to conform to ecclesiastical 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.[404] A story is related to his credit which is of considerable curiosity. It is told, that “an Asiatic gentleman” sent his two sons to “Athens” for education, and ordered them to 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 the innkeeper, to secure their effects to himself, wickedly killed the young gentlemen, cut them into pieces, salted them, and intended to sell them for pickled pork. Happily St. Nicholas was favoured with a sight of these proceedings in a vision, and in the morning went to the inn, and reproached the cruel landlord with his crime, who immediately confessed it, and entreated the saint to pray to heaven for his pardon. 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 themselves 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 blessing on them, and sent them to Athens with great joy to prosecute their studies.[405]

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 narration by a fac-simile 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 assembled together to condemn the heresy of Arius, he shone among them all with so great clarity, and opinion of sanctity, that 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.”

~The Boy Bishop.~

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 churches, 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 obedience, took possession of the church, and except mass, performed all the ecclesiastical ceremonies and offices. Though the 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 containing the service of the boy bishop set to music, that at Sarum,[406] on the eve of Innocents’ day, the boy bishop 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. Afterwards 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 chanted a service with prayers and responses, and the boy bishop taking his seat, repeated salutations, prayers, and versicles, and in conclusion gave his benediction to the people, the chorus answering, Deo gratias. 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 omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus.”

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 children, during their procession or service in the cathedral, upon pain of anathema. It farther appears that at this cathedral 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 his 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 cathedral, 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, unacquainted 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, et 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 episcopal 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 council, was a well-known custom. Mr. Gregorie, who was a prebendary of Salisbury, describes the finding of the boy bishop’s monument at that place, and inserts a representation of it in his treatise, from which the annexed engraving is taken.

The ceremony of the boy bishop is supposed to have existed not only in collegiate churches, but in almost every parish in England. He and his companions walked the streets in public procession. A statute of the collegiate church of St. Mary Overy, in 1337, restrained one of them to the limits of his own parish. On December 7, 1229, the day after St. Nicholas’s day, a boy bishop in the chapel at Heton, near Newcastle-upon-Tyne, said vespers before Edward I. on his way to Scotland, who made a considerable present to him and the other boys who sang with him. In the reign of king Edward III., a boy bishop received a present of nineteen shillings and sixpence for singing before the king in his private chamber on Innocents’ day. Dean Colet in the statutes of St. Paul’s school which he founded in 1512, expressly ordains that his scholars should every Childermas (Innocents) day, “come to Paulis Churche and hear the Chylde-Bishop’s sermon: and after be at the hygh masse, and each of them offer a penny to the Chylde-Bishop: and with them 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 November 13, 1554, the bishop of London, issued an order to all the clergy of his diocese to have boy bishops and their processions; and in the same year these young sons of the old church paraded St. Andrew’s, Holborn, and St. Nicholas Olaves, in Bread-street, and other parishes. In 1556, Strype says that the boy bishops again went abroad singing in the old fashion, and were received by many ignorant but well-disposed persons into their houses, and had much good cheer.[407]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Nestflowered Heath. Erica nidiflora. Dedicated to St. Nicholas.

Hoary, and dim, and bare, and shivering, Like a poor almsman comes the aged Year, With kind “God save you all, good gentlefolks!” 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!

*

[403] Audley’s Companion to the Almanac.

[404] Ribadeneira.

[405] Rev. Mr. Cole; see Gentleman’s Magazine.

[406] Processionale ad usum insignit et preclare Ecclesie Sarum, Rothomagi, 1556, 4to.

[407] Hone on Ancient Mysteries.

~December 7.~

St. Ambrose, A. D. 397. St. Fara, Abbess, A. D. 655.

WINTER.

The natural commencement of the winter season, according to Mr. Howard’s “Tables,” is on the 7th of December. This quarter of the year comprehend eighty-nine days, except in leap-year when it has ninety days. Winter exhibits as large a proportion of the cold, as summer did of the heat. In spring the cold gradually goes off, to be replaced in the middle of the season by warmth; the respective proportions being like those which obtain in autumn, while their positions are reversed.

“The mean temperature of the season in the country is 37.76 degrees. The medium temperature of the twenty-four hours, descends from about 40 to 34½ degrees, and returns again to the former point.

“The mean height of the barometer is 29.802 inches, being .021 inches above that of autumn. The range of the column 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 predominating winds at the beginning of winter are the south-west: in the middle these give place to northerly winds, after which the southerly winds prevail again to the close: they are at this season often boisterous at night.

“The mean evaporation, taken in situations 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 of the air at this season.

“De Luc’s hygrometer averages about 78 degrees.

“The average rain is 5.868 inches. The rain 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 instead of answering the purpose of irrigation, 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 indications of moisture, which in the intervals of our short frosts attend this season, the actual quantity of vapour in the atmosphere is now, probably, at its lowest proportion, or rather it is so at the commencement of the season; after which it gradually increases with the temperature and evaporation.”[408]

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.

[408] Howard’s Climate of London.

~December 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 neighbourhood of Plymouth showed the following flowers in full bloom, viz.:--Jonquils, narcissus, 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 strawberry blossom, and many others. The oak and the elm retained much of their foliage, and the birds were sometimes heard as in spring.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Arbor vitæ. Thuja occidentalis. Dedicated to the Conception of the B. V. Mary.

~December 9.~

St. Leocadia, A. D. 304. The Seven Martyrs at Samosata, A. D. 297. St. Wulfhilde, A. D. 990.

BURIED ALIVE.

A remarkable instance of premature interment, is related in the case of the rev. Mr. Richards, parson of the Hay, in Herefordshire, 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 the blood, told them that he was not dead, but in a sort of trance, and ordered 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 churchyard, 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.[409]

A writer in the “Gentleman’s Magazine” some years before, observes, “I have undoubted authority for saying, a man was lately (and I believe is still) living at Hustley, near Winchester, December, 1747, 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 churchyard!”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Corsican Spruce. Pinus Laricio. Dedicated to St. Leocadia.

[409] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1751.

~December 10.~

St. Melchiades, 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 obliged to be taken off before the coffin could be admitted, and it was so heavy, that the attendants were forced to move it along the churchyard upon rollers.[410]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Portugal Cyprus. Cupressus Lusitanica. Dedicated to St. Eulalia.

[410] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~December 11.~

St. Damasus, Pope, A. D. 384. Sts. Fuscian, Victoricus, and Gentian, A. D. 287. St. Daniel, the Stylite, A. D. 494.

ST. NICHOLAS 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 authenticity of his relation, “having himself been an actor in the scene he describes.”

(For the Every-Day Book.)

In the fine old city of Leewvarden, the capital of West Friezland, there are some curious customs preserved, connected with the celebration of the anniversary of this saint. From time immemorial, in this province, St. Nicholas has been hailed as the tutelary patron of children and confections; no very inappropriate association, perhaps. On the eve, or Avond, as it is there termed, of this festival, the good saint condescends, (as currently asserted, and religiously believed, 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 impending event. At last a loud knock is heard, in an instant the games are suspended, and the door slowly unfolding, reveals to sight the venerated saint himself, arrayed in his pontificals, with pastoral staff and jewelled mitre. Methinks I see him now! yet he did “his spiriting 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 favourable 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 readily 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 arranged.

Before retiring to rest, each member of the family deposits a shoe on a table in a particular room, which is carefully 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 bons bons, toys, and trinkets.

It may not be deemed irrelevant to add, that on the anniversary, the confectioners’ shops display their daintiest inventions, 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 observances, 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.

~December 12.~

Sts. Epimachus and Alexander, &c. A. D. 250. St. Finian, or Finan, Bp. in Ireland, A. D. 552. St. Columba, son of Crimthain, A. D. 548. St. Cormac. St. Colman, Abbot, A. D. 659. _St. Eadburge_, A. D. 751. St. Valery, Abbot, A. D. 622. St. Corentin, 1st. Bp. of Quimper, 5th Cent. Another St. Corentin, or Cury, A. D. 401.

An intoxicated Servant.

In Lloyd’s Evening Post of December 12-14, 1781, there is the following advertisement:--

A YOUNG MAN having yesterday left his master’s service in Smithfield, on a presumption of his pocket being picked of one hundred pounds, his master’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 service 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 invariably attaches to him.

* * * * *

In the subjoined extract taken from an old author, without recollection of his name, there is something apt to the occasion.

THE TRADE OF BREWING. By a writer, in the year 1621.

Of all the trades in the world, a brewer is the loadstone which draws the customes of all functions unto it. It is the mark or upshot of every man’s ayme, and the bottomlesse whirlepoole that swallowes 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 Christmasse, it is sure to winne, whosoever loses. In a word, it rules and raignes, (in some sort,) as Augustus Cæsar 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 extraordinary now and then upon occasion, or by chance as you may terme it; if drinking were used in any reason, or any reason used in drinking, I pray ye what would become of the brewer then? Surely we doe live in an age,[411] 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, sempsters, 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, appears by the gallant thriving and gawdy outsides of many he and she, private and publicke sinners, both in citie and suburbs. 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 simple 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 meanes make away his life, the goods and lands of any such person are forfeit to the use of the king; and I see no reason but those which kill themselves with drinking, should be in the same estate, and be buried in the highways, with a stake drove thorow 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 number (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 expenses, comes to the brewer, so that if a brewer be in any office, I hold him to be a very ingrateful man, if he punish a drunkard; for every stiffe, potvaliant drunkard 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 DIRECTORY.

Crowded Heath. Erica conferta. Dedicated to St. Eadburge.

[411] Some make a profit of quarreling; some pick their livings out of contentions and debate; some thrive and grow fat by gluttony; many are bravely maintained by bribery, theft, cheating, roguery, and villainy; but put all these together, and joine to them all sorts of people else, and they all in general are drinkers, and consequently the brewer’s clients and customers.

~December 13.~

St. Lucy, A. D. 304. St. Jodoc, or Josse, A. D. 669. _St. Kenelm_, King, A. D. 820. St. Aubert, Bp. of Cambray and Arras, A. D. 669. B. John Marinoni, A. D. 1562. St. Othilla, A. D. 772.

~St. Lucy.~

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. Having been accused to Peschasius, a heathen judge, for professing christianity, she was soon after barbarously murdered by his officers.[412]

TRANSATLANTIC VERSES.

The following effusions 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 the 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 night are shed, As if she wept such waste to see; But none shall weep a tear for me.

My life is like the autumn 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 efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sea; But none, alas! shall mourn for me.

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 tears 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 even love forgets to mourn.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Cypress arbor vitæ. Thuja cupressioides. Dedicated to St. Lucy.

[412] Audley’s Companion to the Almanac.

~December 14.~

St. Spiridion, Abp. A. D. 348. Sts. Nicasius, 9th Abp. of Rheims, and his Companions, 5th Cent.

~Ember Week.~

This is an ancient fast, wherein monks were enjoined to great abstinence preparatory to the festival of Christmas.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Swamp Pine. Pinus palustris. Dedicated to St. Spiridion.

~December 15.~

St. Eusebius, 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 her way, Press’d her baby to her bosom, and sadly 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! 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 DIRECTORY.

Pitch Pine. Pinus resinosa. Dedicated to St. Florence.

~December 16.~

St. Ado, Abp. of Vienne, A. D. 875. St. Alice, or Adelaide, Empress, A. D. 999. St. Beanus, Bp. in Leinster.

[Cambridge Term ends.]

“O Sapientia.”

This day is so marked in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. Many have been puzzled by this distinction, and some have imagined that “O SAPIENTIA” was a saint and martyr, one of the 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 quæ ex ore altissimi prodidisti,” &c.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Chinese arbor vitæ. Thuja orientalis. Dedicated to St. Alice.

~December 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 market, and especially the price of prime roasting beef.

“O the roast beef of old England, And O the old English roast beef!”

* * * * *

Manner of Roasting Beef anciently.

A correspondent, who was somewhat ruffled 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 3d. In enumerating their different qualities and prescribing substitutes, you forgot one of the most laborious employments formerly assigned to a species of dogs with long backs and short legs, called “Turnspits.”

The mode of teaching them their business 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 profession; 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 circumstance, 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 evening. 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 morning.”

B. “Yes, but we must expect that at this time o’year.”

(Another pause,--neckcloth twisted and switch twirled.)

A. “Seen Smith lately?”

B. “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 faster than usual for some hundred yards.

Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls Boils round the naked melancholy isles Of farthest Thulé, and th’ Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy 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 sporting friend, the editor is indebted for the seasonable information in the accompanying letter, and the drawings 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 expected. It is true I promised to look out for 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 frank, 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 all that flies--my conscience flying and flapping in my face at every recollection of my engagement to you. I well remember your telling me I should forget you, and my answering, that it was “impossible!” Birds were never more plentiful, and till a frost sets them off to a milder atmosphere, I cannot be off for England. I am spell-bound to the fields and waters. Do not, however, be disheartened; 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 middle 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 an 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 discover the deception, and the destruction which, under cover, the fowlers 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 sufficiently 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 following manner:--A piece of ground is raised sufficiently high to protect the fowler from the wet ground, upon which is placed the frame of the temporary edifice. 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 diameter, for the men inside to see and fire through, are neatly cut; one is in the front, and one on each side. Very frequently 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 considerable expertness in this guess-firing.

The numbers that are shot in this way are incredible. They are usually therefore sold at a cheap rate. At forty sous a couple, (1_s._ 8_d._ 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 convey a correct idea of the romantic effect of the commingling cloud, mist, and sunshine, 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 variety, I have now and then crept into a fowler’s hut, and shot in ambuscade, I prefer open warfare, and I assure you I have had capital sport. That you may be 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 Godwit.

Common Godwit, la grand barge. Red Godwit, la barge rousse. Cinereous Godwit, (Bewick). Cambridge Godwit, (Latham). Green-shanked Godwit, la barge variée. Red-legged Godwit, le chevalier rouge. Redshank, le chevalier aux pieds rouges.

Sandpipers.

Ruffs and Reeves, le combattant. Green Sandpiper, le bécasseau, ou cul-blanc. Common Sandpiper, la guignette. Brown Sandpiper, (Bewick.) Dunlin, la brunette. Ox-eye, l’alouette de mer. Little Stint, la petite alouette de mer, (Brisson) &c. &c.

Curlews.

Curlew, la courles. Whimbiel, le petite courles.

Heron.

Common, le heron hupe. Bittern, le butor. Little Bittern, le blongois.

Ducks.

The common Wild Duck, le canard sauvage. Gadwell, or Gray, le chipeau. Widgeon, le canard siffleur. Pochard, penelope, le millovin. Pintail, le canard à longue queue. Golden-eye, le garrot. Morillon, le morillon. Tufted Duck, le petit morillon. (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 looking out for prime birds. The spotted red-shanks, or barkers, as they are sometimes called, would be fine fellows for you, who are fond of achieving difficulties. They come in small flocks, skimming about the different ponds into which they run to the height of the body, picking up insects from the bottom, and looking as if they had no legs. They are excessively wary, and above all, the most 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 something about lark-shooting, which, in England, is nothing compared with what the north of France affords.

I am, &c.

J. J. H.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

White Cedar. Cupressus thyoides. Dedicated to St. Olympias.

~December 18.~

Sts. Rufus and Zozimus, A. D. 116. St. Gatian, 1st. Bp. of Tours, 3d. Cent. St. Winebald, 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 quadrupeds, 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 geographical and natural history of foreign countries. In this communication he refers to a work of considerable interest relative to Africa, which it may be important for inquirers regarding the interior of that region to be acquainted with.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,

November 29, 1825.

The facetious TIM TIMS, in your Every-Day Book, of the 19th of September, (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 the 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 fire. Some one then, outside the door, beats the drum, and the camel, not on account of the music, but of the fire 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 raises himself on his hind legs, and appears to dance; and so, use becoming second 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 with the greatest difficulty. When feeding, or drinking, he is always moving.

A word more about the camel. He is of a most kind and mild nature, and partakes 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 reason may be, that it has never been wholly translated into English. It is called by Hartman, (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 acquirements, had been at Tombuto twice at least. Once he accompanied his father on his embassy from the king of Fez to that city, and afterwards as a merchant. This must have been at the very beginning of the sixteenth century, for he finished this work at Rome, the 5th of March, 1526. He describes Tombuto, as well as Bornou, 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 is situate on the Niger, about twelve miles from Tombuto, the merchants 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, describing the several nations for the space of six hundred miles up that river, concludes 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, &c.

T. O.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

New Holland Cyprus. Cupressus Australis. Dedicated to St. Winebald.

~December 19.~

St. Nemesion, &c., A. D. 250. St. Samthana, Abbess, A. D. 738.

CELESTIAL SCENERY.

By the contemplation of the “shining heavens” at this season, the mind is induced to the solemn thinking, beautifully imagined by the greatest and most wayward poet of our age.

A Starlight Winter Night.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains.--Beautiful! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade 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 Cæsars’ palace came The owl’s long cry, and, interruptedly, 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 Cæsars dwelt, And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst A grove which springs through levell’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 Cæsar’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 light, Which softened down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation, and fill’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.

Byron.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Two-coloured Heath. Erica bicolor. Dedicated to St. Samthana.

~December 20.~

St. Philogonius, Bp. of Antioch, A. D. 322. St. Paul, of Latrus, or Latra, A. D. 956.

THE BATH SEASON.

Mr. Foster’s letter, inserted on the 17th instant, occasions the seasonable recollection, that this is the time when, in fashionable language, “every body” goes to Bath.

According to fabulous history, the virtues of the hot springs at Bath, were discovered long before the christian era, by Bladud, a British prince, who having been driven from his father’s house because he was leprous, was reduced like the prodigal son to keep swine. His pigs, says the story, had the same disease as himself; in their wanderings they came to this valley, and rolled in the mud where these waters stagnated; and healed them. Whereupon prince Bladud, attaining “to the height of this great argument,” tried the same remedy with the same success, and when he became king, built a city upon the spot--the famous city of Bath.

Nash.

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 offenders 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 profits and his office required and enabled him to live expensively, sport a gay equipage, and keep a large retinue. Yet he became old and helpless, 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 inhabitants 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 exemplified 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 Pine. Pinus Pinea. Dedicated to St. Philogonius.

~December 21.~

St. Thomas, the Apostle. St. Edburge.

~St. Thomas.~

This apostle is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. He is affirmed to have travelled and promulgated christianity 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 discovery 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 afterwards into black, and from black into azure colour, until the sacrifice of the mass being ended, it returns to its natural colour: and that which augments both admiration and devotion is, that, as the holy cross changes its colours, it distils 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.” Perhaps 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 gooding on St. Thomas’s day formerly prevailed in England. Women begged money, and in return presented the donors with sprigs of palm and branches of primroses.[413] Mr. Ellis says, “this practice is still kept up in Kent, in the neighbourhood of Maidstone.” Mr. Brand adds, “My servant B. Jelkes, who is from Warwickshire, informs me that there is a custom in that county for the poor on St. Thomas’s day to go with a bag to beg corn of the farmers, which they call going a corning.”

LONDON ELECTIONS.

In London, on St. Thomas’s day, wardmotes 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 serviceable water; hence important offices are frequently filled by persons either ignorant of the duties they should discharge, or indifferent to them, or unqualified to understand them.

The Ward Inquests.

From “An Inquiry into the Nature and Duties of the Office of Inquest Jurymen,” by Mr. Thomas Newell, of Cripplegate Ward, published in 1825, it appears that the ward inquest should be elected on St. Thomas’s day, before the common councilmen are elected, inasmuch 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 first.” 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 attached to the election of the common councilmen, and by this means the inquest, though foremost in power, has been degraded in rank, and sunk into comparative insignificance. Withal it is to be observed, that the inquest, with the aldermen, are the returning officers of the election of the common councilmen; so that where the practice prevails of electing the inquest last, such inquests are in fact constituted too late to take cognizance, as an inquest, of the election of the common council, and such inquests are consequently incompetent upon their oaths, as inquest men, to return the common councilmen as having been truly and duly elected.

It appears further, that another extraordinary inroad has been made in London, upon the right of the wardmote inquests 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 precept to the alderman of each ward, requiring him to acquaint the inquest “that they are not hereafter to intermeddle or concern themselves in the making of the said returns.” This mandate is said to be conformed to at this time by all the inquests; 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 aldermen were illegal, it is clear that each alderman, in his own ward, illegally dispossessed each inquest of its right, and then, exercised their usurped power when they met together as a court of aldermen.

* * * * *

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 qualifications of the respective candidates. All freemen, being householders, are entitled to vote.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sparrowwort. Erica passerina. Dedicated to St. Thomas, Apostle.

[413] Gentleman’s Magazine, April, 1794.

~December 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 parsimony and saving, had accumulated property to the amount of from 800_l._ to 1000_l._ before his death. There are perhaps few authenticated instances of endurance which this person did not voluntarily submit to, in order to gratify his ruling passion. He lived by himself, in a small garret, in a filthy lane, called Tyndal’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 previous to his 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 tattered 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 having been ascertained to be stone in the bladder, he was told that a surgical operation 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 concerning 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 neighbours, and immediately to be hoisted back to his own roost. The first morning 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 perfect torture, and recollecting a piece of old rusty bacon, which he had formerly picked up somewhere in his travels, he tried the expedient of converting part of it into beef tea, and drank it with seeming relish. Next morning, however, the old woman, alarmed for the consequences, 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 for meat and eighteen-pence for coals! It’s ruination! She must pack off immediately! But before she goes she must account for the two shillings received on the day of the operation!” The poor woman being somewhat confused could not bring to her recollection the disposal of more than 1_s._ 10_d._ 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 manage and feed himself in his own way. By the help of a good constitution, he 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; frequently saying aloud, “all bankrupts should be hanged!” There would be no end to the detail of this miserable creature’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 provide 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 Monday he breathed his last. His only surviving sister, a poor old woman, living somewhere in Strathmore, inherited his property.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Pellucid Heath. Erica pellucida. Dedicated to St. Cyril.

~December 23.~

St. Servuius, A. D. 590. Ten Martyrs of Crete. St. Victoria, A. D. 250.

A Trifling Mistake.

In December, 1822, the Morning Chronicle states 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 proceeded 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 was 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 bed to “make a calculation,” as he often had done at sea, in order to discover, if possible, in what precise part of the globe he just then happened to be, and how he came there. He had read of the enchanted carpet, by which persons could be transported to the remotest parts of the world in the twinkling of an eye; but he never had heard that these 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 observation,” 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 may 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 unexplained, 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 I desired you?” “I did, sir, but you did not answer me.” “Then, why did you not come in and shake me?” “I 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 recollected 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 it should be entered accidentally by some sleep-walking traveller.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Cedar of Lebanon. Pinus cedrus. Dedicated to St. Victoria.

~To the Reader.~

I am encouraged, by the approbation of my labours, to persevere in the completion 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 the Engravings will be entirely new.

December, 1825.

W. HONE.

~December 24.~

Sts. Thrasilla and Emiliana. St. Gregory, of Spoleto, A. D. 304.

~Christmas Eve.~

This is the vigil of that solemn festival which commemorates the day that gave

“To man a saviour--freedom to the slave.”

In the last days of Advent the Calabrian minstrels enter Rome, and are to be seen in every street saluting the shrines of the 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 circumstance is related by lady Morgan, who observed them frequently stopping at the shop of a carpenter. To questions concerning 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 Mr. Burford’s excellent panorama of the ruins of Pompeii, exhibited in the Strand, groups of these peasantry are celebrating the festival of the patron saint of the master of a vineyard. The printed “Description” of the panorama says, these mountaineers are called Pifferari, and “play a pipe 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 playing on the bagpipes.

Christmas Carols.

Carol is said to be derived from cantare, to sing, and rola, an interjection of joy.[414] It is rightly observed by Jeremy Taylor, that “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,[415] with the accompanying translation by his “very learned and communicative friend, Mr. Douce; in which it will easily be observed that the translator has necessarily been obliged to amplify, but endeavours every where to preserve the sense of the original.”

Anglo-Norman Carol.

Seignors ore entendez a nus, De loinz sumes venuz a wous, Pur quere NOEL; Car lem nus dit que en cest hostel Soleit tenir sa feste anuel Ahi cest iur. Deu doint a tuz icels joie d’amurs Qi a DANZ NOEL ferunt honors.

Seignors io vus di por veir KE DANZ NOEL ne uelt aveir Si joie non; E repleni sa maison, De payn, de char, & de peison, Por faire honor. Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.

Seignors il est crie en lost, Qe cil qui despent bien & tost, E largement; E fet les granz honors sovent Deu li duble quanque il despent Por faire honor. Deu doint a.

Seignors escriez les malveis, Car vus nel les troverez jameis De bone part: Botun, batun, ferun groinard, Car tot dis a le quer cuuard Por faire honor. Deu doint.

NOEL beyt bein li vin Engleis E li Gascoin & li Franceys E l’Angeuin. NOEL fait beivre son veisin, Si quil se dort, le chief en clin, Sovent le ior. Deu doint a tuz cels.

Seignors io vus di par NOEL, E par li sires de cest hostel, Car beuez 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.

Translation.

Now, lordings, listen to our ditty, Strangers coming from afar; Let poor minstrels move your pity, Give us welcome, soothe our care In this mansion, as they tell us, Christmas wassell keeps to day; And, as the king of all good fellows, Reigns with uncontrouled sway.

Lordings, in these realms of pleasure, Father Christmas yearly dwells; Deals out joy with liberal measure, Gloomy sorrow soon dispels: Numerous guests, and viands dainty, Fill the hall and grace the board; Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty, Solid pleasures here afford.

Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind, That on the 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 drinking, Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416] 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 now--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 I’ll drink a health to all. The 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 sweets 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 Christmas carols in another 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 present day are deficient of interest to a refined ear, yet they are calculated to awaken tender feelings. For instance, one of them represents the virgin contemplating 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 be 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[417] there is “A song on the holly and the ivy,” beginning,

“Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys, Let holy hafe the maystry, as the maner 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 occasioned 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.” Upon 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, to Bar. Forster’s Dreame; Psalm 43, to Crimson Velvet; Psalm 47, to Garden Greene; Psalm 84, to The fairest Nymph of the Valleys; &c.

In a carol, still sung, called “Dives and Lazarus,” there is this amusing account:

“As it fell it out, upon a day, Rich Dives sicken’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 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 difficulty, to believe that Dives sits on a serpent’s knee. The idea of sitting on this knee was, perhaps, conveyed to the poet’s mind by old wood-cut representations of Lazarus seated in Abraham’s lap. More anciently, Abraham 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, perhaps, are aware of the number of these compositions now printed. The editor of the Every-Day Book has upwards of ninety, all at this time, published annually.

This collection he has had little opportunity of increasing, except when in the country he has heard an old woman singing an old carol, and brought back the carol in his pocket with less chance of its escape, than the tune in his head.

Mr. Southey, describing the fight “upon the plain of Patay,” tells of one who fell, as having

“In 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 rosemary, Smoak’d on the Christmas board.”

Joan of Arc, b. x. l. 466.

These ditties, which now exclusively enliven the industrious servant-maid, and the humble labourer, gladdened the festivity of royalty in ancient times. Henry VII., in the third year of his reign, kept his Christmas 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 carall.”[418]--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 philosopher would discover a surprising conformity in discussing the nature and qualities of their minds.”[419]

* * * * *

The earliest collection of Christmas carols supposed to have been published, is only known from the last leaf of a volume printed by Wynkn de Worde, in the year 1521. This precious scrap was picked up by Tom Hearne; Dr. Rawlinson purchased it at his decease in a volume 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-college, Oxford, every Christmas-day. Dr. Bliss, of Oxford, also printed on a sheet for private distribution, a few copies of this and Ant. à Wood’s version of it, with notices concerning the custom, from the hand-writings of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the Bodleian library. Ritson, in his ill-tempered “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 Miscellanies,” (Oxford, 1813, 4to.) contains seven carols from a collection in one volume in the possession of Dr. Cotton, of Christchurch-college, Oxford, “imprynted at London, in the Powltry, by Richard Kele, dwellyng at the longe shop vnder saynt Myldrede’s Chyrche,” probably “between 1546 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. Freeling. There are carols among the Godly and Spiritual Songs and Balates, in “Scottish Poems 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 of Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” with several useful notices. Warton’s “History of English Poetry” contains much concerning old carols. Mr. Douce, in his “Illustrations of Shakspeare,” gives a specimen of the carol sung by the shepherds, on the birth of Christ, in one of the Coventry plays. There is a sheet of carols headed thus: “CHRISTUS NATUS EST: Christ is born;” with a wood-cut, 10 inches high, by 8½ inches wide, representing the stable at Bethlehem; Christ in the crib, watched by the virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling; angels attending; a man playing on the bagpipes; a woman with a basket of fruit on her head; a sheep bleating, 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 animals have labels from their mouths, bearing 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 natus est, Christ is born. The raven asked, Quando? When? The crow replied, Hac nocte, This night. The ox cryeth out, Ubi? Ubi? Where? where? The sheep bleated out, Bethlehem, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven sounded, Gloria in Excelsis, Glory be on high.--London: printed and sold by J. Bradford, in Little Britain, the corner house over against the Pump, 1701. Price One Penny.” This carol is in the possession of Mr. Upcott.

The custom of singing carols at Christmas 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 year, 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 are carols especially adapted to be sung at the doors of the houses by visiters before they enter. Lffyr Carolan, or the book of carols, contains sixty-six for Christmas, and five summer carols; Blodeugerdd 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 Christmas is literally translated from the first mentioned volume. The poem was written by Hugh Morris, a celebrated song-writer during the commonwealth, and until the early part of the reign of William 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 wassail song, the observer of manners will, perhaps, be pleased. In Welsh, the lines of each couplet, repeated inversely, still keep the same sense.

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 wassail By the old people who were happy In their time, and loved pleasure; And we are now purposing To be like them, every one merry: Merry 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 The wassail of Mary, for the sake of the time: N---- [420] place the maid immediately In the chair before us;

And let every body in the house be content that we May drink wassail 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, through 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 Mary, Towards filling the orders where she also is.

THOMAS EVANS.

In the rage for “collecting” almost every thing, it is surprising that “collectors” have almost overlooked carols as a class of popular poetry. To me they have been objects of interest from circumstances which occasionally determine the direction of pursuit. The wood-cuts round the annual sheets, and the melody of “God rest you merry gentlemen,” delighted my childhood; and I still listen with pleasure to the shivering carolist’s evening chant towards the clean kitchen window decked with holly, the flaring fire showing the whitened hearth, and reflecting gleams of light from the surfaces of the dresser utensils.

Davies Gilbert, Esq. F.R.S. F.A.S. &c. has published “Ancient Christmas carols, with the tunes to which they were formerly sung in the west of England.” Mr. Gilbert says, that “on Christmas-day these carols took the place of psalms in all the churches, especially at afternoon service, the whole congregation joining: and at the end it was usual for the parish clerk, to declare in a loud voice, his wishes for a merry Christmas and a happy new year.”

In “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” for 1695, 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 they keep Lent All 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 1826, if the editor of the Every-Day Book live, and retain his faculties to that time. He now, however, earnestly requests of every one of its readers in every part of England, to collect every carol that may be singing at Christmas time in the year 1825, and convey these carols to him at their 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 remarkable, they will find some means of communicating to him without delay. The most agreeable presents he can receive at any season, will be contributions and hints that may enable him to blend useful information with easy and cheerful amusement.

CUSTOMS ON ~Christmas Eve.~

Mr. Coleridge writing his “Friend,” from Ratzeburg, in the north of Germany, 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 parents to their children. For three or four months before Christmas the girls are all 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, &c. Then, on the evening before Christmas-day, one of the parlours 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, &c. hangs and flutters from the twigs. Under this bough the children lay out in great order the presents they mean for their parents, still concealing in their pockets what they intend for each other. Then the parents are introduced, and each presents his little gift; they then bring out the remainder one by one, from their pockets, and present 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 tight 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 very little ones, when at last the twigs and their needles began to take fire and snap--O it was a delight 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, personates Knecht Rupert, i. e. the servant Rupert. On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and says, that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him thither. The parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence, while the 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 intended 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, recommends them to use it frequently. 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 “Gentleman’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 softness of the composition, and he quotes from Shakspeare’s “Midsummer-Night’s Dream,”

------------“Sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her wither’d dew-lap pour the ale.”

It was formerly a custom in England on Christmas-eve to wassail, 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 fruits they will bring, And you do give them wassailing.”

In 1790, 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 fruitful year.

* * * * *

“Pray remember,” says T. N. of Cambridge, 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. From a historical account of Norwich it appears, that between Saturday morning and the night of Sunday, December 22, 1793, one thousand seven hundred turkeys, weighing 9 tons, 2 cwt. 2 lbs. value 680_l._ were sent from Norwich to London; and two days after half as many more.”

* * * * *

“Now,” says Stevenson, in his Twelve Months, 1661, “capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mutton, 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, though he begs his plum-porridge all the twelve days. Now or never must the music be in tune, for the 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 contemplation--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 playhouse, 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 first 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 swarm-like loads hurrying to tender and exulting parents, the sickly to be cherished, 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 coaxingly drag her in; her patience with their whims and clamour 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 one bauble does but make them sigh for another.

View the fond father, his pet little girl by the hand, his boys walking before on whom his proud eye rests, while ambitious 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 acquainted with the different subjects exhibited.

Stretching half over the boxes at the theatre, adorned by maternal love, see their enraptured faces now turned to the galleries wondering at their height and at the number of regular placed heads contained 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 understand; their honest laughter which runs through 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 exultation of the boy when the hero conquers.

But, oh, the rapture when the pantomime 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 scald and gunpowder explode; while with head 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 reflecting 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, who snatches the largest cake, or thrusts his younger brother and sister from the best place.

At no season of the year are their holidays so replete with pleasures; the expected Christmas-box from grand-papa and grand-mamma; plum-pudding and snap-dragon, with blindman’s-buff and forfeits; perhaps to witness a juvenile play rehearsed and ranted; galantée-show and drawing for twelfth-cake; besides Christmas gambols in abundance, new and old.

Even the poor charity-boy at this season 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.

THE OX AND THE ASS.

According to Mr. Brand, “a superstitious notion prevails in the western parts of Devonshire, that at twelve o’clock at night on Christmas-eve, the oxen in their stalls are always found on their knees, as in an attitude of devotion; and that (which is still more singular) since the alteration of the style, they continue to do this only on the eve of old Christmas-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 difficulty 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 in a suppliant posture. This graphic representation 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 with this representation; whereas, they abound, and to the present day the ox and the ass are in the wood-cuts of the nativity on our common Christmas carols. Sannazarius, a Latin poet of the fifteenth century, in his poem De Partu Virginis, which he was several years in composing, and twenty years in revising, and which chiefly contributed 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 antiquo vitro Romæ in Museo Victorio,” from whence the preceding engraving is presented, as a curious illustration of the obviously ancient mode of delineating the subject.

In the edition just mentioned of Sannazarius’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 ancient sarcophagi at Rome. This introduction 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 statesman in the kingdom of Naples. His superb tomb in the church of St. Mark is decorated with two figures originally executed for and meant to represent Apollo and Minerva; but as it appeared indecorous 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 of Egypt’s daughter.” The demonstrator made a low bow, and thanked him.[421]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Frankincense. Pinus Tæda. Dedicated to Sts. Thrasilla and Emiliana.

[414] Bourne in Brand’s Antiquities.

[415] Bib. Reg. 16. E. VIII.

[416] Gascoigne and Anjou, being at this time under the dominion of the English sovereigns, were not regarded as part of France.

[417] Harl. Coll. 5346.

[418] Leland, Collect. vol. iv. p. 237.

[419] Biog. Hist. Engl. ed. 1804, vol. iv. p. 356.

[420] Here the master or mistress of the house was called on by name.

[421] Lounger’s Com. Place Book.

~December 25.~

The Nativity of Christ, or Christmas-day. St. Anastasia, A. D. 304. Another St. Anastasia. St. Eugenia, A. D. 257.

~Christmas-day.~

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 some lines descriptive of the old festival:--

Then comes the day wherein the Lorde did bring his birth to passe; Whereas at 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; In that same houre that Christ himselfe was borne, and came to light, And unto water streight 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 other should it have, takes oft the same away, Whereby they thinke throughout the yeare to have good lucke in play, And not to lose: then straight at game 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 aultar set, About the which both boyes and gyrles do daunce and trymly jet, And Carrols sing in prayse of Christ, and, for to helpe them heare, The organs aunswere every verse with sweete and solemne cheare. The priestes doe rore aloude; and round about the parentes stande To see the sport, and with their voyce do helpe them and their hande.

The commemorations in our own times vary from the account in these versifyings. 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 Magazine,” 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 argument, 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 greatest good to society, even to its own apparent detriment, and I say that is christianity, 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 particular 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 the 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, furnishing us with a superfluity which we can afford to laugh at; the cakes indestructible; 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 the same as elsewhere. 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 included; 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 doors, but is full of life and merriment within. Playing at knights and ladies last year, a jade of a charming creature must needs 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, cutting, dreary, dead look of every thing out of doors, with a wind through the wiry 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 although all these were prodigious, and some of them exclusively belonging to the season, the fire was the great indispensable. 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 lar 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 amalgamater 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 luxuries still leaves you in possession of that; but

‘Who can hold a fire in his hand With thinking 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 of chesnuts, and I will still make out my Christmas. 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 unarrested by thee and by others, and not unreminded of the happiness of renewing a wise childhood.] 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. ‘Who 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 conversation; while the roasting pear hisses tenderly on the fire, and the nuts burst away with a noise,--

‘And out of doors a washing storm o’erwhelms Nature pitch-dark, and rides the thundering elms?’”

Christmas in France.

From a newspaper of 1823, (the name unfortunately not 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 Parisians 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 almanac, would not know Christmas-day from another by the appearance of the capital. It is, indeed, set down as a jour de fete in the calendar, but all the ordinary business of life is transacted; the streets are, as usual, crowded with waggons and coaches; the shops, with few exceptions, are open, although on other fête 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.

“On 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 which 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 accustomed to the John Bull mode of spending 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 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-day 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 Frenchman 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 restaurateurs, 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 whoever else it might be, who, wishing to regale the English ambassador on Christmas-day with a plum-pudding, procured an excellent recipe for making one, which he gave to his cook, with strict injunctions that it should be prepared with due attention 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 XVIII., either to show his contempt of the prejudices of his countrymen, or to keep up a custom which suits his palate, has 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 gré, mauvais gré; but in this instance even the commands of sovereignty are disregarded, except by the numerous English in his service, consisting of several valets, grooms, coachmen, &c., besides a great number of ladies’ maids, in the service of the duchesses of Angouleme and Berri, who very frequently partake of the dainties of the 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:--

Lordlings, 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 With festive mirth and glee.

Lordlings, list, for we tell you true, Christmas loves the jolly crew, 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 be foremost to obey-- Then pledge me, sirs, and drink away For Christmas revels here to-day And sways without controul. Now wassel to you all! and merry may you be, And foul that wight befall, who drinks 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 large Bore’s head upon a silver platter with minstralsye.”[422]

The Boar’s Head.

With our forefathers a soused boar’s head was borne to the principal table in the hall with great state and solemnity, as the first dish on Christmas-day.

In the book of “Christmasse Carolles” printed by Wynkyn 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 in the next column.

A CAROL bryngyng in the Boar’s Head

_Caput Apri defero Reddens laudes Domino._

The bore’s head in hande bring I, With garlandes gay and rosemary, I pray you all synge merely, Qui estis in convivio.

The bore’s head, I understande, Is the chefe servyce in this lande Loke wherever it be fande Servite cum Cantico.

Be gladde, lords, both more and lasse, For this hath ordayned our stewarde To chere you all this Christmasse, The bore’s head with mustard.

“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 before.

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 berd, And he drinketh of his bugle-horne the wine, Before him standeth the brawne of the tusked swine.”

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, looking 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 II. “served his son at the table as sewer, bringing up the bore’s head, with trumpets before it, according to the manner.”[423]

An engraving from a clever drawing by Rowlandson, in the possession of the editor of the Every-Day Book, may gracefully close this article.

“Civil as an orange.”

Shakspeare.

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 accordingly distinguished it by devotion, by vacation from business, by merriment, and hospitality. They seemed eagerly bent to make themselves, and every one about them happy; with what punctual zeal did they wish one another a merry Christmas! and what an omission would it have been thought, to have concluded 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 encouraging every art conducive to mirth and entertainment, endeavoured to soften the rigour of the season, and mitigate the influence of winter.”

* * * * *

The country squire of three hundred a year, an independent gentleman in the reign of queen Anne, is described as having “never played at cards but at Christmas, when the family pack was produced from the mantle-piece.” “His chief drink the year round was generally ale, except at this season, the 5th of November, or some other gala days, when he would make a bowl of strong brandy punch, garnished with a toast and nutmeg. In the corner of his hall, by the fire-side, stood a large wooden two-armed chair, with a cushion, and within the chimney corner were a couple of seats. 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 traditionary tales of the village, respecting ghosts and witches, till fear made them afraid to move. In the meantime the jorum of ale was in continual circulation.”[424]

It is remarked, in the “Literary Pocket Book,” that now, Christmas-day only, or at most a day or two, are kept by people in general; the rest are school holidays; “But, formerly, there was nothing but a run of merry days from Christmas-eve to Candlemas, and the first twelve in particular were full of triumph and hospitality. We have seen but too well the 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 eatables that make up a wretched substitute for the long and hospitable intercourse 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, (because 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 Christmas is a reflection of that goodness of 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 CHRISTMAS.

And well our christian sires of old Loved, when the year its course had roll’d And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all its hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honour to the holy night: On Christmas-eve the bells were rung; On Christmas-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 misletoe. Then open wide the baron’s hall, To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside, And ceremony doff’d 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 delight, And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supply’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, Garnish’d with ribbons, blithe did trowl. There the huge sirloin reek’d; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; Nor fail’d old Scotland to produce, At such high tide her savoury goose. Then came the merry maskers in, And carols roar’d with blithsome 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 made; But, oh! what masquers, richly dight, Can boast of bosoms half so light! England was merry England when Old Christmas brought his sports again. ’Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale; ’Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft would cheer A poor man’s heart through half the year.

Sir Walter Scott.

WAITS.

The musicians who play by night in the streets at Christmas are called waits. It has been presumed, that waits in very ancient times meant watchmen; they were minstrels at first attached to the king’s court, who sounded the watch every night, and paraded the streets during winter to prevent depredations.

In London, the waits are remains of the musicians attached to the corporation of the city 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 cognizance, or badge on the arm, similar to that represented in the engraving below, from a picture by A. Bloemart.

He blows his bagpipe 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.

Preparatory to Christmas, the bellman of every parish in London rings his bell at dead midnight, that his “worthy masters 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 liberality; and, when the festival is over, he calls with his bell, and hopes he shall be “remembered.”

* * * * *

At the good town of Bungay, in Suffolk, the “watch” of the year 1823 circulated the following, headed by a representation of a moiety of their dual body:--

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 Watch; 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 race, 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 floor withal,) And “rogues and vagabonds” infest the Town, For cheaper ’tis to save than crack a crown! To brighter scenes we now direct our view-- And first, fair Ladies, let us turn to you.

May each NEW YEAR new joys, new pleasures bring, 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 New Year to all!

J. and R. Childs, Printers, Bungay.

* * * * *

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 common 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 travel, 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 excellent 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.

Ranged in a row, with guitars slung Before them thus, they played and sung: Their instruments and choral voice Did each glad guest still more rejoice; And each guest wish’d again to hear Their wild guitars and voices clear.

There was much of character in the men themselves. One was tall, and had that kind of face which distinguishes the Italian character; his complexion a clear pale cream colour, with dark eyes, black hair, and a manner peculiarly solemn: the second was likewise tall, and of more cheerful feature; but the third was a short thick-set man, with an Oxberry countenance of rich waggery, 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 minstrels of 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 testimony to it from the fact that their performances 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 expressions 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 at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands 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 spits 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 you anon shall by their noise Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun; Their hall of music soundeth; And dogs thence with whole shoulders run, So all things there aboundeth. The country folks, themselves advance, With crowdy-muttons out of France; And Jack shall pipe and Jyll shall dance, And all the town be merry.

Ned Squash hath fetcht his 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 wear, 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: But 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 roysters they do play, Drab and dice their lands away, Which may be ours another day, And therefore let’s be merry.

The client now his suit forbears, The prisoner’s heart is eased; The debtor 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 queens poor sheepcotes have And mute with every body; The honest now may play the knave, And wise men play the noddy. Some youths will now a mumming go, 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 Superstitions 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 morning 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 followed by hard cakes, soft cakes, buttered cakes, brandered bannocks, and pannich perm. The baking being once over, the sowans pot succeeds the gridiron, full of 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 Lagan-le-vrich, or yeast-bread, to distinguish 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 ambrosial 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,[425] and the younger to enter on its amusements. Flocking to the swing, a favourite amusement on this occasion, the youngest of the family get the first “shouder,” and the next oldest to him in regular succession. In order to add the more to the spirit of the exercise, it is a common practice 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 approaches the swinger, he exclaims, Ei mi tu chal, “I’ll eat your kail.” To this the swinger replies, with a violent shove, Cha ni u mu 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 “Kiavamuchd,” or prize-shooting, and the latter to “Luchd-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,”[426] and many other savoury dainties, 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 influence, 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 “auld langsyne;” while the young, with hearts inflamed with “love and glory,” long to mingle in the more lively scenes of mirth, to display their prowess and agility. Leaving the patriarchs to finish those professions of friendship 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 individual inclinations suggest; and the remainder of the evening is spent with the greatest pleasure of which human nature is susceptible.

EVERGREENS AT CHRISTMAS.

When Rosemary and Bays, the poet’s crown, Are bawl’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 Misletoe.

* * * * *

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.

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.”[427]

Polydore Vergil says that, “Trimmyng of the Temples, with hangynges, 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. 1598, continues in the following words:--

Ivy hath a lybe; she laghtit with the cold, So mot they all hafe that wyth Ivy hold. Nay, Ivy! Nay, hyt, &c. 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! Non 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 embowered 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 by mistake, or ignorance of the sextons; for it was the 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 hung up in great state with its white berries, and whatever female chanced to stand under it, the young man present either had a right or claimed one of saluting her, and of plucking 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 Teddington, in Middlesex, 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 the “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 staffs, which they carried in their hands. Innumerable are these 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 misletoe 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 people at the gates of the city towards the four quarters of heaven.” This is only a century ago.

In an “Inquiry into the ancient 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 compared the golden bough in infernis, to the misletoe, that the use of this plant was not unknown in the religious ceremonies of the ancients, particularly the Greeks, of whose poets he was the acknowledged imitator.”

The cutting of the misletoe was a ceremony of great solemnity with our ancient ancestors. The people went in procession. The bards walked first singing canticles and hymns, a herald preceded 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. Archdeacon Nares mentions, “the custom longest preserved was the hanging up of a bush of misletoe in the kitchen or servant’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, sweetmeats were presented to the fathers in the Vatican, and all kinds of little images (no doubt of paste) were to be found at the confectioners’ shops.” Mr. Brand, who mentions 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 season. 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 “Gentleman’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 spices,” &c. These were also called shrid-pies.

Christmasse Day.

No matter for plomb-porridge, or shrid-pie Or a whole oxe offered in sacrifice To Comus, not to Christ, &c.

Sheppard’s Epigrams, 1651.

Mr. Brand, from a tract in his library printed about the time of queen Elizabeth or James I. observes, that they were likewise called “minched 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 monastrie. 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 lentiles!

R. Fletcher.

There is a further account in Misson’s “Travels in England.” He says, “Every family 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, And a deale of nightly feare To watch it.

Herrick.

Mr. Brand observes, of his own knowledge, 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 Ramsay, in his “Elegy on lucky Wood,” tells us, that among other baits by which the good ale-wife drew customers to her house, she never failed to tempt them at Yule (Christmas,) with

“A bra’ Goose Pye.”

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 morning, had all his tenants and neighbours enter his hall by day-break. 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 (i. 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.’”

Misson adds of our predecessors in his time, that besides the “famous pye” at Christmas, “they also make a sort of soup with plums which is not at all inferior to the pye, which is in their language called plum-porridge.”

Lastly, Mr. Brand makes this important note from personal regard. “Memorandum. I dined at the chaplain’s table at St. James’s on Christmas-day, 1801, and partook 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 estimation and mode of keeping Christmas.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Holly. Ilex bacciflora. 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 everlasting bard refers to ancient and still existing tradition, that at the time of cock-crowing, the midnight spirits forsake these lower regions, and go to their proper places; and that the cocks crow throughout 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 platform before the Danish palace, and Bernardo and Marcellus, two officers of the guard, respecting the ghost of the deceased monarch of Denmark, which had appeared to the military on watch.

Mar. Horatio says, ’tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him, Touching 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. Tush! 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 from 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 speak. It is offended, and stalks away.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and just at this dead hour, With martial stalk he hath gone by our watch.

Horatio discourses with his companions on the disturbed state of the kingdom, and the 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 crows,” and the ghost is about to disappear, when Horatio says,

----Stay, and speak.--Stop it, Marcellus.

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan?

Hor. Do, if it will not stand.

Ber. ’Tis here!

Hor. ’Tis here!

Mar. ’Tis gone! [Exit 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 on 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 birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning 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.

[422] Dugdale’s Orig. Jurid.

[423] Grose.

[424] Ibid.

[425] “A black Christmas makes a fat kirk-yard.” A windy Christmas and a calm Candlemas are signs of a good year.

[426] The “savoury haggis” (from hag to chop) is a dish commonly made in a sheep’s maw, of its lungs, heart, and liver, mixed with suet, onions, salt and pepper; or of oatmeal mixed with the latter, without any animal food.

[427] Brand.

~December 26.~

St. Stephen, the first Martyr. St. Dionysius, Pope, A. D. 269. St. Jarlath, 1st Bp. of Tuam, 6th Cent.

~St. Stephen.~

The church of England observes this festival, and the name of the apostle is in the almanacs accordingly. The circumstances that led to his death, and the particulars of it by stoning, are related in the seventh chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. He is deemed the first martyr for the christian faith.

* * * * *

The notice of this festival by Naogeorgus is thus translated by Barnaby Googe:--

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 ancestors used his festival for calling in the horse-leech. Tusser, in his “Five Hundred 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 commonly at house, then spring comes on, the sun being now coming back from the winter solstice, and there are three or four days of rest, and if it be upon St. Stephen’s day it is not the worse, seeing there are with it three days of rest, or at least two.” In the “Receipts and Disbursements of the Canons of St. Mary in Huntingdon,” is the following entry: “Item, for letting our horses blede in Chrystmasse weke iiij_d._”[428] 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.”[429]

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.[430]

* * * * *

Heit! Heck! Whoohe! 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:--

“They saw 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.”[431]

Brok is still in frequent use amongst farmer’s draught oxen.[432]

Whoohe! 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, Enough! 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 down her pail, and with it all her hopes of getting rich, as related in a very ancient ‘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 illum virum super equum dicendo gio gio, cepit pede percutere terram quasi pungeret equum calcaribus.’”

* * * * *

It appears from a memoir on the manner in which the inhabitants of the north riding of Yorkshire celebrate Christmas, in 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.”

~Boxing Day.~

On the day after Christmas, tradespeople are visited by persons in the employment of their customers for a “Christmas-box,” 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 provoked 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: however, 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 breaking my rest for many nights together.

“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 evening, 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 extravagant 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 people for having given 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 families: 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, some masked, others not, a great part 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, servant-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 complete nursery for the gallows. My friend informed me, it was called a ‘threepenny 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 my friend been known to them, we might have paid dear for our curiosity.”[433]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Purple Heath. Erica purpurea. Dedicated to St. Stephen.

[428] Mr. Nichols’s Illustration of Anc. Times.

[429] In Lansdowne MS. 226. British Museum.

[430] Tooke’s Russia.

[431] Frere’s T. ed. Tyrwh. Chaucer.

[432] Brand.

[433] Cited in Malcolm’s London, 18th Cent.

~December 27.~

St. John the Apostle and Evangelist. St. Theodorus Grapt, A. D. 822.

~St. John.~

This festival of St. John is observed by the church of England, and consequently his 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. Audley says of him, “Tradition reports, that when he was a very old man, he used to be carried into the church at Ephesus, and say, ‘little children, love one another.’ He returned from his banishment, 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 of which he seems to have been favoured above his fellow apostles. Perhaps this may explain the etymology of the word divine, as applied to christian ministers.”

* * * * *

Barnaby Googe, from the Latin of Naogeorgus, thus introduces the day:--

Nexte John the sonne of Zebedee hath his appoynted day, Who once by cruell tyraunts will, constrayned was they say Strong poyson up to drinke, therefore the papistes doe beleeve 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, Agaynst the boystrous winter stormes, and sundrie such like trade. The men upon this solemne day, do take this holy wine To make them strong, so do the maydes to make them faire and fine.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Flame Heath. Erica flammea. Dedicated to St. John.

~December 28.~

The Holy Innocents. St. Theodorus, Abbot of Tabenna, A. D. 367.

~Innocents.~

This is another Romish celebration preserved in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. It has another name--

~Childermas-Day.~

This is conjectured to have been derived from the masses said for the souls of the Innocents who suffered from Herod’s cruelty. It is to commemorate their slaughter that Innocents or Childermas-day is appropriated, and hence the name it bears.

* * * * *

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 proportion, to act over the crueltie again in kinde.”[434] The day itself was deemed of especial ill omen, and hence the superstitious never married on Childermas-day. Neither 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, quoth’a, a dismal day; Candlemas-day this year was Friday.” This vulgar superstition reached the throne; the coronation of king Edward IV. was put off till the Monday, because the preceding Sunday was Childermas-day.[435] 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.”

* * * * *

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 Childermas-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 also that he, and his marshal, butler, and constable 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 40_s._ for every such medling: and lastly, that Jack Straw, and all his adherents, should be thenceforth utterly banisht and no more to be used in this house, upon pain to forfeit, for every time, five pounds, to be levied on every fellow hapning to offend against this rule.”[436]

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 him. 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.”[437] In some pictures an angel is painted accompanying them on the way, although on no scriptural authority. In a painting by “Lucca Giordano” they are represented in a boat with the ass, whereon the virgin had rode, held by an angel, who is thus degraded to the condition of a stable boy; while cherubs 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 under Pietra da Cortona. He is likewise called Luca fa Presto, from a phrase used by his father. Though his son painted with amazing facility, from designs of the great masters, while he pursued his studies, and the old man sold them for high prices, yet he 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 of 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 acknowledge. They pervade every collection under the reputation of being by Titian, Guido, Tintorette, and other painters of greater celebrity than Giordano. He etched his own thoughts freely and gracefully, and died loaded with honours from crowned heads, and immensely rich, in 1704.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Bloody Heath. Erica cruenta. Dedicated to the Holy Innocents.

[434] Gregory on the Boy Bishop.

[435] Fenn’s Letters, i.

[436] Dugdale’s Orig. Jurid.

[437] Acts ii. 13-15.

~December 29.~

St. Thomas, Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 1170. St. Marcellus, Abbot of the Acæmetes, 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 amply reward themselves. It is a mistake to suppose that real talent is not appreciated. Precocity is not talent till it has ripened; it usually withers and falls beneath the only test of greatness, labour: patrons experience this, and sicken. Whenever genius labours, it finds patrons.

Sculpture in the English school seems of late to have advanced further than painting, in their simultaneous efforts, 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 December, 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 improvement; and it must be highly gratifying 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 extraordinary an instance is creditable to their native country, whose national establishment fostered them, and whose protection they have distinguished by their perseverance.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Senista Heath. Erica genistopha. Dedicated to St. Thomas.

~December 30.~

St. Sabinus, Bp. of Assisium, and his Companions, A. D. 304. St. Anysia, A. D. 304. St. Maximus, 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 pleasant 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 enjoy their winter fodder. The corn-fields, too, are bright with their delicate sprinkling 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, whose 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 late wild and wandering, but now faded and forlorn company of woodbines 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 the 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.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Pontieva. Ponthieva glandalom. Dedicated to St. Anysia.

~December 31.~

St. Sylvester, Pope, A. D. 335. St. Columba, A. D. 258. St. Melania, the younger, 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 asylums, unctions, palls, corporals, &c. He died in 334.”[438]

~New Year’s Eve.~

To end the old year merrily, and begin the new one well, and in friendship, were popular objects in the celebration of this festival. It was spent among our labouring ancestors in festivity 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 Disguising; and when thus dressed in each other’s garments, they went from one neighbour’s cottage to another, singing, dancing, and partaking of good cheer.[439]

* * * * *

The anticipated pleasure of the coming year, accompanied by regret at parting with the present old year, is naturally expressed 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--at the turn--I hate to bid adieu to my old acquaintance.”[440]

* * * * *

ELIA, in a delightful paper on the “Eve of New Year’s-day,” 1821, among the other delightful essays of his volume, entitled “ELIA”--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[441] looks too from a place so high, The year lies open to his eye; And all 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 brush’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 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 masters!”

The same to you, ELIA,--and “to you all my masters!”--Ladies! think not yourselves neglected, who are chief among “my masters”--you are the kindest, and therefore the most masterful, and most worshipful of “my masters!”

* * * * *

Under the female form the ancients worshipped the Earth. They called her “Bona Dea,” or the “Good Goddess,” by way of excellency, and that, for the best reason in the world, because “there is no being that does men more good.” In respect to her chastity, all men were forbidden to be present at her worship; the high priest himself, in whose house it was performed, and who was 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 offered 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 designated, 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 worshippers seated themselves on the ground, and the posture of devotion was bending forward, and touching 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 must have been obvious to every reader of the Every-Day Book, as it has been to me, of which there have been several indications for some time past, that the plan of the work could not be executed within the year; and I am glad to find from numerous quarters that its continuance is approved and even required. So far as it has proceeded I have done my utmost to render it useful. My endeavours 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 in 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 hesitate 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 ventures it was obtained. My chief anxiety has been to provide a wholesome sufficiency 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-morrow.

45, Ludgate-hill, 1825.

W. HONE.

[438] Mr. Audley’s Companion to Almanac.

[439] Dr. Drake’s Shakspeare and his Times.

[440] New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 18.

[441] Janus.

END OF VOL. I

INDEXES.

I. GENERAL SUBJECTS. II. ROMISH SAINTS. III. POETRY, ORIGINAL AND SELECTED. IV. FLORAL DIRECTORY. V. CORRESPONDENTS’ SIGNATURES. VI. ENGRAVINGS IN THE VOLUME.

I. GENERAL INDEX.

SUBJECTS CONTAINED OR NOTICED IN THIS VOLUME.

Festivals and other Holydays of observance, in the Church of England Calendar, are printed in CAPITALS.

ABBEVILLE, sporting letter from, 1575. Abduction, case of, 767. Abelard, P., died, 494. Abercrombie, sir R., died, 397. Aboo, or Aber, Irish war-cry, 502. Abraham’s bosom, in old wood-cuts, 1599. Absalom, in a sign, 1262. Accomplishments without principle, 287. Actor, an itinerant, his duties, 1243. Acts of the Apostles, a mystery at Paris, 749. Adam, R. and J., account of, 326. Adams, Jack, his parish, 1481. Addison, at Button’s, 1007. Adelphi, the, 326. Advent, meaning of the term, 1531; customs of the season, 1552, 1595, 1642. Ærial, the, account of, 1455. Ætna, its eruptions diverted by a lady’s veil, 213. Africa, travels in, 1580. After Yula, 3. AGATHA, February 5; miracles by her, 213. Agincourt, battle of, 1397. AGNES, January 21; her legend, 141; customs on St. Agnes’ eve, 136. Aguesseau, chanc. D’, his use of time, 310. Air, spiritually peopled, 1328. Aits, islands on the Thames, 604. ALBAN, June 17; account of this saint, 803. Alban’s, St., Herts, formerly Holmhurst, 804. Albert and Isabella, archdeacon and duchess, kiss St. Walburg’s jawbone, 303. Aldegraver, his engraving of the guillotine, 148. Ale, 1147, 1622; name derived, 1544; ale-drinkers in Holinshed’s time, 1125. ----, Whitsun, 685; whence derived, 686. Alexander the Great, notice of, 493. ----, St., Newski, order of, 1538. All Fools’ day, 409. ---- hallow e’en, 1408. ---- heal, the mistletoe, 1637. ALL SAINTS, November 1; customs on, 1421. ---- SOULS, November 2; customs on, 1423. Allan, D., his etching of Italian street music, 1595. Alleluia, buried in the Romish church, 199. Almanacs, chronological error in, 1429; made of wood, 1471. Alphabet, in a bill of costs, 238. ALPHEGE, April 19; customs on his festival, 485. Amelia, princess, original letter from, 1071. American war commenced, 486; poetry, 1571. Amherst, lord, his portrait, 604. Amhurst, Nicholas, author, account of, 527. Amiens, peace of, signed, 392. Amulet, the, its literary character, 1532. Ancient Britons, their anniversary, 322. ANDREW, St., November 30; account of the saint and his festival, 1538; order of, ib. ----’s Holborn, boy bishop, 1561. ---- Undershaft, maypole, 555. Angelo, Michael; see Buonarroti. Angel, guardian, 630. Angels, archangels, and angels guardian, 1326; their orders and habits, 1349; for their visits, &c. to saints, see Index II. Angling, 697. Anglo-Norman carol, 1595. Animals, on cruelty to, 799, 1308. ANN, St., July 25; memoirs of her and St. Joachim, 1008. ANNUNCIATION, B. V. M., or LADY DAY, March 25; customs on the festival, 385. Anselm, St., archbishop of Canterbury, notice of, 493. Anson, commodore, lord, died, 767. Antiquaries, society of, their anniversary, 503. Antony, St., picture of, 118; his hospital, London, 119; its seal, 120; school, ib.; his pig, 119. Apis, the Egyptian deity, 491. Apocrypha, authority for reading it, 1343. Apollinarius, the elder and younger, play writers, 744. Apollo and Minerva, shown at Naples, for David and Judith, 1612. ----, an, of Cambridge, 1263. Apostle spoons, described, 176. Apothecaries, proposal for their canonization, 303. Apparition of an arm chair, 1494. Apparitions, &c. see Romish saints, in Index II. Apple, sports, 1408, 1421; diving, 1415. Apples, the finest, where grown, 908; blest, 978. Apple-tree, charm, 42; wassail, 1606. Apprentices, city, their former importance, and present condition, 258. Aprilius, John, hanged for three days and kept alive, 46. Apron, the barbers’, 1254. Archee, his new-year’s gift, 9. Archers, decay of, 1236; their service at Agincourt, 1397. Architecture of the new churches, 945. Arius, indebted to St. Lucian, 61. Armitage, the racket-player, 868. Arnmonat, 1059. Arsedine, yellow arsenic, 1213. Art, eminence in it, how attained, 273. Arundel Castle, a sweep in the state bed, 588. ASCENSION-DAY, 651; its customs, 1379. Ascham, Roger, account of, 29. Ascot races, fraud at, 768. Ash, rev. J., philologist, died, 529. ASH WEDNESDAY, movable; customs, 261. Ass, the, citations respecting, 1309; his nobleness and voice, 1358; how mentioned by Leo Africanus, 1580; remarks on, 1610; drawn in procession, 393. ASSUMPTION, B. V. M., August 15; customs on the day, 1117. Astley’s troop at Bartholomew fair, 1246. Atkins, his menagerie, 1175. Attanasy, father, his Easter sermon, 446. Attorney, an, not to be compared to a bull, nor to a goose, but comparable, perhaps, to the man in the moon, 239. Attornies of the lord mayor’s court, 1333. Audrey’s, St., lace, 1383. August, the Twelfth of, petition from, 1099; answer to, 1101. AUGUSTINE, archbishop of Canterbury, May 26; his monastery at Canterbury, 301; notices and legendary anecdotes of him, 704. ----, St., August 28; an early father, Lardner’s character of him, 1144. Aunty’s garden, a pastime, 109. Aurochos, an African animal, 1176. Autograph of St. Ignatius, 1056. Autumn quarter, 1283.

Baal, Bal, Beal, Bel-tein, fires, 594, 847, 1412, 1422. Bacchus, his festival, 1471. Bachelors, in the lord mayor’s show, 1453. Bacon, lord, died, 452; cause of his death, 870; proof of his favoritism, 871. Bag-pipers, of Italy, 1595; a German one with a cognizance, 1626. Bailey, rev. R. R., his sermon at St. Katharine’s, 1406. Baker, Mrs., her company at Bartholomew fair, 1245. Bales, Peter, a writing-master, account of, 1085. Ball-play customs, 244, 259, 429, 1554, 1634; at Copenhagen-house, 865. Ball’s itinerant theatre, 1175. Ballad-singers, formerly licensed, 1243. Ballard’s menagerie, 1191. Balloons, 442. Banks, sir Jos., his wine cellar, 21; died, 811. Bannockburn, battle of, 855. Bannocks, cakes, “sauty” and charmed ones, 260; of St. Michael, 1339. Baptism of infants, 1444. Bara, a Sicilian festival, 1118. Barbers, account of, 1254. Baretti, Jos., died, 616. Barley, beerlegh, berlegh, berleg, 1147. Barley-corn, sir John, his trial, 73; Burns’s ballad, 1391. Barme, beerheym, berham, 1147. BARNABAS, St., June 11; notice respecting him, 772. Barnes and Finley’s booth at Bartholomew fair, 1241. Barnet, battle of, 463. Barnmoneth, 1059. Baron, lord chief, to say he cannot ear of one ear actionable, 239. Barr, Ben, the seer of Helpstone, 525. Barrister’s first brief, 160. Barrow, Dr. Isaac, notice of, 613. Barrow-woman, of London, described, 903. Barthelemy, J. J., notice of, 614. BARTHOLOMEW, St., August 24; notice of him, 1131; custom at Croydon on his festival, 1132. ----, massacre at Paris, 1131. ----’s church-yard anciently contested in for school prizes, 119. ---- fair, its ancient and present state, 1165, 1252; form of the proclamation read, 1235. ---- hospital, origin of, 1231. ---- pig, 1201. ----, Mr., of St. John’s, Clerkenwell, 1480, 1481. Bassingborne, Camb., mystery at, 755. Bastile, account of its destruction, 935. Bath, anecdotes, 1574, 1583; season of visiting, 1583. Bathing, 893, 970. Batman, Stephen, his notice of printing, 1134. Batrich, Thomas, an ancient barber, 1244. Battersea, steeple and windmill, 603, 810. Battle, Sarah, at whist, 91. Bauer, assists Kœnig in the steam press, 1537. Baynes, John, account of, 159. Beacon, or standing lamp, 833. Bean-king, and queen, on twelfth-night, 44, 55, 57, 59. Bears, mode of taking in Russia, 180; carried in a cart with queen Elizabeth, 445; fight with lions, 1000; washed in the Thames, 1005. Beards, comely ones, 18; various, described, 1258; St. Anthony’s beard at Cologne, 117. Beasts preached to, and blessed, 117. Beaton, cardinal, notice of, 708. Beaus, comb their wigs in public, 1263. Beauclerc, Topham, a collector of mysteries, 746. Becket, the bookseller, and Garrick, 328. Beckwith, Mr., his account of twelfth-eve at Leeds, 43. Bed, love of it, 17; sleeping out of one’s own, 1591; beds at Stourbridge fair, 1308. BEDE, VENERABLE, May 27; notice of him, 706. Bees, swarming, 647, 682; on a man’s head, 963. Beggars, their patron, 1149. Behnes, Mr. W., sculptor, his bust of West, 346; of Mrs. Gent, 638; he calls a man “no conjuror,” 1458; his pupils gain the Royal Academy prize, 1651. Bell, death, its knell, why different, 724. ----, pancake, 242, 246. ----, the great, of Lincoln’s Inn, 811. Bells, on new-year’s day, 5, 6, 15; on All Souls’ day, 1415, 1425; on admiral Vernon’s birth-day, 1473; on new-year’s eve, 1653; rung by puppet angels, 1247; Whittington’s, 1271. Bell-flower, 901. Bellows, blown under Dives, 1599. Beltein, see Baal. Belzoni, death of, 1542. BENEDICT, March 21; miraculous anecdotes of him, 380; founder of the order of St. Benedict, 382. Benedictine nunnery, Clerkenwell, its site, 754. Bent, Independent, 603. Berkshire customs, 435. Berlin, royal marriage dance, 1551. Berners, lord, his Froissart, &c., 861. Berri, duchess de, her new-year’s gift to Louis XVIII., 14. Berwick, duke of, killed, 773. Bessy, on Plough Monday, 71. Beyntesh, Berks, hue and cry, 876. Bible, withheld from the laity, 751, 753; written to be comprised in a walnut shell, 1086. Bickham, George, writing-master, died, 614. Big Sam, notice of, 619. ----, man, 1565. Bill of costs, whimsical, 235. Billington, Mrs., noticed, 763. Bingley, Mrs., dress-maker to princess Amelia, 1073. Birch, Dr. Thomas, notice of, 79, 975. Bird, W., and his school in Fetter-lane described, 965. Birds, in winter, 24; their resistance to cold, 70; arrival, 466, 614; singing, 727; migration, 1390; fraudulently painted, 1253. Birdseller’s shop, described, 754. Birkbeck, Dr. George, founder of the London Mechanics’ Institution, 1549. Bishop Valentine, 219. Blackbird, in a cage at Greenwich, 691. Blackheath hill, 687, 689. Blacksmiths, their patron, 1498. Blackstone, sir W., how he relieved his studies, 164; account of, 231. Blandford Forum, custom, 1414. BLASE, February 3; miracles attributed to this saint, 207; customs on his festival, 209. Bleeding image of Paris, 895; stone cross, 1586. Blessing of apples, 978; ashes, 261; beasts, 117; candles, 200; wax, 201; a market, 758. Blight, in spring, 620. Bliss, Dr., his boar’s head carol, 1600. Bloemart, Abraham, his piper, 1626. Bloomfield, Robert, poet, account of, 1125. Blossoms, in spring, 621. Blotmonath, 1419. Bo! to a goose, 1088. Boadicea, site of her battle, 861. Boar’s head, and carol, at Christmas, 1618. Bo-bo and his father Ho-ti, 1218. Bochart, Samuel, orientalist, died, 619. Bodies, why they float after death, 130. Boetius, beheaded, and carries his head, 706. Bolton, Jenny, 1241. ----, prior of St. Bartholomew’s, 1232. Bombs, first used in war, 385. Bona Dea, the good goddess of the Romans, 1655. Bonaparte, Louis, anecdote of, 95. Bonasoni, his portrait of M. Angelo, 270. Bon-Bons, French, 13. Bonfires, on St. John’s eve, 823, 845; on 5th of November, 1433. BONIFACE, June 5; account of him, 766. ----, pope, VIII., throws blessed ashes in the eyes of an archbishop, 262. ----, archbishop of Canterbury, anecdote of, 1231. Bonnets, 1437. Boot of St. Ignatius, 1050. Boots and Shoes, receipt for water proof, 1503. Boring, for water, 1041. Botanizers of London, 872. Botolph, St., Aldersgate, Register Book, 434. Bottle-devil, 27. Bourgeois Gallery, Dulwich, 1011. Bow Church, corporation sermon, 446. Bowings, marvellous number per day by a saint, 38. Bowling alleys, 1236. Bowring, John, tendency of his poetry, 1428. Bows and silver arrows, prizes, 1238. Bowyer, Robert, keeper of the lions, 1005. Boxing day, described, 1645. Boxley rood, 1292. Boy bishop, account of, 1557. Boyer, Jem, C. L.’s schoolmaster, 1361. Boyne, the, battle of, 894. Braddock, Fanny, singular memoir of, 1278. Bradford, Yorkshire, clothing festival, 209. Braeckmonath, 738. Bramanti, his disputes with M. Angelo, 267. Brandy punch, 1622. Breakfast, in cold weather, 288. Breitkopf, J. G. I., account of, 185. Breughel, his concert of cats, 1106. Brewer, the, and his trade, 1568. Brewster, Dr., invents the kaleidoscope, 474. Bride’s, St., church, Fleet-street, 86; spital sermon, 445; well, 325. Brindley, the editor of his classics hanged, 287. BRITIUS BRICE, November 13, notice of him, 1473. Broom girls, Buy a broom? 809. Brougham, Mr. Robert, his good humour on a humorous portrait of him, 811. Brown’s troop of jugglers, dancers, &c. 1190. Bruce, James, traveller, died, 527. Brüd, his bed, 206. Bruno, bishop, eaten by rats, 1362. Bubbles, anecdotes of, 165, 172, 354, 1460. Buccleugh, banner of, 1554. Buchanan, George, his new-year’s gift to Mary queen of Scots, 10. Buckler of St. Michael, 1329. Buckley, Samuel, bookseller, account of, 281. Budgell, Eustace, his suicide, 614. Buds, their structure, 184. Building, improvements, 638, 642, 872, 878. Bull-running at Stamford, 1482. Bull, a,--the dead returns thanks, 372. Bullock, Mr., forms a museum at Mexico, 1531. Bumping, 1340, 1374. Bungay, Suffolk, storm at, 1065; watchmen there, their Christmas verses, 1628. Buns, Good Friday, 402. Buonarroti, Michael Angelo, account of, 263; design by him for a fountain, 1045. Burial of persons alive, 1565. Burleigh, lord, at Bernard Gilpin’s, 331. Burmese state carriage, described, 1519. Burney, Dr. C., a collector of mysteries, 746; his death, 461. Burning the old witch, 58. Burton, Devon, festival at, 741. Bushy, Middlesex, ball-play, 245. Butchers, French, their pageant, 1298; of Clare-market, their bonfire, 1433. Bute, John, earl of, died, 346. Butler, rev. Alban, his “Lives of the Saints” used in this work, 3. ----, archdeacon, his opinion on card-playing, 89; funeral sermon, on Dr. Parr, 444. ----, Jacob, antiquary, account of, 1301. Button’s coffee-house, 1006. Byron, lord, died, 486.

C’s bull, an attorney not to be compared to, 239. Cages of squirrels, 1385. Cairo, the Pacha refuses a diploma, 84. Cakes, 42; tossed from an ox’s horn, 43. Calabrian minstrels in Rome, at Christmas, 1595. Calf, superstitiously burnt, 854; walks up to a lion, 1005. Camberwell, church monuments, 382; fair, 1124; Grove, scenery, 1014. Cambray, boy bishop, 1558. Cambridge, names and professions, 699, oak, 1060; squib, on dog muzzling, 898; university examination, 461; Apollos, and wigs, 1263. Camden, earl, account of, 480. Camel, how taught to dance, 1581. Candle, an everlasting one, 28; piece of a celestial one, 203; sport, 1408; superstition, 1415. Candles, blest, 200; annually given at Lyme Regis, 206; for the tooth ache, 208; lighted by miracle, 27, 78, 99; by the devil, 115; see also the saints in Index II. CANDLEMAS, February 2; customs of the festival, 199; derived from the ancient Romans, 202; bull, 11; bond, 12. Candler, his Fantoccini, 1114. Cannom, Cath., marries two husbands, 1122. Canonbury tower, Islington, described, 633; when built, 1232. Canterbury, St. Augustine’s monastery, 301. Caraccioli, prince, executed, 128; rises from the sea, 130. Cards, 89, 1607, 1622; origin of cards, 186. Care, Carle, or Carling Sunday, 378, 1069. Carlos, colonel, and Charles II., account of, 718. Carols, at Christmas, 1595, 1618. Carracioli, on the English climate, 309. Carte, Thomas, projects the English edition of Thuanus, 283. Carter, sir John, account of, 662. Carterhaugh, N. Britain, sport, 1554. Casimir III., fights after his death, 330. Castor and Pollux, 537. Cat-worship by the Romish clergy, 758; anecdotes of cats, 1104. Catalani, madame, noticed, 763. Catchpole, a barber, 1269. CATHARINE, November 25; account of her, 1504; customs on her festival, 1507; see Katharine. Cathedrals, ill adapted to protestant worship, 643. Cato, performed in Fetter-lane, 968. Cattle, superstitiously treated, 12; drinking in winter, 198. Cavanagh, the fives-player, account of, 865. Cave, Edward, printer, account of, 1482. Cave of the three kings of Cologne, 82. Caxton, William, his life of St. Roche, 1121. CECILIA, November 22; notice of her, 1495. Celts, for cutting the mistletoe, 1637. Censing, at Whitsuntide, 685. Centaur, a, seen by a saint, 104. Ceres, the planet, discovered, 17. Cervantes, his death, 503. CHAD, March 2; St. Chad’s Wells, Battle-bridge, 322. Chafing dish, on twelfth-night, 55. Chair, the barber’s, 1269. Chantry, Mr., a designation by, 1458. Chapel-royal, Maundy, 401; printers’ chapel, 1135. Chaplains, Romish, play-writers, 756. Chappell and Pike’s tumblers, &c., 1197. Chare Thursday, 402. Charity schools, of London, instituted, 389; children at church, 1407. CHARLES I. K. MARTYRDOM, January 30; his execution, 187; pasquinade on his statue at Charing-cross, 897. ---- II. K. RESTORATION, May 29; customs of the Restoration-day 711; his escape from Worcester, 712; statue in the Royal Exchange, 719; verses admired by him, 720; restores maypoles, 557; prohibits wigs at Cambridge, 1264; his weakness in childhood, 16. ---- V. emperor and cobbler, 1401. ---- VI. of France, licenses the English mysteries, 747. Charlton, village and fair described, 1386. Charms, apple-trees, 42; witchcraft, 55; mistletoe, 1638; various, 1409. Chatham, the great earl, died, 651. Chatsworth, Derbyshire, sonnet at, 1355. Checketts, T., his seven-legged mare, 1118. Cherry season, 903. Cheshire customs, 430. Chester, maypole, 549; mysteries, 750, 757; pageants, 835. Chesterfield, lord, and his servants, 689. Cheyne, sir John, his answer to the archbishop of Canterbury, 752. Child desertion, 1119. Childebert, his key, a reliquary, 1062. Childermas-day, 1648. Children, flogged, 30; whipped on Innocent’s morning, 1648; how nursed formerly, 923; pickled, and come to life, 1555. Childs, Mr. Robert, of Bungay, 1354. Chimney corner, in old times, 1622. ---- sweepers’ May garland, 583; their festivities, 585, 591. Chinese characters, in movable types, 185. Christ’s hospital, boys bathing, 974; sermon on St. Matthew’s day, 1314. ---- Passion, a mystery, by Gregory Nazianzen, 744; performed at Ely house, 756. Christchurch, cloisters, 1216, 1240. Christern, king of Denmark, at a London pageant, 830. Christianity, in England before Augustine, 301. CHRISTMAS-DAY, December 25; its celebration, 1612; eve, 1594; carols, 1595; ever-greens, order of their succession in decking, 205; kings, in a pageant at Norwich, 256; log, 204; pie, 1639. Church, ball-play in it, 429, 864. ----, building, in saints’ times, 25, 1497. ----, a racket-player, 868. Churches, decked with greens, 1635; not with mistletoe, 1635; modern architecture of, 919, 945. Cider drinking, 42, 43. CIRCUMCISION, January 1; when instituted, 3. City, laureate, or poet, 1453. Civil wars, how commenced in England, 28. C. L’s sister, 965, 970. Clare-market, butchers’ bonfire, 1433. Clarges, sir Walter, his origin, 582. Clark, Thomas, miser of Dundee, 1588. Clarke’s horse-riding and tumbling, 1185. ----, posture master, 1248. ----, John, licenser of ballad singers, 1243. Classes, high and low assimilate, 1599. Clay, Mr., printseller, 1011. Clayen cup, in Devonshire, 41. Cleghorn, Mr. John, artist, sketching at the Pied Bull, 635; noticed again, 974. CLEMENT, St., November 23; notice of him, 1497; customs on his festival, 1498. Clergy, Romish, call themselves the cocks of the Almighty, 255. Clerkenwell, parish, Clerks’well, its site, 754; ducking-pond, 971; St. John’s church and parish, 1474. Clias, captain, his gymnastics, 19. Cliff, Kent, rectorial custom at, 978. Clipping the church, 430. Clock, dialogue, 819. Clogs, wooden almanacs, 1471. Cloth fair, lord Rich’s residence in, 1233. Clothiers, how they travelled anciently, 876; at Bartholomew fair, 1232. Clouds, their gorgeous imagery, 888. Clouwet, his engraving of Rubens’s St. Antony, 120. Coach wheel, driven for a wager, 1315. Coalheavers going to Greenwich fair, 437. Cobbler and his stall, 857; cobblers take precedence of shoemakers, 1402. Cock in pot, and cock to dunghill, 72. ---- and lion, disputants, 99. ---- fighting, and customs, 252, 255; leaden ones, 253. ---- crowing during the nights of Advent, 1642. Cockneys, king of, his court on Childermas-day, 1648. Cockpit-royal, Whitehall, 255. Coke, sir Edward, his reproof of Anne Turner, 1437. Colchester oysters, at Stourbridge, 1307. Cold, at the North Pole, 466. Colet, dean, his order for the boy bishop’s sermon, 1559. Collar days, at court, 100. Colley, Thomas, convicted of murder, 1045. Collop Monday customs, 241. Colnaghi and Son, printsellers, 1011. Cologne, three kings of, 45, 46. Colpoys, admiral, his life saved, 663. Common council, prayed for, 446. ---- crier’s office, 1333. ---- Hunt’s office, 1332. Conant, Mr., and the Ærial, 1461. Conduits, destroyed, 1042. Confectioners of Paris, 13. Congresbury custom, 837. Constantine, his church establishment, 744. Contented man, described, 1468. CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL, January 25; superstitions concerning the day, 175. Cook, how disgraced if idle at Christmas, 1640. Cooke, Mr., theatrical singer, 966. Copenhagen-house, account of, 857. Copy-writing, at school, 967. Corning, on St. Thomas’s day, 1587. Cornwall, Palm Sunday customs, 396; other customs and superstitions, 561, 847, 849, 853, 1611; guary miracle plays, or mysteries, 757. Corpse, terrifically rises from the sea, 131. CORPUS CHRISTI, movable; makes Trinity term commence a day later, 100; customs on the festival, 742. Cosin, John, bishop of Durham, lights his cathedral on Candlemas-day, 205. Costermonger, described, 1213, 1308. Costume of the 13th century, 337. Cottager, a, and his family, 873. Coventry mysteries, 750, 756; parliament there, 753; sports, 477. Councils, forbid the decking with greens, 1635. Country, the, and a country life, 492, 525, 608, 659; country lasses, their finery formerly, 8; squire of queen Anne’s time, 1621. Cowper, William, poet, account of, 520. Cox, captain, the collector, 477. Cranmer, archbishop, burnt, 382; his widow, ib. Cratch, the, in mince-pies, 1639. Crawley’s booth, Bartholomew fair, 1247. Creation of the world, a mystery, 754; represented by puppets at Bartholomew fair, 1239, 1247; at Bath, ib. Creeping to the cross, 431. Cressets, account of, 831. Cressy, father S., his “Church History” used in this work, 3. Crickets on a winter hearth, 98. Cripplegate, and the cripples’ patron, 1149. Crisp, Samuel, account of, 102. CRISPIN, October 25; account of the saint and his festival, 1394. Crittel, Mr., landlord at West Wickham, 1507. Croaker, Mrs., her new-year’s gift to the lord chancellor, 9. Croft, rev. Mr., collector of mysteries, 746. Cromwell, O., personated in a sport, 718; his supposed burial place, 859. Cross, found by Helena, 611; seen in the sky by Constantine, 1292; bleeding one of stone, 1586. ---- of the south, described, 611. -----bill, a bird, described, 934. ---- week, 642. Crowdie, 260. Crowle, J. C., master of the revels, &c. 1243. Crown and Anchor booth, at fairs, 693, 724, 1388. Croyland abbey custom, 1132. Crucifixion, wounds, &c. in the passion flower, 770. Cruikshank, Mr. George, the artist, noticed, 907, 1113, 1320, 1429. Cuckold’s point, 1386. Cuckoo, the, 390, 411; cuckoo-day, 465; song, 739. Cumberland customs, 53, 423; funerals, 1077. ---- gardens, Vauxhall, 603. Cuper’s gardens, 603. Curfew bell, its origin, &c. 242. Curl-papers, 1267. Curses of the church, 262. Cuthbert, St., converted at ball-play, 864. Cutpurses, caveat against, 1206. CYPRIAN, St., September 26; notice of, 1324. Cyprus, a decking for rooms, 1635.

Daffa-down-dilly, a lawyer may not be called one, 239. Dagon, a symbol of the sun in Pisces, 28. Dance, by moonlight, 11; of torches, 1551. Danes, massacre of, commemorated, 476; their honours to rural deities, 42. Daniel O’Rourke, his story, 622. Darwin, Dr. Erasmus, death of, 481. Davies, John, a racket-player, 868. ---- Tom., bookseller, notice of, 615. DAVID, St., March 1; account of the saint, 314; customs of his festival, 317. ---- H., artist, engraving from, 1395. Day family, the, 1100. ----, 15th September, usually fine, 1294. ---- after lord-mayor’s day, 1469. ---- Mr., his exhibition of painting and sculpture, 263, 1531. ---- Mr. Thomas, a dwarf, 1194. Dead Sunday, 340. Death, contemplated, 1032. ---- of Good Living, 257. ---- of the Virgin, by old engravers, 1119. Deeping the Jews, 297. Deer, and a lion, 1001. Denham, sir J., poet, died, 373. DENYS, St., October 9. Account of his martyrdom, and walking two miles afterwards with his head between his hands, attended by angels, and other miracles, 1371. Deptford fair, on Trinity Monday, 724. Descent into Hell, a mystery, 750, 755. Devil in a dish, 112; very tall, 114, 115; his smell, ib.; blessed by mistake, 118; visits Bungay church, 1065; represented in a pageant, 1490; for other adventures attributed to him, see accounts of the Romish saints, Index II. Devonshire customs and superstitions, 42, 718, 1609. Dictionary of musicians, characterised, 765. Dioclesian, the emperor, in his garden, 132. Discontented pendulum, 819. Dissent, origin and progress of, 752. Distaff’s, St., day, superstitions, 61. Dives and Lazarus, a carol, 1598. Divinations, various, 1409; in advent, 1552. Docwray, Thomas, prior of St. John’s Clerkenwell, 1479. Dog and goose, 1341. DOG DAYS BEGIN July 3; influence of the season on dogs, 897; no cure for the bite of a mad one, 900; a dog’s complaint, 944. ---- END August 11. ---- fights on Sunday, 870. ---- killer, an ancient office, 901. ---- star, its alleged power, 897. Dogs, bait lions, 978, 1006; a horse, ib. Dogget’s booth at Bartholomew fair, 1239. Dorset, countess of, 16. Dorsetshire custom, 1414. Dort, milk-maids save the city, 605. Dotterel catching, in Cambridgeshire, 646. Doubts, burnt out, 745. Douce, Mr., his ancient Christmas carols, 1595, 1600. Dragon, a symbol, 500; of St. Michael, 1325; with a stake in his eye, 38. Drama, ancient Greek, suppressed, 743; origin of the modern drama, 744. Drinking custom, 373. ----, by miracle, 25; at both ends of the barrel, 654; before execution, 1132; excessive, 1568. Druids, customs, ceremonies, &c. 6, 58, 854, 1413, 1637. Drury-lane maypole, 581. Dublin royal society’s pupils, under Mr. Behnes, gain the London royal academy prizes, 1651. Duck-hunting at May-fair, 573. Dudingston, N. Britain, custom, 1539. Duel, R. B. Sheridan and Mathews, 911. Duelling, characterised, 451. Dulwich, visit to, 1011. Dunn, Harriet, English plum-pudding maker at Paris, 1617. DUNSTAN, May 19; adventures of the saint with the devil, 670. ----, sir Jeffery, 1245. Durham, cathedral, on Candlemas-day, 205; customs, 431. Dwarfs at Bartholomew fair, 1189, &c. Dyer, Mr. George, his “Privileges of the University of Cambridge,” and “History,” 1305.

Earth, the, how worshipped, 1655. Earthquakes, England, 150, 341; Lisbon, 975; predicted by cats, 1109. Easling, Kent, custom, 1539. East winds, unwholesome, 134. Easter, Eastre, Easter-monath, 407. EASTER-DAY, movable; origin, and how to find, 416, 517, 518; customs, 421, 864; offerings, origin of, 359. Eckert, C. A. F., a musical prodigy, 1038. Eclipse, the first recorded, 373. Eddystone lighthouse destroyed, 1515. Edinburgh, coronation pageant, 647; cardinal Beaton’s house, 711; new Exchange founded, 1312. EDMUND, K. and MARTYR, November 20; account of him, 1493. Edulf, a strong Anglo-Saxon, 29. EDWARD, St., K. W. S. March 18; murdered, 372. ----’s TRANSLATION, June 20; removal of his remains, 813. ---- the confessor, his death, 619; translation, 1376. ---- II., sees a mystery at Paris, 746. ---- III., his gift to a boy bishop, 1559. Eel-pie house, near Hornsey, 697. Eggs, at Easter, 425. Egypt, conquered by the Turks, 461. Eldest son of the church, origin of the title, 1349. Elephant, of Henry III., 1005; Atkins’s, 1177, 1179. Elia, and Bridget Elia, 92. ---- and Jem White, their treat to the sweeps, 585. Elizabeth, queen, new-year’s gifts to, 7; studies with Roger Ascham, 29; sees fives’ play, 865; goes to St. Mary Spital, 445; her accession celebrated, 1488. Elm leaves, used for fodder, 1403. Elmo, St., extraordinary circumstances relative to the capitulation of the fort, 126. Ely, Isle of, convent and church, 1382; willows, 1080. ---- house, mystery performed there, 756. EMBER WEEKS, movable; seasons of mortification, 1572. Enoch, the book of, 1326. ENURCHUS, September 7; his history of no authority, 1253. EPIPHANY, January 6; customs of the festival, 45, 59; name explained, 58. Epitaphs on a chimney board, 459; on captain Grose, 657; on a garret, 790; at St. John’s, Clerkenwell, 1480. Equinox, vernal, 375. Erskine, lord, his dressing of his barber, 1265. Erysipelas, why called St. Antony’s fire, 119. Escurial, palace and monastery, 1085. Eskdale custom, 1379. ETHELDREDA, October 17; account of her, 1382. Eton-school customs, on Collop Monday, 242; Shrove Tuesday, 259; bonfires, 849; nutting, 1294. Ettrick forest, sport, 1554. Etymology of the seasons, 1518. Evelyn, John, with judge Jefferies at an entertainment, 478; his account of the fire of London, 1152. Evergreens at Christmas, 1635. Every-day dialogue, 1574; work, 1042. Evesham, John, keeper of the lions, 1005. Evil eye, on May eve, 593. ---- May-day, 555, 577. Ewis, inscription for St. David at, 316. Exaltation of the cross, 1291. Excise laws, originated, 360. Exercise, indispensable, 1316. Exeter city gates broken by a strong man, 29; mail coach horse, and lions, 1191. Eyes, the, receipt for, 353.

FABIAN, January 20; notice of him, 135. Fagot-sticks, divination, 1552. Fairies on May eve, 593. FAITH, October 6; the existence of this saint doubted, 1362. Falconer, John, barber of Glasgow, 1272. Falling sickness, in rooks, 495. Fan handle, decorated, 8. Fantoccini, a street show described, 1113. Fardel, explained, 1215. Fashion-monger’s head, 1262. Fasten’s eve, 260. Favorite of lord Bacon’s, mentioned, 871. Faulkner, rev. W. E. L., 1474. Fawkes, the conjuror, 1225. ----, Guy, his day, London, 1429. Ferrers, earl, executed, 615. Ferule, school-masters’, described, 967. Festival of kings, 44. Fete de Sans-Culottes, 57. Fiddler, a, in Greenwich park, 692. Filthie worm, a Romish monument, lost, 294. Finger-snapping by barbers, 1268. Finland custom on St. Stephen’s day, 1644. Finsbury-fields, ball-play, 258. Fires in London, 389, 1098, 1150. ----, good ones, essential to Christmas, 1615. ----, on twelfth-day eve, 43, 58; see Baal. Fireworks, in London, prohibited, 1435. Fish, how preserved in ponds during frost, 82; preached to, 118; pond for cod, 82. Fishmongers’ almshouses, fiddler at, 692. Fives’, ball-play, 863; see Ball-play. -----court, St. Martin’s-st. 868. Fleet prison, ball-play, 869. Flamsteed, John, astronomer, his original memoirs of himself, and his dispute with sir Isaac Newton, 1089. Fleming, rev. Abraham, account of, 1066. Flight into Egypt, how represented by artists, 1650. Flint, William, printer, of the Old St. John of Jerusalem tavern, 1481. Flockton, his puppet show at Bartholomew fair, 1246. Flogging of children, 30, 1648; of relics, to recover their virtues, 816. Floral directory, commenced and explained, 131. Flowers, origin of their names, and when they blow, 104, 303, 464, 667, 740, 963. Flying, by patent wings, 1462. Fog of London, in November, 1502. Fools, on Plough Monday, 71; hatching, in a pageant, 256. Foot-ball, in Scotland, 1554; see Ball-play. Foote, captain, signs the treaty of St Elmo, 127. Fornacalia, Fornax, the origin of pancakes, 250. Foscue, a farmer general, his self-burial alive, 101. Fountain, public-house, City-road, 975. Fountains, 1006, 1041. France, twelfth-day in, 57; Death of Good Living there, 257; all fools’ day, 413; bleeding image of Paris, 895; Christmas, 1616. Francis I. throws verses on Laura’s tomb, 451; licenses mysteries, 749. Franking of newspapers, discontinued, 856. Frederick, emperor, his present to Cologne, 46. ----, prince of Wales, at Bartholomew fair, 1242; his death, 374. Freeling, Mr., possessor of Kele’s carols, 1600. Freezing shower, its effects on trees and animals, 134. Frenchmen, all sportsmen, 1577. Frontispiece to this volume, explained, 1655. Fruit-stalls, 907. Funerals in Cumberland, 1077; a rustic one, 1533. Fuseli, his compositions as an artist, 349. Fussell, Mr. Joseph, artist, noticed, 872.

Gabriel, the archangel, 1326. Gahagan, Usher, a scholar, hanged, 287. Gallagher, Mr. John, gains a prize for sculpture, 1651. Game destroyers’ notice to House of Commons, 350. Gang-week, 642. Ganging, 1374. Ganging-day, 1340. Ganymede, changed to Aquarius, 141. Garden, its beauties, 133. Gardeners, perambulating, 616. Gardening, in old age, a renewal of our childhood, 113. Garlands, on Trinity Sunday, 723; mourning, 1080; see May-day. Garret, or Garrard, a grocer’s epitaph, 790. Garrick, David, his letter to Messrs. Adam, 328; goes to Bartholomew fair with Mrs. Garrick, 1244. Garter of the princess of Bavaria, at her wedding, 1551. Gaudy days, at the universities, 100. Gaunt, Mrs., burnt, 480. Geck, gowk, gull, 411. Ge-ho! to horses, its antiquity, 1645. Genealogy, precedence disputed, 797. Genius, what it is, 357. Gent, Mrs. Thomas, her bust by Behnes, 638. Gentleman’s Magazine title-page, 1481. Geoffry, abbot of St. Albans, first plays mysteries in England, 750. George-a-Green, and George Dyer, 1100, 1103. ----, III., king, notice of, 766. ----, IV., birth-day of, 1099. GEORGE, St., April 23; account of him, 496; legend of his adventures with the dragon, 498, 1101. ----’s, St., fields, lactarium, 103. Germany, twelfth-day in, 57; celebrations of Spring, 339; breeds the best cocks, 240; German diploma rejected, 84. Gerst-monat, 1147. Giants, at Bartholomew fair, 1172, &c.; represented in pageants at Chester, 835; in Guildhall, 1454. Gibbon, Edward, where he conceived his history, 268. Gilbert, Mr. Davies, his Christmas carols, 1603. GILES, September 1; miracles attributed to him, 1149. Giltspur-street, whence so called, 1166. Gilpin, rev. Bernard, account of, 330, 345. ----, rev. William, tourist, died, 421. Giordano, Lucca, painter, notice of, 1651. Gladman, John, pageant by him, 255. Glasscutters’ procession at Newcastle, 1286. Glastonbury, monastery, 315; miraculous walnut tree, 772. Gleeman, Anglo-Saxon, 1188. Glenfinnyn, vale of, monument there to the pretender, 32. Gloves, new-year’s gifts, 9; hung in the air by miracle, 78; kissing for, 1509; glove of defiance in a church, 345; glove money whence derived, 9. Gloucestershire customs, 58, 849. Glowworm, 1143. Gnat killed by a saint, 21. Go-to-bed-at-noon, flowers, 667. God of Death, druidical, 58. God rest you, merry gentlemen! Christmas carol, 1603. Godfrey, sir Edmundbury, in a pageant, 1488. Golden Legend, W. de Worde’s edition, used in this work, 3; formerly read instead of the New Testament, 386. Goldsmith, Oliver, resided at Canonbury, 638. Gondomar, on the English weather, 308. GOOD FRIDAY, movable; celebrations and customs of the day, 402. Gooding, on St. Thomas’s day, 1586. Goose, at Michaelmas, 1338; anecdote of one, 1341; whether lawful in Lent, 1472; in Christmas pie, 1639; goose pies on St. Stephen’s day, 1645. Gooseberry fair, 437. Gordon, Jemmy, of Cambridge, 698; his death, 1294. Gothic church, depraved, 1474. Gout, miraculously cured, 472. Grammar school disputations in Smithfield, 1236. Grand days, in the law courts, 100. Granger, rev. J., punning note to Grose, 657. Grapes, grow on a saint’s bramble, 102. Grasshopper, its song, 98. Grass-week, 642. Great, the, when they sell themselves to the court, and the devil, 1419. ---- seal, new, 17. Greatness of character, exemplified, 263, 280. Greeks, the, used the mistletoe, 1637. Greens, on St. John’s day, 837; in churches, 1635; see Evergreens. Greenwich church, dedication, 486; holidays and fairs at Easter, 436; Whitsuntide, 687; observatory founded, 1089; see Flamsteed. GREGORY, (called the Great,) March 12; account of this saint and his alleged miracles, 356. ---- Nazianzen, suppresses the Greek drama, and writes religious plays instead, 743, 744. Grey, lady Jane, severity of her parents, 31; inscription on her portrait, 32. ---- Friars, mystery performed at the, 756. Gridirons honoured, 1085. Griffin, rev. Thomas, his storm sermon, 1518. Groom porter at St. James’s, played for by the royal family, 59. Grose, Francis, antiquary, notice of, 656. Guil-erra, and guil, 1544. Guillotine, in France, 145; in England, &c. long before, 148; contemplated for lord Lovat, 149; an heraldic bearing, ib. Gule, of August, 1062. Gunpowder, invented, 397. ---- Plot day, 1429. Guthlac, St., his whips, 1132. Gymnastics, account of, 19, 1315.

Hackin, the, a sausage, 1640. Hackney coaches, at Stourbridge, 1301. Hagbush-lane, Islington, account of, 870; derivation of name, 875. Haggis, how made, 1634. Hail-storm saint, 326. Hair dress, 1260. ---- shirts; see saints, in Index II. Halifax gibbet, and gibbet law, 145. Hall, with his preserved birds and beasts at Bartholomew fair, 1245. Halley, Edmund, astronomer, 1093. Hallow e’en, 1408. Halter, in a repartee, 529. Hamilton, lady, at Caraccioli’s execution, 130. Hampton-Wick, Middlesex, ball-play, 245. Hand ball, hand tennis, 863; see Ball-play. Handsel Monday, 23. Hanging month, 1419. Harding, Jem, a racket-player, 868. Hardwick forest, custom, 145. Hardwicke, lord, resigns the seals to read Thuanus, 284. Hardy, captain, R. N., serves against the Burmese, 1529. Hare and tabor, 1210; hare and tortoise, 1377; hares, domesticated, 1383. Hartman, his opinion of Leo Africanus, 1581. Harvest month, 1059; end of harvest, 1147. Hastings, Warren, account of, 1128; Sheridan’s conduct in his impeachment, 914. Hats, 1437. Hawkwood, sir John, in a pageant, 1449. Haydon, Mr., artist, an opinion by, 1458. Haymarket theatre, disputes with the master of the revels, 1244. Hazard, played by the royal family, 59. Hazlitt, Mr., on Cavanagh’s fives-play, 865. Head-ache, cured by a saint, 23. Health, in summer, to preserve, 921. ---- drinking, on Plough Monday, 1334. Heard, sir Isaac, herald, died, 530. Hearne, Thomas, antiquary, discovers an old leaf, 1600; at Bartholomew fair, 1228; died, 771. Hearts, in valentines, 219, 227. Heatley’s booth at Bartholomew fair, 1238. Heaven, represented in a pageant, 1118; heaven and hell, distance between, 1541; see saints in Index II. Heaving, at Easter, 422. Heemskerk, his barber, 1265. Heit! used to horses, its antiquity, 1644. Helena, empress, translates the three kings, 45. Heligh-monat, 1543. Hell, its Romish arrangement, 22; see saints in Index II. Hell-mouth, in a mystery, 747, 757. Heloise and Abelard, notice of, 494. Hempseed, charm, 1410, 1415. Hen, hey, hay-monath, 892. Henrietta Maria, queen, notice of, 773. ---- street, Covent-garden, duel there, 911. Henry II., acts as sewer to his son, 1622. ---- IV., holds a parliament at Coventry, 753. Henry V., at Agincourt, 1397. ---- VI., at a mystery at Winchester, 755; at another at Coventry, 757. ---- VII., keeps Christmas at Greenwich, 1599. ---- VIII., Charles I. buried beside him, 190; a cock fighter, 255; goes a maying to Greenwich, 550; disguises himself to see the London watch, 830. ---- IX., king of England, 34. Hens, customs concerning, 245; one that spoke, 249. Herald, personated by the devil, 21. Herefordshire, custom on twelfth-night, 43; winter fodder, 1403. Heretics, St. Antony’s, hatred to, 111. Hermit, the first, 104. Hertfordshire customs, 565, 1375; witchcraft, 1045. Heton, near Newcastle, boy bishop, 1559. Higgins, a posture master, 1248. Highgate, lord Bacon died there, 870. Highway-woman, at Rumford, 1503. HILARY, January 13; account of him, 99. Hindoo festival, Huli, 412. Hipson, Miss, a gigantic girl, 1173. Hitchin, Herts, May-day, 565. Hlafmas, 1063. Hoare, Mr. S., his admonitory letter to Wombwell, 988. Hoax, in France, 960. Hoby, sir Philip, his papers, 871. Hock, Hoke, or Hox-day, 476. Hockley in the hole, its site, 754. Hoddesdon, Herts, Shrove Tuesday customs, 242. Hodges’s distillery, Lambeth, 603. Hogarth, painted scenes for Bartholomew fair, 1245. Holbetch, bishop of London, declares the gift of St. Bartholomew’s to the city, at Paul’s cross, 1234. Holborn-hill, “in my time,” 907. Holland’s, lady, mob, 1229. Hollar, Wenc., engraver, account of, 397. Holmhurst, St. Alban’s, 804. Holly, the, and the ivy, 60; a carol, 1598, 1635; an in-door decking, 1635; holly-boy and ivy-girl, 226, 257. HOLY CROSS, September 14; derivation and usage of the day, 1291. ---- THURSDAY, movable; rogations and customs of the day, 651, 643. ---- gate, opened at Rome, 307. ---- water, 25. Holyday, at Dulwich, by S. R. 1011; rational holyday making, 438. ----, children, at Christmas, 1607. Home, a sailor’s, 690. Hop, a threepenny, 1646. Hopfer, D., engraving by, 1121. Horn fair, described, 1386. Horne, bishop, anecdote of, 836. Hornsey Wood house, notice of, 759. Horoscope of Greenwich observatory, 1090. Horses, overloaded one, 438; baited by dogs, 1000; bled on St. Stephen’s day, 1643. Hosts, miraculous, 351, 534. Hot letter from I. Fry to capt. Lyon, 950. ---- weather, 1041; effects of, 1111. Hour-glass, inscription, 1425. Howe, lord, his naval victory, 741. Huddy, Mr., his whimsical equipage, 78. Hunting, in the twelfth century, 1379. ----, rule for knowing when the scent lies, 1378. Husbandmen, should be meteorologists, 879. Hyde-park, sale of the toll-gate, 1355. Hydrophobia, incurable, 900.

Icicles, poetically described, 184, 198. Iliad, in a nut-shell, 1086. Ill May-day; see Evil May-day. Illumination in London, 1814, 459; of St. Peter’s at Rome, 885. Image, divided by miracle, 99. Indulgence of Leo XII., 306. INNOCENTS, December 28; derivation and customs of the day, 1648. Inquests of London, 1587. Insects in summer, 1099. INVENTION OF THE CROSS, May 3; miraculous origin of the festival, 611. Inverness, ball-play, 260. Iol, or ol, 1544. Ireland, its verdure and plants, 108; customs, 422, 592, 685, 847, 1508; advancing in sculpture, 1651. Irving, Mr. Washington, his love of England, 635. Isle of Man customs, 59. Islington; see Canonbury, Copenhagen-house, Hagbush-lane, Pied Bull, &c. Italian minstrels, in London, 1630. Ivy, an outside decking, 1635; see Holly.

Jack in the green, 585. ---- Snacker of Wytney, 1246. Jacob’s Well, Barbican, 972. Jahn’s gymnastics, 1317. James’s, St., palace, plum porridge there at Christmas, 1640. James I., new-year’s gifts to, 9; a cock-fighter, 255; goes to St. Mary Spital, 445; attends his queen’s coronation at Edinburgh, 647; his adventure with a clergyman who caught dotterels, 646. ---- II., lands in Ireland, 353. January, the first day, how pictured, 3. Janus, how pictured, 1, 6. Jefferies, Judge, account of, 478. Jennings, miser, account of him, 301. Jenyns, Soame, on cruelty to animals, 799. JEROME, September 30; authority for O. T. Apocrypha, 1343; his legend of the first hermit, 104. Jerusalem, golden gate of, 1008. Jessup, Samuel, the pill-taker, 661. Jesuit, the, a periodical work, 914. Jewellery of the Burmese carriage, 1520. Jews’ new-year’s day, 15. ----, their treatment and present state in England, 295, 385; Jewish stage play, 743. Joachim, St., and St. Anne, account of, 1008. Joan of Arc, account of, 726. John, king of France, died, 452. JOHN PORT LATIN, May 6; notice of him, 617. ----, St., baptist, customs on his festival, 836, 845. ----’s eve, celebrations, 823, 836. JOHN, St., apostle, December 27, account of him, and customs on his festival, 1647. ----’s lane, Clerkenwell, raised, 1481. ---- wort, a charm, 854. Johnson, David, writing-master, account of, 1086. ----, Mr. J., his “Typographia,” 1136. ----, Dr. Samuel, and Boswell’s liking to town, 646. Joint-stock companies, see Bubbles; a new one proposed, 1460. Joke, no, like a true joke, 505. Jones, rev. W., of Nayland, anecdote of, 836. ----, sir W., died, 527. Jonson, Ben, his description of Bartholomew fair, 1201. Joseph, St., Roman carpenters’ respect for him, 1595. Judas, the, 435. Judges’ breakfast on first of term, 722; sermon before them on Trinity Sunday, 722. Judith and Holofernes, at Bartholomew fair, 1227. Juggler, with balls, knives, &c. 1188. Julian, emperor, reviver of beards, 18; notice of him, 887. Juliet Capulet, and Petrarch, 1063. Julius II., pope, prefers the sword to books, 266. Junkets, 561. Justifying bail, humorously described, 158. Justs and tournaments on London-bridge, Smithfield, &c. 799, 1167, 1234.

Kale, whence derived, 196. Kaleidoscope invented, 473. Katharine, queen, goes a maying, 550. ----’s, St., church, by the tower, last service there, 1405; see Catharine. Keate, George, author, notice of, 880. Kele-wurt, 196. Kemp, W., of Peerless-pool, 971. Kenilworth, sports, 477. Kensington, lord, his interest in Bartholomew fair, 1233. Kent-road fountain, 1043. Kentish custom on Valentine’s day, 226; not on that day, 257. Kiavamuchd, 1634. Kidder, bishop, and his lady, killed, 1513. Kidderminster custom, 1337, 1343. Kilda, St., Isle of, custom, 1340. Killigrew, Charles, master of the revels, 1243. King, George IV., his birth-day kept, 1199. ----’s-bench, ball-play, 869. Kingston, Surrey, customs, 245, 959. Kiss in the ring, 692. Klopstock, Frederic, died, 361. Knacking of the hands, 1267. Knight, the, and the Virgin Mary, a mystery, 748. ----, R. P., his dissertation, 1324. Knight-riders-street, whence so called, 1166. Knights and ladies, a winter pastime, 1614. Knowledge, advantages of, 1549. Kœnig, Mr., inventor of the steam press, 1537. Kyrle, John, death of, 1438.

Labour, inevitable in all ranks, 1315; essential to success in art, 1651. Labre, Benedict Joseph, account of, 467. Lace of St. Audrey, 1383. Lackington, Mr. George, purchases the Egyptian-hall, 1531. Lady-day, 386. ----, old, 450. ---- of the May, 550. Ladies, wore friars’ girdles, 262. Lagan-le-vrich, 1633. Lalande, astronomer, died, 451. Lamb of St. Agnes, 141, 143; lamb-playing at Easter, 422; lamb and lion, 1005. ----, Mr. Charles, quatrains from him to the editor, 927; quatorzains from the editor to him, 929. Lamb’s wool, 44, 53, 1606; its derivation, 1416. LAMBERT, September 17; account of the saint, 1295. LAMMAS, August 1; its derivation, 1063; weather in Scotland, 342. Lamps, of old times, 831. Lanark, Palm Sunday custom, 396. Lane, a legerdemain player, 1248. Larks in spring, 534; Dunstaple, 952. Last Judgment of M. Angelo, 268. Latimer’s, bishop, new-year’s gift to Henry VIII., 7. Laura, Petrarch’s, died, 450. LAWRENCE, August 10; account of this saint, 1085. ----, St., Jewry church, 1085. ----, sir Thomas, a question by, 1458. Law suit, its forms and progress of, 233. ---- terms, 99; vacations, ib. Laymen’s parliament, 752. Leadenhall-street maypole, 555. Leaf, a withered, 1111; fall of the leaf, 1438. Learned pig’s performance, 1194. Leather-lane, King’s-head public-house, 1630. Lee and Harper’s show, 1228. Leeds, twelfth-eve custom, 43. Leek, on St. David’s-day, 317. Leeming, Joseph, account of, 1455; his letter to the editor, 1467. Leeuwarden custom, 1566. Leg, a, adventures of, 1460, 1467. Legal glee--a catch, 164. ---- recreations, 239. Leicester, sir John, his gallery possesses Mr. Behnes’ bust of Mr. West, 346. Leisure, retired, 667. Lenct-monat, 312. Lent celebrations, 193; in a pageant, 256, 257; Lenten cross, 395. Leo, zodiacal sign, symbolized, 1006. ---- Africanus, on the ass, 1309; and camel, 1580; his travels, 1581. ----, pope, calls St. Hilary a cock, 99. ---- XII., his indulgence, 306. Leopold, prince, of Brunswick, drowned, 527. Letter to March 25, 389. ---- foundery of Breitkopf, 185. Leyden, explosion of gunpowder there, 93. Libra, zodiacal sign, 1147. Lida aftera, 892; erra, 738. Lifting at Easter, 422. Lincoln’s-inn-hall, breakfast on first of term, 155, 1436; fountain, 1043. Lincolnshire customs, &c. 1482. Lindsey, dame, of Bath, 1280. Lions, anecdotes of, 104, 978 to 1006, 1184, 1176, 1177, 1191. ---- head at Button’s, 1006. Lisbon, earthquake at, affects Peerless-pool, 975. Liston, Mr., sees the living skeleton, 1029. Literary services, ungrateful reward of, 527; piracy, 1140. Literature, societies for encouraging, 354. Little Britain, Spectator published there, 283. Littleton, lexicographer, his inscription for the monument, 1165. Liverpool, earl of, master of the Trinity, ceremony of swearing, 724. Living skeleton, the, visit to, 1017; another, 1129. Livy and his books, 24. Loaf-mass, 1063. Lobscouse, 53. Logan, salt-water fish-pond, 82. London, new-year’s day, 15; Palm Sunday, 395; customs, 435; lord mayor and citizens going a maying, 552; pageant, 671; lord mayor &c. at a mystery, 756; ancient watch, 826; sheriffs proveditors for beasts, 1005; corporation costume on St. Bartholomew’s day, eve, &c. 1235; customs at Michaelmas, 1330; lord mayor’s establishment, 1331; notice for 5th Nov.,1435; lord mayor’s day, 1439; election of ward officers, 1587; waits, 1626; ceremony of founding the new London- bridge, 775; account of the old one, 799; city wall repaired from ruins of Jews’ houses, 296. LONDON BURNT, 1666, September 2; accounts of the great fire, 1150. ---- Magazine, “Lion’s Head,” 1007. LONGEST DAY, June 21; a suitable apologue, 819; see BARNABAS, _June 11_. Longevity of Petrarch, a Russian, 39. ---- Dennis Hampson, Irish bard, 40. LORD MAYOR’S DAY, November 9; account of lord mayor’s show, 671, 1439, 1453. Lord of the tap, at Stourbridge fair, 1487. Lothbury, Jews’ synagogue plundered, 296. ---- how watered formerly, 971. Lovat, lord, executed, 452. Love account-keeping, 215; advertisement, 1070; see Spring. Loveday, Mr., his daughters become Catholics, 534. Loudon, J. C., his “Encyclopædia of Gardening,” 1043, note. Louis XVI., beheaded, 145. ---- XVIII., new-year’s gifts to him, 14; patron of plum-pudding, 1617. LOW SUNDAY, movable; its derivation, 453. Luchd-vouil, 1634. LUCIAN, January 8; account of this saint, 78. LUCY, December 13; account of this saint, 1570. LUKE, October 18; horn fair on his festival, 1386; how he is painted, 1387. Lulle, Raym., alchemist, account of, 398. Lulli, J. B., composer, died, 383. Lute, the barber’s, 1268. Lyme Regis, custom on Candlemas-day, 206.

M‘Creery, Mr. John, his “Press,” a poem, 1135; lines on his daughter’s hour-glass, 1425. Macdonald, Alexander, his monument to the pretender, 33. ----, sergeant Samuel, notice of, 619. M‘Dowal, colonel, his salt fish store, 82. MACHUTUS, November 15; who he was, 1486. Mackerel fishing, 961. Macnamara, captain, duellist, 451. Mad dogs, danger from, 900. ---- Moll, and her husband, at Hitchin, 566. Magdalen-college quadrangle, dressed with greens, 836. Magna Charta signed, 811. Magnus, St., church, custom at, 1349. Maia, a deity, 537. Maid Marian, 550, &c. Mail coach, annual procession, 503. Malabar Christians, 1586. Malt’s defence, 75. Man of Ross, Pope’s, 1438. ---- smugging, illegal, 1435. Mansfield, earl, C. J., died, 374. Manures and dressings, fanciful, 664. Mara, madam, notice of, 762. Marco, a Tower lion, 1006. Mare with seven legs, 1181. Margot, a French girl, a ball-player, 856. MARK, St., April 25; notice of him, 512; celebrations of his eve and festival, 521. Marlborough, duke of, notice of, 798. Marriage of a priest, whereby he remained a bachelor, 142; ill luck to marry on Childermas-day, 1648. Marseilles’ fete, 1298. MARTIN, St., November 11; account of him, 1469. ----’s church, near Canterbury, 301. ----, Mr., of Galway, noticed, 980. Martineau, Mrs., lines on her death, 796. Martinmas, 1470. Mary, the lady, a rope-dancer, her tragical fate, 1241. ----, queen, sung to by a boy bishop, 1560. ----, queen of Scots, new-year’s gift to, 10. ----, St., at hill, boy bishop, 1560. ----’s, eve carol, 1602. ---- Overy, boy bishop, 1559. ----, Spital, London, 445. Mason, rev. W., poet, died, 421. Maskers, at a common hop, 1646. Masking on twelfth-night, 54. Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 1131. Master of the revels, his office and seal, 1244. Matilda, queen of Denmark, dies in prison, 529. MATTHEW, St., September 21; account of him, 1314. Maughan, Nicholas, a showman, 1173. MAUNDY THURSDAY, movable; maund, maundy, &c. customs, 400. Maxentius II., emperor, his cruelty, 1504. May-day, maypoles, maygames and garlands, 541 to 598, 705; maypole in a screen, 761. Mayers’ song, 567. May-fair, Piccadilly, account of, 572. ---- hill, dangerous to invalids, 652. ---- month, 598. ---- morning, 644. Mechanics’ Institution recommended, 1500. ----, London, founded, 1549. Mechelen, Israel van, engraving by, 1119. Medal of Henry IX. king of England, 34; of Napoleon on his marriage, 409; a French one on Martinmas, 1472. Medemonath, 738. Melmoth, Courtney, died, 361. Melodies of evening, 606. Memory Corner Thompson, account of, 81. Men, twelve, suspended in the air, 26. Mercery, its signification, 1337. Merchant Tailors’ song, 1452. Meredith, a fives-player, 867. Merriment within compass, 61. Merry-andrew, a superior one, 1245. Merry in the hall, when beards wag all! 1640. Meteor, a, in Britain, 373. MICHAEL, St., September 29; account of him, 629; his dragon, 500, 1325. Michaelmas-day custom, 1325. ---- ----, old, 1374. ---- term, 1436. Michell, Simon, barrister, 1479, 1481. Middleton’s, Dr. Conyers, coach-horses blessed, 117. Mid-Lent Sunday, 358. Midnight and the Moon, 963. MIDSUMMER-DAY, June 24; celebrations, 837. ---- -eve, bonfires, watchsetting, &c. 823 to 836; divinations, 850. ---- -men, 850. Midsumormonath, 738. Midwinter, 59. ---- -monath, 1543. Milan, its great loss, 46. Mildred’s, St., church in the Poultry, 285. Mile, and half-mile stones, projected, 103. Miles, lieutenant colonel, serves against the Burmese, 1527. Milkmaids’ garlands, 570. Miller’s booth, Bartholomew fair, 1238. Mince pies, symbolical, 1638. Minch-pies, 1639. Minster, Isle of Thanet, first abbess of, 285. Minstrels, their ancient vocation, 1231. Miracles, &c. of Romish saints; see Index II. Mirror of the Months, a book, 1491. Missel-thrush, 535. Mistletoe cut by the Druids, 6; kissed under, 1614, 1615; proscribed in churches, 1636. Mitford, J., his account of lord Byron’s residence at Mitylene, 487. Monk, a, drowned, and afterwards relates his adventures, 1117. ----, duke of Albemarle, his wife, 582. Monmouth, countess of, 17. Montgomery, colonel, killed, 451. Months, the, in a Norwich pageant, 256; in a versified memorandum, 310. Montmartre, its derivation, 1371. Monument, the, on Fish-street-hill, 1150, 1165. Moon, the, poetically addressed, 292; at midnight, 963; its influence on the weather, 1015; symbolized, 1110; new-moon customs, 1509. Moor, sir Jonas, astronomer died, 1093. Moore’s travels in Africa, 1582. ----, Mr. Thomas, lord Byron’s last lines to, 490. Moorgate, annual procession from, 1488. More, sir Thomas, lord chancellor, declines a new-year’s gift of money, 9; reproves his lady, 262; his head on London bridge, 799. Morrice dance, in the Strand, 559. Morton, Regent, his guillotine, 149. Moscow rebuilt, from Grays-inn-lane dust-heap, 323. Most Christian king, origin of the title, 1349. Mother, suckling her child, 905. Mothering Sunday, 358. Mother’s milk, an epigram, 1311. Motions, puppet shows, 1246. Movable fasts and feasts, 190; vigil or eve, morrow, octave or utas of, &c. 192; corrected, 415. Mummers and mumming, 592, 1653. Mushroom, an enormous one, 20. Music of cats, 1106, 1110; music in every thing, 1142; at Bartholomew fair, 1248; in the ass, 1360; musical ear of squirrels, 1365; musical prodigies, 1038. Mutton-pie, and loaf, annual gift, 978. Myddleton, sir Hugh, when he did not die, 343. Mysteries, and Romish church pageants, 742, 750, &c.

Nailing, on twelfth-night, 50. NAME OF JESUS, August 7; why in the almanacs, 1071. Napoleon’s marriage and medal, 409; king of Rome, born, 374; Napoleon died, 616. Naseby, battle of, 773. Nash, Beau, notice of, 1585. NATIVITY OF JOHN, baptist, June 24; customs on the day and eve, 833, 846. ----, B. V. M., September 8; when instituted as a festival, &c., 1274. Navigations, miraculous, 4, 26, 194. Negro woman’s pity of a climbing boy, 592. Nelson, lord, anecdotes of him, 126. Neptune of the Egyptians, 141. Nero, account of, 453. ---- and Wallace, lions, 978. Nettle whipping, on May eve, 594. New River nuisances, 951, 1042. ---- year’s day, celebrations of, 3; Nightingale on, 521. ---- ---- eve, celebrations and winds, 10, 11, 1653. ---- ---- gifts, 6, 30. Newcastle customs, 430; Corpus Christi play, 755; procession of glass- cutters, 1286; and shoemakers, 1401. ---- house bonfire, 1433. Newman, Sarah, epitaph on, 1480. Newnton, Wilts, Trinity Sunday custom, 723. Newspaper advertisement, to subscribers, 823. ---- office, letter-boxes, 103. Newton, sir Isaac, obtains the Strand maypole, 560; dispute between him and Flamsteed, 1091; died, 374. Nice, council of, 1557. NICHOLAS, December 6; account of St. Nicholas, and customs on his festival, 1555; in Holland, 1566. ----, lady Penelope, killed, 1513. Nicknackitarian law-suit, 1284. NICOMEDE, June 1; a martyr, 741. Niger, the, its course, 1582. Nightingales, on new-year’s day, 521; in April, 540; in May, 606; at Blackheath, 688; their jug-jug, 728. Nightless days, 772. Noah’s flood represented at Bartholomew fair, 1247. Norfolk, duke of, foiled at a sale, 1007. North-east wind fiend, 136; its effects, 622. North road to London, account of the most ancient, 870 to 878. ---- Walsham, Norfolk, throwing at an owl there, 252. Northumberland customs, 849. ---- household book, records, mysteries, 755. Norwich turkeys, sent to London at Christmas, 1606. Notice to quit, 1342. Nottingham park, foliage destroyed, 1111. Now--a hot day, 880. Nut-burning and cracking, 1408, 1415, 1421. Nutting on Holy-rood day, 1293.

Oath, remarkably observed, 654. Octavia, empress, account of, 454. Ode on Smithery, 1499. O’Donoghue, legend of, 594. Offerings at the chapel-royal on twelfth-day, 59; at Easter, 359. Olave’s St., church in the Old Jewry formerly a synagogue, 296; boy bishop, 1561. ----, Silver-st., mystery performed at, 756. Old Clem at Woolwich, 1501. ---- Fogeys, 1454. ---- HOLY ROOD, September 26; noticed, 1324. ---- May-day, 683. ---- MICHAELMAS DAY, October 11; customs, 1375. Onagra, the, 1178. Onions, divination, 1552. O. P. row, 603. Opie, John, artist, died, 453. Optical illusion, 122. Oram, Edward, and Hogarth, 1245. Orange, stuck with cloves, 7. Oratorio, its origin, 703. Oratory, fathers of the, 702. Organ, of St. Catharine’s church, 1407; in the street at Christmas, 1615. Orleans, duchess d’, her new-year’s gift to Louis XVIII., 14. O SAPIENTIA, December 16; why in the almanacs, 1572. Oster-monath, 407. Ovens, origin of, 259. Overbury, sir Thomas, murder of, 1437. Ovid, character of, 23. Our lady of Bolton’s image, 431. Owling and purling on Valentine’s day, &c. 227, 252. Ox and Ass, why represented in prints of the nativity, 1610. Oxen pledged in cider, &c., 43. Oxford, curfew at Carfax, 242. Oyster-tub used for a carriage, 78. Oysters on St. James’s-day, 978.

Packhorse travelling, 876. Packington’s pound, a tune, 1214. Pageants in London, 671, 1443, 1473, 1487; at Edinburgh, 647; on St. John’s eve, 825; of the seasons, fasts, and feasts, 255. Palace-yard porter shops, 603. Pallas, the planet, discovered, 397. PALM SUNDAY, movable; celebrations and customs of the day, 391; palm, 1081. ---- play, with a ball, 864. Palmer, Garrick’s bill-sticker, 1244. Pamela, imagined at cards, 93. Pancake-day, 246. ---- month, 197. Panchaud, M., defrauded, 770. Panormo, Mr. C., gains a prize for sculpture, 1651. Paper folding man, the, 692. ---- windows at Bartholomew tide, 1133. Paques, pascha, paschal, pace, paste, 416. Paradise, a Jesuit’s account of, 1350. Paris, new-year’s day, 13; blessing of a market there, 758. Parish clerks of London, the, mysteries of, 753. ---- priest, a good, 1613. Parr, Dr. Samuel, his Spital sermon, and character, 444; and death, 339. Pascal, the, 393, 436, 959. Passion, the, symbolized, 405. ---- flower, 770. ---- Sunday, 392. Pastry-cooks’ shops on twelfth-night, 47. Paternoster backwards, a charm, 1415. PATRICK, St., March 17; legend of the saint’s miracles, 363; customs on his festival, 369; his chair, 825. Paul, St., the apostle, notice of, 889; his and Seneca’s epistles, 453. ----’s day, superstitions, 175; his chain, 601. Paul’s cathedral, London, 301; its pigeon, 1246. ---- cross, sermon against maypoles, 753; rood, 1292. ---- school, boys play mysteries, 753. Pea-queen on twelfth-night, 56. Peckham fair, 1125. Pedlar, described, 1215. Peerless-pool, described, 970. Pendrill, Will., in the royal oak, 718. Penn, William, his account of Mrs. Gaunt’s death, 480. Penny, in twelfth-cake, 55. Pens, his engraving of a guillotine, 148. Pentecost, 685. Pentonville, deficient of water, 1042. Penzance, May custom, 561. Perambulation of parishes, 652. Perceval, Robert, killed in the Strand, 561. PERPETUA, March 7; noticed, 340. Perriwigs, 1259. Peru, a fives-player, 867. Perukes, 1450; for four angels, 435. PETER, St., June 29; celebration of his festival at Rome, 885. ----’s chains, 1061. ---- chair at Rome, 121. ---- church, occasioned the Reformation, 264. ----, Czar, visits Greenwich, 1095. Petrarch, crowned in public, 452; his birth-day, the same as Juliet Capulet’s, 1063. Phials, with devil’s drink, 21. PHILIP and JAMES, Sts., May 1; noticed, 541. ---- the fair, entertains Edward II., 746. Phillips, W., a Welsh dwarf, 1188. Philosopher’s stone, a patent for it, 240. Piazzi’s discovery of the planet Ceres, 17. Picture of St. Ignatius, miraculous, 1055. Pictures at Dulwich, 1011. Pidcock and Polito’s menagerie, 1246. Pie-powder-court, 1214. Pied Bull, Islington, 634. Pifferari of Calabria, 1595. Pigeons of Paul’s, 120, 1246. Pigs, 119; annually consumed in London, 1217. Pillow made of a dead man, 21. Pills, one pill not a dose, 661. Pinning on twelfth-night, 47. Pin-sticking customs, 136. Pins and Pin-money, 9. Pio, Albert, prince of Carpi, buried, 529. Pipe of the Roman eucharist, 185. Piran’s, St., day, 334. Pitt, rev. Charles, poet, died, 461. Pizarro, notice of, 857. Plague, the, notice of, 363; in London, 383. Plough-light money, 73. PLOUGH MONDAY, movable; processions and other customs, 71. ---- ---- and Sunday, London festivals, 1334. Plum-porridge at Christmas, 1640. ---- pudding, an eccentric vender of it, 1250; made in France, 1617. Plutarch, read to Louis XIV., 1231. Plymouth, mild winter at, 1563. Poaching notice, 350. Poetry, English, its first cultivator, 701. Pole, the barber’s, 1269. Pompeii, panorama of, 1595. Pompey’s complaint in the dog-days, 945. Ponsondie, 53. Pope, the, and cardinals’ jubilee for the massacre on St. Bartholomew’s day, 1131. ----, annual burning of, 1487. ---- Joan, card party, 91. Pope’s willow tree, 1081. Popery, No, 1433. Porter and his knot, 1215. Porto-Bello, rejoicings on taking, 1473. Post office business increased, 215. POWDER PLOT, November 5; celebrations, 1429. Powell’s, Mr., pedigree, 797. Powell of the fives-court, 868. Prayer, directory for, 202; M. Angelo’s, 280. Praying for the dead, 1424. Prechdachdan sour, 1633. Pressing of seamen, when commenced, 373. Pretender, monument to him, 33. Price, Dr. Richard, died, 486. Pricking in the belt, 437. Printer’s customs, and printing terms, 1133; ---- devil, 1139. Printing, 185; improvement in, 1535; a simile, 30. PRISCA, January 18; noticed, 22. Prisoners on trial, why uncovered, 1437. Pritchard, rev. George, his storm sermon, 1517. Procession-week, 642. Proclamation of Bartholomew fair, form of, 1165; for a fast in the storm year, 1515. Proger’s, Mr., pedigree, 797. Pulpits, 838; stone pulpit at Oxford, 837. Pumps, 1041. Puppet shows, 1246; in Ben Jonson’s time, 1202; at May-fair, 574; at Pentonville, 1114. Purgatory eased, in 1825, 307; see Romish saints, Index II. PURIFICATION, February 2; see Candlemas. Puxton custom, 837. Pye-corner, Smithfield, 1217, 1238. ----, John, watchman of Bungay, 1628.

Quadragesima, 193. Quarter-day, situations and feelings on, 841. Quarto-die-post, explained, 100. Queen’s college Oxford, Boar’s head carol, 1619.

R. G. V. H. an inscription, 1466. Racine, reads to Louis XIV., 1231. Rackets, origin of, 863. Radcliffe, Ralph, mystery writer, 753. Rahere, first prior of St. Bartholomew’s, 1231. Raikes, Robert, philanthropist, died, 421. Rain, why it did not fall for three years, 116; on Swithin’s day, 954, 958; average fall in winter, 1564. ----bow in winter, 107. Ranson’s, Mr. J. T., etching of Starkey, 922, 928, 968. Raphael, the archangel, 1326. ----, painter, died, 451; his picture of the Nativity, with a bag- piper, 1595. Rath, the or Burmese state-carriage, 1519. Rats eat a bishop, 1362. Ratzburg customs on Christmas-eve, 1604. Raven feeds a saint and fetches his cloak, 104. Recollections, effect of tender, 1406. Red Cross-street burial ground, for Jews, 296. ---- Lion-square, obelisk in, 859. Reformation, the, its immediate cause, 264. Refreshment Sunday, 358. Relics, curious list of, 814. REMIGIUS, October 1; noticed, 1349. Resurrection, the, a Romish church drama, 431. Rhed-monath, 313. Rheumatism cured by ale, 23. Ribadeneira’s Lives of the Saints, used in this work, 3. Rich, Richard, lord, grant to him of St. Bartholomew’s priory, 1232. RICHARD DE WICHE, April 3; account of him, 419. ---- II. and his court at the parish clerks’ play, 753. ---- III. attends the Coventry plays, 757. Richards, rev. Mr., buried alive, 1565. Richardson, Mr., buys Button’s lion’s head, 1007. ----’s, itinerant theatre, 1182, 1388. Richmond, visit to, 601; hunt on Holyrood-day, 1294. Riding stang described, 12. Ridlington, Rob., his bequest to Stamford, 1484. Ring, a, occasions a repartee, 529; wedding ring of Joachim and Anne, 1010. Rippon church, Yorkshire, lighted up before Candlemas, 205. Rising early, its effects, 79. Ritson, Jos., publishes a Christmas carol, 1600. Roast beef, 1578. ---- pig, by Elia, 1218. Robbery at Copenhagen-house, 862. Robin in winter, 103; and the wren, 647. ---- Hood, 550; and his bower, 686. Roche, St. or St. Roche’s day, 1120. Rochester cathedral, 301. ----, lord, outwitted, 613; banters Charles II., 721. Rock-day, 61. Rodd, Mr. Thomas, bookseller, 8, 1066. Rodney, adm., defeats Comte de Grasse, 459. Roebuck Inn, Richmond, 604. ROGATION SUNDAY, movable; customs in Rogation week, 641. Rogers, organist of Bristol, noticed, 1039. Roman pottery, a new-year’s gift, 6; wigs of Roman ladies, 1263. Rome, ancient, new-year’s day, 13; founded, 493. Romish church established, 744; Romish and protestant churches and worship compared, 839, 919. Ronaldshay, North, custom, 10. Rood, the, described, 1291. Rooks, in Doctor’s Commons, 494. Rose Sunday, 358. ---- gathering on Midsummer-eve, 852. ----, the last, of summer, 1389. Roseberry, earl of, singular narrative of his son and a clergyman’s wife, 1122. Rosemary-branch, fives-play, 867. Round-abouts and up-and-downs, 1249. Rout, city, discontinued, 1336. Row, T., Dr. Pegge, and curfew, 244. Rowlandson’s Boor’s-head, 1622. Royal-oak-day, 711. Rubens’s death of St. Antony, 120. Ruffian’s hall, Smithfield, 1234. Runic calendar, 1404. Rural musings, 106. Rush-strewing at Deptford, 1825, 725.

Sackville, secretary, account of his schoolmaster, 29. Sadler, J., his engraving of St. Cecilia, 1496. Sadler’s Wells, anglers, 344; play-bill, 1200. Saffron-flower and cakes, 1148. Sailors, their patrons in storms, 537; staid ashore in bad weather, 1419; mistake of one, 1591; a sailor and his wife at Greenwich, 689. Saints, Romish, authorities mostly referred to for their legends, 3; in sweetmeat, 116; peculiarity of their bodies, ib.; tender-nosed, 745; carry their heads under their arms after death, 1371; a dirty one, 467. For further particulars, see Index II. Salisbury, boy bishop, 1557; Edward the Confessor, translated to Salisbury, 813. Sallows described, 78. Salters’ company, custom, 1349. Salvator’s temptation of St. Antony, 116. Samam, vigil of, 1415. Samwell’s company of tumblers, 1185. Sannazarius’s poem, De Partu Virginis, 1611. Saturnalian days, 57. Satyr, seen by a saint, 104. Saunderson, Dr. Nicholas, mathematician, died, 486. Sausages, feast of, 1471. Scent in hunting, 1378. Schoen, Martin, engraving by, 1119. Schoolmasters, formerly, 30; presided on throwing at cocks, 252. School-time in spring, 674. Scone, ball-play, 259. Scotland, candlemas-day, 206; Shrove Tuesday, 259; mists, 250; first of April, 1811; has no carols at Christmas, 1602; Highland Christmas, 1633; superstitions, 1408. Scott, Bartholomew, married Cranmer’s widow, 382. Screen, at Hornsey Wood house, 760. Sculpture and painting, their relative merits, 275; the two Royal Academy prizes for 1825 awarded to two Irish pupils, 1651. Scythe carried by the Devil, 21. Sea-water, a company to bring it to Copenhagen-fields, 869. Seal of Button’s Lion’s head, 1007. Seasons, their names derived, 1518. Seduction, 1076. Self-multiplication of saints’ bodies and relics, 335, 611, 814. Selim, sultan, takes Cairo, 461. Seneca, his death and character, 453. SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY, movable; why so called, 192, 193. Sepulchre, Romish church drama, 432. Serjeant’s coif, 158. Sermon for Easter diversion, 446. ----s prohibited to be read, 1264. Serpent, a little one in a woman, 38; a taper, ib.; serpents dance on ropes, 1245; a seat on a serpent’s knee, 1599. Servants, their new-year’s gifts to masters, 10; cautioned against leaving Christmas leaves, 204. ---- maid, a character, 481. Settle, Elkanah, the last city poet, 1453. Seurat, Ambrose, account of, 1017. Seward, Anna, author, died, 389. SEXAGESIMA, movable; why so called, 191, 193. Shaftesbury, lord, plays in a pageant, 1490. Shakspeare, died, 503; his jest book, 504. ---- tavern sale, 1007. Shamrock, the Irish cognizance, 371. Sharp, Mr. T., his work on pageants, 478. ----, W., engraver, 604. Shaving in winter, 18; anciently, 1268. Sheep blessing by the Romish church, 143; shearing, 740. Sheep’s head, singed, 1539. Sheet used at execution of Charles I., 187. Shepherd and shepherdess tavern, City-road, 442, 975. Shere Thursday, 400. Sheridan, R. B., notice and character of, 910. Ship, in a pageant, 1450. Shirt, a miraculous iron one, 286; stitches in a shirt, 1375. Shoemaker-row, 1238. ----s, their patron and holyday, 1395; shoe-stealer blinded, 26. Shoes, sandals, and slippers, 513. Shony, a western isle sea-god, 1414. Shooting, at Bartholomew tide, 1235; in North Britain at Christmas, 1634. Showman’s family described, 1189. Shrewsbury, Easter-lifting, 422. Shrid-pies, 1638. Shrive, shrove, 246. SHROVE TUESDAY, movable; customs, 242. Siddons, Mrs., 905. Side-bar, in Westminster-hall, 156. Sidney, Algernon, 479. Sign, Absalom, 1262; a tinman’s, 1385. Silenus, 450. SILVESTER, December 31; notice of him, 1653. SIMON, St., and St. JUDE, October 28; superstitions of the day, 1403. Sirius, the dog-star, 897, 899. Sixtine chapel, M. Angelo’s scaffold for it, 267. Skeleton-huntsmen’ song, 1296. Skewers, used for pins, 9. Skinners’ company, their pageant, 1452. ---- well, mystery played at, 753. Slatyer, W., his psalms to song tunes, 1598. Sleep, how avoided by a saint, 282. Sleepers, legend of the Seven, 1035. Slingsby, sir H., his account of the training in 1639, 28. Sluicehouse, near Hornsey Wood, 696. Smith, Gentleman, account of, 1288. Smithery, ode in praise of, 1499. Smithfield, entertainment on May-day, 589; at Bartholomew-fair time, 1166; whence so called, 1231; paved, 1234. Smoking, 667. Smuchdan, 12. Smugging tops, dumps, &c. 253; a Guy, 1431; a man, 1435. Snipes, 1390. Snow-ball, sport, 257; snow-balls medicinal, 414. ---- drop described, 78. Snuff-taking, how to leave off, 152; wit at a pinch, 231. Soissons, church branch of seven tapers, 45. Solace, a printer’s penalty, 1136. Soldier pensioned for killing two men, and capturing their lion, 1006. Somers, lord, died, 525. ---- town miracle, 472. Somerset-house, old, what stones built with, 1479. Somersetshire, sports and customs, 435; customs, 837, 865. Somnambulism, 1591. Song, a, sung by itself, 1296. Sophia, princess, of Gloucester, walk in her gardens at Blackheath, 689. Sops, joy-sops with twelfth-cake, 56. Sot’s hole, 689. Sound as a roach, 1121. South-sea bubble, 165. Sowans, 1633. Sowing, rewarded by cakes and cider, 42. Sparrows, their use, 495. Spectator, by whom published, 283. Spectral appearances to the editor, 123; why they were illusions, 125. Spencer, sir John, account of, 639. Spice-bread massacre, 54. Spiced-bowl, 10, 42. Spiders, 384; barometers, 931; fly in summer, 1284; save a saint, 102. Spines, Jack, a racket-player, 868. Spinsters, their patroness, 1508. Spirits, watching them in the church-porch, 523. Spital sermon, 443; an inflammatory one, 577. Sportsman, account of one, by himself, 290. Spring quarter, and festival, 335, 374; dress, 337; complete, 536; mornings, 530, 674. Sprout-kele, 196. Spry, Dr., preaches on Trinity Monday, 725. Squires of the Lord Mayor, 1331. Squirrels, habits and instincts, 1365, 1383; squirrel hunting, 1539. Stafford, its patron saint, 1278. ----shire customs, 423. Stage, the old, described, 757. Staines, sir W., anecdotes of, 972. Stamford bull running described, 1482. Standish, Dr., his inflammatory sermon, 577. Stang, a cowl-staff, 12. Starkey, capt. Ben., memoirs of, 922, 965, 1510. Star, feast of the, 45. Stars in winter, 22, 1582; observed by Flamsteed, 1091; fall to discover a buried image, 194. Steamboat visit to Richmond, 601. Stebbings, Isaac, swam for a wizard, 942. Steel-boots, worn by Charles II., 17. Steeple-climbing, 766. Steevens, George, account of, 152. STEPHEN, St., December 26; customs on his festival, 1641. Stepney Wood, a maying place, 552. Stilts, 256. Stock, Eliz., a giantess, 1197. Stocks, the, earl Camden put into, 481. Stockwell ghost, narrative, 62; solution, 68. Stone, old, at North Ronaldshay, 10. Stoning Jews, a Lent custom, 295. Stool ball, 430; see Ball-play. Storm, the great, in 1703, described, 1512. ---- cock, 535. Stourbridge fair, account of, 1300, 1487. Stow, John, antiquary died, 421. Strand, maypole, 556. Strathdown, new-year’s celebration, 11. Straw in the shoe, the perjurer’s sign, 157. Strong woman, 574. Strood, Kent, entailment of its natives, 704. Struensee and Brandt executed, 529. Stuart holydays, 188. ---- line, its termination, 33. Sudley, entertainment to queen Elizabeth, 55. Suett, the comedian, his legs, 1029. Suffocation, receipt for, 209. Suffolk customs, 430; witchcraft, 942. ----, countess of, her hair, 1263. ----, lady, her present to Pope, 1081. Suicides, how buried, 451. Summer, dress, 819; evening, 933; midnight, 812; morning and evening, 815; morning, 962; solstice, 823; zephyr, 920; last rose, 1389; holydays, 1011. Sun, the, dancing, 421; symbolized, 491; sunset, 1355; sunshining on St. Vincent’s-day, 151. Sunday schools founded, 421. ----s, five in February, 310. Superstitions, vulgar, 515, 523. Swallow-day, 465; account of swallows, their migration, &c., 506, 644, 647, 1098. Swash-bucklers and swashers, 1234. Sweetheart customs, and superstitions, 136, 260. SWITHIN, July 15; account of him, 953; establishes tithes in England ib.; superstitions on his festival, 954. Swordbearer, and swords of the city, 1331. Sword and buckler, how carried, 1234. Sylvester, St.; see Silvester. Symes, Mr., of Canonbury tower, 638. Systrum, of the Egyptians, 1110.

Tail-sticking, on St. Sebastian’s day, 135; at Strood, 704. Tailors, why they should require a reference, 120. Tansy pudding, 429. Tantony pig, 119. Tasks for a saint, 341. Tasso, died, 519. Tavistock monastery founded, 29. Tawdry, its derivation, 1383. Taylor, Jeremy, on card-playing, 89. ----, Joseph, bookseller, his endowment for an annual sermon on the great storm, 1517. Teddington church, Middlesex, mistletoe proscribed, 1637. Tee, the, described, 1523, 1528. Tell, William, arms his countrymen, 16. Temperature of winter, 1563. Temple, the, fountain, 1043. ---- gate, the pope burnt at, 1488. ----, Inner, customs at Christmas, 1618. Temptations of St. Antony, 109. Tenebræ, a Romish church service, 405. Term, first day of, customs, &c., 99, 155, 1436. Terminus, the god of boundaries, 99. Tewkesbury, battle of, 613. Thames, the, the king’s bear washed in it, 1005; its nuisances, 1042. Theatres at fair time, 442. Theatrical notice, 1296. Thimble and pea, 768. THOMAS, ST., December 21; customs on the day, 1586. Thompson, Memory Corner, 81. Thornton, Dr., exhibition to, 1459. Thread-my-needle, 692. Three Dons, the, a mystery, 747. ---- kings of Cologne, 45. ---- knocks on a saint’s head, 286. Threshing the hen, 245. Throne, Burmese, described, 1526. Thuanus’s history, English edition, 293. Tid, mid, misera, 379. Tiddy Doll and his song, 577. Tigress, and her whelps, by a lion, 1176, 1180. Tillotson, abp., the first prelate that wore a wig, 1262. Time, what it is, and its use, 310; time enough, 1377; measured, 1425; flies, 1426. Times, The, the first newspaper printed by steam, 1535. Tinder-boxes, when not in use, 99. Tinners, their patron saint, 334. Toast thrown to fruit trees, 42, 44. Tobacco, prohibited at Cambridge, 1264; a pipe in the morning, 1378. Tom, a cod-fish, 83. Tombuctoo, &c. described by Leo Africanus, 1582. Top, whipped in the Romish church, 199. Torches, at a royal wedding, 1551. Tottenham High-Cross fountain, 1041. Tower, the, lions, 1004. ----, Great Bell, of St. John’s Church, Clerkenwell, described, 1479. Town, out of, 491. ---- v. Country, 645. Townsend, police officer, his wig, 1263. Towton, battle of, 398. Trades, the, complaint against sir John Barleycorn, 73. TRANSLATION, EDWARD, K. W. S., June 20; origin of translations of saints’ bodies, 813. Travelling, old mode of, 876. Tree, a wicked one destroyed, 26. ---- of common law, 233. Tresham, sir T., prior of St. John’s, Clerkenwell, 1480. Trial, of a title to land in India, 240. Trimilki, 538. Tring, Herts, superstition, 1045. Trinity symbolized, 371. ---- house brethren, 724. ---- Sunday customs, 722. ---- Monday customs, ib. Triumphs of London, 1446. Trumpet-blowers licensed, 1244. Tulips, and tulippomania, 607. Tunstall, bishop, befriends B. Gilpin, 330. Turkeys, Christmas, 1606. Turner, Anne, on her trial for murder, 1437. ----, Mr., pump-maker, 1042. Turnspits, anecdotes of, 1573. Tusser, Thomas, his epitaph and burial place, 285. Twelfth-cake, how to draw, 51; how made anciently, 56. ---- day eve, 41; twelfth-day customs, 47; characters, 52; derived from the Greeks, 57; and the Druids, 58; observed at court, 59. Twickenham ball-play, 245. Tye, John, watchman of Bungay, 1628. Tyson’s, rev. Michael, portrait of Butler, 1303. Tythes, penance after death for nonpayment, 704; established in England, 953.

Vader-land, anglicised by lord Byron, 810. VALENTINE, February 14; derivation and customs of the day, 215. Vauxhall, accident, 1070; adventures at, 1457. VENERABLE BEDE, May 27; see Bede. Verard, Ant., his vellum edition of the Mystery of the Passion, 747. Vernon, adm., celebration of his birth-day, 1473. VINCENT, January 22; notice of him, 151. ----, T., his account of the fire of London, 1152. Viper, the, and her young, 1113. Virgil, Polydore, on church ceremonies, 202. Virgin, the, street music to her in Advent, 1595. Virgo, zodiacal sign, 1059. Visions, see Saints, Index II. Voelker’s gymnastics, 1316. Vos, Martin de, engraving from, 1495. Votive offerings at Isernia, 1324.

Union with Ireland, 17. Upcott, Mr. William, 1056, 1160, 1601. Uptide Cross, 395. Urbine, servant to M. Angelo, 277. Uriel, archangel, 1326. Utrecht, peace of, concluded, 453.

Waggon-driving at shrove-tide, 258. Waggoner in love, 227. Waits of London, 829; their ancient services, 1625. Wales, St. Patrick of, 371; superstitious customs, 523, 562, 849, 1413; adventure in, 797; see Welsh. Walks, pleasant, disappearing, 872. Wallis, Mr., astronomical lectures, 60. Walnut tree, miraculous, 772. Walpole, Lydia, a dwarf, 1173. Wanyford, Henry, large man, died, 1565. Wanstead, Strand maypole carried to, 560. Want, Hannah, a long liver, account of, 1351. War, peaceful triumph in, 741. ---- cry, ancient English, 501; Irish, 502. Warburton, bp., what he said to the lord mayor, 446; his character of the month of November, 1419; notice of him, 768. Ward, Ned, his visit to Bartholomew fair, 1237. ----, Samuel, his sermons cited, 831. Wareham, translation of King Edward’s body, 813. Warwickshire customs, 423, 431; lion and dog bait at Warwick, 978; Warwickshire carol-singer, 1599. Wassail-bowl customs, 42, 43, 53, 55. Watch, setting the, anciently in London, 826; Nottingham, 833; Chester, 834. Watchmen’s verses, 1628. Water of the dead and living ford, 11. ----, boring for, 1041. ---- bailiff’s office, 1333. Waterloo, battle of, 804. Waters, Billy, in a puppet show, 1116. Watts, Joseph, of Peerless-pool, 973. Wax, blessed, 201. ---- work at Bartholomew fair, 1187. Way-goose, a printers’ feast, 1133. Weasel, died, for mealing on a saint’s robe, 44. Weather prognosticated, by bats, bees, beetles, birds, 535, 1548; blackbirds, 102; bulls, 506; buzzards, 535; cassia, 678; cerea, 679; chairs and tables, 101; chickweed, 677; church clocks, 1548; clouds, 101; convolvolus, 677; corns, 101; cows, 506, 535; crickets, 101; cuckoo, 670; dandelion, 679; dew, 536; dogs, 101, 102, 535; dog- rose, 677; ducks, 101, 534; evening primrose, 678; feverfew, 677; fieldfares, 536; fish, 102; flies, 101, 535; four o’clock flower, 678; frogs, 102, 535; geese, 534; glowworms, 102; goatsbeard, 678; gossamer, 535; hedge fruits, 535; hens, 534, 670; honeydew, 535; horses, 102; lettuce, 678; limbs, 101; marigold, 677, 678; moles, 535; moon, 101, 1015, 1345; mountain ebony, 678; nipplewort, ib.; peacocks, 536; peterel, 535; pigeons, ib., pigs, 534, 535; pimpernel, 101, 677; princesses’ leaf, 678; rainbow, 101, 670; ravens, 534; rooks, 102, 534, 669; sea fowl, 101; sea gulls, 535; serpentine aloe, 678; sheep, 535; sky, 102; sloe-tree, 670; smoke, 101; snipes, 536; snow, 670; soot, 101; sounds, 1547; sowthistle, 677; spiders, 535, 931; sun, 102; swallows, 101, 506, 533; swans, 505; swine-pipes, 536; tamarind, 677; thermometer, 101; missel thrush, 535; toads, 102; trefoil, 677; voices, 1548; water fowl, 534; water lily, 678; white thorns, 677; whitlow grass, 677; wild- goose, 535; wind, 101, 102, 505, 670; woodcocks, 536; woodseare, 535; woodsorrel, 677. Weathercock of St. Clement’s church, Strand, 1498. Welsh charity-school anniversary, 322; valuation of cats, 1110; triplets, 1422; carols for the seasons, 1602. Welshman, sir T. Overbury’s, 320. Well-rope winds into a saint’s body, 37. Wenceslaus of Olmutz, engraving by, 1119. Werington, Christmas-eve custom, 1606. Wesley, Charles, senior and junior, musicians, account of, 1038. ----, Samuel, musician, notice of, 1040. West, Benjamin, painter, account of, 346. Western custom on Valentine’s day, 227. ---- Literary Institution, 1404. Westmeath twelfth-night, 58. Westminster-hall, with shops in it, 153. ---- school, Shrove Tuesday custom, 259. Weston, sir W., prior of St. John’s Clerkenwell, 1480. Weyd-monat, 737. Whifflers, 1444, 1488. Whist-playing, 91. WHIT SUNDAY, movable; Whitsuntide, 685, holydays in 1825 at Greenwich fair, 687; censer at St. Paul’s, 1246. Whitby, Daniel, divine, died, 386. White, Mr. H., engraver on wood, noticed, 907, 1113, 1320. ----, Jem, his doings and character, 589. ---- negress, 1189. Whitehead, W. W., gigantic boy, 1194. Whoo-he to horses, its antiquity, 1643. Wickham, East, Kent, 1388. ----, West, Kent, painted glass window of St. Catherine in the church, 1506; delightful site of the village, 1507. Wife of two husbands, 1122; husband’s address to his wife, 1454. Wigs, 1259. Wild fowl shooting in France, 1575. ---- street chapel, annual sermon, 1512. Wilkie, the publisher, anecdote of, 914. WILLIAM, KING, LANDED, November 4; error of the almanacs, 1428. Williams, Mr. Samuel, artist, noticed, 892, 1059, 1189, 1345. Willow tree, 1080. Wilson, Richard, painter, notice of him, 651. ----, sir Thomas and lady, of Charlton, 1388. Wiltshire customs, 723. Winchester, mystery performed there, 755. Wind superstitions, 11; effects of east and north-east winds, 620, 802. Winstanley killed in the Eddystone, 1515. Wint-monat, 1419. Winter, 110, 134, 198; its approach described, 1461; the quarter, 1562; the season described, 1652. Winter-fulleth, 1345. ---- monat, 1543. ----, Death of, a sport, 359. ---- rainbow in Ireland, 107. ----, Dr. Robert, his storm sermon, 1517. Wishart, Geo., burned at St. Andrew’s, 709. Witchcraft, charm against, 55. ---- and cat-craft, 1106. ----, in Herefordshire, 1045. ----, in Suffolk, 942. Witney, Oxfordshire, old church, show at, 1246. Wives’ feast-day, 206. Woed-monath, 737, 1059. Wolf-monat, 2. Wolves’ club, 603. Woman, why one wept at her husband’s burial, 504. Wombwell, the showman’s lion fight, 997; his menagerie, 1197; and himself, 1198. Women formerly, 904; women barbers, 1272; angelical women, 1351. ----’s work, 1375. ----’s blacks, 905; fate of a dealer in, 908. Wood, Lucky, an ale wife, 1639. Woodcocks, 1390. Woodward, a fives-player, 867. Wool-trade feasts, 209. Woolwich dock-yard, St. Clement’s day at, 1501. ---- arsenal, its St. Catharine, 1508. Worcester, marquis of, his curious fountain, 1044. Worde, Wynkyn de, his carols, 1600, 1620. Worms, their utility, 70. Wreathock, an attorney transported, 157. Wren, sir Christopher, on the size of churches, 920. Wrestling at Bartholomew-tide, 1235. Wright, Mr., bees swarm on, 963. Writing-masters’ trial of skill, 1085. Wycliffe, John, 752. Wynne’s “Eunomus” recommended, 232. Wyn-monath, 1345.

Yates and Shuter’s booth at Bartholomew fair, 1245. Yeasty ale, its virtue, 23. York, cardinal, account of, 33. ---- Corpus Christi play, 754. Yorkshire custom, 1379. Yorkshire goose pies, 1645. Young, Dr. Edward, poet died, 459. Yule derived, 1544. ---- -dough and cakes, whence derived, 1638.

Zinzendorff, count, notice of, 771.

II. INDEX TO ROMISH SAINTS, OF WHOM THERE ARE MEMOIRS OR ACCOUNTS, WITH THE DAYS WHEREON THEIR FESTIVALS ARE KEPT.

The Names in ITALICS, are of Saints, &c. retained in the Calendar of the Church of England.

The Names in CAPITALS are derived from Scripture; and are also in the Calendar of the Church of England.

Abachum, January 19. Adalard, January 2. Agatha, February 5. Agnes, January 21. Aidan, August 31. Alban, June 17. Aldhelm, May 25. Alexander, February 26. All Saints, November 1. All Souls, November 2. Alnoth, February 27. Andifax, January 19. ANDREW, November 30. Anianus, April 25. Anne, July 26. Annunciation, B. V. M., Mar. 25. Anselm, April 21. Antony, January 17. Assumption, B. V. M., Aug. 15. Athanasius, May 2. Audry, October 17. Augustine, May 26. ----, August 28.

Baldrede, March 6. Baradat, February 22. Barbatas, February 19. BARNABAS, June 11. BARTHOLOMEW, August 24. Bede, May 27. Benedict, or Bennet, Mar. 21. Benedict, bp., January 12. Bettelin, or Beccelin, Sept. 9. Blase, February 3. Boniface, June 5. Brice, November 13. Bride, or Bridget, February 1. Bruno, October 6.

Candlemas, February 2. Casimir, March 4. Catharine, November 25. Catherine, April 30. Cecilia, November 22. Chad, March 2. Chilidonius, March 3. Clement, November 23. Climacus, March 30. Constantine, Sleeper, July 27. Cosmas & Damian, Sept. 27. Crispin, October 25. Crispinian, October 25. Cuthbert, March 20. Cyprian, September 26.

David, March 1. Denys, October 9. Dionysius, Sleeper, July 27. Dunstan, May 19.

Edelwald, March 23. Edmund, November 20. Edward, K., March 18. ---- June 20. ---- Confessor, Trans., October 13. Elphege, April 19. Eleutherius, September 6. Emetrius, March 3. Enurchus, September 7. Epiphany, January 6. Ethelburge, or Edilburge, October 11. Etheldreda, October 17.

Fabian, January 20. Faine, see Fanchia. Faith, October 6. Fanchia, January 1. Felix of Nola, January 14. Ferreol, September 18. Fidelis, April 24. Finian, March 16. Francis, April 2. Fulgentius, January 1.

Galmier, February 27. Genevieve, January 3. George, April 23. Giles, September 1. Gregory, G., March 12. Guardian Angels, October 2. Gudula, January 8.

Hilary, January 13. Holy Cross, September 14.

Ignatius Loyola, July 31. Innocents, December 28. Invention of the Cross, May 3.

JAMES, May 1. James, July 25. Jerome, September 30. JOHN BAPTIST, June 24. JOHN, December 27. John, March 27. JOHN PORT LATIN, May 6. ----, Pope, May 27. John of Beverley, May 7. ----, Sleeper, July 27. Joseph, March 19. JUDE, October 28.

Kentigern, January 13.

Lambert, September 17. Lammas, August 1. Lawrence, August 10. Limneus, February 22. Lucian, January 7. Lucy, December 13. LUKE, October 18. Lupicinus, February 28.

Macarius, January 2. Machutus, November 15. Malchus, Sleeper, July 27. Marcellus, January 16. Margaret of Cortona, Feb. 22. Maris, January 19. MARK, April 25. Mark, October 22. Martha, January 19. Martin, November 11. Martina, January 30. Martinian, Sleeper, July 27. MATTHEW, September 21. Maximian, Sleeper, July 27. Michael, September 29. Michael, May 8. Milburg, February 23. Mildred, February 20. Mochua, January 1. Monica, May 4.

Nativity, B. V. M., Septem. 8. Nativity, December 25. Nicholas, December 6. Nicomede, June 1.

Owen, August 24.

Patrick, March 17. Paul, January 25. Paul, March 7. ----, June 30. ----, hermit, January 15. Perpetua, March 7. PETER, June 29. ----, 7th cent., January 6. ----’s chair, January 18. ---- ad Vincula, August 1. ---- Nolasco, January 31. Petronilla, May 31. PHILIP, May 1. Philip Neri, May 26. Piran, March 5. Prisca, January 18. Proclus, October 24.

Remigius, October 1. Richard de Wiche, April 3. Roche, August 16. Romanus, February 28. Rumon, January 4.

Serapion, Sleeper, July 27. Seven Sleepers, July 27. Severin, October 23. Simeon Stylites, January 5. Simon, October 28. Simon, March 24. Stephen, December 26. Swithin, July 15. Sylvester, December 31.

Thalasius, February 22. Thalilæus, February 27. Theodosius, January 11. THOMAS, December 21. Thyrsus, January 28. Transfiguration, August 6.

Valentine, February 14. Veronica, January 13. Vincent, January 22. Visitation, B. V. M., July 2. Vitus, June 15.

Uldrick, February 20. Ulric, July 4.

William, January 10. William, March 24.

III. POETICAL INDEX.

I. ORIGINAL EFFUSIONS BY CONTRIBUTORS AND THE EDITOR.

II. QUOTATIONS FROM STANDARD POETS AND ANONYMOUS AUTHORS.

ORIGINAL By

A friend, 217. D. G., 467. Δ 293, 658. E. C., 707. H., 1454. J. S., 802. Lector, 727. Mayer’s song, 567. Prior, J. R., 144. T. N., 646.

ORIGINAL _By * The Editor_,

Lady Jane Grey, 31. Twelfth-day, 47. North-east wind, 136. Valentine’s day, 216. Spring, 335. Angling, 344. Nature and art, 406. April fools, 412. Holyday song, 439. Milkmaids, 570. Richmond steamer, 602. Departed pleasures, 634. To Canonbury Tower, 642. Lady among flowers, 689. Hornsey sluice-house, 695. Izaak Walton, 697. Hornsey Wood house, 759. London-bridge, 775. Broom girls, 807. Summer, 818. Copenhagen-house, 858. Hagbush-lane, 877. Barrow-woman’s dress, 905. Captain Starkey, 922. To Mr. Charles Lamb, 930. Bathing “in hyghe sommer,” 972. Trees and water, 974. Tea-garden visitors, 975. Princess Amelia, 1071. Autumn, 1282. St. Denys, 1370. Seasonable, 1415. Winter, 1562. The piper, 1626. Italian minstrels, 1630. The Flight, 1650.

AUTHORS CITED.

Atherstone, 675. Barbauld, 78, 796. Barton, B., 80, 1112, 1126. Baynes, J., 158. Blackstone, sir W., 232. Bowring, 22, 328, 468, 920, 1348, 1426. Browne, W., 548. Buchanan, 542. Bull, J., 300. Burns, 1391. Byron, lord, 492, 528, 805, 1583. Chamberlayne, 1294. Chatterton, 1082. Chaucer, 224, 1084, 1620, 1643. Churchill, 1082. Clare, 962. Coleridge, 540, 739. Cotton, 1, 1654. Cowley, 132. Cowper, 16, 184, 941, 1082, 1399. Craven, lady, 543. Darwin, 539, 683. Douce, 1595. Douglas, Gavin, 598. Dryden, 1495. Dunno, 931. Evans, T., 1602. Fletcher, G., 1083. ----, R., 1639. Gay, 175, 226, 851, 955, 1227, 1409, 1636. Gent, 932. Googe, see Naogeorgus. Goëthe, 680. Graydon, 1410. Hall, 1471. Hastings, Warren, 1128, 1130. Herrick, 10, 52, 56, 61, 204, 205, 546, 621, 1606, 1639. Holland, J., 1534. Huddesford, 1106, 1108. Hunt, Leigh, 98, 644. Hurdis, 228. Jago, 223. Jonson, Ben, 136, 1206, 1210. Jordan, T., 1452. Jortin, 1111. Keats, 137, 892. Kleist, 675. Lamb, C., 106. Llywarch Hen., 1422. Lloyd, 1378. Logan, 390. Lucretius, 674. Lydgate, 224, 552. M‘Creery, 1425. Martial, 1083. Marvell, 883. Milton, 242, 540, 608, 653, 675, 1098, 1547, 1616. Moore, T., 490, 1389, 1546. Morris, Hugh, 1602. Naogeorgus, 1, 55, 200, 208, 256, 394, 395, 651, 742, 845, 902, 1507, 1539, 1552, 1611, 1643, 1647. Ovid, 195. Philips, 133. Planché, 241. Poole, Joshua, 4. Pope, 338, 561, 1439, 1468. Proctor, 534. Pughe, O., 1421. Rickman, 1356. Sannazarius, 791. Scott, sir W., 1554, 1624. Shelley, 963, 1150, 1422. Shenstone, 903. Shakspeare, 8, 28, 226, 261, 502, 606, 1082, 1442, 1455, 1606, 1641. Sheppard, 1639. Shipman, 179. Smith, baron, 289. ----, Charlotte, 78, 103, 679. Somervile, 1379. Southey, 270, 316, 935, 1019, 1031, 1052, 1362, 1599. Spenser, 3, 195, 311, 407, 537, 544, 738, 890, 1058, 1146, 1346, 1418, 1543. Steevens, G. A., 1250. Thomson, 282, 616, 620, 684, 970, 1575. Thorn, R. J., 1635. Tusser, 54, 212, 246, 1471, 1643. White, H. K., 303, 687, 691. Wilde, R. H., 1570. Willsford, 175. Wither, G., 1631. Wolcott, 1311. Wordsworth, 279, 706.

BOOKS CITED.

Aikin’s Athenæum, 108, 338. Coll. Old Ballads, 502, 1238. Country Almanac, 207. Der Freischutz Travestie, 1296. Dodsley’s Coll., 218, 338. Dunton’s Athen. Oracle, 422 ---- Brit. Apollo, 224. Gentleman’s Mag., 229. German Almanac, 854. Leeds Mercury, 211. Literary Pocket-book, 110, 963, 1374, 1564. New Monthly Mag., 174. Oxford Sausage, 1638. Pasquil’s Palinodia, 246, 557. Poor Robin’s Almanac, 225, 321, 430, 954, 1436, 1603. Sixty-five Poems, &c., 230. Times’ Telescope, 1342, 1473.

ANONYMOUS.

40, 158, 180, 218, 228, 229, 284, 294, 309, 384, 413, 466, 475, 492, 525, 530, 644, 646, 667, 674, 720, 816, 888, 891, 894, 901, 909, 920, 931, 933, 934, 1060, 1142, 1314, 1392, 1438, 1555, 1571, 1572, 1598, 1628, 1635.

IV. FLORAL INDEX.

THE PLANTS IN THE “FLORAL DIRECTORY” WITH THE DAYS WHEREON THEY ARE USUALLY IN FLOWER.

Achania, hairy } Dec. 7. Achania pilosa. }

Agaric, floccose } Oct. 18. Agaricus floccosus. }

Agaric, mixen } Oct. 30. Agaricus fimetarius. }

Agaric, milky } Oct. 9. Agaricus lactifluus. }

Agrimony } July 1. Agrimonia eupatoria. }

Aletris, Cape } Oct. 10. Veltheimia viridifolia. }

Alkanet, evergreen } Apr. 3. Anchusa semperv. }

Aloe, grape } Nov. 12. Veltheimia uvaria. }

Amaranth, common } Aug. 7. Amaranthus hypoch. }

Amaryllis, golden } Sep. 30. Amaryllis aurea. }

Amaryllis, lowly } Oct. 1. Amaryllis humilis. }

Amaryllis, banded } Aug. 26. Amaryllis vittata. }

Amellus } Sep. 8. Aster amellus. }

Anemone, garden } Jan. 17. Anemone hortensis. }

Anemone, wood } Apr. 7. Anemone nemorosa. }

Apricot } Feb. 23. Armeniaca vulgaris. }

Apple tree } May 5. Pyrus malus. }

Arbor vitæ } Dec. 8. Thuja occidentalis. }

Arbor vitæ, Chinese } Dec. 16. Thuja orientalis. }

Asphodel yellow } May 11. Asphodelus luteus. }

Avens, common } May 25. Geum urbanum. }

Azalea, yellow } May 26. Azalea pontica. }

Balsam, common } Aug. 10. Balsama impatiens. }

Barberry } June 9. Berberis vulgaris. }

Basil, sweet } June 14. Ocymum basilicum. }

Bay } Feb. 1. Laurus nobilis. }

Bay } Nov. 13. Laurus poetica. }

Bay, Indian } Feb. 4. Laurus Indica. }

Bear’s-foot } Jan. 5. Helleborus fœtidus. }

Blackthorn } Apr. 24. Prunus spinosa. }

Blue bells } Aug. 4. Campanula rotund. }

Blue bottle } May 29. Centauria montana. }

Boletus, great } Sep. 25. Boletus bovinus. }

Boletus tree } Sep. 22. Boletus arboreus. }

Borage } Apr. 14. Borago officinalis. }

Butter-bur, sweet } Nov. 25. Tussilago fragrans. }

Butter-bur, white } Jan. 26. Tussilago alba. }

Buttercups } May 27. Ranunculus acris. }

Camomile, starlike } Oct. 5. Boltonia asteroides. }

Canterbury bells } June 22. Campanula medium. }

Cape aletris } Nov. 8. Veltheimia glauca. }

Cardamine, rough } Mar. 30. Cardamine hirsuta. }

Cedar of Lebanon } Dec. 23. Pinus cedrus. }

Cedar, white } Dec. 17. Cupressus thyoides. }

Centaury, red } June 7. Chironia centaurium. }

Cerastium, dwarf } Mar. 2. Cerastium pumilum. }

Chamomile, field } July 26. Chamomilla matrica. }

Charlock } May 2. Raphanus raphan. }

Chickweed } Mar. 4. Alsine media. }

Chickweed, upright } Mar. 10. Veronica triphyllos. }

China aster } Aug. 11. Aster Chinensis. }

Chironia, red } July 29. Chironia centaurium. }

Christopher, herb } July 25. Actæa spicata. }

Chrysanthemum, I. } Oct. 7. Chrysanthemum Ind. }

Chrysanthemum, la. } Oct. 28. Chrysanthemum scr. }

Cistus, yellow } June 30. Cistus helianthemum. }

Cloth of Gold } Feb. 15. Crocus sulphureus. }

Colt’s-foot } Mar. 15. Tussilago farfara. }

Coltsfoot, sweet } Nov. 15. Tussilago fragrans. }

Comfrey, common } May 13. Symphytum officin. }

Convolvulus, gt. gar. } July 16. Convolvulus purpur. }

Cornflower, blue } June 28. Centaurea cyanus. }

Cowslip } Apr. 30. Primula veris. }

Crocus, autumnal } Sep. 10. Crocus autumnalis. }

Crocus, officinal } Sep. 13. Crocus sativus. }

Crocus, purple } Feb. 28. Crocus vernus. }

Crocus, Scotch } Feb. 17. Crocus Susianus. }

Crocus, white } Feb. 21. Crocus versicolor. }

Crocus, yellow } Feb. 4. Crocus Mæsiacus. }

Crow-foot, wood } Apr. 22. Ranunculus auricom. }

Crown Imperial, red } Apr. 4. Fritillaria Imp’r. }

Crown Imper. yell. } Apr. 5. Fritillaria Imp. lut. }

Cuckoo pint } Apr. 28. Arum maculatum. }

Cyclamen, rd-leavd. } Feb. 7. Cyclamen coum. }

Cypress, arbor vitæ } Dec. 13. Thuja cupressioides. }

Cypress narcisse } Apr. 21. Narcissus orient. alb. }

Cypress, N. Holland } Dec. 18. Cupressus Australis. }

Cypress, Portugal } Dec. 10. Cupressus Lusitanica }

Daffodil, early } Mar. 7. Narcis. pseud. simp. }

Daffodil, great } Apr. 27. Narcissus major. }

Daffodil, lesser } Mar. 30. Narcissus minor. }

Daffodil, nodding } Mar. 16. Narcissus nutans. }

Daffodil, peerless } Mar. 23. Narcissus incompar. }

Daffodil, petticoat } Mar. 9. Narcissus bulbocod. }

Daisy, double } Jan. 28. Bellis perennis plen. }

Daisy, michaelmas } Sep. 29. Aster tradescanti. }

Daisy, midsummer } June 11. Chrysanthemum l. }

Dandelion } Apr. 11. Leontodon taraxac. }

Dandelion, autumn } Aug. 20. Apargia autumnalis. }

Devil’s bit scabious } Sep. 19. Scabiosa succissa. }

Dragon’s head, Virg. } July 20. Dracocephalus Virg. }

Erysimum, yellow } Apr. 26. Erysimum barbarea. }

Fern, flowering } July 29. Osmunda regalis. }

Fern, great } Feb. 24. Osmunda regalis. }

Feverfew, late flow. } Oct. 6. Pyrethrum scrotin. }

Fir, Scotch } Nov. 10. Pinus silvestris. }

Fleabane } Sept. 3. Inula dysenterica. }

Fleabane, Indian } Oct. 14. Inula Indica. }

Fleabane, wavy } Oct. 12. Inula undulata. }

Fleur-de-lis, Germ. } May 12. Iris Germanica. }

Fleur-de-lis, lurid } May 28. Iris lurida. }

Fleur-de-lis, Pers. } Jan. 3. Iris Persica. }

Fleur-de-lis, yellow } June 10. Iris pseudacorus. }

Frankincense } Dec. 24. Pinus tæda. }

Friar’s cowl } Apr. 17. Arum arisarum. }

Fumitory, bulbous } Mar. 21. Fumaria bulbosa. }

Fumitory } Mar. 29. Fumaria officinalis. }

Furerœa, large } Nov. 7. Furerœa gigantea. }

Fungis, dung } Sep. 24. Agaricus fimetarius. }

Garlick, ursine } Apr. 19. Allium ursinum. }

Geodorum, lemon } Dec. 2. Geodorum, citrinum. }

Gilly flower stock } May 4. Mathiola incana. }

Glaucus, aletris } Nov. 9. Veltheimia glauca. }

Globe flower, Asiatic } May 7. Trollius Asiaticus. }

Golden rod } Aug. 28. Solidago virga aurea. }

Golden rod, Canad. } Sep. 9. Solidago canadensis. }

Golden rod, evergr. } Sep. 28. Solidago sempervir. }

Golden rod, gigant. } Sep. 26. Solidago gigantea. }

Golden rod, late } Oct. 26. Solidago petiolaris. }

Goldilocks } Feb. 4. Polytrichum comm. }

Gorse } Jan. 10. Ulex Europæa. }

Gooseberry, Barbad. } Dec. 4. Cactus Pereskia. }

Ground ivy } Apr. 8. Glechoma hederacea. }

Groundsel } Jan. 2. Senecio vulgaris. }

Groundsel, marsh } Aug. 13. Senecio paludosus. }

Groundsel, mount. } July 28. Senecio montanus. }

Harebell } Apr. 23. Hyacinthus non scrip. }

Hart’s-tongue } Jan. 31. Asplenium scolopen. }

Hawk’s eyes, garden } July 6. Crepis barbata. }

Hawkweed, golden } July 19. Hieracium aurant. }

Hawkweed, hedge } Aug. 27. Hieracium umbellat. }

Hazel } Jan. 4. Corylus avellana. }

Heath, bloody } Dec. 28. Erica cruenta. }

Heath, Cornish } Mar. 11. Erica vagans. }

Heath, crowded } Dec. 12. Erica conferta. }

Heath, flame } Dec. 27. Erica flammea. }

Heath, nest flowered } Dec. 6. Erica nidiflora. }

Heath, pellucid } Dec. 22. Erica pellucida. }

Heath, purple } Dec. 26. Erica purpurea. }

Heath, senista } Dec. 29. Erica genistopha. }

Heath, two coloured } Dec. 19. Erica bicolor. }

Hearts-ease } Mar. 13. Viola tricolor. }

Helenium, downy } Oct. 3. Helenium pubescens. }

Helenium, smooth } Oct. 13. Helenium autumnale. }

Hellebore, green } Mar. 5. Helleborus viridis. }

Hellebore, winter } Jan. 25. Helleborus hyemalis. }

Hemp, African } Nov. 16. Sanseviera Guineam }

Henbane, lurid } Mar. 26. Hyoscyamus scopolia }

Herb, Robert } Apr. 29. Geranium Robertian. }

Hibiscus, long stalk } Dec. 5. Hibiscus pedunculat. }

Holly } Oct. 11. Ilex aquifolium. }

Holly } Dec. 25. Ilex bacciflora. }

Hollyhock } Aug. 3. Althea rosea. }

Hollyhock, yellow } Aug. 29. Althea flava. }

Horse chestnut } May 20. Æschylus hippocast. }

Hyacinth, starch } Apr. 6. Hyacinthus racemos. }

Hyacinth, blue } Feb. 6. Hyac. orient. crœul. }

Indian tree } Dec. 3. Euphorbia Tirucalli. }

Ixia, channelled } Mar. 12. Ixia bulbocodium. }

Ivy } Jan. 15. Hedera helix. }

Jonquil, great } Mar. 8. Narcissus lætus. }

Jonquil, sweet scent. } Mar. 27. Narcissus odorus. }

Julienne de nuit } June 19. Hesperis tristis. }

Laurastinus } Nov. 1. Laurastinus semperv. }

Laurel, common } Jan. 9. Prunus lauro-cerasus. }

Laurel, Portugal } Jan. 7. Prunus Lusitanica. }

Laurel, Portugal } Nov. 14. Cerasus Lusitanica. }

Leek } Mar. 1. Porrum album. }

Leopard’s bane, grt. } Mar. 18. Doronicum pardalia. }

Leopard’s bane, less. } Mar. 28. Doronicum plantag. }

Lilac } May 23. Syringa vulgaris. }

Lily, African } July 22. Agapanthus umbell. }

Lily, belladonna } Aug. 16. Amaryllis belladonn. }

Day lily, copper } July 4. Hemerocallis fulva. }

Lily, Egyptian wat. } Aug. 5. Nelumbo Nilotica. }

Lily, Guernsey } Aug. 30. Amaryllis Sarniensis. }

Lily, Lent } Mar. 6. Narcissus pseu. mul. }

Lily, Philadelphia } July 21. Lilium Philadelphic. }

Lily of the valley } May 8. Convallaria majalis }

Lily, tiger } Aug. 2. Lilium tigrinum. }

Lily, white } July 2. Lilium candidum. }

Lily, yel. Turkscap } May 31. Lilium pompon. flav. }

Liverwort, noble } Feb. 12. Anemone hepatica. }

Loosestrife, purple } July 27. Lythrum salicaria. }

Love lies bleeding } Aug. 8. Amaranthus procum. }

Globe flower } May 6. Trollius Europæus. }

Lungwort } Feb. 27. Pulmonaria officina. }

Lupin, blue } July 13. Lupinus cœruleus. }

Lupin, red } July 14. Lupinus perennis. }

Lupin, tree } July 24. Lupinus arboreus. }

Lupin, yellow } July 11. Lupinus flavus. }

Maidenhair, comm. } Jan. 30. Asplenium tricho. }

Mallow, narrow-lea. } Sep. 17. Malva augustifolia. }

Mallow, tried } July 3. Malva sylvestris. }

Common daisy } Feb. 22. Bellis perennis. }

Marigold } Mar. 25. Calendula officinalis. }

Marigold, African } Aug. 18. Tagetes erecta. }

Marigold, autumn } July 18. Chrysanthemum cor. }

Marigold, French } Aug. 21. Tagetes patula. }

Marigold, golden fig } Mar. 3. Mesembrianthem. au. }

Marigold, sm. Cape } July 15. Calendula pluvialis. }

Maudlin, sweet } Oct. 8. Actillea ageratum. }

Mercury, annual } April 1. Mercurialis annua. }

Mercury, lasting } Mar. 15. Mercurialis perennis. }

Mezereon } Feb. 10. Daphne Mezereon. }

Moneywort } June 8. Lysimachia nummu. }

Monk’s hood } May 19. Aconitum Napellus. }

Monkey flower } June 17. Mimulus luteus. }

Moss, early } Jan. 11. Bryum horæum. }

Moss, earth } Jan. 27. Phascum cuspidat. }

Moss, four-toothed } Jan. 18. Bryum pellucidum. }

Moss, great water } Feb. 3. Fontinalis antepyret. }

Moss, hygrometric } Jan. 12. Funaria hygromet. }

Moss, lesser water } Feb. 1. Fontinalis minor. }

Moss, screw } Jan. 6. Tortula rigida. }

Moss, silky fork } Feb. 10. Mnium heteomallum }

Moss, stalkless } Jan. 24. Phascum muticum. }

Moss, narrow spring } Feb. 8. Mnium androgynum }

Mouse ear } May 18. Hieracium pilosella. }

Mullen, great } July 31. Verbascum virgatum }

Mullen, white } July 30. Verbascum lychnitis. }

Mushroom } Sep. 5. Agaricus campestris. }

Musk flower } July 23. Scabiosa atropurpur. }

Narcissus, green } Apr. 13. Narcissus viridiflor. }

Narcissus, gr. autu. } Oct. 29. Narcissus viridiflor. }

Narcissus, musk } Apr. 18. Narcissus moschat. }

Narcissus, poetic } May 3. Narcissus poeticus. }

Narcissus, Roman } Feb. 9. Narcissus Romanus. }

Nasturtium } July 7. Tropœolum majus. }

Navelwort } Feb. 20. Cynoglossum ompha. }

Nettle, comm. dead } Jan. 6. Lamium purpureum. }

Nettle, large dead } Jan. 20. Lamium garganic. }

Nettle, white dead } Jan. 19. Lamium album. }

Our lady’s slipper } June 23. Cypripedium calceo. }

Oxlip } Mar. 29. Primula elatior. }

Passion flower } Sep. 14. Passiflora cœrulea. }

Passion flow. ap. fr. } Nov. 19. Passiflora maliform. }

Passion flow. cilcat. } Sep. 21. Passiflora cilcata. }

Passion flow. curly } Nov. 18. Passiflora serrata. }

Passion flow. semi. } Sep. 12. Passiflora peltata. }

Pea, sweet } July 17. Lathyrus odoratus. }

Peach } Feb. 25. Amygdalus Persica. }

Periwinkle, lesser } Feb. 26. Vinca minor. }

Peziza } Jan. 23. Peziza acetabulum. }

Pheasant’s eye, aut. } Aug. 31. Adonis autumnalis. }

Physalis, angular } Nov. 5. Physalis alkakengi. }

Pilewort } Mar. 22. Ficaria verna. }

Pimpernal } June 2. Anagallis arvensis. }

Pine, Aleppo } Dec. 11. Pinus Halepensis. }

Pine, stone } Dec. 20. Pinus pinea. }

Pine, swamp } Dec. 14. Pinus palustris. }

Pine, Weymouth } Nov. 11. Pinus Strobus. }

Pine, pitch } Dec. 15. Pinus resinosa. }

Pink, common } June 6. Dianthus deltoides. }

Pink, Indian } June 4. Dianthus Chinensis. }

Pæony, common } May 14. Pæonia officinalis. }

Pæony, coralline } May 14. Pæonia corallina. }

Pæony, slend. leaved } May 10. Pæonia tenuifolia. }

Polyanthus } Feb. 13. Primula polyanthus. }

Polyanthus, red } April 9. Primula poly. rubra. }

Pontieva } Dec. 30. Ponthieva glandal. }

Poppy, doubtful } June 20. Papaver dubium. }

Poppy, early red } May 17. Papaver argemone. }

Poppy, horned } June 18. Chelidonium glauc. }

Poppy, monkey } May 24. Papaver orientate. }

Poppy, Welsh } May 15. Papaver, Cambric. }

Primrose } Nov. 3. Primula vulgaris. }

Primrose, common } Feb. 5. Primula vulgaris. }

Primrose, evening } July 8. Oenothera biennis. }

Primrose, lilac } Feb. 16. Primula acaulis pl. }

Primrose, red } Feb. 5. Primula aculis. }

Primrose, red } May 21. Primula verna rub. }

Ragged Robin } May 21. Lychnis flos cuculi. }

Ragwort } Aug. 9. Senecio Jacobea. }

Ranunculus, garden } June 13. Ranunculus Asiatic. }

Rattle, yellow } June 29. Rhinanthus galli. }

Rhododendron } May 2. Rhododendrum Pont. }

Rosa de meaux } June 3. Rosa provincialis. }

Rose, Christmas } Jan. 21. Hellebor. rig. flor. alb. }

Rose, everblowing } Mar. 8. Rosa semperflorens. }

Rose, moss Proven. } June 16. Rosa muscosa. }

Rose, three-leaved } June 5. Rosa Sinica. }

Rose, yellow } June 1. Rosa lutea. }

Rose, double yell. } July 5. Rosa sulphurea. }

Rose, white dog } June 12. Rosa arvensis. }

Saffron, Byzantine } Sep. 15. Colchicum Byzantic. }

Saffron, meadow } Aug. 6. Colchicum autumn. }

Saffron, com. mead. } Sep. 20. Colchicum autumn. }

Saffron, varieg. mead } Sep. 11. Colchicum variegat. }

St. John’s wort } June 24. Hypericum pulchr. }

St. John’s wort, per. } June 27. Hypericum perforat. }

Soapwort } Sep. 4. Saponaria officinalis }

Soapwort, common } Oct. 2. Saponaria officinal. }

Saxifrage, golden } Mar. 24. Chrysosplenum oppo. }

Saxifrage, great } Apr. 12. Saxifraga crassifol. }

Sensitive plant } June 15. Mimosa sensitiva. }

Shamrock } Mar. 17. Trifolium repens. }

Silphium, three-lea. } Oct. 22. Silphium trifoliatum. }

Silphium, hairy } Oct. 21. Silphium asteriscus. }

Snapdragon, great } July 12. Antirrhinum purpu. }

Snapdragon, speck. } July 10. Antirrhinum triphyl. }

Snowdrop } Feb. 2. Galanthus nivalis. }

Snowflake, spring } Apr. 20. Leucojum vernum. }

Soldanel, mountain } Mar. 14. Soldanella Alpina. }

Solomon’s seal } May 9. Convallaria multifl. }

Sedum, great } Sep. 1. Sedum telephium. }

Southernwood, } Oct. 4. Artemisia abrotan. }

Sowthistle, blue } June 26. Sonchus cæruleus. }

Sowthistle, great } Aug. 12. Sonchus palustris. }

Sowthistle, marsh } July 9. Sonchus palustris. }

Sparrowwort, } Dec. 21. Erica passerina. }

Spearwort, lesser } May 30. Ranunculus flammu. }

Speedwell, field } Feb. 19. Veronica agrestis. }

Speedwell, wall } Feb. 18. Veronicâ arvensis. }

Sphenogyne } Nov. 29. Sphenogyne piliflora. }

Spruce, Corsican } Dec. 9. Pinus Laricio. }

Stapelia, dark } Dec. 1. Stapelia pulchra. }

Stapelia, red } Nov. 20. Stapelia rufa. }

Stapelia, starry } Nov. 24. Stapelia radiata. }

Stapelia, variegated } Nov. 28. Stapelia variegata. }

Star, Bethlehem, gr. } May 16. Ornithogalum umbel. }

Star, Bethlehem, yel. } Mar. 19. Ornithogalum lut. }

Star, Bethlehem, yel. } Oct. 25. Tragopogon praten. }

Starwort, fleabane } Oct. 25. Aster conizoides. }

Starwort, floribund } Oct. 27. Aster floribundus. }

Starwort, golden } Sep. 7. Aster solidaginoides. }

Starwort, manyflow. } Sep. 27. Aster multiflorus. }

Starwort, meagre } Oct. 25. Aster miser. }

Starwort, pendulous } Sep. 18. Aster pendulus. }

Starwort, rushy } Oct. 23. Aster junicus. }

Starwort, scattered } Oct. 28. Aster passiflorus. }

Starwort, sea } Sep. 16. Aster tripolium. }

Starwort, white } Sep. 23. Aster dumotus. }

Starwort, zigzag } Oct. 24. Aster flexuosus. }

Stitchwort, green } Apr. 15. Stellaria holostea. }

Stramony } Aug. 1. Datura stramonium. }

Stramony, tree } Nov. 17. Datura arborea. }

Strawberry tree } Nov. 4. Arbutus. }

Strawberry, barren } Jan. 14. Fragaria sterilis. }

Sultan, sweet } Oct. 15. Centaurea moschi. }

Sultan, yellow } Oct. 20. Centaurea suavcolens. }

Sunflower } Aug. 24. Helianthus annuus. }

Sunflower, perennial } Aug. 25. Helianthus multifl. }

Sunflower, ten-leav. } Oct. 17. Helianthus decapet. }

Sweet William } June 25. Dianthus barbatus. }

Tanzey } Aug. 23. Tanacetum vulgare. }

Tickseed, fennel-le. } Oct. 31. Coreopsis ferulefolia. }

Tickseed, tall } Oct. 19. Coreopsis procosa. }

Timothy, herb } Aug. 22. Phleum pratense. }

Timothy, bran. herb } Aug. 19. Phleum panniculat. }

Toadflax, snapdrag. } Aug. 17. Antirrhinum linaria. }

Tremella, yellow } Jan. 8. Tremella deliques. }

Tulip } May 1. Tulipa gesneri. }

Tulip, clarimond } Apr. 25. Tulipa præcox. }

Tulip, yellow } Apr. 16. Tulipa sylvestris. }

Violet, dog’s } Mar. 20. Viola canina. }

Violet, pale } Apr. 10. Viola tonbrigensis. }

Violet, sweet } Mar. 17. Viola odorata. }

Violet, white } April 2. Viola alba. }

Viper’s buglos } June 21. Echium vulgare. }

Virgin’s bower } Aug. 15. Clematis vitalba. }

Winter cherry } Nov. 2. Physalis. }

Witlow grass, early } Jan. 22. Draba verna. }

Wood sorrel, convex } Nov. 23. Oxalis convexula. }

Wood sor., la. flow. } Nov. 21. Oxalis grandiflora. }